11198	----	CHRISTIANITY AND ISLAM BY C.H. BECKER, PH.D. PROFESSOR OF ORIENTAL HISTORY IN THE COLONIAL INSTITUTE OF HAMBURG TRANSLATED BY REV. H.J. CHAYTOR, M.A. HEADMASTER OF PLYMOUTH COLLEGE 1909 TABLE OF CONTENTS The subject from different points of view: limits of treatment The nature of the subject: the historical points of connection between Christianity and Islam A. Christianity and the rise of Islam: 1. Muhammed and his contemporaries 2. The influence of Christianity upon the development of Muhammed 3. Muhammed's knowledge of Christianity 4. The position of Christians under Muhammedanism B. The similarity of Christian and Muhammedan metaphysics during the middle ages: 1. The means and direction by which Christian influence affected Islam 2. The penetration of daily life by the spirit of religion; asceticism, contradictions and influences affecting the development of a clerical class and the theory of marriage 3. The theory of life in general with reference to the doctrine of immortality 4. The attitude of religion towards the State, economic life, society, etc. 5. The permanent importance to Islam of these influences: the doctrine of duties 6. Ritual 7. Mysticism and the worship of saints 8. Dogma and the development of scholasticism C. The influence of Islam upon Christianity: The manner in which this influence operated, and the explanation of the superiority of Islam The influence of Muhammedan philosophy The new world of European Christendom and the modern East Conclusion. The historical growth of religion Bibliography CHRISTIANITY AND ISLAM A comparison of Christianity with Muhammedanism or with any other religion must be preceded by a statement of the objects with which such comparison is undertaken, for the possibilities which lie in this direction are numerous. The missionary, for instance, may consider that a knowledge of the similarities of these religions would increase the efficacy of his proselytising work: his purpose would thus be wholly practical. The ecclesiastically minded Christian, already convinced of the superiority of his own religion, will be chiefly anxious to secure scientific proof of the fact: the study of comparative religion from this point of view was once a popular branch of apologetics and is by no means out of favour at the present day. Again, the inquirer whose historical perspective is undisturbed by ecclesiastical considerations, will approach the subject with somewhat different interests. He will expect the comparison to provide him with a clear view of the influence which Christianity has exerted upon other religions or has itself received from them: or he may hope by comparing the general development of special religious systems to gain a clearer insight into the growth of Christianity. Hence the object of such comparisons is to trace the course of analogous developments and the interaction of influence and so to increase the knowledge of religion in general or of our own religion in particular. A world-religion, such as Christianity, is a highly complex structure and the evolution of such a system of belief is best understood by examining a religion to which we have not been bound by a thousand ties from the earliest days of our lives. If we take an alien religion as our subject of investigation, we shall not shrink from the consequences of the historical method: whereas, when we criticise Christianity, we are often unable to see the falsity of the pre-suppositions which we necessarily bring to the task of inquiry: our minds follow the doctrines of Christianity, even as our bodies perform their functions--in complete unconsciousness. At the same time we possess a very considerable knowledge of the development of Christianity, and this we owe largely to the help of analogy. Especially instructive is the comparison between Christianity and Buddhism. No less interesting are the discoveries to be attained by an inquiry into the development of Muhammedanism: here we can see the growth of tradition proceeding in the full light of historical criticism. We see the plain man, Muhammed, expressly declaring in the Qoran that he cannot perform miracles, yet gradually becoming a miracle worker and indeed the greatest of his class: he professes to be nothing more than a mortal man: he becomes the chief mediator between man and God. The scanty memorials of the man become voluminous biographies of the saint and increase from generation to generation. Yet more remarkable is the fact that his utterances, his _logia_, if we may use the term, some few of which are certainly genuine, increase from year to year and form a large collection which is critically sifted and expounded. The aspirations of mankind attribute to him such words of the New Testament and of Greek philosophers as were especially popular or seemed worthy of Muhammed; the teaching also of the new ecclesiastical schools was invariably expressed in the form of proverbial utterances attributed to Muhammed, and these are now without exception regarded as authentic by the modern Moslem. In this way opinions often contradictory are covered by Muhummed's authority. The traditions concerning Jesus offer an analogy. Our Gospels, for instance, relate the beautiful story of the plucking of the ears of corn on the Sabbath, with its famous moral application, "The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath." A Christian papyrus has been discovered which represents Jesus as explaining the sanctity of the Sabbath from the Judaeo-Christian point of view. "If ye keep not the Sabbath holy, ye shall not see the Father," is the statement in an uncanonical Gospel. In early Christian literature, contradictory sayings of Jesus are also to be found. Doubtless here, as in Muhammedan tradition, the problem originally was, what is to be my action in this or that question of practical life: answer is given in accordance with the religious attitude of the inquirer and Jesus and Muhammed are made to lend their authority to the teaching. Traditional literary form is then regarded as historical by later believers. Examples of this kind might be multiplied, but enough has been said to show that much and, to some extent, new light may be thrown upon the development of Christian tradition, by an examination of Muhammedanism which rose from similar soil but a few centuries later, while its traditional developments have been much more completely preserved. Such analogies as these can be found, however, in any of the world-religions, and we propose to devote our attention more particularly to the influences which Christianity and Islam exerted directly upon one another. While Muhammedanism has borrowed from its hereditary foe, it has also repaid part of the debt. By the very fact of its historical position Islam was at first indebted to Christianity; but in the department of Christian philosophy, it has also exerted its own influence. This influence cannot be compared with that of Greek or Jewish thought upon Christian speculation: Christian philosophy, as a metaphysical theory of existence, was however strongly influenced by Arabian thought before the outset of the Reformation. On the other hand the influence of Christianity upon Islam--and also upon Muhammed, though he owed more to Jewish thought--was so extensive that the coincidence of ideas upon the most important metaphysical questions is positively amazing. There is a widespread belief even at the present day that Islam was a complete novelty and that the religion and culture of the Muhammedan world were wholly alien to Western medievalism. Such views are entirely false; during the Middle Ages Muhammedanism and Western culture were inspired by the same spirit. The fact has been obscured by the contrast between the two religions whose differences have been constantly exaggerated and by dissimilarities of language and nationality. To retrace in full detail the close connection which unites Christianity and Islam would be the work of years. Within the scope of the present volume, all that can be done is to explain the points of contact between Christian and Muhammedan theories of life and religion. Such is the object of the following pages. We shall first treat of Muhammed personally, because his rise as a religious force will explain the possibility of later developments. This statement also explains the sense in which we shall use the term Christianity. Muhammedanism has no connection with post-Reformation Christianity and meets it only in the mission field. Practical questions there arise which lie beyond the limits of our subject, as we have already indicated. Our interests are concerned with the mediaeval Church, when Christianity first imposed its ideas upon Muhammedanism at the time of its rise in the East, and afterwards received a material extension of its own horizon through the rapid progress of its protégé. Our task is to analyse and explain these special relations between the two systems of thought. The religion now known as Islam is as near to the preaching of Muhammed or as remote from it, as modern Catholicism or Protestant Christianity is at variance or in harmony with the teaching of Jesus. The simple beliefs of the prophet and his contemporaries are separated by a long course of development from the complicated religious system in its unity and diversity which Islam now presents to us. The course of this development was greatly influenced by Christianity, but Christian ideas had been operative upon Muhammed's eager intellectual life at an even earlier date. We must attempt to realise the working of his mind, if we are to gain a comprehension of the original position of Islam with regard to Christianity. The task is not so difficult in Muhammed's case as in that of others who have founded religious systems: we have records of his philosophical views, important even though fragmentary, while vivid descriptions of his experiences have been transmitted to us in his own words, which have escaped the modifying influence of tradition at second hand. Muhammed had an indefinite idea of the word of God as known to him from other religions. He was unable to realise this idea effectively except as an immediate revelation; hence throughout the Qoran he represents God as speaking in the first person and himself appears as the interlocutor. Even direct commands to the congregation are introduced by the stereotyped "speak"; it was of primary importance that the Qoran should be regarded as God's word and not as man's. This fact largely contributed to secure an uncontaminated transmission of the text, which seems also to have been left by Muhammed himself in definite form. Its intentional obscurity of expression does not facilitate the task of the inquirer, but it provides, none the less, considerable information concerning the religious progress of its author. Here we are upon firmer ground than when we attempt to describe Muhammed's outward life, the first half of which is wrapped in obscurity no less profound than that which veils the youth of the Founder of Christianity. Muhammed's contemporaries lived amid religious indifference. The majority of the Arabs were heathen and their religious aspirations were satisfied by local cults of the Old Semitic character. They may have preserved the religious institutions of the great South Arabian civilisation, which was then in a state of decadence; the beginnings of Islam may also have been influenced by the ideas of this civilisation, which research is only now revealing to us: but these points must remain undecided for the time being. South Arabian civilisation was certainly not confined to the South, nor could an organised township such as Mecca remain outside its sphere of influence: but the scanty information which has reached us concerning the religious life of the Arabs anterior to Islam might also be explained by supposing them to have followed a similar course of development. In any case, it is advisable to reserve judgment until documentary proof can replace ingenious conjecture. The difficulty of the problem is increased by the fact that Jewish and especially Christian ideas penetrated from the South and that their influence cannot be estimated. The important point for us to consider is the existence of Christianity in Southern Arabia before the Muhammedan period. Nor was the South its only starting-point: Christian doctrine came to Arabia from the North, from Syria and Babylonia, and numerous conversions, for the most part of whole tribes, were made. On the frontiers also Arabian merchants came into continual contact with Christianity and foreign merchants of the Christian faith could be found throughout Arabia. But for the Arabian migration and the simultaneous foundation of a new Arabian religion, there is no doubt that the whole peninsula would have been speedily converted to Christianity. The chief rival of Christianity was Judaism, which was represented in Northern as in Southern Arabia by strong colonies of Jews, who made proselytes, although their strict ritualism was uncongenial to the Arab temperament which preferred conversion to Christianity (naturally only as a matter of form). In addition to Jewish, Christian, and Old Semitic influences, Zoroastrian ideas and customs were also known in Arabia, as is likely enough in view of the proximity of the Persian empire. These various elements aroused in Muhammed's mind a vague idea of religion. His experience was that of the eighteenth-century theologians who suddenly observed that Christianity was but one of many very similar and intelligible religions, and thus inevitably conceived the idea of a pure and natural religious system fundamental to all others. Judaism and Christianity were the only religions which forced themselves upon Muhammed's consciousness and with the general characteristics of which he was acquainted. He never read any part of the Old or New Testament: his references to Christianity show that his knowledge of the Bible was derived from hearsay and that his informants were not representative of the great religious sects: Muhammed's account of Jesus and His work, as given in the Qoran, is based upon the apocryphal accretions which grew round the Christian doctrine. When Muhammed proceeded to compare the great religions of the Old and New Testaments with the superficial pietism of his own compatriots, he was especially impressed with the seriousness of the Hebrews and Christians which contrasted strongly with the indifference of the heathen Arabs. The Arab was familiar with the conception of an almighty God, and this idea had not been obscured by the worship of trees, stones, fire and the heavenly bodies: but his reverence for this God was somewhat impersonal and he felt no instinct to approach Him, unless he had some hopes or fears to satisfy. The idea of a reckoning between man and God was alien to the Arab mind. Christian and Jewish influence became operative upon Muhammed with reference to this special point. The idea of the day of judgment, when an account of earthly deeds and misdeeds will be required, when the joys of Paradise will be opened to the good and the bad will be cast into the fiery abyss, such was the great idea, which suddenly filled Muhammed's mind and dispelled the indifference begotten of routine and stirred his mental powers. Polytheism was incompatible with the idea of God as a judge supreme and righteous, but yet merciful. Thus monotheism was indissolubly connected with Muhammed's first religious impulses, though the dogma had not assumed the polemical form in which it afterwards confronted the old Arabian and Christian beliefs. But a mind stirred by religious emotion only rose to the height of prophetic power after a long course of development which human knowledge can but dimly surmise. Christianity and Judaism had their sacred books which the founders of these religions had produced. In them were the words of God, transmitted through Moses to the Jews and through Jesus to the Christians. Jesus and Moses had been God's ambassadors to their peoples. Who then could bring to the Arabs the glad tidings which should guide them to the happy fields of Paradise? Among primitive peoples God is regarded as very near to man. The Arabs had, their fortune-tellers and augurs who cast lots before God and explained His will in mysterious rhythmical utterances. Muhammed was at first more intimately connected with this class of Arab fortune-tellers than is usually supposed. The best proof of the fact is the vehemence with which he repudiates all comparison between these fortune-tellers and himself, even as early Christian apologetics and polemics attacked the rival cults of the later classical world, which possessed forms of ritual akin to those observed by Christianity. The existence of a fortune-telling class among the Arabs shows that Muhammed may well have been endowed with psychological tendencies which only awaited the vivifying influence of Judaism and Christianity to emerge as the prophetic impulse forcing him to stand forth in public and to stir the people from their indifference: "Be ye converted, for the day of judgment is at hand: God has declared it unto me, as he declared it unto Moses and Jesus. I am the apostle of God to you, Arabs. Salvation is yours only if ye submit to the will of God preached by me." This act of submission Muhammed calls Islam. Thus at the hour of Islam's birth, before its founder had proclaimed his ideas, the influence of Christianity is indisputable. It was this influence which made of the Arab seer and inspired prophet, the apostle of God. Muhammed regarded Judaism and Christianity as religious movements purely national in character. God in His mercy had announced His will to different nations through His prophets. As God's word had been interpreted for the Jews and for the Christians, so there was to be a special interpretation for the benefit of the Arabs. These interpretations were naturally identical in manner and differed only as regards place and time. Muhammed had heard of the Jewish Messiah and of the Christian Paraclete, whom, however, he failed to identify with the Holy Ghost and he applied to himself the allusions to one who should come after Moses and Jesus. Thus in the Qoran 61.6 we read, "Jesus, the Son of Mary, said: Children of Israel, I am God's apostle to you. I confirm in your hands the Thora (the law) and I announce the coming of another apostle after me whose name is Ahmed." Ahmed is the equivalent of Muhammed. The verse has been variously interpreted and even rejected as an interpolation: but its authenticity is attested by its perfect correspondence with what we know of Muhammed's pretensions. To trace in detail the development of his attitude towards Christianity is a more difficult task than to discover the growth of his views upon Judaism; probably he pursued a similar course in either case. At first he assumed the identity of the two religions with one another and with his own doctrine; afterwards he regarded them as advancing by gradations. Adam, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Muhammed, these in his opinion were the chief stages in the divine scheme of salvation. Each was respectively confirmed or abolished by the revelation which followed it, nor is this theory of Muhammed's shaken by the fact that each revelation was given to a different nation. He regards all preceding prophets in the light of his own personality. They were all sent to people who refused them a hearing at the moment. Punishment follows and the prophet finds a body of believers elsewhere. These temporary punishments are confused with the final Judgment; in fact Muhammed's system was not clearly thought out. The several prophets were but men, whose earthly careers were necessarily crowned with triumph: hence the crucifixion of Jesus is a malicious invention of the Jews, who in reality crucified some other sufferer, while Jesus entered the divine glory. Thus Muhammed has no idea of the importance of the Crucifixion to the Christian Church, as is shown by his treatment of it as a Jewish falsehood. In fact, he develops the habit of characterising as false any statement in contradiction with his ideas, and this tendency is especially obvious in his dealings with Judaism, of which he gained a more intimate knowledge. At first he would refer sceptics to Christian and Jewish doctrine for confirmation of his own teaching. The fact that with no knowledge of the Old or New Testament, he had proclaimed doctrines materially similar and the fact that these Scriptures referred to himself, were proofs of his inspired power, let doubters say what they would. A closer acquaintance with these Scriptures showed him that the divergencies which he stigmatised as falsifications denoted in reality vast doctrinal differences. In order to understand Muhammed's attitude towards Christianity, we will examine in greater detail his view of this religion, the portions of it which he accepted or which he rejected as unauthentic. In the first place he must have regarded the Trinity as repugnant to reason: he considered the Christian Trinity as consisting of God the Father, Mary the Mother of God, and Jesus the Son of God. In the Qoran, God says, "Hast thou, Jesus, said to men, Regard me and my mother as Gods by the side of God?" Jesus replies, "I will say nothing but the truth. I have but preached, Pray to God, who is my Lord and your Lord" (5.116, f). Hence it has been inferred that Muhammed's knowledge of Christianity was derived from some particular Christian sect, such as the Tritheists or the Arab female sect of the Collyridians who worshipped the Virgin Mary with exaggerated reverence and assigned divine honours to her. It is also possible that we have here a development of some Gnostic conception which regarded the Holy Ghost as of feminine gender, as Semites would do;[A] instances of this change are to be found in the well-known Hymn of the Soul in the Acts of Thomas, in the Gospel to the Egyptians and elsewhere. I am inclined, however, to think it more probable that Muhammed had heard of Mariolatry and of the "mother of God," a title which then was a highly popular catchword, and that the apotheosis of Jesus was known to him and also the doctrine of the Trinity by name. Further than this his knowledge did not extend; although he knows the Holy Ghost and identifies him with Jesus, none the less his primitive reasoning, under the influence of many old beliefs, explained the mysterious triad of the Trinity as husband, wife, and son. This fact is enough to prove that his theory of Christianity was formed by combining isolated scraps of information and that he cannot have had any direct instruction from a Christian knowing the outlines of his faith. [Footnote A: The word for "Spirit" is of the feminine gender in the Semitic languages.] Muhammed must also have denied the divinity of Christ: this is an obvious result of the course of mental development which we have described and of his characteristically Semitic theory of the nature of God. To him, God is one, never begetting and never begotten. Denying the divinity of Jesus, Muhammed naturally denies the redemption through the Cross and also the fact of the Crucifixion. Yet, strangely enough he accepted the miraculous birth; nor did he hesitate to provide this purely human Jesus with all miraculous attributes; these were a proof of his divine commission, and marvellous details of this nature aroused the interest of his hearers. Mary the sister of Ahron--an obvious confusion with the Old Testament Miriam--had been devoted to the service of God by her mother's vow, and lives in the temple under the guardianship of Zacharias, to whom a later heir is born in answer to his prayers, namely John, the forerunner of the Holy Ghost. The birth is announced to Mary and she brings forth Jesus under a palm-tree, near which is a running spring and by the dates of which she is fed. On her return home she is received with reproaches by her family but merely points in reply to the new-born babe, who suddenly speaks from his cradle, asserting that he is the prophet of God. Afterwards Jesus performs all kinds of miracles, forms birds out of clay and makes them fly, heals the blind and lepers, raises the dead, etc., and even brings down from heaven a table ready spread. The Jews will not believe him, but the youth follow him. He is not killed, but translated to God. Christians are not agreed upon the manner of his death and the Jews have invented the story of the Crucifixion. Muhammed's knowledge of Christianity thus consists of certain isolated details, partly apocryphal, partly canonical, together with a hazy idea of the fundamental dogmas. Thus the influence of Christianity upon him was entirely indirect. The Muhammedan movement at its outset was influenced not by the real Christianity of the time but by a Christianity which Muhammed criticised in certain details and forced into harmony with his preconceived ideas. His imagination was profoundly impressed by the existence of Christianity as a revealed religion with a founder of its own. Certain features of Christianity and of Judaism, prayer, purification, solemn festivals, scriptures, prophets and so forth were regarded by him as essential to any religious community, because they happened to belong both to Judaism and to Christianity. He therefore adopted or wished to adopt these institutions. During the period of his life at Medina, Muhammed abandoned his original idea of preaching the doctrines which Moses and Jesus had proclaimed. This new development was the outcome of a struggle with Judaism following upon an unsuccessful attempt at compromise. In point of fact Judaism and Christianity were as widely different from one another as they were from his own teaching and he was more than ever inclined to regard as his special forerunner, Abraham, who had preceded both Moses and Jesus, and was revered by both religions as the man of God. He then brought Abraham into connection with the ancient Meccan Ka'ba worship: the Ka'ba or die was a sacred stone edifice, in one corner of which the "black stone" had been built in: this stone was an object of reverence to the ancient Arabs, as it still is to the Muhammedans. Thus Islam gradually assumed the form of an Arab religion, developing universalist tendencies in the ultimate course of events. Muhammed, therefore, as he was the last in the ranks of the prophets, must also be the greatest. He epitomised all prophecy and Islam superseded every revealed religion of earlier date. Muhammed's original view that earlier religions had been founded by God's will and through divine revelation, led both him and his successors to make an important concession: adherents of other religions were not compelled to adopt Islam. They were allowed to observe their own faith unhindered, if they surrendered without fighting, and were even protected against their enemies, in return for which they had to pay tribute to their Muslim masters; this was levied as a kind of poll-tax. Thus we read in the Qoran (ix. 29) that "those who possess Scriptures," i.e. the Jews and Christians, who did not accept Islam were to be attacked until they paid the _gizja_ or tribute. Thus the object of a religious war upon the Christians is not expressed by the cry "Death or Islam"; such attacks were intended merely to extort an acknowledgment of Muhammedan supremacy, not to abolish freedom of religious observance. It would be incorrect for the most part to regard the warrior bands which started from Arabia as inspired by religious enthusiasm or to attribute to them the fanaticism which was first aroused by the crusades and in an even greater degree by the later Turkish wars. The Muhammedan fanatics of the wars of conquest, whose reputation was famous among later generations, felt but a very scanty interest in religion and occasionally displayed an ignorance of its fundamental tenets which we can hardly exaggerate. The fact is fully consistent with the impulses to which the Arab migrations were due. These impulses were economic and the new religion was nothing more than a party cry of unifying power, though there is no reason to suppose that it was not a real moral force in the life of Muhammed and his immediate contemporaries. Anti-Christian fanaticism there was therefore none. Even in early years Muhammedans never refused to worship in the same buildings as Christians. The various insulting regulations which tradition represents Christians as forced to endure were directed not so much against the adherents of another faith as against the barely tolerated inhabitants of a subjugated state. It is true that the distinction is often difficult to observe, as religion and nationality were one and the same thing to Muhammedans. In any case religious animosity was a very subordinate phenomenon. It was a gradual development and seems to me to have made a spasmodic beginning in the first century under the influence of ideas adopted from Christianity. It may seem paradoxical to assert that it was Christian influence which first stirred Islam to religious animosity and armed it with the sword against Christianity, but the hypothesis becomes highly probable when we have realised the indifferentism of the Muhammedan conquerors. We shall constantly see hereafter how much they owed in every department of intellectual life to the teaching of the races which they subjugated. Their attitude towards other beliefs was never so intolerant as was that of Christendom at that period. Christianity may well have been the teaching influence in this department of life as in others. Moreover at all times and especially in the first century the position of Christians has been very tolerable, even though the Muslims regarded them as an inferior class, Christians were able to rise to the highest offices of state, even to the post of vizier, without any compulsion to renounce their faith. Even during the period of the crusades when the religious opposition was greatly intensified, again through Christian policy, Christian officials cannot have been uncommon: otherwise Muslim theorists would never have uttered their constant invectives against the employment of Christians in administrative duties. Naturally zealots appeared at all times on the Muhammedan as well as on the Christian side and occasionally isolated acts of oppression took place: these were, however, exceptional. So late as the eleventh century, church funeral processions were able to pass through the streets of Bagdad with all the emblems of Christianity and disturbances were recorded by the chroniclers as exceptional. In Egypt, Christian festivals were also regarded to some extent as holidays by the Muhammedan population. We have but to imagine these conditions reversed in a Christian kingdom of the early middle ages and the probability of my theory will become obvious. The Christians of the East, who had broken for the most part with the orthodox Church, also regarded Islam as a lesser evil than the Byzantine established Church. Moreover Islam, as being both a political and ecclesiastical organisation, regarded the Christian church as a state within a state and permitted it to preserve its own juridical and at first its own governmental rights. Application was made to the bishops when anything was required from the community and the churches were used as taxation offices. This was all in the interests of the clergy who thus found their traditional claims realised. These relations were naturally modified in the course of centuries; the crusades, the Turkish wars and the great expansion of Europe widened the breach between Christianity and Islam, while as the East was gradually brought under ecclesiastical influence, the contrast grew deeper: the theory, however, that the Muhammedan conquerors and their successors were inspired by a fanatical hatred of Christianity is a fiction invented by Christians. We have now to examine this early development of Islam in somewhat greater detail: indeed, to secure a more general appreciation of this point is the object of the present work. The relationship of the Qoran to Christianity has been already noted: it was a book which preached rather than taught and enounced isolated laws but no connected system. Islam was a clear and simple war-cry betokening merely a recognition of Arab supremacy, of the unity of God and of Muhammed's prophetic mission. But in a few centuries Islam became a complex religious structure, a confusion of Greek philosophy and Roman law, accurately regulating every department of human life from the deepest problems of morality to the daily use of the toothpick, and the fashions of dress and hair. This change from the simplicity of the founder's religious teaching to a system of practical morality often wholly divergent from primitive doctrine, is a transformation which all the great religions of the world have undergone. Religious founders have succeeded in rousing the sense of true religion in the human heart. Religious systems result from the interaction of this impulse with pre-existing capacities for civilisation. The highest attainments of human life are dependent upon circumstances of time and place, and environment often exerts a more powerful influence than creative power. The teaching of Jesus was almost overpowered by the Graeco-Oriental culture of later Hellenism. Dissensions persist even now because millions of people are unable to distinguish pure religion from the forms of expression belonging to an extinct civilisation. Islam went through a similar course of development and assumed the spiritual panoply which was ready to hand. Here, as elsewhere, this defence was a necessity during the period of struggle, but became a crushing burden during the peace which followed victory, for the reason that it was regarded as inseparable from the wearer of it. From this point of view the analogy with Christianity will appear extremely striking, but it is something more than an analogy: the Oriental Hellenism of antiquity was to Christianity that which the Christian Oriental Hellenism of a few centuries later was to Islam. We must now attempt to realise the nature of this event so important in the history of the world. A nomadic people, recently united, not devoid of culture, but with a very limited range of ideas, suddenly gains supremacy over a wide and populous district with an ancient civilisation. These nomads are as yet hardly conscious of their political unity and the individualism of the several tribes composing it is still a disruptive force: yet they can secure domination over countries such as Egypt and Babylonia, with complex constitutional systems, where climatic conditions, the nature of the soil and centuries of work have combined to develop an intricate administrative system, which newcomers could not be expected to understand, much less to recreate or to remodel. Yet the theory has long been held that the Arabs entirely reorganised the constitutions of these countries. Excessive importance has been attached to the statements of Arab authors, who naturally regarded Islam as the beginning of all things. In every detail of practical life they regarded the prophet and his contemporaries as their ruling ideal, and therefore naturally assumed that the constitutional practices of the prophet were his own invention. The organisation of the conquering race with its tribal subordination was certainly purely Arab in origin. In fact the conquerors seemed so unable to adapt themselves to the conditions with which they met, that foreigners who joined their ranks were admitted to the Muhammedan confederacy only as clients of the various Arab tribes. This was, however, a mere question of outward form: the internal organisation continued unchanged, as it was bound to continue unless chaos were to be the consequence. In fact, pre-existing administrative regulations were so far retained that the old customs duties on the former frontiers were levied as before, though they represented an institution wholly alien to the spirit of the Muhammedan empire. Those Muhammedan authors, who describe the administrative organisation, recognise only the taxes which Islam regarded as lawful and characterise others as malpractices which had crept in at a later date. It is remarkable that these so-called subsequent malpractices correspond with Byzantine and Persian usage before the conquest: but tradition will not admit the fact that these remained unchanged. The same fact is obvious when we consider the progress of civilisation in general. In every case the Arabs merely develop the social and economic achievements of the conquered races to further issues. Such progress could indeed only be modified by a general upheaval of existing conditions and no such movement ever took place. The Germanic tribes destroyed the civilisations with which they met; they adopted many of the institutions of Christian antiquity, but found them an impediment to the development of their own genius. The Arabs simply continued to develop the civilisation of post-classical antiquity, with which they had come in contact. This procedure may seem entirely natural in the department of economic life, but by no means inevitable where intellectual progress is concerned. Yet a similar course was followed in either case, as may be proved by dispassionate examination. Islam was a rising force, a faith rather of experience than of theory or dogma, when it raised its claims against Christianity, which represented all pre-existing intellectual culture. A settlement of these claims was necessary and the military triumphs are but the prelude to a great accommodation of intellectual interests. In this Christianity played the chief part, though Judaism is also represented: I am inclined, however, to think that Jewish ideas as they are expressed in the Qoran were often transmitted through the medium of Christianity. There is no doubt that in Medina Muhammed was under direct Jewish influence of extraordinary power. Even at that time Jewish ideas may have been in circulation, not only in the Qoran but also in oral tradition, which afterwards became stereotyped: at the same time Muhammed's utterances against the Jews eventually became so strong during the Medina period, for political reasons, that I can hardly imagine the traditions in their final form to have been adopted directly from the Jews. The case of Jewish converts is a different matter. But in Christianity also much Jewish wisdom was to be found at that time and it is well known that even the Eastern churches regarded numerous precepts of the Old Testament, including those that dealt with ritual, as binding upon them. In any case the spirit of Judaism is present, either directly or working through Christianity, as an influence wherever Islam accommodated itself to the new intellectual and spiritual life which it had encountered. It was a compromise which affected the most trivial details of life, and in these matters religious scrupulosity was carried to a ridiculous point: here we may see the outcome of that Judaism which, as has been said, was then a definite element in Eastern Christianity. Together with Jewish, Greek and classical ideas were also naturally operative, while Persian and other ancient Oriental conceptions were transmitted to Islam by Christianity: these instances I have collectively termed Christian because Christianity then represented the whole of later classical intellectualism, which influenced Islam for the most part through Christianity. It seems that the communication of these ideas to Muhammedanism was impeded by the necessity of translating them not only into a kindred language, but into one of wholly different linguistic structure. For Muhammedanism the difficulty was lessened by the fact that it had learned Christianity in Syria and Persia through the Semitic dialect known as Aramaic, by which Greek and Persian culture had been transmitted to the Arabs before the rise of Islam. In this case, as in many others, the history of language runs on parallel lines with the history of civilisation. The necessities of increasing civilisation had introduced many Aramaic words to the Arabic vocabulary before Muhammed's day: these importations increased considerably when the Arabs entered a wider and more complex civilisation and were especially considerable where intellectual culture was concerned. Even Greek terms made their way into Arabic through Aramaic. This natural dependency of Arabic upon Aramaic, which in turn was connected with Greek as the rival Christian vernacular in these regions, is alone sufficient evidence that Christianity exerted a direct influence upon Muhammedanism. Moreover, as we have seen, the Qoran itself regarded Christians as being in possession of divine wisdom, and some reference both to Christianity and to Judaism was necessary to explain the many unintelligible passages of the Qoran. Allusions were made to texts and statements in the Thora and the Gospels, and God was represented as constantly appealing to earlier revelations of Himself. Thus it was only natural that interpreters should study these scriptures and ask counsel of their possessors. Of primary importance was the fact that both Christians and Jews, and the former in particular, accepted Muhammedanism by thousands, and formed a new intellectual class of ability infinitely superior to that of the original Muslims and able to attract the best elements of the Arab nationality to their teaching. It was as impossible for these apostate Christians to abandon their old habits of thought as it was hopeless to expect any sudden change in the economic conditions under which they lived. Christian theories of God and the world naturally assumed a Muhammedan colouring and thus the great process of accommodating Christianity to Muhammedanism was achieved. The Christian contribution to this end was made partly directly and partly by teaching, and in the intellectual as well as in the economic sphere the ultimate ideal was inevitably dictated by the superior culture of Christianity. The Muhammedans were thus obliged to accept Christian hypotheses on theological points and the fundaments of Christian and Muhammedan culture thus become identical. I use the term hypotheses, for the reason that the final determination of the points at issue was by no means identical, wherever the Qoran definitely contradicted Christian views of morality or social laws. But in these cases also, Christian ideas were able to impose themselves upon tradition and to issue in practice, even when opposed by the actual text of the Qoran. They did not always pass unquestioned and even on trivial points were obliged to encounter some resistance. The theory of the Sunday was accepted, but that day was not chosen and Friday was preferred: meetings for worship were held in imitation of Christian practice, but attempts to sanctify the day and to proclaim it a day of rest were forbidden: except for the performance of divine service, Friday was an ordinary week-day. When, however, the Qoran was in any sort of harmony with Christianity, the Christian ideas of the age were textually accepted in any further development of the question. The fact is obvious, not only as regards details, but also in the general theory of man's position upon earth. * * * * * Muhammed, the preacher of repentance, had become a temporal prince in Medina; his civil and political administration was ecclesiastical in character, an inevitable result of his position as the apostle of God, whose congregation was at the same time a state. This theory of the state led later theorists unconsciously to follow the lead of Christianity, which regarded the church as supreme in every department of life, and so induced Muhammedanism to adopt views of life and social order which are now styled mediaeval. The theological development of this system is to be attributed chiefly to groups of pious thinkers in Medina: they were excluded from political life when the capital was transferred from Medina to Damascus and were left in peace to elaborate their theory of the Muhammedan divine polity. The influence of these groups was paramount: but of almost equal importance was the influence of the proselytes in the conquered lands who were Christians for the most part and for that reason far above their Arab contemporaries in respect of intellectual training and culture. We find that the details of jurisprudence, dogma, and mysticism can only be explained by reference to Christian stimulus, nor is it any exaggeration to ascribe the further development of Muhammed's views to the influence of thinkers who regarded the religious polity of Islam as the realisation of an ideal which Christianity had hitherto vainly striven to attain. This ideal was the supremacy of religion over life and all its activities, over the state and the individual alike. But it was a religion primarily concerned with the next world, where alone real worth was to be found. Earthly life was a pilgrimage to be performed and earthly intentions had no place with heavenly. The joy of life which the ancient world had known, art, music and culture, all were rejected or valued only as aids to religion. Human action was judged with reference only to its appraisement in the life to come. That ascetic spirit was paramount, which had enchained the Christian world, that renunciation of secular affairs which explains the peculiar methods by which mediaeval views of life found expression. Asceticism did not disturb the course of life as a whole. It might condemn but it could not suppress the natural impulse of man to propagate his race: it might hamper economic forces, but it could not destroy them. It eventually led to a compromise in every department of life, but for centuries it retained its domination over men's minds and to some material extent over their actions. Such was the environment in which Islam was planted: its deepest roots had been fertilised with Christian theory, and in spite of Muhammed's call to repentance, its most characteristic manifestations were somewhat worldly and non-ascetic. "Islam knows not monasticism" says the tradition which this tendency produced. The most important compromise of all, that with life, which Christianity only secured by gradual steps, had been already attained for Islam by Muhammed himself and was included in the course of his development. As Islam now entered the Christian world, it was forced to pass through this process of development once more. At the outset it was permeated with the idea of Christian asceticism, to which an inevitable opposition arose, and found expression in such statements as that already quoted. But Muhammed's preaching had obviously striven to honour the future life by painting the actual world in the gloomiest colours, and the material optimism of the secular-minded was unable to check the advance of Christian asceticism among the classes which felt a real interest in religion. Hence that surprising similarity of views upon the problem of existence, which we have now to outline. In details of outward form great divergency is apparent. Christianity possessed a clergy while Islam did not: yet the force of Christian influence produced a priestly class in Islam. It was a class acting not as mediator between God and man through sacraments and mysteries, but as moral leaders and legal experts; as such it was no less important than the scribes under Judaism. Unanimity among these scholars could produce decisions no less binding than those of the Christian clergy assembled in church councils. They are representatives of the congregation which "has no unanimity, for such would be an error." Islam naturally preferred to adopt unanimous conclusions in silence rather than to vote in assemblies. As a matter of fact a body of orthodox opinion was developed by this means with no less success than in Christendom. Any agreement which the quiet work of the scholars had secured upon any question was ratified by God and was thus irrevocably and eternally binding. For instance, the proclamation to the faithful of new ideas upon the exposition of the Qoran or of tradition was absolutely forbidden; the scholars, in other words the clergy, had convinced themselves, by the fact of their unanimity upon the point, that the customary and traditional mode of exposition was the one pleasing to God. Ideas of this kind naturally remind us of Roman Catholic practice. The influence of Eastern Christianity upon Islam is undoubtedly visible here. This influence could not in the face of Muhammedan tradition and custom, create an organised clergy, but it produced a clerical class to guard religious thought, and as religion spread, to supervise thought of every kind. Christianity again condemned marriage, though it eventually agreed to a compromise sanctifying this tie; Islam, on the contrary, found in the Qoran the text "Ye that are unmarried shall marry" (24, 32). In the face of so clear a statement, the condemnation of marriage, which in any case was contrary to the whole spirit of the Qoran, could not be maintained. Thus the Muhammedan tradition contains numerous sayings in support of marriage. "A childless house contains no blessing": "the breath of a son is as the breath of Paradise"; "when a man looks upon his wife (in love) and she upon him, God looks down in mercy upon them both." "Two prayers of a married man are more precious in the sight of God than seventy of a bachelor." With many similar variations upon the theme, Muhammed is said to have urged marriage upon his followers. On the other hand an almost equally numerous body of warnings against marriage exists, also issued by Muhammed. I know no instance of direct prohibition, but serious admonitions are found which usually take the form of denunciation of the female sex and were early interpreted as warnings by tradition. "Fear the world and women": "thy worst enemies are the wife at thy side and thy concubine": "the least in Paradise are the women": "women are the faggots of hell"; "pious women are rare as ravens with white or red legs and white beaks"; "but for women men might enter Paradise." Here we come upon a strain of thought especially Christian. Muhammed regarded the satisfaction of the sexual instincts as natural and right and made no attempt to put restraint upon it: Christian asceticism regarded this impulse as the greatest danger which could threaten the spiritual life of its adherents, and the sentences above quoted may be regarded as the expression of this view. Naturally the social position of the woman suffered in consequence and is so much worse in the traditional Muhammedanism as compared with the Qoran that the change can only be ascribed to the influence of the civilisation which the Muhammedans encountered. The idea of woman as a creature of no account is certainly rooted in the ancient East, but it reached Islam in Christian dress and with the authority of Christian hostility to marriage. With this hostility to marriage are probably connected the regulations concerning the covering of the body: in the ancient church only the face, the hands and the feet were to be exposed to view, the object being to prevent the suggestion of sinful thoughts: it is also likely that objections to the ancient habit of leaving the body uncovered found expression in this ordinance. Similar objections may be found in Muhammedan tradition; we may regard these as further developments of commands given in the Qoran, but it is also likely that Muhammed's apocryphal statements upon the point were dictated by Christian religious theory. They often appear in connection with warnings against frequenting the public baths, which fact is strong evidence of their Christian origin. "A bad house is the bath: much turmoil is therein and men show their nakedness." "Fear that house that is called the bathhouse and if any enter therein, let him veil himself." "He who believes in God and the last Judgment, let him enter the bath only in bathing dress." "Nakedness is forbidden to us." There is a story of the prophet, to the effect that he was at work unclothed when a voice from heaven ordered him to cover his nakedness! * * * * * We thus see, that an astonishing similarity is apparent in the treatment even of questions where divergency is fundamental. Divergency, it is true, existed, but pales before the general affinity of the two theories of life. Our judgment upon Christian medievalism in this respect can be applied directly and literally to Muhammedanism. Either religion regards man as no more than a sojourner in this world. It is not worth while to arrange for a permanent habitation, and luxurious living is but pride. Hence the simplicity of private dwellings in mediaeval times both in the East and West. Architectural expense is confined to churches and mosques, which were intended for the service of God. These Christian ideas are reflected in the inexhaustible storehouse of Muhammedan theory, the great collections of tradition, as follows. "The worst use which a believer can make of his money is to build." "Every building, except a mosque, will stand to the discredit of its architect on the day of resurrection." These polemics which Islam inherited from Christianity are directed not only against building in general, but also against the erection and decoration of lofty edifices: "Should a man build a house nine ells high, a voice will call to him from heaven, Whither wilt thou rise, most profane of the profane?" "No prophet enters a house adorned with fair decoration." With these prohibitions should be connected the somewhat unintelligible fact that the most pious Caliphs sat upon thrones (_mimbar_, "president's chair") of clay. The simplest and most transitory material thus serves to form the symbol of temporal power. A house is adorned not by outward show, but by the fact that prayer is offered and the Qoran recited within its walls. These theories were out of harmony with the worldly tendencies of the conquerors, who built themselves castles, such as Qusair Amra: they belong to the spirit of Christianity rather than to Islam. Upon similar principles we may explain the demand for the utmost simplicity and reserve in regard to the other enjoyments of life. To eat whenever one may wish is excess and two meals a day are more than enough. The portion set apart for one may also suffice for two. Ideas of this kind are of constant recurrence in the Muhammedan traditions: indispensable needs alone are to be satisfied, as indeed Thomas Aquinas teaches. Similar observations apply to dress: "he who walks in costly garments to be seen of men is not seen of the Lord." Gold and silver ornaments, and garments of purple and silk are forbidden by both religions. Princes live as simply as beggars and possess only one garment, so that they are unable to appear in public when it is being washed: they live upon a handful of dates and are careful to save paper and artificial light. Such incidents are common in the oldest records of the first Caliphs. These princes did not, of course, live in such beggary, and the fact is correspondingly important that after the lapse of one or two generations the Muhammedan historians should describe their heroes as possessing only the typical garment of the Christian saint. This one fact speaks volumes. Every action was performed in God or with reference to God--an oft-repeated idea in either religion. There is a continual hatred of the world and a continual fear that it may imperil a man's soul. Hence the sense of vast responsibility felt by the officials, a sense which finds expression even in the ordinary official correspondence of the authorities which papyri have preserved for us. The phraseology is often stereotyped, but as such, expresses a special theory of life. This responsibility is represented as weighing with especial severity upon a pious Caliph. Upon election to the throne he accepts office with great reluctance protesting his unworthiness with tears. The West can relate similar stories of Gregory the Great and of Justinian. Exhortations are frequent ever to remember the fact of death and to repent and bewail past sins. When a mention of the last Judgment occurs in the reading of passages from the Bible or Qoran, the auditors burst into tears. Upon one occasion a man was praying upon the roof of his house and wept so bitterly over his sins, that the tears ran down the waterspout and flooded the rooms below. This hyperbolical statement in a typical life of a saint shows the high value attributed to tears in the East. It is, however, equally a Christian characteristic. The gracious gift of tears was regarded by mediaeval Christianity as the sign of a deeply religious nature. Gregory VII is said to have wept daily at the sacrifice of the Mass and similar accounts are given to the credit of other famous Christians. While a man should weep for his own sins, he is not to bewail any misfortune or misery which may befall him. In the latter case it is his duty to collect his strength, to resign himself and to praise God even amid his sufferings. Should he lose a dear relative by death, he is not to break out with cries and lamentations like the heathen. Lamentation for the dead is most strictly forbidden in Islam. "We are God's people and to God we return" says the pious Muslim on receiving the unexpected news of a death. Resignation and patience in these matters is certainly made the subject of eloquent exhortation in the Qoran, but the special developments of tradition betray Christian influence. Generally speaking, the whole ethical system of the two religions is based upon the contrast between God and the world, though Muhammedan philosophy will recognize no principle beside that of God. As a typical example we may take a sentence from the Spanish bishop Isidor who died in 636: "Good are the intentions directed towards God and bad are those directed to earthly gain or transitory fame." Any Muhammedan theologian would have subscribed to this statement. On the one hand stress is laid upon motive as giving its value to action. The first sentence in the most famous collection of traditions runs, "Deeds shall be judged by their intentions." On the other hand is the contrast between God and the world, or as Islam puts it, between the present and the future life. The Christian gains eternal life by following Christ. Imitation of the Master in all things even to the stigmata, is the characteristic feature of mediaeval Christianity. Nor is the whole of the so-called Sunna obedience anything more than the imitation of Muhammed which seeks to repeat the smallest details of his life. The infinite importance attached by Islam to the Sunna seems to me to have originated in Christian influence. The development of it betrays original features, but the fundamental principle is Christian, as all the leading ideas of Islam are Christian, in the sense of the term as paraphrased above. Imitation of Christ in the first instance, attempts to repeat his poverty and renunciation of personal property: this is the great Christian ideal. Muhammed was neither poor nor without possessions: at the end of his life he had become a prince and had directly stated that property was a gift from God. In spite of that his successors praise poverty and their praises were the best of evidence that they were influenced not by the prophet himself but by Christianity. While the traditions are full of the praises of poverty and the dangers of wealth, assertions in praise of wealth also occur, for the reason that the pure Muhammedan ideas opposed to Christianity retained a certain influence. J. Goldziher has published an interesting study showing how many words borrowed from this source occur in the written Muhammedan traditions: an almost complete version of the Lord's Prayer is quoted. Even the idea of love towards enemies, which would have been unintelligible to Muhammed, made its way into the traditions: "the most virtuous of acts is to seek out him who rejects thee, to give to him that despises thee and to pardon him that oppresses thee." The Gospel precept to do unto others as we would they should do unto us (Matt. vii. 12, Luke vi. 31) is to be found in the Arab traditions, and many similar points of contact may be noticed. A man's "neighbour" has ever been, despite the teaching of Jesus, to the Christian and to the Muhammedan, his co-religionist. The whole department of Muhammedan ethics has thus been subjected to strong Christian influence. Naturally this ecclesiasticism which dominated the whole of life, was bound to assert itself in state organisation. An abhorrence of the state, so far as it was independent of religion, a feeling unknown in the ancient world, pervades both Christianity and Muhammedanism, Christianity first struggled to secure recognition in the state and afterwards fought with the state for predominance. Islam and the state were at first identical: in its spiritual leaders it was soon separated from the state. Its idea of a divine polity was elaborated to the smallest details, but remained a theory which never became practice. Yet this ideal retained such strength that every Muhammedan usurper was careful to secure his investiture by the Caliph, the nominal leader of this ecclesiastical state, even if force were necessary to attain his object. For instance, Saladin was absolutely independent of the nominal Caliph in Bagdad, but could not feel that his position was secure until he had obtained his sultan's patent from the Caliph. Only then did his supremacy rest upon a religious basis and he was not regarded by popular opinion as a legitimate monarch until this ceremony had been performed. This theory corresponds with constitutional ideals essentially Christian. "The tyranny," wrote Innocent IV to the Emperor Frederick II, "which was once generally exercised throughout the world, was resigned into the hands of the Church by Constantine, who then received as an honourable gift from the proper source that which he had formerly held and exercised unrighteously." The long struggle between Church and State in this matter is well known. In this struggle the rising power of Islam had adopted a similar attitude. The great abhorrence of a secular "monarchy" in opposition to a religious caliphate, as expressed both by the dicta of tradition and by the Abbassid historians, was inspired, in my opinion, by Christian dislike of a divorce between Church and State. The phenomenon might be explained without reference to external influence, but if the whole process be considered in connection, Christian influence seems more than probable. A similar attitude was also assumed by either religion towards the facts of economic life. In either case the religious point of view is characteristic. The reaction against the tendency to condemn secular life is certainly stronger in Islam, but is also apparent in Christianity. Thomas Aquinas directly stigmatises trade as a disgraceful means of gain, because the exchange of wares does not necessitate labour or the satisfaction of necessary wants: Muhammedan tradition says, "The pious merchant is a pioneer on the road of God." "The first to enter Paradise is the honourable merchant." Here the solution given to the problem differs in either case, but in Christian practice, opposition was also obvious. Common to both religions is the condemnation of the exaction of interest and monetary speculation, which the middle ages regarded as usury. Islam, as usual, gives this Christian idea the form of a saying enounced by Muhammed: "He who speculates in grain for forty days, grinds and bakes it and gives it to the poor, makes an offering unacceptable to God." "He who raises prices to Muslims (by speculation) will be cast head downwards by God into the hottest fire of hell." Many similar traditions fulminate against usury in the widest sense of the word. These prohibitions were circumvented in practice by deed of gift and exchange, but none the less the free development of commercial enterprise was hampered by these fetters which modern civilisation first broke. Enterprise was thus confined to agriculture under these circumstances both for Christianity and Islam, and economic life in either case became "mediaeval" in outward appearance. Methods of making profit without a proportional expenditure of labour were the particular objects of this aversion. Manual labour was highly esteemed both in the East and West. A man's first duty was to support himself by the work of his own hands, a duty proclaimed, as we know, from the apostolic age onwards. So far as Islam is concerned, this view may be illustrated by the following utterances: "The best of deeds is the gain of that which is lawful": "the best gain is made by sale within lawful limits and by manual labour." "The most precious gain is that made by manual labour; that which a man thus earns and gives to himself, his people, his sons and his servants, is as meritorious as alms." Thus practical work is made incumbent upon the believer, and the extent to which manufacture flourished in East and West during the middle ages is well known. A similar affinity is apparent as regards ideas upon social position and occupation. Before God man is but a slave: even the mighty Caliphs themselves, even those who were stigmatised by posterity as secular monarchs, included in their official titles the designation, "slave of God." This theory was carried out into the smallest details of life, even into those which modern observers would consider as unconcerned with religion. Thus at meals the Muslim was not allowed to recline at table, an ancient custom which the upper classes had followed for centuries: he must sit, "as a slave," according to the letter of the law. All are alike slaves, for the reason that they are believers: hence the humiliation of those whom chance has exalted is thought desirable. This idealism is undoubtedly more deeply rooted in the popular consciousness of the East than of the West. In the East great social distinctions occur; but while religion recognises them, it forbids insistence upon them. As especially distinctive of social work in either religion we might be inclined to regard the unparalleled extent of organizations for the care of the poor, for widows and orphans, for the old, infirm and sick, the public hospitals and almshouses and religious foundations in the widest sense of the term; but the object of these activities was not primarily social nor were they undertaken to make life easier for the poor: religious selfishness was the leading motive, the desire to purify self by good works and to secure the right to pre-eminence in heaven. "For the salvation of my soul and for everlasting reward" is the formula of many a Christian foundation deed. Very similar expressions of hope for eternal reward occur in Muhammedan deeds of gift. A foundation inscription on a mosque, published by E. Littmann, is stated in terms the purport of which is unmistakable. "This has been built by N or M: may a house be built for him in Paradise (in return)." Here again, the idea of the house in Paradise is borrowed from Christian ideas. We have already observed that in Islam the smallest trivialities of daily life become matters of religious import. The fact is especially apparent in a wide department of personal conduct. Islam certainly went to further extremes than Christianity in this matter, but these customs are clearly only further developments of Christian regulations. The call to simplicity of food and dress has already been mentioned. But even the simplest food was never to be taken before thanks had been given to God: grace was never to be omitted either before or after meals. Divine ordinances also regulated the manner of eating. The prophet said, "With one finger the devils eat, with two the Titans of antiquity and with three fingers the prophets." The application of the saying is obvious. Similar sayings prescribe the mode of handling dishes and behaviour at a common meal, if the blessing of God is to be secured. There seems to be a Christian touch in one of these rules which runs, in the words of the prophet: "He who picks up the crumbs fallen from the table and eats them, will be forgiven by God." "He who licks the empty dishes and his fingers will be filled by God here and in the world to come." "When a man licks the dish from which he has eaten, the dish will plead for him before God." I regard these words as practical applications of the text, "Gather up the pieces that remain, that nothing be lost" (Matt. xiv. 10: John vi. 12). Even to-day South Italians kiss bread that has fallen to the ground, in order to make apology to the gift of God. Volumes might be filled with rules of polite manners in this style: hardly any detail is to be found in the whole business of daily life, even including occupations regarded as unclean, which was not invested with some religious significance. These rules are almost entirely dictated by the spirit of early Christianity and it is possible to reconstruct the details of life in those dark ages from these literary records which are now the only source of evidence upon such points. However, we must here content ourselves with establishing the fact that Islam adopted Christian practice in this as in other departments of life. The state, society, the individual, economics and morality were thus collectively under Christian influence during the early period of Muhammedanism. Conditions very similar in general, affected those conceptions which we explain upon scientific grounds but which were invariably regarded by ancient and mediaeval thought as supernatural, conceptions deduced from the phenomena of illness and dreams. Islam was no less opposed than Christianity to the practice of magic in any form, but only so far as these practices seemed to preserve remnants of heathen beliefs. Such beliefs were, however, continued in both religions in modified form. There is no doubt that ideas of high antiquity, doubtless of Babylonian origin, can be traced as contributing to the formation of these beliefs, while scientific medicine is connected with the earlier discoveries of Greece. Common to both religions was the belief in the reality of dreams, especially when these seemed to harmonise with religious ideas: dreams were regarded as revelations from God or from his apostles or from the pious dead. The fact that man could dream and that he could appear to other men in dreams after his death was regarded as a sign of divine favour and the biographies of the saints often contain chapters devoted to this faculty. These are natural ideas which lie in the national consciousness of any people, but owe their development in the case of Islam to Christian influence. The same may be said of the belief that the prayers of particular saints were of special efficacy, and of attempts by prayer, forms of worship and the like to procure rain, avert plague and so forth: such ideas are common throughout the middle ages. Thus in every department we meet with that particular type of Christian theory which existed in the East during the seventh and eighth centuries. This mediaeval theory of life was subjected, as is well known, to many compromises in the West, and was materially modified by Teutonic influence and the revival of classicism. It might therefore be supposed that in Islam Christian theory underwent similar modification or disappeared entirely. But the fact is not so. At the outset, we stated, as will be remembered, that Muhammedan scholars were accustomed to propound their dicta as utterances given by Muhammed himself, and in this form Christian ideas also came into circulation among Muhammedans. When attempts were made to systematise these sayings, all were treated as alike authentic, and, as traditional, exerted their share of influence upon the formation of canon law. Thus questions of temporary importance to mediaeval Christianity became permanent elements in Muhammedan theology. One highly instructive instance may be given. During the century which preceded the Byzantine iconoclastic controversy, the whole of nearer Asia was disturbed by the question whether the erection and veneration of images was permissible. That Constantinople attempted to prohibit such veneration is well known: but after a long struggle the church gained its wishes. Islam was confronted with the problem and decided for prohibition, doubtless under Jewish influence. Sayings of Muhammed forbid the erection of images. This prohibition became part of canon law and therefore binding for all time: it remains obligatory at the present day, though in practice it is often transgressed. Thus the process of development which was continued in Christendom, came to a standstill in Islam, and many similar cases might be quoted. Here begins the development of Muhammedan jurisprudence or, more exactly, of the doctrine of duty, which includes every kind of human activity, duties to God and man, religion, civil law, the penal code, social morality and economics. This extraordinary system of moral obligations, as developed in Islam, though its origin is obscure, is doubtless rooted in the ecclesiastical law of Christendom which was then first evolved. I have no doubt that the development of Muhammedan tradition, which precedes the code proper, was dependent upon the growth of canon law in the old Church, and that this again, or at least the purely legal part of it, is closely connected with the pre-Justinian legislation. Roman law does not seem to me to have influenced Islam immediately in the form of Justinian's _Corpus Juris_, but indirectly from such ecclesiastical sources as the Romano-Syrian code. This view, however, I would distinctly state, is merely my conjecture. For our present purpose it is more important to establish the fact that the doctrine of duty canonised the manifold expressions of the theory that life is a religion, with which we have met throughout the traditional literature: all human acts are thus legally considered as obligatory or forbidden when corresponding with religious commands or prohibitions, as congenial or obnoxious to the law or as matters legally indifferent and therefore permissible. The arrangement of the work of daily life in correspondence with these religious points of view is the most important outcome of the Muhammedan doctrine of duties. The religious utterances which also cover the whole business of life were first made duties by this doctrine: in practice their fulfilment is impossible, but the theory of their obligatory nature is a fundamental element in Muhammedanism. Where the doctrine of duties deals with legal rights, its application was in practice confined to marriage and the affairs of family life: the theoretical demands of its penal clauses, for instance, raise impossible difficulties. At the same time, it has been of great importance to the whole spiritual life of Islam down to the present day, because it reflects Muhammedan ideals of life and of man's place in the world. Even to-day it remains the daily bread of the soul that desires instruction, to quote the words of the greatest father of the Muhammedan church. It will thus be immediately obvious to what a vast extent Christian theory of the seventh and eighth centuries still remains operative upon Muhammedan thought throughout the world. Considerable parts of the doctrine of duties are concerned with the forms of Muhammedan worship. It is becoming ever clearer that only slight tendencies to a form of worship were apparent under Muhammed. The mosque, the building erected for the special purpose of divine service, was unknown during the prophet's lifetime; nor was there any definite church organisation, of which the most important parts are the common ritual and the preaching. Tendencies existed but no system, was to be found: there was no clerical class to take an interest in the development of an order of divine service. The Caliphs prayed before the faithful in the capital, as did the governors in the provinces. The military commanders also led a simple service in their own stations. It was contact with foreign influence which first provided the impulse to a systematic form of worship. Both Christians and Jews possessed such forms. Their example was followed and a ritual was evolved, at first of the very simplest kind. No detailed organisation, however, was attempted, until Christian influence led to the formation of the class which naturally took an interest in the matter, the professional theologians. These soon replaced the military service leaders. This change denoted the final stage in the development of ritual. The object of the theologians was to subject the various occupations of life to ritual as well as to religion. The mediatorial or sacramental theories of the priestly office were unknown to Islam, but ritual customs of similar character were gradually evolved, and are especially pronounced in the ceremonies of marriage and burial. More important, however, was the development of the official service, the arrangement of the day and the hour of obligatory attendance and the introduction of preaching: under Muhammed and his early followers, and until late in the Omajjad period, preaching was confined to addresses, given as occasion demanded, but by degrees it became part of the regular ritual. With it was afterwards connected the intercession for the Caliphs, which became a highly significant part of the service, as symbolising their sovereignty. It seems to me very probable that this practice was an adoption, at any rate in theory, of the Christian custom of praying for the emperor. The pulpit was then introduced under Christian influence, which thus completely transformed the chair (_mimbar_) of the ancient Arab judges and rulers and made it a piece of church furniture; the Christian _cancelli_ or choir screens were adopted and the mosque was thus developed. Before the age of mosques, a lance had been planted in the ground and prayer offered behind it: so in the mosque a prayer niche was made, a survival of the pre-existing custom. There are many obscure points in the development of the worship, but one fact may be asserted with confidence: the developments of ritual were derived from pre-existing practices, which were for the most part Christian. But the religious energy of Islam was not exclusively devoted to the development and practice of the doctrine of duties; at the same time this ethical department, in spite of its dependency upon Christian and Jewish ideas, remains its most original achievement: we have pursued the subject at some length, because its importance is often overlooked in the course of attempts to estimate the connection between Christianity and Islam. On the other hand, affinities in the regions of mysticism and dogma have long been matter of common knowledge and a brief sketch of them will therefore suffice. If not essential to our purpose within the limits of this book, they are none the less necessary to complete our treatment of the subject. By mysticism we understand the expression of religious emotion, as contrasted with efforts to attain righteousness by full obedience to the ethical doctrine of duties, and also in contrast to the hair-splitting of dogmatic speculation: mysticism strove to reach immediate emotional unity with the Godhead. No trace of any such tendency was to be found in the Qoran: it entered Islam as a complete novelty, and the affinities which enabled it to gain a footing have been difficult to trace. Muhammedan mysticism is certainly not exclusively Christian: its origins, like those of Christian mysticism, are to be found in the pantheistic writings of the Neoplatonist school of Dionysius the Areopagite: but Islam apparently derived its mysticism from Christian sources. In it originated the idea, with all its capacity for development, of the mystical love of God: to this was added the theory and practice of asceticism which was especially developed by Christianity, and, in later times, the influence of Indian philosophy, which is unmistakable. Such are the fundamental elements of this tendency. When the idea of the Nirwana, the Arab _fan[=a]_, is attained, Muhammedanism proper comes to an end. But orthodoxy controls the divergent elements: it opposes any open avowal of the logical conclusion, which would identify "God" and the "ego," but in practice this group of ideas, pantheistic in all but name, has been received and given a place side by side with the strict monotheism of the Qoran and with the dogmatic theology. Any form of mysticism which is pushed to its logical consequences must overthrow positive religion. By incorporating this dangerous tendency within itself, Islam has averted the peril which it threatens. Creed is no longer endangered, and this purpose being secured, thought is free. Union with God is gained by ecstasy and leads to enthusiasm. These terms will therefore show us in what quarter we must seek the strongest impulses to mysticism. The concepts, if not the actual terms, are to be found in Islam: they were undoubtedly transmitted by Christianity and undergo the wide extension which results in the dervish and fakir developments. _Dervish_ and _fakir_ are the Persian and Arabic words for "beggar": the word _sufi_, a man in a woollen shirt, is also used in the same sense. The terms show that asceticism is a fundamental element in mysticism; asceticism was itself an importation to Islam. Dervishes are divided into different classes or orders, according to the methods by which they severally prefer to attain ecstasy: dancing and recitation are practised by the dancing and howling dervishes and other methods are in vogue. It is an institution very different from monasticism but the result of a course of development undoubtedly similar to that which produced the monk: dervishism and monasticism are independent developments of the same original idea. Among these Muhammedan companies attempts to reach the point of ecstasy have developed to a rigid discipline of the soul; the believer must subject himself to his master, resigning all power of will, and so gradually reaches higher stages of knowledge until he is eventually led to the consciousness of his absolute identity with God. It seems to me beyond question that this method is reflected in the _exercitiis spiritualibus_ of Ignatius Loyola, the chief instrument by which the Jesuits secured dominion over souls. Any one who has realised the enormous influence which Arab thought exerted upon Spanish Christianity so late as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, will not regard the conjecture as unfounded. When a man's profession or position prevented him from practising these mystical exercises, he satisfied his religious needs by venerating persons who were nearer to the deity and whose intercession was effectual even after their death and sometimes not until they were dead: hence arose the veneration of saints, a practice as alien as pantheistic dogma to primitive Islam. The adoption of Christian saint worship was not possible until the person of Muhammed himself had been exalted above the ordinary level of humanity. Early Muhammedans observed that the founder of Christianity was regarded by popular opinion as a miracle worker of unrivalled power: it was impossible for the founder of Islam to remain inferior in this respect. Thus the early biographies of the prophet, which appeared in the first century of Muhammedanism, recount the typical miracles of the Gospels, the feeding of multitudes, healing the sick, raising the dead and so forth. Two methods of adoption may be distinguished. Special features are directly borrowed, or the line of advance is followed which had introduced the worship of saints and relics to Christianity a short time before. The religious emotions natural to any people produced a series of ideas which pass from one religion to another. Outward form and purport may be changed, but the essential points remain unaltered and are the living expression of that relation to God in which a people conceives itself to stand. Higher forms of religion--a fact as sad as it is true--require a certain degree not only of moral but of intellectual capacity. Thus we have traversed practically the whole circle of religious life and have everywhere found Islam following in the path of Christian thought. One department remains to be examined, which might be expected to offer but scanty opportunity for borrowings of this kind; this is dogma. Here, if anywhere, the contrast between the two religions should be obvious. The initial divergencies were so pronounced, that any adoption of Christian ideas would seem impossible. Yet in those centuries, Christianity was chiefly agitated by dogmatic questions, which occupied men's minds as greatly as social problems at the present day. Here we can observe most distinctly, how the problems at least were taken over by Islam. Muhammedan dogmatic theology is concerned only with three main questions, the problem of free-will, the being and attributes of God, and the eternal uncreated nature of God's word. The mere mention of these problems will recall the great dogmatic struggles of early Christianity. At no time have the problems of free-will and the nature of God, been subjects of fiercer dispute than during the Christological and subsequent discussions. Upholders of freedom or of determinism could alike find much to support their theories in the Qoran: Muhammed was no dogmatist and for him the ideas of man's responsibility and of God's almighty and universal power were not mutually exclusive. The statement of the problem was adopted from Christianity as also was the dialectical subtlety by which a solution was reached, and which, while admitting the almighty power of God, left man responsible for his deeds by regarding him as free to accept or refuse the admonitions of God. Thus the thinkers and their demands for justice and righteous dealing were reconciled to the blind fatalism of the masses, which again was not a native Muhammedan product, but is the outcome of the religious spirit of the East. The problem of reconciling the attributes of God with the dogma of His unity was solved with no less subtlety. The mere idea that a multiplicity of attributes was incompatible with absolute unity was only possible in a school which had spent centuries in the desperate attempt to reconcile the inference of a divine Trinity with the conception of absolute divine unity. Finally, the third question, "Was the Qoran, the word of God, created or not?" is an obvious counterpart of the Logos problem, of the struggle to secure recognition of the Logos as eternal and uncreated together with God. Islam solved the question by distinguishing the eternal and uncreated Qoran from the revealed and created. The eternal nature of the Qoran was a dogma entirely alien to the strict monotheism of Islam: but this fact was never realised, any more than the fact that the acceptance of the dogma was a triumph for Graeco-Christian dialectic. There can be no more striking proof of the strength of Christian influence: it was able to undermine the fundamental dogma of Islam, and the Muhammedans never realised the fact. In our review of these dogmatic questions, we have met with a novel tendency, that to metaphysical speculation and dialectic. It was from Christendom, not directly from the Greek world, that this spirit reached Islam: the first attitude of Muhammedanism towards it was that which Christianity adopted towards all non-religious systems of thought. Islam took it up as a useful weapon for the struggle against heresy. But it soon became a favourite and trusted implement and eventually its influence upon Muhammedan philosophy became paramount. Here we meet with a further Christian influence, which, when once accepted, very largely contributed to secure a similar development of mediaeval Christian and Muhammedan thought. This was Scholasticism, which was the natural and inevitable consequence of the study of Greek dialectic and philosophy. It is not necessary to sketch the growth of scholasticism, with its barrenness of results in spite of its keen intellectual power, upon ground already fertilised by ecclesiastical pioneers. It will suffice to state the fact that these developments of the Greek spirit were predominant here as in the West: in either case important philosophies rise upon this basis, for the most part professedly ecclesiastical, even when they occasionally struck at the roots of the religious system to which they belonged. In this department, Islam repaid part of its debt to Christianity, for the Arabs became the intellectual leaders of the middle ages. Thus we come to the concluding section of this treatise; before we enter upon it, two preliminary questions remain for consideration. If Islam was ready to learn from Christianity in every department of religious life, what was the cause of the sudden superiority of Muhammedanism to the rising force of Christianity a few centuries later? And secondly, in view of the traditional antagonism between the Christian and Muhammedan worlds, how was Christianity able to adopt so large and essential a portion of Muhammedan thought? The answer in the second case will be clear to any one who has followed our argument with attention. The intellectual and religious outlook was so similar in both religions and the problem requiring solution so far identical that nothing existed to impede the adoption of ideas originally Christian which had been developed in the East. The fact that the West could accept philosophical and theological ideas from Islam and that an actual interchange of thought could proceed in this direction, is the best of proofs for the soundness of our argument that the roots of Muhammedanism are to be sought in Christianity. Islam was able to borrow from Christianity for the reason that Muhammed's ideas were derived from that source: similarly Christianity was able to turn Arab thought to its own purposes because that thought was founded upon Christian principles. The sources of both religions lie in the East and in Oriental thought. No less is true of Judaism, a scholastic system which was excellently adapted by its international character, to become a medium of communication between Christianity and Muhammedanism during those centuries. In this connection special mention must be made of the Spanish Jews; to their work, not only as transmitting but also as originating ideas a bare reference must here suffice. But of greater importance was the direct exchange of thought, which proceeded through literary channels, by means of translations, especially by word of mouth among the Christians and Muhammedans who were living together in Southern Italy, Sicily, and Spain, and by commercial intercourse. The other question concerns the fundamental problem of European medievalism. We see that the problems with which the middle ages in Europe were confronted and also that European ethics and metaphysics were identical with the Muhammedan system: we are moreover assured that the acceptance of Christian ideas by Islam can only have taken place in the East: and the conclusion is obvious that mediaeval Christianity was also primarily rooted in the East. The transmission of this religious philosophy to the non-Oriental peoples of the West at first produced a cessation of progress but opened a new intellectual world when these peoples awoke to life in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. But throughout the intermediate period between the seventh and thirteenth centuries the East was gaining political strength and was naturally superior to the West where political organisation and culture had been shattered by the Germanic invasions; in the East again there was an organic unity of national strength and intellectual ideals, as the course of development had not been interrupted. Though special dogmatic points had been changed, the general religious theory remained unaltered throughout the nearer East. Thus the rising power of Islam, which had high faculties of self-accommodation to environment, was able to enter upon the heritage of the mixed Graeco-Oriental civilisation existing in the East; in consequence it gained an immediate advantage over the West, where Eastern ideas were acclimatised with difficulty. The preponderance of Muhammedan influence was increased by the fact that Islam became the point of amalgamation for ancient Eastern cultures, in particular for those of Greece and Persia: in previous centuries preparation had been made for this process by the steady transformation of Hellenism to Orientalism. Persia, however, had been the main source of Eastern civilisation, at any rate since the Sassanid period: the debt of Byzantine culture to Persia is well known. Unfortunately no thorough investigation has been made of these various and important changes, but it is clear that Persian civilisation sent its influence far westward, at first directly and later through the medium of Muhammedanism. The same facts hold good with regard to the diffusion of intellectual culture from Persia. How far Persian ideas may have influenced the development of Muhammedan and even of Christian eschatology, we need not here discuss: but the influence of the great Graeco-Christian schools of Persia was enormous: they made the Arabs acquainted with the most important works in Greek and Persian literature. To this fact was due the wide influence of Islam upon Christian civilisation, which is evidenced even to-day by the numerous words of Arab origin to be found in modern European languages; it is in fact an influence the strength of which can hardly be exaggerated. Not only the commercial products of the East, but important economic methods, the ideals of our so-called European chivalry and of its love poetry, the foundations of our natural sciences, even theological and philosophical ideas of high value were then sent to us from the East. The consequences of the crusades are the best proof of the enormous superiority of the Muhammedan world, a fact which is daily becoming more obvious. Here we are concerned only with the influence exerted by Muhammedan philosophy. It would be more correct to speak of post-classical than of Muhammedan philosophy. But as above, the influence of Christianity upon Islam was considered, so now the reverse process must be outlined. In either case it was the heir to the late classical age, to the mixed Graeco-Oriental culture, which influenced Islam at first in Christian guise. Islam is often able to supplement its borrowings from Christianity at the original sources, and when they have thus been deepened and purified, these adaptations are returned to Christianity in Muhammedan form. Christian scholasticism was first based upon fragments of Aristotle and chiefly inspired by Neo-Platonism: through the Arabs it became acquainted with almost the whole of Aristotle and also with the special methods by which the Arabs approach the problem of this philosophy. To give any detailed account of this influence would be to write a history of mediaeval philosophy in its relation to ecclesiastical doctrine, a task which I feel to be beyond my powers. I shall therefore confine myself to an abstract of the material points selected from the considerable detail which specialists upon the subject have collected: I consider that Arab influence during the first period is best explained by the new wealth of Greek thought which the Arabs appropriated and transmitted to Europe. These new discoveries were the attainments of Greece in the natural sciences and in logic: they extended the scope of dialectic and stimulated the rise of metaphysical theory: the latter, in combination with ecclesiastical dogma and Greek science, became such a system of thought as that expounded in the Summa of Thomas Aquinas. Philosophy remained the handmaid of religion and Arab influence first served only to complete the ecclesiastical philosophy of life. Eventually, however, the methods of interpretation and criticism, peculiar to the Arabs when dealing with Aristotle became of no less importance than the subject matter of their inquiries. This form of criticism was developed from the emphasis which Islam had long laid upon the value of wisdom, or recognition of the claims of reason. Muhammedan tradition is full of the praises of wisdom, which it also originally regarded as the basis of religion. Reason, however, gradually became an independent power: orthodoxy did not reject reason when it coincided with tradition, but under the influence of Aristotelianism, especially as developed by Averroës, reason became a power opposed to faith. The essential point of the doctrine was that truth was twofold, according to faith and according to reason. Any one who was subtle enough to recognise both kinds of truth could preserve his orthodoxy: but the theory contained one great danger, which was immediately obvious to the Christian church. The consequent struggle is marked by the constant connection of Arab ideas with the characteristic expressions of Christian feeling; these again are connected with the outset of a new period, when the pioneers of the Renaissance liberate the West from the chains of Greek ecclesiastical classicism, from Oriental metaphysical religion and slowly pave the way for the introduction of Germanic ideals directly derived from true classicism. Not until that period does the West burst the bonds in which Orientalism had confined it. Christianity and Islam then stand upon an equal footing in respect both of intellectual progress and material wealth. But as the West emerges from the shadow-land of the middle ages the more definite becomes its superiority over the East. Western nations become convinced that the fetters which bind them were forged in the East, and when they have shaken off their chains, they discover their own physical and intellectual power. They go forth and create a new world, in which Orientalism finds but scanty room. The East, however, cannot break away from the theories of life and mind which grew in it and around it. Even at the present day the Oriental is swathed in mediaevalism. A journalist, for instance, however European his mode of life, will write leaders supported by arguments drawn from tradition and will reason after the manner of the old scholasticism. But a change may well take place. Islam may gradually acquire the spirit as well as the form of modern Europe. Centuries were needed before mediaeval Christianity learned the need for submission to the new spirit. Within Christendom itself, it was non-Christian ideas which created the new movement, but these were completely amalgamated with pre-existing Christianity. Thus, too, a Renaissance is possible in the East, not merely by the importation and imitation of European progress, but primarily by intellectual advancement at home even within the sphere of religion. Our task is drawing to its close. We have passed in review the interaction of Christianity and Islam, so far as the two religions are concerned. It has also been necessary to refer to the history of the two civilisations, for the reason that the two religions penetrate national life, a feature characteristic both of their nature and of the course of development which they respectively followed. This method of inquiry has enabled us to gain an idea of the rise and progress of Muhammedanism as such. An attempt to explain the points of contact and resemblance between the two religions naturally tends to obscure the differences between them. Had we devoted our attention to Islam alone, without special reference to Christianity, these differences, especially in the region of dogmatic theology, would have been more obvious. They are, however, generally well known. The points of connection are much more usually disregarded: yet they alone can explain the interchange of thought between the two mediaeval civilisations. The surprising fact is the amount of general similarity in religious theory between religions so fundamentally divergent upon points of dogma. Nor is the similarity confined to religious theory: when we realise that material civilisation, especially when European medievalism was at its height, was practically identical in the Christian West and the Muhammedan East, we are justified in any reference to the unity of Eastern and Western civilisation. My statements may tend to represent Islam as a religion of no special originality; at the same time, Christianity was but one of other influences operative upon it; early Arabic, Zoroastrian, and Jewish beliefs in particular have left traces on its development. May not as much be said of Christianity? Inquirers have seriously attempted to distinguish Greek and Jewish influences as the component elements of Christianity: in any case, the extent of the elements original to the final orthodox system remains a matter of dispute. As we learn to appreciate historical connection and to probe beneath the surface of religions in course of development, we discover points of relationship and interdependency of which the simple believer never even dreams. The object of all this investigation is, in my opinion, one only: to discover how the religious experience of the founder of a faith accommodates itself to pre-existing civilisation, in the effort to make its influence operative. The eventual triumph of the new religion is in every case and at every time nothing more than a compromise: nor can more be expected, inasmuch as the religious instinct, though one of the most important influences in man, is not the sole determining influence upon his nature. Recognition of this fact can only be obtained at the price of a breach with ecclesiastical mode of thought. Premonitions of some such breach are apparent in modern Muhammedanism: for ourselves, they are accomplished facts. If I correctly interpret the signs of the times, a retrograde movement in religious development has now begun. The religion inspiring a single personality, has secured domination over the whole of life: family, society, and state have bowed beneath its power. Then the reaction begins: slowly religion loses its comprehensive force and as its history is learned, even at the price of sorrow, it slowly recedes within the true limits of its operation, the individual, the personality, in which it is naturally rooted. CONCLUSION AND BIBLIOGRAPHY The purpose of the present work has been to show not so much the identity of Christian and Muhammedan theories of life during the middle ages, as the parallel course of development common to both, and to demonstrate the fact that ideas could be transferred from one system to the other. Detail has been sacrificed to this general purpose. The brief outline of Muhammedan dogmatics and mysticism was necessary to complete the general survey of the question. Any one of these subjects, and the same is true as regards a detailed life of Muhammed, would require at least another volume of equal size for satisfactory treatment. The Oriental scholar will easily see where I base my statements upon my own researches and where I have followed Goldziher and Snouck. My chief source of information, apart from the six great books of tradition, has been the invaluable compilation of Soj[=u]t[=i], the great Kanz el-'Umm[=a]l (Hyderabad, 1314). To those who do not read Arabic may be recommended the French translation of the Boch[=a]r[=i], of which two volumes are now published: _El-Bokâhri, les traditions islamiques traduites ... par_ O. Houdas and W. Marçais. Paris, 1906. Of general works dealing with the questions I have touched, the following, to which I owe a considerable debt, may be recommended:-- J. Goldziher. Muhammedanische Studien, Halle, 1889 and following year. Die Religion des Islams (Kult. d. Gegenw., I, iii. 1). C. Snouck Hurgronje. De Islam (de Gids, 1886, us. 5 f.). Mekka. The Hague, 1888. Une nouvelle biographie de Mohammed (Rev. Hist. Relig., 1894). Leone Caetani di Teano. Annali dell' Islam. Milan, 1905 and following years. F. Buhl. Muhammed's Liv. Copenhagen, 1903. H. Grimme. Muhammed. Munich, 1904. J. Wellhausen. Das arabische Reich und sein Sturz. Berlin, 1902. Th. Nöldeke. Geschichte des Qoräns. Gottingen, 1860. (New edition by F. Schwally in the press.) C.H. Becker. Die Kanzel im Kultus des alten Islam. Giessen, 1906. Papyri. Schott-Reinhardt, I. Heidelberg, 1906. Th. W. Juynboll. Handleidung tot de kennis van de Mohammedaansche Wet. Leyden, 1903. T.J. de Boer. Geschichte der Philosophie in Islam. Stuttgart, 1901 (also an English edition). D.B. Macdonald. Development of Muslim Theology, Jurisprudence and Constitutional Theory. New York, 1903. A. Merx. Idee und Grundlinien einer allgemeinen Geschichte der Mystik. Heidelberg, 1893. A. Müller. Der Islam im Morgen- und Abendland (Oncken's collection). W. Riedel. Die Kirchenrechtsquellen des Patriarchats Alexandrien. Leipsic, 1900. G. Bruns and E. Sachau. Syrisch-römisches Rechtsbuch. Leipsic, 1880. E. Sachau. Syrische Rechtsbücher, I. Berlin, 1907. E. Zachariae v. Lingenthal. Geschichte des griechisch-römischen Rechts. 3rd ed., Berlin, 1892. H. v. Eicken. Geschichte und System der mittelalterlichen Weltanschauung. Stuttgart, 1886. W. Windelband. Lehrbuck der Geschichte der Philosophie. 4th ed., Tübingen, 1907. C. Baeumker und G. v. Hertling. Beiträge zur Geschichte der Philosophie des Mittelalters (collected papers). G. Gothein. Ignatius von Loyola und die Gegenreformation. Halle, 1895. In conclusion, I may mention two works, which deal with the subject of this volume, but from a different standpoint:-- H.P. Smith. The Bible and Islam (The Ely Lectures for 1897). W.A. Shedd. Islam and the Oriental Churches (Philadelphia, 1904). 
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16996	----	Transcriber's Note: The footnotes marked with lower-case letters were originally sidenotes which referred to sentences within the paragraph. I placed them at the end of chapters to avoid confusion with the footnotes marked with numbers, which were footnotes in the original and are at the end of the text. TWO OLD FAITHS ESSAYS ON THE RELIGIONS OF THE HINDUS AND THE MOHAMMEDANS BY J. MURRAY MITCHELL, M.A., LL.D. AND SIR WILLIAM MUIR, LL.D., D.C.L. NEW YORK CHAUTAUQUA PRESS C.L.S.C. Department, 150 Fifth Avenue 1891 The required books of the C.L.S.C. are recommended by a Council of Six. It must, however, be understood that recommendation does not involve an approval by the Council, or by any member of it, of every principle or doctrine contained in the book recommended. * * * * * These essays have been selected from the admirable series of _Present Day Tracts_, published by the Religious Tract Society, London, and are reprinted with permission. CONTENTS. THE HINDU RELIGION. PAGE Outline of the Essay 7 Introduction 9 The Vedas 12 Philosophy, and Ritualism 31 Reconstruction--Modern Hinduism 43 Contrast with Christianity 58 Hinduism in Contact with Christianity 68 THE RISE AND DECLINE OF ISLAM. Outline of the Essay 83 Introduction 85 The Rapid Spread of Islam 87 Why the Spread of Islam was Stayed 125 Low Position of Islam in the Scale of Civilization 129 THE HINDU RELIGION. OUTLINE OF THE ESSAY. The place of Hinduism--which is professed by about a hundred and ninety millions in India--among the religions of the world, and its great antiquity, are pointed out. The comparative simplicity of the system contained in the Vedas, the oldest sacred books of the Hindus, its almost entire freedom from the use of images, its gradual deterioration in the later hymns, its gradual multiplication of gods, the advance of sacerdotalism, and the increasing complexity of its religious rites are set forth. The philosophical speculation that was carried on, the different philosophical schools, the Buddhist reaction, its conflict with Brahmanism, its final defeat, and its influence on the victorious system are discussed. The religious reconstruction represented by the Puranas, their theological character, the modern ritual, the introduction and rise of caste, and the treatment of women are then considered. A contrast is drawn between the leading characteristics of Hinduism and those of Christianity, and the effect of Christian ideas on modern Hinduism is exhibited. The history of the Brahmo Somaj under Keshub Chunder Sen is given at some length. THE HINDU RELIGION. INTRODUCTION. [Sidenote: Hinduism deserving of study. Its antiquity.] The system of religious belief which is generally called Hinduism is, on many accounts, eminently deserving of study. If we desire to trace the history of the ancient religions of the widely extended Aryan or Indo-European race, to which we ourselves belong, we shall find in the earlier writings of the Hindus an exhibition of it decidedly more archaic even than that which is presented in the Homeric poems. Then, the growth--the historical development--of Hinduism is not less worthy of attention than its earlier phases. It has endured for upward of three thousand years, no doubt undergoing very important changes, yet in many things retaining its original spirit. The progress of the system has not been lawless; and it is exceedingly instructive to note the development, and, if possible, explain it. We are, then, to endeavor to study Hinduism chronologically. Unless he does so almost every man who tries to comprehend it is, at first, overwhelmed with a feeling of utter confusion and bewilderment. Hinduism spreads out before him as a vast river, or even what seems at first "a dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, And time, and place are lost." [Sidenote: The discussion chronological.] But matters begin to clear up when he begins at the beginning, and notes how one thing succeeded another. It may not be possible as yet to trace all the windings of the stream or to show at what precise points in its long course it was joined by such and such a tributary; yet much is known regarding the mighty river which every intelligent man will find it profitable to note and understand. [Sidenote: The Christian's duty in relation to the subject.] The Christian ought not to rest satisfied with the vague general idea that Hinduism is a form of heathenism with which he has nothing to do, save to help in destroying it. Let him try to realize the ideas of the Hindu regarding God, and the soul, and sin, and salvation, and heaven, and hell, and the many sore trials of this mortal life. He will then certainly have a much more vivid perception of the divine origin and transcendent importance of his own religion. Farther, he will then extend a helping hand to his Eastern brother with far more of sensibility and tenderness; and in proportion to the measure of his loving sympathy will doubtless be the measure of his success. A yearning heart will accomplish more than the most cogent argument. [Sidenote: The purpose of the Tract.] In this Tract we confine ourselves to the laying down of great leading facts and principles; but these will be dwelt upon at sufficient length to give the reader, we trust, an accurate conception of the general character and history of Hinduism. We shall also briefly contrast the system with Christianity. The history of Hinduism may be divided into three great periods, each embracing, in round numbers, about a thousand years. I. THE VEDAS. [Sidenote: The most ancient writings of India.] Regarding the earliest form of Hinduism we must draw our conceptions from the Veda, or, to speak more accurately, the four Vedas. The most important of these is the Rig Veda; and internal evidence proves it to be the most ancient. It contains above a thousand hymns; the earliest of which may date from about the year 1500 B.C. The Hindus, or, as they call themselves, the Aryas, had by that time entered India, and were dwelling in the north-western portion, the Panjab. The hymns, we may say, are racy of the soil. There is no reference to the life led by the people before they crossed the Himalaya Mountains or entered by some of the passes of Afghanistan. It would be very interesting if we could discover the pre-Vedic form of the religion. Inferentially this may, to some extent, be done by comparing the teachings of the Vedas with those contained in the books of other branches of the great Aryan family--such as the Greeks, the Romans, and, above all, the Iranians (ancient Persians). The ancient Hindus were a highly gifted, energetic race; civilized to a considerable extent; not nomadic; chiefly shepherds and herdsmen, but also acquainted with agriculture. Commerce was not unknown; the river Indus formed a highway to the Indian Ocean, and at least the Phenicians availed themselves of it from perhaps the seventeenth century B.C., or even earlier. [Sidenote: The hymns are strongly religious. They are a selection. Pre-eminently sacerdotal. Present the religious thought of the ancient Hindus.] As soon as we begin to study the hymns of the Veda we are struck by their strongly religious character. Tacitly assuming that the book contains the whole of the early literature of India, many writers have expressed themselves in strong terms regarding the primitive Hindus as religious above all other races. But as we read on we become convinced that these poems are a selection, rather than a collection, of the literature; and the conviction grows that the selection has been made by priestly hands for priestly purposes. An acute critic has affirmed that the Vedic poems are "pre-eminently sacerdotal, and in no sense popular."[1] We can thus explain a pervading characteristic of the book which has taken most readers by surprise. There is a want of simplicity in the Veda. It is often most elaborate, artificial, overrefined--one might even say, affected. How could these be the thoughts, or those the expressions, of the imperfectly civilized shepherds of the Panjab? But if it be only a hymn-book, with its materials arranged for liturgical purposes, the difficulty vanishes.[2] We shall accordingly take it for granted that the Veda presents only the religious thought of the ancient Hindus--and not the whole of the religious thought, but only that of a very influential portion of the race. With all the qualifications now stated, the Veda must retain a position of high importance for all who study Indian thought and life. The religious stamp which the compilers of the Veda impressed so widely and so deeply has not been obliterated in the course of thirty centuries. [Sidenote: Their religion is Nature-worship.] The prevailing aspect of the religion presented in the Vedic hymns may be broadly designated as Nature-worship. [Sidenote: Physical phenomena in India. Their effect on the religion.] All physical phenomena in India are invested with a grandeur which they do not possess in northern or even southern Europe. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, the clouds purpled with the beam of morning or flaming in the west like fiery chariots of heaven; to behold these things in their full magnificence one ought to see them in the East. Even so the sterner phenomena of nature--whirlwind and tempest, lightning and thunder, flood and storm-wave, plague, pestilence, and famine; all of these oftentimes assume in the East a character of awful majesty before which man cowers in helplessness and despair. The conceptions and feelings hence arising have from the beginning powerfully affected the religion of the Hindus. Every-where we can trace the impress of the grander manifestations of nature--the impress of their beneficence, their beauty, their might, their mystery, or their terribleness. [Sidenote: The deities are "the bright ones," according to the language of the sacred books of India.] The Sanskrit word for god is _deva_, which means _bright, shining_. Of physical phenomena it was especially those connected with light that enkindled feelings of reverence. The black thunder-cloud that enshrouded nature, in which the demon had bound the life-giving waters, passed away; for the glittering thunder-bolt was launched, and the streams rushed down, exulting in their freedom; and then the heaven shone out again, pure and peaceful as before. But such a wonder as the dawn--with far-streaming radiance, returning from the land of mystery, fresh in eternal youth, and scattering the terrors of the night before her--who could sufficiently admire? And let it be remembered that in the Hindu mind the interval between admiration and adoration is exceedingly small. Yet, while it is the dawn which has evoked the truest poetry, she has not retained the highest place in worship. [Sidenote: Fire much worshiped.] No divinity has fuller worship paid him than Agni, the Fire (_Ignis_). More hymns are dedicated to him than to any other being. Astonishment at the properties of fire; a sense of his condescension in that he, a mighty god, resides in their dwellings; his importance as the messenger between heaven and earth, bearing the offerings aloft; his kindness at night in repelling the darkness and the demons which it hides--all these things raised Agni to an exalted place. He is fed with pure clarified butter, and so rises heavenward in his brightness. The physical conception of fire, however, adheres to him, and he never quite ceases to be the earthly flame; yet mystical conceptions thickly gather round this root-idea; he is fire pervading all nature; and he often becomes supreme, a god of gods. [Sidenote: Soma highly exalted. Soma becomes a very mighty god.] All this seems natural enough; but one is hardly prepared for the high exaltation to which Soma is raised. Soma is properly the juice of a milky plant (_asclepias acida_, or _sarcostemma viminale_), which, when fermented, is intoxicating. The simple-minded Aryas were both astonished and delighted at its effects; they liked it themselves; and they knew nothing more precious to present to their gods. Accordingly, all of these rejoice in it. Indra in particular quaffs it "like a thirsty stag;" and under its exhilarating effects he strides victoriously to battle. Soma itself becomes a god, and a very mighty one; he is even the creator and father of the gods;[3] the king of gods and men;[4] all creatures are in his hand. It is surely extraordinary that the Aryas could apply such hyperbolical laudations to the liquor which they had made to trickle into the vat, and which they knew to be the juice of a plant they had cut down on the mountains and pounded in a mortar; and that intoxication should be confounded with inspiration. Yet of such aberrations we know the human mind is perfectly capable. [Sidenote: Connection with Persian, Greek, and Roman systems. Varuna, the god of heaven. The sublimity of the Vedic description of him.] We have first referred to Agni and Soma, as being the only divinities of highest rank which still retain their physical character. The worship paid to them was of great antiquity; for it is also prescribed in the Persian Avesta, and must have been common to the Indo-Iranian branch of the Aryan race before the Hindus entered India. But we can inferentially go still further back and speak of a deity common to the Greeks, Romans, Persians, and Hindus. This deity is Varuna, the most remarkable personality in the Veda. The name, which is etymologically connected with [Greek: Ouranos], signifies "the encompasser," and is applied to heaven--especially the all-encompassing, extreme vault of heaven--not the nearer sky, which is the region of cloud and storm. It is in describing Varuna that the Veda rises to the greatest sublimity which it ever reaches. A mysterious presence, a mysterious power, a mysterious knowledge amounting almost to omniscience, are ascribed to Varuna. The winkings of men's eyes are numbered by him. He upholds order, both physical and moral, throughout the universe. [Sidenote: Contrast with the laudations of Agni and Soma. The loftier conceptions of divinity the earlier.] The winds are his breath, the sun his eye, the sky his garment. He rewards the good and punishes the wicked. Yet to the truly penitent he is merciful. It is absolutely confounding to pass from a hymn that celebrates the serene majesty and awful purity of Varuna to one filled with measureless laudations of Soma or Agni. Could conceptions of divinity so incongruous co-exist? That they could not spring up in the same mind, or even in the same age, is abundantly manifest. And, as we have mentioned, the loftier conceptions of divinity are unquestionably the earlier. It is vain to speak, as certain writers do, of religion gradually refining itself, as a muddy stream can run itself pure; Hinduism resembles the Ganges, which, when it breaks forth from its mountain cradle at Hardwar, is comparatively pellucid, but, as it rolls on, becomes more and more muddy, discolored, and unclean.[5] [Sidenote: Indra. His achievements.] Various scholars affirm that Varuna, in more ancient pre-Vedic times, held a position still higher than the very high one which he still retains. This is probable; indeed, it is certain that, before later divinities had intruded, he held a place of unrivaled majesty. But, in the Vedas, Indra is a more conspicuous figure. He corresponds to the Jupiter Pluvius of the Romans. In north-western India, after the burning heat, the annual return of the rains was hailed with unspeakable joy; it was like life succeeding death. The clouds that floated up from the ocean were at first thin and light; ah! a hostile demon was in them, carrying off the healing waters and not permitting them to fall; but the thunder-bolt of Indra flashed; the demon was driven away howling, and the emancipated streams refreshed the thirsty earth. Varuna was not indeed dethroned, but he was obscured, by the achievements of the warlike Indra; and the supersensuous, moral conceptions that were connected with the former gradually faded from the minds of the people, and Varuna erelong became quite a subordinate figure in the Pantheon. [Sidenote: Number and relations of deities uncertain.] The deities are generally said in the Veda to be "thrice eleven" in number. We also hear of three thousand three hundred and thirty-nine. There is no _system_, no fixed order in the hierarchy; a deity who in one hymn is quite subordinate becomes in another supreme; almost every god becomes supreme in turn; in one hymn he is the son of some deity and in another that deity's father, and so (if logic ruled) his own grandfather. Every poet exalts his favorite god, till the mind becomes utterly bewildered in tracing the relationships. We have already spoken of Agni, Varuna, and Indra, as well as Soma. Next to these in importance may come the deities of light, namely, the sun, the dawn, and the two Asvina or beams that accompany the dawn. The winds come next. The earth is a goddess. The waters are goddesses. It is remarkable that the stars are very little mentioned; and the moon holds no distinguished place. [Sidenote: Hardly any fetichism in the Rig Veda.] In the religion of the Rig Veda we hardly see fetichism--if by fetichism we mean the worship of small physical objects, such as stones, shells, plants, etc., which are believed to be charged (so to speak) with divinity, though this appears in the fourth Veda--the Atharva. But even in the Rig Veda almost any object that is grand, beneficent, or terrible may be adored; and implements associated with worship are themselves worshiped. Thus, the war-chariot, the plow, the furrow, etc., are prayed to. [Sidenote: Early tendency toward pantheism.] A pantheistic conception of nature was also present in the Indian mind from very early times, although its development was later. Even in the earliest hymns any portion of nature with which man is brought into close relation may be adored.[6] [Sidenote: Reverence of the dead.] We must on no account overlook the reverence paid to the dead. The _pitris_ (_patres_) or fathers are frequently referred to in the Veda. They are clearly distinguished from the _devas_ or gods. In later writings they are also distinguished from men, as having been created separately from them; but this idea does not appear in the Veda. Yama, the first mortal, traveled the road by which none returns, and now drinks the Soma in the innermost of heaven, surrounded by the other fathers. These come also, along with the gods, to the banquets prepared for them on earth, and, sitting on the sacred grass, rejoice in the exhilarating draught. [Sidenote: The subjects of the hymns of the Rig Veda.] The hymns of the Rig Veda celebrate the power, exploits, or generosity of the deity invoked, and sometimes his personal beauty. The praises lavished on the god not only secured his favor but increased his power to help the worshiper. [Sidenote: The holiest prayer.] There is one prayer (so called) which is esteemed pre-eminently holy; generally called--from the meter in which it is composed--the Gayatri.[7] It may be rendered thus: "Let us meditate on that excellent glory of the Divine Son (or Vivifier); may he enlighten our understandings!" It has always been frequently repeated in important rites. [Sidenote: Atharva Veda. Inferior morally and spiritually to the Rig Veda. Explanation of deterioration.] So far we have referred almost exclusively to the Rig Veda. The next in importance is the Atharva, sometimes termed the Brahma Veda; which we may render the Veda of incantations. It contains six hundred and seventy hymns. Of these a few are equal to those in the Rig Veda; but, as a whole, the Atharva is far inferior to the other in a moral and spiritual point of view. It abounds in imprecations, charms for the destruction of enemies, and so forth. Talismans, plants, or gems are invoked, as possessed of irresistible might to kill or heal. The deities are often different from those of the Rig Veda. The Atharva manifests a great dread of malignant beings, whose wrath it deprecates. We have thus simple demon-worship. How is this great falling-off to be explained? In one of two ways. Either a considerable time intervened between the composition of the two books, during which the original faith had rapidly degenerated, probably through contact with aboriginal races who worshiped dark and sanguinary deities; or else there had existed from the beginning two forms of the religion--the higher of which is embodied in the hymns of the Rig Veda, and the lower in the Atharva. We believe the latter explanation to be correct, although doubtless the superstitions of the aborigines must all along have exerted an influence on the faith of the invaders. [Sidenote: The offerings.] The offerings presented to the gods consisted chiefly of clarified butter, curdled milk, rice-cakes, and fermented Soma juice, which was generally mixed with water or milk. All was thrown into the fire, which bore them or their essences to the gods. The Soma was also sprinkled on the sacred grass, which was strewn on the floor, and on which the gods and fathers were invited to come and seat themselves that they might enjoy the cheering beverage. The remainder was drunk by the officiating priests. The offerings were understood to nourish and gratify the gods as corporeal beings. [Sidenote: Animal victims.] Animal victims are also offered up. We hear of sheep, goats, bulls, cows, and buffaloes being sacrificed, and sometimes in large numbers. But the great offering was the Asvamedha, or sacrifice of the horse. The body of the horse was hacked to pieces; the fragments were dressed--part was boiled, part roasted; some of the flesh was then eaten by the persons present, and the rest was offered to the gods. Tremendous was the potency--at least as stated in later times--of a hundred such sacrifices; it rendered the offerer equal or superior to the gods; even the mighty Indra trembled for his sovereignty and strove to hinder the consummation of the awful rite. [Sidenote: Human sacrifice.] Human sacrifice was not unknown, though there are very few allusions to it in the earlier hymns. [Sidenote: Sacrifice deemed of very high importance.] Even from the first, however, the rite of sacrifice occupies a very high place, and allusions to it are exceedingly frequent. The observances connected with it are said to be the "first religious rites." Sacrifice was early believed to be expiatory; it removed sin. It was substitutionary; the victim stood in place of the offerer. All order in the universe depends upon it; it is "the nave of the world-wheel." Sometimes Vishnu is said to be the sacrifice; sometimes even the Supreme Being himself is so. Elaborated ideas and a complex ritual, which we could have expected to grow up only in the course of ages, appear from very early times. We seem compelled to draw the inference that sacrifice formed an essential and very important part of the pre-Vedic faith.[8] In the Veda worship is a kind of barter. In exchange for praises and offerings the deity is asked to bestow favors. Temporal blessings are implored, such as food, wealth, life, children, cows, horses, success in battle, the destruction of enemies, and so forth. Not much is said regarding sin and the need of forgiveness. A distinguished scholar[9] has said that "the religious notion of sin is wanting altogether;" but this affirmation is decidedly too sweeping. [Sidenote: No image-worship. No public worship.] The worship exemplified in the Veda is not image-worship. Images of the fire, or the winds, or the waters could hardly be required, and while the original nature-worship lasted, idols must have been nearly unknown. Yet the description of various deities is so precise and full that it seems to be probably drawn from visible representations of them. Worship was personal and domestic, not in any way public. Indeed, two men praying at the same time had to pray quite apart, so that neither might disturb the other. Each dealt with heaven, so to speak, solely on his own behalf. [Sidenote: No temples.] We hear of no places set apart as temples in Vedic times. [Sidenote: The treatises on ritual.] A Veda consists of two parts called _Mantra_ or _Sanhita_, and _Brahmana_. The first is composed of hymns. The second is a statement of ritual, and is generally in prose. The existing Brahmanas are several centuries later than the great body of the hymns, and were probably composed when the Hindus had crossed the Indus, and were advancing along the Gangetic valley. The oldest may be about the date of 800 or 700 B.C. [Sidenote: Growth of priestly power. Schools for the study of sacred books, rites, and traditions.] The Brahmanas are very poor, both in thought and expression. They have hardly their match in any literature for "pedantry and downright absurdity."[10] Poetical feeling and even religious feeling seem gone; all is dead and dry as dust. By this time the Sanskrit language had ceased to be generally understood. The original texts could hardly receive accessions; the most learned man could do little more than interpret, or perhaps misinterpret, them. The worshiper looked on; he worshiped now by proxy. Thus the priest had risen greatly in importance. He alone knew the sacred verses and the sacred rites. An error in the pronunciation of the mystic text might bring destruction on the worshiper; what could he do but lean upon the priest? The latter could say the prayers if he could not pray. All this worked powerfully for the elevation of the Brahmans, the "men of prayer;" they steadily grew into a class, a caste; and into this no one could enter who was not of priestly descent. Schools were now found necessary for the study of the sacred books, rites, and traditions. The importance which these attach to theology--doctrine--is very small; the externals of religion are all in all. The rites, in fact, now threw the very gods into the shade; every thing depended on their due performance. And thus the Hindu ritual gradually grew up into a stupendous system, the most elaborate, complex, and burdensome which the earth has seen. [Sidenote: Moral character of the Veda.] It is time, however, to give a brief estimate of the moral character of the Veda. The first thing that strikes us is its inconsistency. Some hymns--especially those addressed to Varuna--rise as high as Gentile conceptions regarding deity ever rose; others--even in the Rig Veda--sink miserably low; and in the Atharva we find, "even in the lowest depth, a lower still." [Sidenote: Indra supersedes Varuna.] The character of Indra--who has displaced or overshadowed Varuna[11]--has no high attributes. He is "voracious;" his "inebriety is most intense;" he "dances with delight in battle." His worshipers supply him abundantly with the drink he loves; and he supports them against their foes, ninety and more of whose cities he has destroyed. We do not know that these foes, the Dasyus, were morally worse than the intrusive Aryas, but the feelings of the latter toward the former were of unexampled ferocity. Here is one passage out of multitudes similar: "Hurl thy hottest thunder-bolt upon them! Uproot them! Cleave them asunder! O, Indra, overpower, subdue, slay the demon! Pluck him up! Cut him through the middle! Crush his head!" [Sidenote: Deterioration begins early.] Indra, if provided with Soma, is always indulgent to his votaries; he supports them _per fas et nefas_. Varuna, on the other hand, is grave, just, and to wicked men severe.[12] The supersession of Varuna by Indra, then, is easily understood. We see the principle on which it rests stated in the Old Testament. "Ye cannot serve the Lord," said Joshua to the elders of Israel; "for he is a holy God." Even so Jeremiah points sorrowfully to the fact that the pagan nations clung to their false gods, while Israel was faithless to the true. As St. Paul expresses it, "they did not like to retain God in their knowledge." Unless this principle is fully taken into account we cannot understand the historical development of Hinduism. [Sidenote: Varuna the only divinity possessed of pure and elevated attributes.] The Veda frequently ascribes to the gods, to use the language of Max Müller, "sentiments and passions unworthy of deity." In truth, except in the case of Varuna, there is not one divinity that is possessed of pure and elevated attributes. II. PHILOSOPHY, AND RITUALISM. [Sidenote: Speculation begins. Rise of asceticism. Upanishads. They are pantheistic.] During the Vedic period--certainly toward its conclusion--a tendency to speculation had begun to appear. Probably it had all along existed in the Hindu mind, but had remained latent during the stirring period when the people were engaged in incessant wars. Climate, also, must have affected the temperament of the race; and, as the Hindus steadily pressed down the valley of the Ganges into warmer regions, their love of repose and contemplative quietism would continually deepen. And when the Brahmans became a fully developed hierarchy, lavishly endowed, with no employment except the performance of religious ceremonies, their minds could avoid stagnation only by having recourse to speculative thought. Again, asceticism has a deep root in human nature; earnest souls, conscious of their own weakness, will fly from the temptations of the world. Various causes thus led numbers of men to seek a life of seclusion; they dwelt chiefly in forests, and there they revolved the everlasting problems of existence, creation, the soul, and God. The lively Greeks, for whom, with all their high intellectual endowments, a happy sensuous existence was nearly all in all, were amazed at the numbers in northern India who appeared weary of the world and indifferent to life itself. By and for these recluses were gradually composed the Aranyakas, or forest treatises; and out of these grew a series of more regular works, called Upanishads.[13] At least two hundred and fifty of these are known to exist. They have been called "guesses at truth;" they are more so than formal solutions of great questions. Many of them are unintelligible rhapsodies; others rise almost to sublimity. They frequently contradict each other; the same writer sometimes contradicts himself. One prevailing characteristic is all-important; their doctrine is pantheism. The pantheism is sometimes not so much a coldly reasoned system as an aspiration, a yearning, a deep-felt need of something better than the mob of gods who came in the train of Indra, and the darker deities who were still crowding in. Even in spite of the counteracting power of the Gospel mysticism has run easily into pantheism in Europe, and orthodox Christians sometimes slide unconsciously into it, or at least into its language.[14] But, as has been already noted, a strain of pantheism existed in the Hindu mind from early times. Accordingly, these hermit sages, these mystic dreamers, soon came to identify the human soul with God. And the chief end of man was to seek that the stream derived from God should return to its source, and, ceasing to wander through the wilderness of this world, should find repose in the bosom of the illimitable deep, the One, the All. The Brahmans attached the Upanishads to the Veda proper, and they soon came to be regarded as its most sacred part. In this way the influence these treatises have exercised has been immense; more than any other portion of the earlier Hindu writings they have molded the thoughts of succeeding generations. Philosophy had thus begun. [Sidenote: Six philosophic schools.] The speculations of which we see the commencement and progress in the Upanishads were finally developed and classified in a series of writings called the six Sastras or _darsanas_. These constitute the regular official philosophy of India. They are without much difficulty reducible to three leading schools of thought--the Nyaya, the Sankhya, and the Vedanta. Roundly, and speaking generally, we may characterize these systems as theistic, atheistic, and pantheistic respectively. [Sidenote: The Nyaya.] It is doubtful, however, whether the earlier form of the Nyaya was theistic or not. The later form is so, but it says nothing of the moral attributes of God, nor of his government. The chief end of man, according to the Nyaya, is deliverance from pain; and this is to be attained by cessation from all action, whether good or bad. [Sidenote: The Sankhya.] The Sankhya declares matter to be self-existent and eternal. Soul is distinct from matter, and also eternal. When it attains true knowledge it is liberated from matter and from pain. The Sankhya holds the existence of God to be without proof. [Sidenote: The Vedanta.] But the leading philosophy of India is unquestionably the Vedanta. The name means "the end or scope of the Veda;" and if the Upanishads were the Veda, instead of treatises tacked on to it, the name would be correct; for the Vedanta, like the Upanishads, inculcates pantheism. The form which this philosophy ultimately assumed is well represented in the treatise called the Vedanta Sara, or essence of the Vedanta. A few extracts will suffice to exhibit its character. "The unity of the soul and God--this is the scope of all Vedanta treatises." We have frequent references made to the "great saying," _Tat twam_--that is, That art thou, or Thou art God; and _Aham Brahma_, that is, I am God. Again it is said, "The whole universe is God." God is "existence (or more exactly an existent thing[15]), knowledge, and joy." Knowledge, not a knower; joy, not one who rejoices. [Sidenote: It teaches absolute idealism.] Every thing else has only a seeming existence, which is in consequence of ignorance (or illusion). Ignorance makes the soul think itself different from God; and it also "projects" the appearance of an external world. "He who knows God becomes God." "When He, the first and last, is discerned, one's own acts are annihilated." Meditation, without distinction of subject and object, is the highest form of thought. It is a high attainment to say, "I am God;" but the consummation is when thought exists without an object. There are four states of the soul--waking, dreaming, dreamless sleep, and the "fourth state," or pure intelligence. The working-man is in dense ignorance; in sleep he is freed from part of this ignorance; in dreamless sleep he is freed from still more; but the consummation is when he attains something beyond this, which it seems cannot be explained, and is therefore called the fourth state. [Sidenote: Doctrine of "the Self." Inconsistent statements.] The name, which in later writings is most frequently given to the "one without a second,"[16] is Atman, which properly means self. Much is said of the way in which the self in each man is to recover, or discover, its unity with the supreme or real self. For as the one sun shining in the heavens is reflected, often in distorted images, in multitudes of vessels filled with water, so the one self is present in all human minds.[17] There is not--perhaps there could not be--consistency in the statements of the relation of the seeming to the real. In most of the older books a practical or conventional existence is admitted of the self in each man, but not a real existence. But when the conception is fully formulated the finite world is not admitted to exist save as a mere illusion. All phenomena are a play--a play without plot or purpose, which the absolute plays with itself.[18] This is surely transcendent transcendentalism. One regrets that speculation did not take one step more, and declare that the illusion was itself illusory. Then we should have gone round the circle, and returned to _sensus communis_. We must be pardoned if we seem to speak disrespectfully of such fantastic speculations; we desire rather to speak regretfully of the many generations of men which successively occupied themselves with such unprofitable dreams; for this kind of thought is traceable even from Vedic days. It is more fully developed in the Upanishads. In them occurs the classical sentence so frequently quoted in later literature, which declares that the absolute being is the "one [thing] without a second."[19] [Sidenote: The Gita.] The book which perhaps above all others has molded the mind of India in more recent days is the Bhagavad Gita, or Song of the Holy One. It is written in stately and harmonious verse, and has achieved the same task for Indian philosophy as Lucretius did for ancient Epicureanism.[20] It is eclectic, and succeeds, in a sort of way, in forcing the leading systems of Indian thought into seeming harmony. [Sidenote: Intellectual pride.] Some have thought they could discern in these daring speculations indications of souls groping after God, and saddened because of the difficulty of finding him. Were it so, all our sympathies would at once be called forth. But no; we see in these writings far more of intellectual pride than of spiritual sadness. Those ancient dreamers never learned their own ignorance. They scarcely recognized the limitations of the human mind. And when reason could take them no farther they supplemented it by dreams and ecstasy until, in the Yoga philosophy, they rushed into systematized mysticisms and magic far more extravagant than the wildest _theurgy_ of the degraded Neoplatonism of the Roman Empire. A learned writer thus expresses himself: "The only one of the six schools that seem to recognize the doctrine of divine providence is the Yoga. It thus seems that the consistent followers of these systems can have, in their perfected state, no religion, no action, and no moral character."[21] [Sidenote: Indian philosophy a sad failure.] And now to take a brief review of the whole subject. The Hindu sages were men of acute and patient thought; but their attempt to solve the problem of the divine and human natures, of human destiny and duty, has ended in total failure. Each system baseless, and all mutually conflicting; systems cold and cheerless, that frown on love and virtuous exertion, and speak of annihilation or its equivalent, absorption, as our highest hope: such is the poor result of infinite speculation. "The world by wisdom knew not God." O, that India would learn the much-needed lesson of humility which the experience of ages ought to teach her! [Sidenote: Sacerdotalism. The tyranny of sacerdotalism.] While speculation was thus busy Sacerdotalism was also continually extending its influence. The Brahman, the man of prayer, had made himself indispensable in all sacred rites. He alone--as we have seen--knew the holy text; he alone could rightly pronounce the words of awful mystery and power on which depended all weal or woe. On all religions occasions the priest must be called in, and, on all occasions, implicitly obeyed. For a considerable time the princes straggled against the encroachments of the priests; but in the end they were completely vanquished. Never was sacerdotal tyranny more absolute; the proudest pope in mediæval times never lorded it over Western Christendom with such unrelenting rigor as the Brahmans exercised over both princes and people. The feeling of the priests is expressed in a well-known stanza: "All the world is subject to the gods; the gods are subject to the holy texts; the holy texts are subject to the Brahman; therefore the Brahman is my god." Yes, the sacred man could breathe the spell which made earth and hell and heaven itself to tremble. He therefore logically called himself an earthly god. Indeed, the Brahman is always logical. He draws conclusions from premises with iron rigor of reasoning; and with side-issues he has nothing to do. He stands upon his rights. Woe to the being--god or man--who comes in conflict with him! [Sidenote: Ritual becomes extravagant.] The priests naturally multiplied religious ceremonies, and made ritual the soul of worship. Sacrifice especially assumed still more and more exaggerated forms--becoming more protracted, more expensive, more bloody. A hecatomb of victims was but a small offering. More and more awful powers were ascribed to the rite. [Sidenote: Reaction.] But the tension was too great, and the bow snapped. Buddhism arose. We may call this remarkable system the product of the age--an inevitable rebellion against intolerable sacerdotalism; and yet we must not overlook the importance of the very distinct and lofty personality of Buddha (Sakya Muni) as a power molding it into shape. [Sidenote: Buddhism. Moral elements of this system. Conflict with Brahmanism. Victory of Brahmanism.] Wherever it extended it effected a vast revolution in Indian thought. Thus in regard to the institution of caste, Buddha did not attack it; he did not, it would appear, even formally renounce it; as a mere social institution he seems to have acknowledged it; but then he held that all the _religious_ were freed from its restrictions. "My law," said he, "is a law of mercy for all;" and forthwith he proceeded to admit men of every caste into the closest fellowship with himself and his followers. Then, he preached--he, though not a Brahman--in the vernacular languages--an immense innovation, which made his teachings popular. He put in the forefront of his system certain great fundamental principles of morality. He made religion consist in duty, not rites. He reduced duty mainly to mercy or kindness toward all living beings--a marvelous generalization. This set aside all slaughter of animals. The mind of the princes and people was weary of priestcraft and ritualism; and the teaching of the great reformer was most timely. Accordingly his doctrine spread with great rapidity, and for a long time it seemed likely to prevail over Brahmanism. But various causes gradually combined against it. Partly, it was overwhelmed by its own luxuriance of growth; partly, Brahmanism, which had all along maintained an intellectual superiority, adopted, either from conviction or policy, most of the principles of Buddhism, and skillfully supplied some of its main deficiencies. Thus the Brahmans retained their position; and, at least nominally, their religion won the day. III. RECONSTRUCTION--MODERN HINDUISM. [Sidenote: Revival, in an altered form, of Hinduism. Only the position of the Brahman and the restrictions of caste retained.] But the Hinduism that grew up, as Buddhism faded from Indian soil, was widely different from the system with which early Buddhism had contended. Hinduism, as it has been developed during the last thousand or twelve hundred years, resembles a stupendous far-extended building, or series of buildings, which is still receiving additions, while portions have crumbled and are crumbling into ruin. Every conceivable style of architecture, from that of the stately palace to the meanest hut, is comprehended in it. On a portion of the structure here or there the eye may rest with pleasure; but as a whole it is an unsightly, almost monstrous, pile. Or, dismissing figures, we must describe it as the most extraordinary creation which the world has seen. A jumble of all things; polytheistic pantheism; much of Buddhism; something apparently of Christianity, but terribly disfigured; a science wholly outrageous; shreds of history twisted into wild mythology; the bold poetry of the older books understood as literal prose; any local deity, any demon of the aborigines, however hideous, identified with some accredited Hindu divinity; any custom, however repugnant to common sense or common decency, accepted and explained--in a word, later Hinduism has been omnivorous; it has partially absorbed and assimilated every system of belief, every form of worship, with which it has come in contact. Only to one or two things has it remained inflexibly true. It has steadily upheld the proudest pretensions of the Brahman; and it has never relaxed the sternest restrictions of caste. We cannot wonder at the severe judgment pronounced on Hinduism by nearly every Western author. According to Macaulay, "all is hideous and grotesque and ignoble;" and the calmer De Tocqueville maintains that "Hinduism is perhaps the only system of belief that is worse than having no religion at all."[22] When a modern Hindu is asked what are the sacred books of his religion he generally answers: "The Vedas, the Sastras (that is, philosophical systems), and the Puranas." Some authorities add the Tantras. The modern form of Hinduism is exhibited chiefly in the eighteen Puranas, and an equal number of Upapuranas (minor Puranas).[23] [Sidenote: The Puranas.] When we compare the religion embodied in the Puranas with that of Vedic times we are startled at the magnitude of the change. The Pantheon is largely new; old deities have been superseded; other deities have taken their place. There has been both accretion from without and evolution from within. The thirty-three gods of the Vedas have been fantastically raised to three hundred and thirty millions. Siva, Durga, Rama, Krishna, Kali--unknown in ancient days--are now mighty divinities; Indra is almost entirely overlooked, and Varuna has been degraded from his lofty throne and turned into a regent of the waters. [Sidenote: New deities, rites, and customs.] The worship of the Linga (phallus) has been introduced. So has the great dogma of Transmigration, which has stamped a deeper impress on later Hindu mind than almost any other doctrine. Caste is fully established, though in Vedic days scarcely, if at all, recognized. The dreadful practice of widow-burning has been brought in, and this by a most daring perversion of the Vedic texts. Woman, in fact, has fallen far below the position assigned her in early days. [Sidenote: The Trimurtti, a triad of gods.] One of the notable things in connection with the reconstruction of Hinduism is the position it gives to the Trimurtti, or triad of gods--Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva. Something like an anticipation of this has been presented in the later Vedic times: fire, air, and the sun (Agni, Vayu, and Surya) being regarded by the commentator[24] as summing up the divine energies. But in the Vedas the deities often go in pairs; and little stress should be laid on the idea of a Vedic triad. That idea, however, came prominently forward in later days. The worship both of Vishnu and Siva may have existed, from ancient times, as popular rites not acknowledged by the Brahmans; but both of these deities were now fully recognized. The god Brahma was an invention of the Brahmans; he was no real divinity of the people, and had hardly ever been actually worshiped. It is visual to designate Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva as Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer respectively; but the generalization is by no means well maintained in the Hindu books. [Sidenote: The Avatara.] The Puranas are in general violently sectarian; some being Vishnuite, others Sivite. It is in connection with Vishnu, especially, that the idea of incarnation becomes prominent. The Hindu term is _Avatara_, literally, _descent_; the deity is represented as descending from heaven to earth, for vindication of the truth and righteousness, or, to use the words ascribed to Krishna, For the preservation of the good, and the destruction of the wicked, For the establishment of religion, I am born from age to age. [Sidenote: The "descents" of Vishnu.] The "descents" of Vishnu are usually reckoned ten. Of these by far the most celebrated are those of Rama and Krishna. The great importance attached to these two deities has been traced to the influence of Buddhism. That system had exerted immense power in consequence of the gentle and attractive character ascribed to Buddha. The older gods were dim, distant, and often stern; some near, intelligible, and loving divinity was longed for. Buddha was a brother-man, and yet a quasi-deity; and hearts longing for sympathy and succor were strongly attracted by such a personality. [Sidenote: The god Rama.] The character of Rama--or Ramachandra--is possessed of some high qualities. The great poem in which it is described at fullest length--the Ramayana of Valmiki--seems to have been an alteration, made in the interests of Hinduism, of early Buddhist legends; and the Buddhist quality of gentleness has not disappeared in the history.[25] Rama, however, is far from a perfect character. His wife Sita is possessed of much womanly grace and every wifely virtue; and the sorrowful story of the warrior-god and his faithful spouse has appealed to deep sympathies in the human breast. The worship of Rama has seldom, if ever, degenerated into lasciviousness. In spite, however, of the charm thrown around the life of Rama and Sita by the genius of Valmiki and Tulsida,[26] it is Krishna, not Rama, that has attained the greatest popularity among the "descents" of Vishnu. [Sidenote: Krishna. His early life a travesty of the life of Christ, according to the Gospel of the Infancy.] Very different morally from that of Rama is the character of Krishna. While Rama is but a partial manifestation of divinity Krishna is a full manifestation; yet what a manifestation! He is represented as full of naughty tricks in his youth, although exercising the highest powers of deity; and, when he grows up, his conduct is grossly immoral and disgusting. It is most startling to think that this being is by grave writers--like the authors of the Bhagavad Gita and the Bhagavata Purana--made the highest of the gods, or, indeed, the only real God. Stranger still, if possible, is the probability that the early life of Krishna--in part, at least--is a dreadful travesty of the early life of Christ, as given in the apocryphal gospels, especially the Gospel of the Infancy. The falling off in the apocryphal gospels, when compared with the canonical, is truly sad; but the falling off even from the apocryphal ones, in the Hindu books, is altogether sickening.[27] A very striking characteristic of modern Hinduism is what is termed _bhakti_, or devotion. There are three great ways of attaining to salvation: _karma marga_, or the way of ceremonial works; _jnana marga_, or the way of knowledge, and _bhakti marga_, or the way of devotion. [Sidenote: Doctrine of _bhakti_ introduced. Influence of the system. Mixed with Buddhist elements. Exaltation of the _guru_.] The notion of trust in the gods was familiar to the mind of India from Vedic days, but the deity was indistinct and unsympathetic, and there could hardly be love and attachment to him. But there now arose the doctrine of _bhakti_ (devotion), which resolved religion into emotion. It came into the Hindu system rather abruptly; and many learned men have traced its origin to the influence of Christianity. This is quite possible; but perhaps the fact is hardly proved. Contact with Christianity, however, probably accelerated a process which had previously begun. At all events, the system of _bhakti_ has had, and still has, great sway in India, particularly in Bengal, among the followers of Chaitanya, and the large body of people in western India who style themselves _Vaishnavas_ or _Bhaktas_ (devotees). The popular poetry of Maharashtra, as exemplified in such poets as Tukarama, is an impassioned inculcation of devotion to Vithoba of Pandharpur, who is a manifestation of Krishna. Into the _bhakti_ system of western India Buddhist elements have entered; and the school of devotees is often denominated Bauddha-Vaishnava. Along with extravagant idolatry it inculcates generally, at least in the Maratha country, a pure morality; and the latter it apparently owes to Buddhism. Yet there are many sad lapses from purity. Almost of necessity the worship of Krishna led to corruption. The hymns became erotic; and movements hopeful at their commencement--like that of Chaitanya of Bengal, in the sixteenth century--soon grievously fell off in character. The attempt to make religion consist of emotion without thought, of _bhakti_ without _jnana_, had disastrous issues. Coincident with the development of _bhakti_ was the exaltation of the _guru_, or religious teacher, which soon amounted to deification--a change traceable from about the twelfth century A.D. [Sidenote: Explanations of Krishna's evil deeds.] When pressed on the subject of Krishna's evil deeds many are anxious to explain them as allegorical representations of the union between the divinity and true worshipers; but some interpret them in the most literal way possible. This is done especially by the followers of Vallabha Acharya.[28] These men attained a most unenviable notoriety about twenty years ago, when a case was tried in the Supreme Court of Bombay, which revealed the practice of the most shameful licentiousness by the religious teachers and their female followers, and this as a part of worship! The disgust excited was so great and general that it was believed the influence of the sect was at an end; but this hope unhappily has not been realized. [Sidenote: Reforms attempted. Kabir. Nanak. Failure of all reforms.] Reformers have arisen from time to time in India; men who saw the deplorable corruption of religion, and strove to restore it to what they considered purity. Next to Buddha we may mention Kabir, to whom are ascribed many verses still popular. Probably the doctrine of the unity of God, as maintained by the Mohammedans, had impressed him. He opposed idolatry, caste, and Brahmanical assumption. Yet his monotheism was a kind of pantheism. His date may be the beginning of the fifteenth century. Nanak followed and founded the religion of the Sikhs. His sacred book, the _Granth_, is mainly pantheistic; it dwells earnestly on devotion, especially devotion to the _guru_. The Sikhs now seem slowly relapsing into idolatry. In truth, the history of all attempts at reformation in India has been most discouraging. Sect after sect has successively risen to some elevation above the prevalent idolatry; and then gradually, as by some irresistible gravitation, it has sunk back into the _mare magnum_ of Hinduism. If we regard experience, purification from within is hopeless; the struggle for it is only a repetition of the toil of Sisyphus, and always with the same sad issue. Deliverance must come from without--from the Gospel of Jesus Christ. [Sidenote: Influence of the Tantras. Worship of the Sakti.] We mentioned the Tantras as exerting great influence in later days.[29] In these the worship of Siva, and, still more, that of his wife, is predominant. The deity is now supposed to possess a double nature--one quiescent, one active; the latter being regarded as the _Sakti_ or energy of the god, otherwise called his wife. The origin of the system is not fully explained; nor is the date of its rise ascertained. The worship assumes wild, extravagant forms, generally obscene, sometimes bloody. It is divided into two schools--that of the right hand and that of the left. The former runs into mysticism and magic in complicated observances, and the latter into the most appalling licentiousness. The worship of the Sakti, or female principle, has become a most elaborate system. The beings adored are "the most outrageous divinities which man has ever conceived."[30] Sorcery began early in India; but it is in connection with this system that it attains to full development. Human sacrifices are a normal part of the worship when fully performed. We cannot go farther into detail. It is profoundly saddening to think that such abominations are committed; it is still more saddening to think that they are performed as a part of divine worship. Conscience, however, is so far alive that these detestable rites are practiced only in secret, and few, if any, are willing to confess that they have been initiated as worshipers. [Sidenote: Modern ritual.] We have not yet said much about the ritual of modern days. It is exceedingly complicated. In the case of the god Siva the rites are as follows, when performed by a priest in the temple: [Sidenote: Worship of Siva.] The Brahman first bathes, then enters the temple and bows to the god. He anoints the image with clarified butter or boiled oil; pours pure water over it; and then wipes it dry. He grinds some white powder, mixing it with water; dips the ends of his three forefingers in it and draws them across the image. He sits down; meditates; places rice and _durwa_ grass on the image--places a flower on his own head, and then on the top of the image; then another flower on the image, and another, and another--accompanying each act with the recitation of sacred spells; places white powder, flowers, bilva-leaves, incense, meat-offerings, rice, plantains, and a lamp before the image; repeats the name of Siva, with praises, then prostrates himself before the image. In the evening he returns, washes his feet, prostrates himself before the door, opens the door, places a lamp within, offers milk, sweet-meats, and fruits to the image, prostrates himself before it, locks the door, and departs. Very similar is the worship paid to Vishnu: [Sidenote: Worship of Vishnu.] The priest bathes, and then awakes the sleeping god by blowing a shell and ringing a bell. More abundant offerings are made than to Siva. About noon, fruits, roots, soaked peas, sweet-meats, etc., are presented. Then, later, boiled rice, fried herbs, and spices; but no flesh, fish, nor fowl. After dinner, betel-nut. The god is then left to sleep, and the temple is shut up for some hours. Toward evening curds, butter, sweet-meats, fruits, are presented. At sunset a lamp is brought, and fresh offerings made. Lights are waved before the image; a small bell is rung; water is presented for washing the mouth, face, and feet, with a towel to dry them. In a few minutes the offerings and the lamp are removed; and the god is left to sleep in the dark. The prescribed worship is not always fully performed. Still, sixteen things are essential, of which the following are the most important: "Preparing a seat for the god; invoking his presence; bathing the image; clothing it; putting the string round it; offering perfumes; flowers; incense; lamps; offerings of fruits and prepared eatables; betel-nut; prayers; circumambulation. An ordinary worshiper presents some of the offerings, mutters a short prayer or two, when circumambulating the image, the rest being done by the priest."[31] We give one additional specimen of the ritual: "As an atonement for unwarily eating or drinking what is forbidden eight hundred repetitions of the Gayatri prayer should be preceded by three suppressions of the breath, water being touched during the recital of the following text: 'The bull roars; he has four horns, three feet, two heads, seven hands, and is bound by a three-fold cord; he is the mighty, resplendent being, and pervades mortal men.'"[32] The bull is understood to be justice personified. All Brahmanical ceremonies exhibit, we may say, ritualism and symbolism run mad. [Sidenote: Caste.] The most prominent and characteristic institution of Hinduism is caste. The power of caste is as irrational as it is unbounded; and it works almost unmixed evil. The touch--even the shadow--of a low caste man pollutes. The scriptural precept, "Honor all men," appears to a true Hindu infinitely absurd. He honors and worships a cow; but he shrinks with horror from the touch of a Mhar or Mang. Even Brahmans, if they come from different provinces, will not eat together. Thus Hinduism separates man from man; it goes on dividing and still dividing; and new fences to guard imaginary purity are continually added. [Sidenote: Treatment of women. Widows.] The whole treatment of women has gradually become most tyrannical and unjust. In very ancient days they were held in considerable respect; but, for ages past, the idea of woman has been steadily sinking lower and lower, and her rights have been more and more assailed. The burning of widows has been prohibited by enactment; but the awful rite would in many places be restored were it not for the strong hand of the British government. The practice of marrying women in childhood is still generally--all but universally--prevalent; and when, owing to the zeal of reformers, a case of widow-marriage occurs, its rarity makes it be hailed as a signal triumph. Multitudes of the so-called widows were never really wives, their husbands (so-called) having died in childhood. Widows are subjected to treatment which they deem worse than death; and yet their number, it is calculated, amounts to about twenty-one millions! More cruel and demoralizing customs than exist in India in regard to women can hardly be found among the lowest barbarians. We are glad to escape from dwelling on points so exceedingly painful. IV. CONTRAST WITH CHRISTIANITY. The immense difference between the Hindu and Christian religions has doubtless already frequently suggested itself to the reader. It will not be necessary, therefore, to dwell on this topic at very great length. The contrast forces itself upon us at every point. [Sidenote: The Aryas and Israelites--their probable future, about 1500 B.C. Contrast of their after-history.] When, about fifteen centuries B.C., the Aryas were victoriously occupying the Panjab, and the Israelites were escaping from the "iron furnace" of Egypt, if one had been asked which of the two races would probably rise to the highest conception of the divine, and contribute most largely to the well-being of mankind, the answer, quite possibly, might have been, the Aryas. Egypt, with its brutish idolatries, had corrupted the faith of the Israelites, and slavery had crushed all manliness out of them. Yet how wonderful has been their after-history! Among ancient religions that of the Old Testament stands absolutely unique, and in the fullness of time it blossomed into Christianity. How is the marvel to be explained? We cannot account for it except by ascribing it to a divine election of the Israelites and a providential training intended to fit them to become the teachers of the world. "Salvation is of the Jews." The contrast between the teachings of the Bible and those of the Hindu books is simply infinite. [Sidenote: Hindu theology compared with Christian.] The conception of a purely immaterial Being, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, which is that of the Bible regarding God, is entirely foreign to the Hindu books. Their doctrine is various, but, in every case, erroneous. It is absolute pantheism, or polytheism, or an inconsistent blending of polytheism and pantheism, or atheism. Equally striking is the contrast between Christianity and Hinduism as to the attributes of God. According to the former, he is omnipresent; omnipotent; possessed of every excellence--holiness, justice, goodness, truth. According to the chief Hindu philosophy, the Supreme is devoid of attributes--devoid of consciousness. According to the popular conception, when the Supreme becomes conscious he is developed into three gods, who possess respectively the qualities of truth, passion, and darkness. [Sidenote: Conception of God.] "God is a Spirit." "God is light." "God is love." These sublime declarations have no counterparts in Hindustan. He is "the Father of spirits," according to the Bible. According to Hinduism, the individual spirit is a portion of the divine. Even the common people firmly believe this. Every thing is referred by Hinduism to God as its immediate cause. A Christian is continually shocked by the Hindus ascribing all sin to God as its source. [Sidenote: The object of worship.] The adoration of God as a Being possessed of every glorious excellence is earnestly commanded in the Bible. "Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God; and him only shalt thou serve." In India the Supreme is never worshiped; but any one of the multitudinous gods may be so; and, in fact, every thing can be worshiped _except_ God. A maxim in the mouth of every Hindu is the following: "Where there is faith, there is God." Believe the stone a god and it is so. [Sidenote: The sense of sin.] Every sin being traced to God as its ultimate source, the sense of personal guilt is very slight among Hindus. Where it exists it is generally connected with ceremonial defilement or the breach of some one of the innumerable and meaningless rites of the religion. How unlike in all this is the Gospel! The Bible dwells with all possible earnestness on the evil of sin, not of ceremonial but moral defilement--the transgression of the divine law, the eternal law of right. [Sidenote: Atonement.] How important a place in the Christian system is held by atonement, the great atonement made by Christ, it is unnecessary to say. Nor need we enlarge on the extraordinary power it exercises over the human heart, at once filling it with contrition, hatred of sin, and overflowing joy. We turn to Hinduism. Alas! we find that the earnest questionings and higher views of the ancient thinkers have in a great degree been ignored in later times. Sacrifice in its original form has passed away. Atonement is often spoken of; but it is only some paltry device or other, such as eating the five products of the cow, going on pilgrimage to some sacred shrine, paying money to the priests, or, it may be, some form of bodily penance. Such expedients leave no impression on the heart as to the true nature and essential evil of sin. [Sidenote: Salvation. Sanctification.] Salvation, in the Christian system, denotes deliverance, not only from the punishment of sin, but from its power, implying a renovation of the moral nature. The entire man is to be rectified in heart, speech, and behavior. The perfection of the individual, and, through that, the perfection of society, are the objects aimed at; and the consummation desired is the doing of the will of God on earth as it is done in heaven. Now, of all this, surely a magnificent ideal, we find in Hinduism no trace whatever. [Sidenote: Views of life. The great tenet of Hinduism.] Christianity is emphatically a religion of hope; Hinduism may be designated a religion of despair. The trials of life are many and great. Christianity bids us regard them as discipline from a Father's hand, and tells us that affliction rightly borne yields "the peaceable fruits of righteousness." To death the Christian looks forward without fear; to him it is a quiet sleep, and the resurrection draws nigh. Then comes the beatific vision of God. Glorified in soul and body, the companion of angels and saints, strong in immortal youth, he will serve without let or hinderance the God and Saviour whom he loves. To the Hindu the trials of life are penal, not remedial. At death his soul passes into another body. Rightly, every human soul animates in succession eighty-four lacs (8,400,000) of bodies--the body of a human being, or a beast, or a bird, or a fish, or a plant, or a stone, according to desert. This weary, all but endless, round of births fills the mind of a Hindu with the greatest horror. At last the soul is lost in God as a drop mingles with the ocean. Individual existence and consciousness then cease. The thought is profoundly sorrowful that this is the cheerless faith of countless multitudes. No wonder, though, the great tenet of Hinduism is this--_Existence is misery._ [Sidenote: The future of the race. The struggle between good and evil.] So much for the future of the individual. Regarding the future of the race Hinduism speaks in equally cheerless terms. Its golden age lies in the immeasurably distant past; and the further we recede from it the deeper must we plunge into sin and wretchedness. True, ages and ages hence the "age of truth" returns, but it returns only to pass away again and torment us with the memory of lost purity and joy. The experience of the universe is thus an eternal renovation of hope and disappointment. In the struggle between good and evil there is no final triumph for the good. We tread a fated, eternal round from which there is no escape; and alike the hero fights and the martyr dies in vain. It is remarkable that acute intellectual men, as many of the Hindu poets were, should never have grappled with the problem of the divine government of the world. [Sidenote: The future of the Aryan race.] Equally notable is the unconcern of the Veda as to the welfare and the future of even the Aryan race. But how sublime is the promise given to Abraham that in him and his seed all nations of the earth should be blessed! Renan has pointed with admiration to the confidence entertained at all times by the Jew in a brilliant and happy future for mankind. The ancient Hindu cared not about the future of his neighbors, and doubtless even the expression "human race" would have been unintelligible to him. Nor is there any pathos in the Veda. There is no deep sense of the sorrows of life. Max Müller has affixed the epithet "transcendent" to the Hindu mind. Its bent was much more toward the metaphysical, the mystical, the incomprehensible than toward the moral and the practical. Hence endless subtleties, more meaningless and unprofitable than ever occupied the mind of Talmudist or schoolman of the Middle Ages. [Sidenote: The words of St. Paul illustrated by Hinduism.] But finally, on this part of the subject, the development of Indian religion supplies a striking comment on the words of St. Paul: "The invisible things of God are clearly seen, being understood from the things that are made. But when they knew God they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened." [Sidenote: Moral power.] Hinduism is deplorably deficient in power to raise and purify the human soul, from having no high example of moral excellence. Its renowned sages were noted for irritability and selfishness--great men at cursing; and the gods for the most part were worse. Need we say how gloriously rich the Gospel is in having in the character of Christ the realized ideal of every possible excellence? [Sidenote: Ethical effect of Hinduism. The people better than their religion.] _Summa religionis est imitari quem colis_: "It is the sum of religion to imitate the being worshiped;"[33] or, as the Hindus express it: "As is the deity such is the devotee." Worship the God revealed in the Bible, and you become god-like. The soul strives, with divine aid, to "purify itself even as God is pure." But apply the principle to Hinduism. Alas! the Pantheon is almost a pandemonium. Krishna, who in these days is the chief deity to at least a hundred millions of people, does not possess one elevated attribute. If, in the circumstances, society does not become a moral pesthouse it is only because the people continue better than their religion. The human heart, though fallen, is not fiendish. It has still its purer instincts; and, when the legends about abominable gods and goddesses are falling like mildew, these are still to some extent kept alive by the sweet influences of earth and sky and by the charities of family life. When the heart of woman is about to be swept into the abyss her infant's smile restores her to her better self. Thus family life does not go to ruin; and so long as that anchor holds society will not drift on the rocks that stand so perilously near. Still, the state of things is deplorably distressing. [Sidenote: The doctrine of incarnation.] The doctrine of the incarnation is of fundamental importance in Christianity. It seems almost profanation to compare it with the Hindu teaching regarding the Avataras, or descents of Vishnu. It is difficult to extract any meaning out of the three first manifestations, when the god became in succession a fish, a boar, and a tortoise. Of the great "descents" in Rama and Krishna we have already spoken. The ninth Avatara was that of Buddha, in which the deity descended for the purpose of deceiving men, making them deny the gods, and leading them to destruction. So blasphemous an idea may seem hardly possible, even for the bewildered mind of India; but this is doubtless the Brahmanical explanation of the rise and progress of Buddhism. It was fatal error, but inculcated by a divine being. Even the sickening tales of Krishna and his amours are less shocking than this. When we turn from such representations of divinity to "the Word made flesh" we seem to have escaped from the pestilential air of a charnel-house to the sweet, pure breath of heaven. V. HINDUISM IN CONTACT WITH CHRISTIANITY. [Sidenote: Attempted reforms.] We have used the word _reformer_ in this Tract. We formerly noted that, in India, there have arisen from time to time men who saw and sorrowed over the erroneous doctrines and degrading rites of the popular system. In quite recent times they have had successors. Some account of their work may form a fitting conclusion to our discussion. [Sidenote: Advance of Christianity in India.] With the large influx into India of Christian ideas it was to be expected that some impression would be made on Hinduism. We do not refer to conversion--the full acceptance of the Christian faith. Christianity has advanced and is advancing in India more rapidly than is generally supposed; but far beyond the circle of those who "come out and are separate" its mighty power is telling on Hinduism. The great fundamental truths of the Gospel, when once uttered and understood, can hardly be forgotten. Disliked and denied they may be; but forgotten? No. Thus they gradually win their way, and multitudes who have no thought of becoming Christians are ready to admit that they are beautiful and true; for belief and practice are often widely separated in Hindu minds. [Sidenote: The Brahma Samaj.] But it was to be expected that the new ideas pouring into India--and among these we include not only distinctively Christian ideas, but Western thought generally--would manifest their presence and activity in concrete forms, in attempted reconstructions of religion. The most remarkable example of such a reconstruction is exhibited in the Brahmo Somaj (more correctly Brahma Samaj)--which may be rendered the "Church of God." [Sidenote: Rammohun Roy. Effect of Christianity upon him.] It is traceable to the efforts of a truly distinguished man, Rammohun Roy. He was a person of studious habits, intelligent, acute, and deeply in earnest on the subject of religion. He studied not only Hinduism in its various forms, but Buddhism, Mohammedanism, and Christianity. He was naturally an eclectic, gathering truth from all quarters where he thought he could find it. A specially deep impression was made on his mind by Christianity; and in 1820 he published a book with the remarkable title, _The Precepts of Jesus the Guide to Peace and Happiness_. Very frequently he gave expression to the sentiment that the teachings of Christ were the truest and deepest that he knew. Still, he did not believe in Christ's divinity. [Sidenote: Debendernath Tagore. Keshub Chunder Sen. Formation of a new Samaj.] In January, 1830, a place of worship was opened by Rammohun Roy and his friends. It was intended for the worship of one God, without idolatrous rites of any kind. This was undoubtedly a very important event, and great was the interest aroused in connection with it. Rammohun Roy, however, visited Britain in 1831, and died at Bristol in 1833; and the cause for which he had so earnestly labored in India languished for a time. But in the year 1841 Debendernath Tagore, a man of character and wealth, joined the Brahmo Somaj, and gave a kind of constitution to it. It was fully organized by 1844. No definite declaration, however, had been made as to the authority of the Vedas; but, after a lengthened period of inquiry and discussion, a majority of the Somaj rejected the doctrine of their infallibility by 1850. "The rock of intuition" now began to be spoken of; man's reason was his sufficient guide. Still, great respect was cherished for the ancient belief and customs of the land. But in 1858 a new champion appeared on the scene, in the well-known Keshub Chunder Sen. Ardent, impetuous, ambitions--full of ideas derived from Christian sources[34]--he could not brook the slow movements of the Somaj in the path of reform. Important changes, both religious and social, were pressed by him; and the more conservative Debendernath somewhat reluctantly consented to their introduction. Matters were, however, brought to a crisis by the marriage of two persons of different castes in 1864. In February, 1865, the progressive party formally severed their connection with the original Somaj; and in August, 1869, they opened a new place of worship of their own. Since this time the original or Adi Somaj has been little heard of, and its movement--if it has moved at all--has been retrogressive. The new Somaj--the Brahmo Somaj of India, as it called itself--under the guidance of Mr. Sen became very active. A missionary institute was set up, and preachers were sent over a great part of India. Much was accomplished on behalf of women; and in 1872 a Marriage Act for members of the Somaj was passed by the Indian legislature, which legalized union between people of different castes, and fixed on fourteen as the lowest age for the marriage of females. These were important reforms. Mr. Sen's influence was naturally and necessarily great; but in opposing the venerable leader of the original Somaj he had set an example which others were quite willing to copy. [Sidenote: Discontent growing.] Several of his followers began to demand more radical reforms than he was willing to grant. The autocracy exercised by Mr. Sen was strongly objected to, and a constitution of the Somaj was demanded. Mr. Sen openly maintained that heaven from time to time raises up men endowed with special powers, and commissioned to introduce new forms or "dispensations" of religion; and his conduct fully proved that he regarded himself as far above his followers. Complaints became louder; and although the eloquence and genius of Keshub were able to keep the rebellious elements from exploding it was evident, as early as 1873, that a crisis was approaching. This came in 1878, when Mr. Sen's daughter was married to the Maharaja of Kuch Behar. The bride was not fourteen, and the bridegroom was sixteen. Now, Mr. Sen had been earnest and successful in getting the Brahmo Marriage Act passed, which ruled that the lowest marriageable age for a woman was fourteen, and for a man eighteen. Here was gross inconsistency. What could explain it? "Ambition," exclaimed great numbers; "the wish to exalt himself and his daughter by alliance with a prince." But Mr. Sen declared that he had consented to the marriage in consequence of an express intimation that such was the will of heaven. Mr. Sen denied miracles, but believed in inspiration; and of his own inspiration he seems to have entertained no doubt. We thus obtain a glimpse into the peculiar working of his mind. Every full conviction, every strong wish of his own he ascribed to divine suggestion. This put him in a position of extreme peril. It was clear that an enthusiastic, imaginative, self-reliant nature like his might thus be borne on to any extent of fanaticism. [Sidenote: Revolt; a third Samaj. "New Dispensation."] A great revolt from Mr. Sen's authority now took place, and the Sadharan Samaj was organized in May, 1878. An appeal had been made to the members generally, and no fewer than twenty-one provincial Samajes, with more than four hundred members, male and female, joined the new society. This number amounted to about two thirds of the whole body. Keshub and his friends denounced the rebels in very bitter language; and yet, in one point of view, their secession was a relief. Men of abilities equal, and education superior, to his own had hitherto acted as a drag on his movements; he was now delivered from their interference and could deal with the admiring and submissive remnant as he pleased. Ideas that had been working in his mind now attained rapid development. Within two years the flag of the "New Dispensation" was raised; and of that dispensation Mr. Sen was the undoubted head. Very daring was the language Mr. Sen used in a public lecture regarding this new creation. He claimed equality for it with the Jewish and Christian dispensations, and for himself "singular" authority and a divine commission. [Sidenote: Its creed.] In the Creed of the New Dispensation the name of Christ does not occur. The articles were as follows: _a._ One God, one Scripture, one Church. _b._ Eternal progress of the soul. _c._ Communion of prophets and saints. _d._ Fatherhood and motherhood of God. _e._ Brotherhood of man and sisterhood of woman. _f._ Harmony of knowledge and holiness, love and work, yoga and asceticism in their highest development. _g._ Loyalty to sovereign. [Sidenote: Omission of Christ's name.] The omission of Christ's name is the more remarkable because Mr. Sen spoke much of him in his public lectures. He had said in May, 1879, "None but Jesus, none but Jesus, none but Jesus ever deserved this precious diadem, India; and Jesus shall have it." But he clearly indicated that the Christ he sought was an Indian Christ; one who was "a Hindu in faith," and who would help the Hindus to "realize their national idea of a yogi" (ascetic). [Sidenote: "Motherhood of God."] Let it be noted that, from the beginning of his career, Mr. Sen had spoken earnestly of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man--though, these great conceptions are not of Hindu origin. It is difficult to see why, in later days, he insisted so much on the "motherhood of God." Perhaps it was a repetition--he probably would have called it an exaltation--of the old Hindu idea, prevalent especially among the worshipers of Siva, that there is a female counterpart--a Sakti--of every divinity. Or, possibly, it may have been to conciliate the worshipers of Durga and Kali, those great goddesses of Bengal. [Sidenote: Public proclamation said to be from God.] A public proclamation was soon issued, purporting to be from God himself, as India's mother. The whole thing was very startling; many, even of Keshub's friends, declared it blasphemous. Next, in the "Flag Ceremony," the flag or banner of the New Dispensation received a homage scarcely distinguishable from worship. Then--as if in strict imitation of the ancient adoration of Agni, or Fire--a pile of wood was lighted, clarified butter poured on it, and prayers addressed to it, ending thus--"O, brilliant Fire! in thee we behold our resplendent Lord." This was, at least, symbolism run wild; and every one, except those who were prepared to follow their leader to all lengths, saw that in a land like India, wedded to idolatry, it was fearfully perilous. [Sidenote: "Apostolic Durbar."] In March, 1881, Mr. Sen and his friends introduced celebrations which, to Christian minds, seemed a distressing caricature of the Christian sacraments. Other institutions followed; an Apostolic Durbar (Court of Apostles), for instance, was established. There was no end to Mr. Sen's inventiveness. In a public lecture delivered in January, 1883, on "Asia's message to Europe," he elaborately expounded the idea that all the great religions are of Asiatic origin, and that all of them are true, and that the one thing required to constitute the faith of the future--the religion of humanity--is the blending of all these varied Oriental systems into one. [Sidenote: Inconsistencies between Mr. Sen's public and private utterances. Mr. Sen's policy of reserve.] It was not easy to reconcile Mr. Sen's public utterances with his private ones--though far be it from us to tax him with insincerity. Thus, in an interview extending over two hours, which the writer and two missionary friends had with him a week or so before the lecture now referred to, he said he accepted as true and vital all the leading doctrines of the Christian faith, with the exception of the resurrection of Christ. But another fundamental difference remained--he avowedly dissented from the orthodox creed in rejecting the miraculous element in Scripture. At an interview I had with him some time before he earnestly disclaimed all intention to put Christ on a level with Buddha or Mohammed. "I am educating my friends," he said, "to understand and approve of Christianity; I have not yet said my last word about Christ." It is a solemn question, Had he said it when his career was ended? If so, it was far from a satisfactory word. His policy of reserve and adaptation had probably kept him from uttering all that was in his heart; but it was a sorely mistaken policy. Had he temporized less he would have accomplished more. Since the death of Mr. Sen there has been a violent dispute between his family and the "Apostolic Durbar," on one side, and one of his ablest followers, on the other; and the New Dispensation will probably split in two, if it does not perish altogether. [Sidenote: The Sadharan Samaj.] In the meantime, the Sadharan Samaj, which broke off from Keshub's party in 1878, has been going on with no small vigor. Vagaries, either in doctrine or rites, have been carefully shunned; its partisans profess a pure Theistic creed and labor diligently in the cause of social reform. Their position is nearly that of Unitarian Christianity, and we fear they are not at present approximating to the full belief of the Church Catholic. [Sidenote: Movements in western India. Tenets of the Prarthana Sabha.] Very similar in character to the Brahmo Somaj is the Prarthana Somaj in western India. As far back as 1850, or a little earlier, there was formed a society called the Prarthana Sabha (Prayer-meeting). Its leading tenets were as follows: 1. I believe in one God. 2. I renounce idol-worship. 3. I will do my best to lead a moral life. 4. If I commit any sin through the weakness of my moral nature I will repent of it and ask the pardon of God. The society, after some time, began to languish; but in 1867 it was revived under the name of Prarthana Somaj. Its chief branches are in Bombay, Poona, Ahmedabad, and Surat. [Sidenote: Arya Samaj.] An interesting movement called the Arya Samaj was commenced a few years ago by a Pandit--Dayanand Sarasvati. He received the Vedas as fully inspired, but maintained that they taught monotheism--Agni, Indra, and all the rest being merely different names of God. It was a desperate effort to save the reputation of the ancient books; but, as all Sanskrit scholars saw at a glance, the whole idea was a delusion. The Pandit is now dead; and the Arya Samaj may not long survive him. At the time we write we hear of an attempt to defend idolatry and caste made by men of considerable education. [Sidenote: Theosophists.] The so-called "Theosophists" have, for several years, been active in India. Of existing religions, Buddhism is their natural ally. They are atheists. A combination which they formed with the Arya Samaj speedily came to an end. Lastly, the followers of Mr. Bradlaugh are diligent in supplying their books to Indian students. Poor India! No wonder if her mind is bewildered as she listens to such a Babel of voices. The state of things in India now strikingly resembles that which existed in the Roman Empire at the rise of Christianity; when East and West were brought into the closest contact, and a great conflict of systems of thought took place in consequence. But even as one hostile form of gnostic belief rose after another, and rose only to fall--and as the greatest and best-disciplined foe of early Christianity--the later Platonism--gave way before the steady, irresistible march of gospel truth, so--we have every reason to hope--it will be yet again. The Christian feels his heart swell in his breast as he thinks what, in all human probability, India will be a century, or even half a century, hence. O what a new life to that fairest of Eastern lands when she casts herself in sorrow and supplication at the feet of the living God, and then rises to proclaim to a listening world "Her deep repentance and her new-found joy!" May God hasten the advent of that happy day! THE RISE AND DECLINE OF ISLAM. OUTLINE OF THE ESSAY. The progress of Islam was slow until Mohammed cast aside the precepts of toleration and adopted an aggressive, militant policy. Then it became rapid. The motives which animated the armies of Islam were mixed--material and spiritual. Without the truths contained in the system success would have been impossible, but neither without the sword would the religion have been planted in Arabia, nor beyond. The alternatives offered to conquered peoples were Islam, the sword, or tribute. The drawbacks and attractions of the system are examined. The former were not such as to deter men of the world from embracing the faith. The sexual indulgences sanctioned by it are such as to make Islam "the Easy way." The spread of Islam was stayed whenever military success was checked. The Faith was meant for Arabia and not for the world, hence it is constitutionally incapable of change or development. The degradation of woman hinders the growth of freedom and civilization under it. Christianity is contrasted in the means used for its propagation, the methods it employed in grappling with and overcoming the evils that it found existing in the world, in the relations it established between the sexes, in its teaching with regard to the respective duties of the civil and spiritual powers, and, above all, in its redeeming character, and then the conclusion come to that Christianity is divine in its origin. THE RISE AND DECLINE OF ISLAM. * * * * * INTRODUCTION. [Sidenote: Islam pre-eminent in its rapid spread.] Among the religions of the earth Islam must take the precedence in the rapidity and force with which it spread. Within a very short time from its planting in Arabia the new faith had subdued great and populous provinces. In half a dozen years, counting from the death of the founder, the religion prevailed throughout Arabia, Syria, Persia, and Egypt, and before the close of the century it ruled supreme over the greater part of the vast populations from Gibraltar to the Oxus, from the Black Sea to the river Indus. [Sidenote: Propagation far quicker than of Christianity.] In comparison with this grand outburst the first efforts of Christianity were, to the outward eye, faint and feeble, and its extension so gradual that what the Mohammedan religion achieved in ten or twenty years it took the faith of Jesus long centuries to accomplish. [Sidenote: Object of the Tract.] The object of these few pages is, _first_, to inquire briefly into the causes which led to the marvelous rapidity of the first movement of Islam: _secondly_, to consider the reasons which eventually stayed its advance; and, _lastly_, to ascertain why Mohammedan countries have kept so far in the rear of other lands in respect of intellectual and social progress. In short, the question is how it was that, Pallas-like, the faith sprang ready-armed from the ground, conquering and to conquer, and why, the weapons dropping from its grasp, Islam began to lose its pristine vigor, and finally relapsed into inactivity. I. THE RAPID SPREAD OF ISLAM. [Sidenote: Two periods in the mission of Mohammed.] The personal ministry of Mohammed divides itself into two distinct periods: first, his life at Mecca as a preacher and a prophet; second, his life at Medina as a prophet and a king. [Sidenote: I. Ministry at Mecca, A.D. 609-622. Success at Mecca limited.] It is only in the first of these periods that Islam at all runs parallel with Christianity. The great body of his fellow-citizens rejected the ministry of Mohammed and bitterly opposed his claims. His efforts at Mecca were, therefore, confined to teaching and preaching and to the publishing of the earlier "Suras," or chapters of his "Revelation." After some thirteen years spent thus his converts, to the number of about a hundred and fifty men and women, were forced by the persecution of the Coreish (the ruling tribe at Mecca, from which Mohammed was descended) to quit their native city and emigrate to Medina.[35] A hundred more had previously fled from Mecca for the same cause, and found refuge at the court of the Negus, or king of Abyssinia; and there was already a small company of followers among the citizens of Medina. At the utmost, therefore, the number of disciples gained over by the simple resort to teaching and preaching did not, during the first twelve years of Mohammed's ministry, exceed a few hundreds. It is true that the soil of Mecca was stubborn and (unlike that of Judea) wholly unprepared. The cause also, at times, became the object of sustained and violent opposition. Even so much of success was consequently, under the peculiar circumstances, remarkable. But it was by no means singular. The progress fell far short of that made by Christianity during the corresponding period of its existence,[36] and indeed by many reformers who have been the preachers of a new faith. It gave no promise whatever of the marvelous spectacle that was about to follow. [Sidenote: II. Change of policy at Medina, A.D. 622-632. Arabia converted from Medina at the point of the sword.] Having escaped from Mecca and found a new and congenial home in Medina, Mohammed was not long in changing his front. At Mecca, surrounded by enemies, he taught toleration. He was simply the preacher commissioned to deliver a message, and bidden to leave the responsibility with his Master and his hearers. He might argue with the disputants, but it must be "in a way most mild and gracious;" for "in religion" (such was his teaching before he reached Medina) "there should be neither violence nor constraint."[37] At Medina the precepts of toleration were quickly cast aside and his whole policy reversed. No sooner did Mohammed begin to be recognized and obeyed as the chief of Medina than he proceeded to attack the Jewish tribes settled in the neighborhood because they refused to acknowledge his claims and believe in him as a prophet foretold in their Scriptures; two of these tribes were exiled, and the third exterminated in cold blood. In the second year after the Hegira[a], or flight from Mecca (the period from which the Mohammedan era dates), he began to plunder the caravans of the Coreish, which passed near to Medina on their mercantile journeys between Arabia and Syria. So popular did the cause of the now militant and marauding prophet speedily become among the citizens of Medina and the tribes around that, after many battles fought with varying success, he was able, in the eighth year of the Hegira[b] to re-enter his native city at the head of ten thousand armed followers. Thenceforward success was assured. None dared to oppose his pretensions. And before his death, in the eleventh year of the Hegira[c], all Arabia, from Bab-el-Mandeb and Oman to the confines of the Syrian desert, was forced to submit to the supreme authority of the now kingly prophet and to recognize the faith and obligations of Islam.[38] [Sidenote: Religion of Mohammed described.] This _Islam_, so called from its demanding the entire "surrender" of the believer to the will and service of God, is based on the recognition of Mohammed as a prophet foretold in the Jewish and Christian Scriptures--the last and greatest of the prophets. On him descended the Koran from time to time, an immediate revelation from the Almighty. Idolatry and polytheism are with iconoclastic zeal denounced as sins of the deepest dye; while the unity of the Deity is proclaimed as the grand and cardinal doctrine of the faith. Divine providence pervades the minutest concerns of life, and predestination is taught in its most naked form. Yet prayer is enjoined as both meritorious and effective; and at five stated times every day must it be specially performed. The duties generally of the moral law are enforced, though an evil laxity is given in the matter of polygamy and divorce. Tithes are demanded as alms for the poor. A fast during the month of Ramzan must be kept throughout the whole of every day; and the yearly pilgrimage to Mecca--an ancient institution, the rites of which were now divested of their heathenish accompaniments--maintained. The existence of angels and devils is taught, and heaven and hell are depicted in material colors--the one of sensuous pleasure, the other of bodily torment. Finally, the resurrection, judgment, and retribution of good and evil are set forth in great detail. Such was the creed--"_There is no god but the_ Lord, _and_ Mohammed _is his prophet_"--to which Arabia now became obedient. [Sidenote: Arabia apostatizes; but is speedily reconquered and reclaimed, A.D. 633.] But immediately on the death of Mohammed the entire peninsula relapsed into apostasy. Medina and Mecca remained faithful; but every-where else the land seethed with rebellion. Some tribes joined the "false prophets," of whom four had arisen in different parts of Arabia; some relapsed into their ancient heathenism; while others proposed a compromise--they would observe the stated times of prayer, but would be excused the tithe. Every-where was rampant anarchy. The apostate tribes attacked Medina, but were repulsed by the brave old Caliph Abu Bekr, who refused to abate one jot or tittle, as the successor of Mohammed, of the obligations of Islam. Eleven columns were sent forth under as many leaders, trained in the warlike school of Mohammed. These fought their way, step by step, successfully; and thus, mainly through the wisdom and firmness of Abu Bekr and the valor and genius of Khalid, "the Sword of God," the Arab tribes, one by one, were overcome and forced back into their allegiance and the profession of Islam. The reconquest of Arabia and re-imposition of Mohammedanism as the national faith, which it took a whole year to accomplish, is thus described by an Arabian author, who wrote at the close of the second century of the Mohammedan era: After his decease there remained not one of the followers of the prophet that did not apostatize, saving only a small company of his "Companions" and kinsfolk, who hoped thus to secure the government to themselves. Hereupon Abu Bekr displayed marvelous skill, energy, and address, so that the power passed into his hands.... And thus he persevered until the apostate tribes were all brought back to their allegiance, some by kindly treatment, persuasion, and craft; some through terror and fear of the sword; and others by the prospect of power and wealth as well as by the lusts and pleasures of this life. And so it came to pass that all the Bedouin tribes were in the end converted outwardly, but not from inward conviction.[39] [Sidenote: The Arabs thus reclaimed were, at the first, sullen.] The temper of the tribes thus reclaimed by force of arms was at the first strained and sullen. But the scene soon changed. Suddenly the whole peninsula was shaken, and the people, seized with a burning zeal, issued forth to plant the new faith in other lands. It happened on this wise: [Sidenote: Roused by war-cry, they issue from the peninsula, A.D. 634, _et. seq._ The opposing forces. Arab enthusiasm.] The columns sent from Medina to reduce the rebellious tribes to the north-west on the Gulf of Ayla, and to the north-east on the Persian Gulf, came at once into collision with the Christian Bedouins of Syria on the one hand and with those of Mesopotamia on the other. These again were immediately supported by the neighboring forces of the Roman and Persian empires, whose vassals respectively they were. And so, before many months, Abu Bekr found his generals opposed by great and imposing armies on either side. He was, in fact, waging mortal combat at one and the same moment with the Kaiser and the Chosroes, the Byzantine emperor and the great king of Persia. The risk was imminent, and an appeal went forth for help to meet the danger. The battle-cry resounded from one end of Arabia to the other, and electrified the land. Levy after levy, _en masse_, started up at the call from every quarter of the peninsula, and the Bedouin tribes, as bees from their hive, streamed forth in swarms, animated by the prospect of conquest, plunder, and captive damsels, or, if slain in battle, by the still more coveted prize of the "martyr" in the material paradise of Mohammed. With a military ardor and new-born zeal in which carnal and spiritual aspirations were strangely blended, the Arabs rushed forth to the field, like the war-horse of Job, "that smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting." Sullen constraint was in a moment transformed into an absolute devotion and fiery resolve to spread the faith. The Arab warrior became the missionary of Islam. [Sidenote: Arabs, a military body, subsidized and mobilized by Omar.] It was now the care of Omar, the second caliph or ruler of the new-born empire, to establish a system whereby the spirit militant, called into existence with such force and fervor, might be rendered permanent. The entire Arabian people was subsidized. The surplus revenues which in rapidly increasing volume began to flow from the conquered lands into the Moslem treasuries were to the last farthing distributed among the soldiers of Arabian descent. The whole nation was enrolled, and the name of every warrior entered upon the roster of Islam. Forbidden to settle anywhere, and relieved from all other work, the Arab hordes became, in fact, a standing army threatening the world. Great bodies of armed men were kept thus ever mobilized, separate and in readiness for new enterprise. [Sidenote: Mission of Islam described by Fairbairn.] The change which came over the policy of the Founder of the Faith at Medina, and paved the way for this marvelous system of world-wide rapine and conversion to Islam, is thus described by a thoughtful and sagacious writer: Medina was fatal to the higher capabilities of Islam. Mohammed became then a king; his religion was incorporated in a State that had to struggle for its life in the fashion familiar to the rough-handed sons of the desert. The prophet was turned into the legislator and commander; his revelations were now laws, and now military orders and manifestoes. The mission of Islam became one that only the sword could accomplish, robbery of the infidel became meritorious, and conquest the supreme duty it owed to the world.... The religion which lived an unprospering and precarious life, so long as it depended on the prophetic word alone, became an aggressive and victorious power so soon as it was embodied in a State.[40] [Sidenote: And by von Kremer.] Another learned and impartial authority tells us: The Mussulman power under the first four caliphs was nothing but a grand religio-political association of Arab tribes for universal plunder and conquest under the holy banner of Islam, and the watch-word, "There is no god but the Lord, and Mohammed is his apostle." On pretext of spreading the only true religion the Arabs swallowed up fair provinces lying all around, and, driving a profitable business, enriched themselves simultaneously in a worldly sense.[41] [Sidenote: Religious merit of "fighting in the ways of the Lord."] The motives which nerved the armies of Islam were a strange combination of the lower instincts of nature with the higher aspirations of the spirit. To engage in the Holy War was the rarest and most blessed of all religious virtues, and conferred on the combatant a special merit; and side by side with it lay the bright prospect of spoil and female slaves, conquest and glory. "Mount thy horse," said Osama ibn Zeid to Abu Bekr as he accompanied the Syrian army a little way on its march, out of Medina. "Nay," replied the caliph, "I will not ride, but I will walk and soil my feet a little space in the ways of the Lord. Verily, every footstep in the ways of the Lord is equal in merit to manifold good works, and wipeth away a multitude of sins."[42] And of the "martyrs," those who fell in these crusading campaigns, Mohammed thus described the blessed state: Think not, in any wise, of those killed in the ways of the Lord, as if they were dead. Yea, they are alive, and are nourished with their Lord, exulting in that which God hath given them of his favor, and rejoicing in behalf of those who have not yet joined them, but are following after. No terror afflicteth them, neither are they grieved.--Sura iii. [Sidenote: Material fruits of Moslem crusade.] The material fruits of their victories raised the Arabs at once from being the needy inhabitants of a stony, sterile soil, where, with difficulty, they eked out a hardy subsistence, to be the masters of rich and luxuriant lands flowing with milk and honey. After one of his great victories on the plains of Chaldea, Khalid called together his troops, flushed with conquest, and lost in wonder at the exuberance around them, and thus addressed them: "Ye see the riches of the land. Its paths drop fatness and plenty, so that the fruits of the earth are scattered abroad even as stones are in Arabia. If but as a provision for this present life, it were worth our while to fight for these fair fields and banish care and penury forever from us." Such were the aspirations dear to the heart of every Arab warrior. Again, after the battle of Jalola, a few years later, the treasure and spoil of the Persian monarch, captured by the victors, was valued at thirty million of dirhems (about a million sterling). The royal fifth (the crown share of the booty) was sent as usual to Medina under charge of Ziad, who, in the presence of the Caliph Omar, harangued the citizens in a glowing description of what had been won in Persia, fertile lands, rich cities, and endless spoil, besides captive maids and princesses. [Sidenote: Rich booty taken in the capital of Persia, A.D. 637.] In relating the capture of Medain (the ancient Ctesiphon) tradition revels in the untold wealth which fell into the hands of Sad, the conqueror, and his followers. Besides millions of treasure, there was endless store of gold and silver vessels, rich vestments, and rare and precious things. The Arabs gazed bewildered at the tiara, brocaded vestments, jeweled armor, and splendid surroundings of the throne. They tell of a camel of silver, life-size, with a rider of gold, and of a golden horse with emeralds for teeth, the neck set with rubies, the trappings of gold. And we may read in Gibbon of the marvelous banqueting carpet, representing a garden, the ground of wrought gold, the walks of silver, the meadows of emeralds, rivulets of pearls, and flowers and fruits of diamonds, rubies, and rare gems. The precious metals lost their conventional value, gold was parted with for its weight in silver; and so on.[43] [Sidenote: Success in battle ascribed to divine aid.] It is the virtue of Islam that it recognizes a special providence, seeing the hand of God, as in every thing, so pre-eminently also in victory. When Sad, therefore, had established himself in the palace of the Chosroes he was not forgetful to render thanks in a service of praise. One of the princely mansions was turned for the moment into a temple, and there, followed by his troops, he ascribed the victory to the Lord of Hosts. The lesson accompanying the prayers was taken from a Sura (or chapter of the Koran) which speaks of Pharaoh and his riders being overwhelmed in the Red Sea, and contains this passage, held to be peculiarly appropriate to the occasion: "How many gardens and fountains did they leave behind, And fields of corn, and fair dwelling-places, And pleasant things which they enjoyed! Even thus have We made another people to inherit the same."[44] [Sidenote: "Martyrdom" in the field coveted by Moslem crusaders. The Moslem crown of martyrdom.] Such as fell in the conflict were called martyrs; a halo of glory surrounded them, and special joys awaited them even on the battlefield. And so it came to pass that the warriors of Islam had an unearthly longing for the crown of martyrdom. The Caliph Omar was inconsolable at the loss of his brother, Zeid, who fell in the fatal "Garden of Death," at the battle of Yemama: "Thou art returned home," he said to his son, Abdallah, "safe and sound, and Zeid is dead. Wherefore wast not thou slain before him? I wish not to see thy face." "Father," answered Abdallah, "he asked for the crown of martyrdom, and the Lord granted it. I strove after the same, but it was not given unto me."[45] It was the proud boast of the Saracens in their summons to the craven Greeks and Persians that "they loved death more than their foes loved life." Familiar with the pictures drawn in the Koran of the beautiful "houries" of Paradise,[46] the Saracens believed that immediate fruition on the field of battle was the martyr's special prize. We are told of a Moslem soldier, four-score years of age, who, seeing a comrade fall by his side, cried out, "O Paradise! how close art thou beneath the arrow's point and the falchion's flash! O Hashim! even now I see heaven opened, and black-eyed maidens all bridally attired, clasping thee in their fond embrace." And shouting thus the aged warrior, fired again with the ardor of youth, rushed upon the enemy and met the envied fate. For those who survived there was the less ethereal but closer prospect of Persian, Greek, or Coptic women, both maids and matrons, who, on "being taken captive by their right hand," were forthwith, according to the Koran, without stint of number, at the conqueror's will and pleasure. These, immediately they were made prisoners, might (according to the example of Mohammed himself at Kheibar) be carried off without further ceremony to the victor's tent; and in this respect the Saracens certainly were nothing loath to execute upon the heathen the judgment written in their law. So strangely was religious fanaticism fed and fostered in the Moslem camp by incentives irresistible to the Arab--fight and foray, the spoil of war and captive charms. [Sidenote: Martial passages from Koran recited on field of battle.] The courage of the troops was stimulated by the divine promises of victory, which were read (and on like occasions still are read) at the head of each column drawn up for battle. Thus, on the field of Cadesiya[d], which decided the fate of Persia, the Sura _Jehad_, with the stirring tale of the thousand angels that fought on the Prophet's side at Bedr was recited, and such texts as these: _Stir up the faithful unto battle. If there be twenty steadfast among you they shall put two hundred to flight of the unbelievers, and a hundred shall put to flight a thousand. Victory is from the Lord. He is mighty and wise. I the Lord will cast terror into the hearts of the infidels. Strike off their heads and their fingers' ends. Beware lest ye turn your back in battle. Verily, he that turneth his back shall draw down upon himself the wrath of God. His abode shall be hell fire; an evil journey thither._ And we are told that on the recital of these verses "the heart of the people was refreshed and their eyes lightened, and they felt the tranquillity that ensueth thereupon." Three days they fought, and on the morning of the fourth, returning with unabated vigor to the charge, they scattered to the winds the vast host of Persia.[47] [Sidenote: Defeat of Byzantine army on the Yermuk, A.D. 634.] Nor was it otherwise in the great battle of the Yermuk, which laid Syria at the feet of the Arabs. The virgin vigor of the Saracens was fired by a wild fanatical zeal "to fight in the ways of the Lord," obtaining thus heavenly merit and a worldly prize--the spoil of Syria and its fair maidens ravished from their homes; or should they fall by the sword, the black-eyed houries waiting for them on the field of battle. "Of warriors nerved by this strange combination of earth and heaven, of the flesh and of the spirit, of the incentives at once of faith and rapine, of fanatical devotion to the prophet and deathless passion for the sex, ten might chase a hundred half-hearted Romans. The forty thousand Moslems were stronger far than the two hundred and forty thousand of the enemy." The combat lasted for weeks; but at the last the Byzantine force was utterly routed, and thousands hurled in wild confusion over the beetling cliffs of the Yermuk into the yawning chasm of Wacusa.[48] [Sidenote: Islam planted by aid of material force.] Such, then, was the nature of the Moslem propaganda, such the agency by which the faith was spread, and such the motives at once material and spiritual by which its martial missionaries were inspired. No wonder that the effete empires of Rome and Persia recoiled and quivered at the shock, and that province after province quickly fell under the sway of Islam. It is far from my intention to imply that the truths set forth by the new faith had nothing to do with its success. On the contrary, it may well be admitted that but for those truths success might have been impossible. The grand enunciation of the Divine Unity, and the duty of an absolute submission to the same; the recognition of a special providence reaching to the minutest details of life; the inculcation of prayer and other religious duties; the establishment of a code in which the leading principles of morality are enforced, and the acknowledgment of previous revelations in the Jewish and Christian Scriptures, told not only on the idolaters of Arabia and the fire-worshipers of Persia, but on Jews and Samaritans and the followers of a debased and priest-ridden Christianity. All this is true; but it is still not the less true that without the sword Islam would never have been planted even in Arabia, much less ever have spread to the countries beyond. The weapons of its warfare were "carnal," material, and earthly; and by them it conquered. [Sidenote: Alternatives offered to the conquered nations: Islam, the Sword, or Tribute.] The pressure brought to bear on the inhabitants of the countries overrun by Saracen arms was of the most stringent character. They were offered the triple alternative--Islam, the Sword, or Tribute. The first brought immediate relief. Acceptance of the faith not only stayed the enemy's hand, and conferred immunity from the perils of war, but associated the convert with his conquerors in the common brotherhood and in all the privileges of Islam. [Sidenote: Acceptance of Islam, immediate relief from the sword.] Reading the story of the spread of Islam, we are constantly told of this and that enemy, that "being beaten, he _believed_ and embraced the faith." Take as an example of an every-day occurrence the story of Hormuzan. A Persian prince of high rank long maintained a border warfare against the Moslems. At last he was taken prisoner and sent in chains to Medina. As he was conducted into the Great Mosque, Omar exclaimed, "Blessed be the Lord, that hath humbled this man and the like of him!" He bade them disrobe the prisoner and clothe him in sackcloth. Then, whip in hand, he upbraided him for his oft-repeated attacks and treachery. Hormuzan made as if fain to reply; then gasping, like one faint from thirst, he begged for water to drink. "Give it him," said the caliph, "and let him drink in peace." "Nay," cried the wretched captive, trembling, "I fear to drink, lest some one slay me unawares." "Thy life is safe," said Omar, "until thou hast drunk the water up." The words were no sooner said than Hormuzan emptied the vessel on the ground. "I wanted not the water," he said, "but quarter, and thou hast given it me." "Liar!" cried Omar, angrily, "thy life is forfeit." "But not," interposed the by-standers, "until he drink the water up." "Strange," said Omar, "the fellow hath deceived me; and yet I cannot spare the life of one who hath slain so many noble Moslems. I swear that thou shalt not gain by thy deceit unless thou wilt forthwith embrace Islam." Upon that, "_believing_, he made profession of the true faith upon the spot;" and thenceforth, residing at Medina, he received a pension of the highest grade.[49] [Sidenote: Tribute and humiliation. Disabilities imposed on Jews and Christians.] On the other hand, for those who held to their ancestral faith there was no escape from the second or the third alternative. If they would avoid the sword, or, having wielded it, were beaten, they must become tributary. Moreover, the payment of tribute is not the only condition enjoined by the Koran. "Fight against them (the Jews and Christians) until they pay tribute with the hand, _and are humbled_."[50] The command fell on willing ears. An ample interpretation was given to it. And so it came to pass that, though Jews and Christians were, on the payment of tribute, tolerated in the profession of their ancestral faith, they were yet subjected (and still are subjected) to severe humiliation. The nature and extent of the degradation to which they were brought down, and the strength of the inducement to purchase exemption and the equality of civil rights, by surrendering their religion, may be learned from the provisions which were embodied in the code named _The Ordinance of Omar_, which has been more or less enforced from the earliest times. Besides the tribute and various other imposts levied from the "People of the Book,"[51] and the duty of receiving Moslem travelers quartered upon them, the dress of both sexes must be distinguished by broad stripes of yellow. They are forbidden to appear on horseback, and if mounted on a mule or ass their stirrups must be of wood, and their saddles known by knobs of the same material. Their graves must not rise above the level of the soil, and the devil's mark is placed upon the lintel of their doors. Their children must be taught by Moslem masters, and the race, however able or well qualified, proscribed from any office of high emolument or trust. Besides the churches spared at the time of conquest no new buildings can be erected for the purposes of worship; nor can free entrance into their holy places at pleasure be refused to the Moslem. No cross must remain in view outside, nor any church-bells be rung. They must refrain from processions in the street at Easter, and other solemnities; and from any thing, in short, whether by outward symbol, word, or deed, which could be construed into rivalry, or competition with the ruling faith. Such was the so-called _Code of Omar_. Enforced with less or greater stringency, according to the intolerance and caprice of the day, by different dynasties, it was, and (however much relaxed in certain countries) it still remains, the law of Islam. One must admire the rare tenacity of the Christian faith, which, with but scanty light and hope, held its ground through weary ages of insult and depression, and still survives to see the dawning of a brighter day.[52] [Sidenote: Continuing inducements in times of peace.] Such, then, was the hostile attitude of Islam militant in its early days; such the pressure brought to bear on conquered lands for its acceptance; and such the disabilities imposed upon recusant Jews and Christians. On the one hand, rapine, plunder, slavery, tribute, civil disability; on the other, security, peace, and honor. We need not be surprised that, under such constraint, conquered peoples succumbed before Islam. Nor were the temporal inducements to conversion confined to the period during which the Saracens were engaged in spreading Islam by force of arms. Let us come down a couple of centuries from the time of Mohammed, and take the reign of the tolerant and liberal-minded sovereign, Al Mamun. [Sidenote: Evidence of Al Kindy in second century of Hegira, A.D. 830. Speech of Al Mamun.] Among the philosophers of all creeds whom that great caliph gathered around him at Bagdad was a noble Arab of the Nestorian faith, descended from the kingly tribe of the Beni Kinda, and hence called _Al Kindy_. A friend of this Eastern Christian, himself a member of the royal family, invited Al Kindy to embrace Islam in an epistle enlarging on the distinguished rank which, in virtue of his descent, he would (if a true believer) occupy at court, and the other privileges, spiritual and material, social and conjugal, which he would enjoy. In reply the Christian wrote an apology of singular eloquence and power, throwing a flood of light on the worldly inducements which, even at that comparatively late period, abounded in a Moslem state to promote conversion to Islam. Thus Al Mamun himself, in a speech delivered before his council, characterizes certain of his courtiers accused as secret adherents of the Zoroastrian faith: "Though professing Islam, they are free from the same. This they do to be seen of me, while their convictions, I am well aware, are just the opposite of that which they profess. They belong to a class which embrace Islam, not from any love of this our faith, but thinking thereby to gain access to our court, and share in the honor, wealth, and power of the realm. They have no inward persuasion of that which they outwardly profess."[53] [Sidenote: Converts from sordid motives.] Again, speaking of the various classes brought over to Islam by sordid and unworthy motives, Al Kindy says: Moreover, there are the idolatrous races--Magians and Jews--low people aspiring by the profession of Islam to raise themselves to riches and power and to form alliances with the families of the learned and honorable. There are, besides, hypocritical men of the world, who in this way obtain indulgences in the matter of marriage and concubinage which are forbidden to them by the Christian faith. Then we have the dissolute class given over wholly to the lusts of the flesh. And lastly there are those who by this means obtain a more secure and easy livelihood.[54] [Sidenote: Al Kindy contrasts the Christian confessor with the Moslem "martyr." The Christian confessor and the Moslem martyr.] Before leaving this part of our subject it may be opportune to quote a few more passages from Al Kindy, in which he contrasts the inducements that, under the military and political predominance of Islam, promoted its rapid spread, and the opposite conditions under which Christianity made progress, slow, indeed, comparatively, but sure and steady. First, he compares the Christian confessor with the Moslem "martyr:" I marvel much, he says, that ye call those _martyrs_ that fall in war. Thou hast read, no doubt, in history of the followers of Christ put to death in the persecutions of the kings of Persia and elsewhere. Say, now, which are the more worthy to be called martyrs, these, or thy fellows that fall fighting for the world and the power thereof? How diverse were the barbarities and kinds of death inflicted on the Christian confessors! The more they were slain the more rapidly spread the faith; in place of one sprang up a hundred. On a certain occasion, when a great multitude had been put to death, one at court said to the king, "The number of them increaseth instead of, as thou thinkest, diminishing." "How can that be?" exclaimed the king. "But yesterday," replied the courtier, "thou didst put such and such a one to death, and lo, there were converted double that number; and the people say that a man appeared to the confessors from heaven strengthening them in their last moments." Whereupon the king himself was converted. In those days men thought not their lives dear unto them. Some were transfixed while yet alive; others had their limbs cut off one after another; some were cast to the wild beasts and others burned in the fire. Such continued long to be the fate of the Christian confessors. No parallel is found thereto in any other religion; and all was endured with constancy and even with joy. One smiled in the midst of his great suffering. "Was it cold water," they asked, "that was brought unto thee?" "No," answered the sufferer, "it was one like a youth that stood by me and anointed my wounds; and that made me smile, for the pain forthwith departed." Now tell me seriously, my friend, which of the two hath the best claim to be called a _martyr_, "slain in the ways of the Lord:" he who surrendereth his life rather than renounce his faith; who, when it is said, Fall down and worship the sun and moon, or the idols of silver and gold, work of men's hands, instead of the true God, refuseth, choosing rather to give up life, abandon wealth, and forego even wife and family; or he that goeth forth, ravaging and laying waste, plundering and spoiling, slaying the men, carrying away their children into captivity, and ravishing their wives and maidens in his unlawful embrace, and then shall call it "Jehad in the ways of the Lord!" ... And not content therewith, instead of humbling thyself before the Lord, and seeking pardon for the crime, thou sayest of such a one slain in the war that "he hath earned paradise," and thou namest him "a martyr in the ways of the Lord!"[55] And again, contrasting the spread of Islam, "its rattling quiver and its glittering sword," with the silent progress of Christianity, our apologist, after dwelling on the teaching and the miracles of the apostles, writes: They published their message by means of these miracles; and thus great and powerful kings and philosophers and learned men and judges of the earth hearkened unto them, without lash or rod, with neither sword nor spear, nor the advantages of birth or "Helpers;"[56] with no wisdom of this world, or eloquence or power of language, or subtlety of reason; with no worldly inducement, nor yet again with any relaxation of the moral law, but simply at the voice of truth enforced by miracles beyond the power of man to show. And so there came over to them the kings and great ones of the earth. And the philosophers abandoned their systems, with all their wisdom and learning, and betook them to a saintly life, giving up the delights of this world together with their old-established usages, and became followers of a company of poor men, fishers and publicans, who had neither name nor rank nor any claim other than that they were obedient to the command of the Messiah--he that gave them power to do such wonderful works.[57] [Sidenote: The apostles compared with the chiefs of Islam.] And yet once more, comparing the apostles with the military chiefs of Islam, Al Kindy proceeds: After the descent of the Holy Ghost and the gift of tongues the apostles separated each to the country to which he was called. They wrote out in every tongue the holy Gospel, and the story and teaching of Christ, at the dictation of the Holy Ghost. So the nations drew near unto them, believing their testimony; and, giving up the world and their false beliefs, they embraced the Christian faith as soon as ever the dawn of truth and the light of the good tidings broke in upon them. Distinguishing the true from the false, and error from the right direction, they embraced the Gospel and held it fast without doubt or wavering, when they saw the wonderful works and signs of the apostles, and their lives and conversation set after the holy and beautiful example of our Saviour, the traces whereof remain even unto the present day.... How different this from the life of thy Master (Mohammed) and his companions, who ceased not to go forth in battle and rapine, to smite with the sword, to seize the little ones, and ravish the wives and maidens, plundering and laying waste, and carrying the people into captivity. And thus they continue unto this present day, inciting men to these evil deeds, even as it is told of Omar the Caliph. "If one among you," said he, "hath a heathen neighbor and is in need, let him seize and sell him." And many such things they say and teach. Look now at the lives of Simon and Paul, who went about healing the sick and raising the dead, by the name of Christ our Lord; and mark the contrast.[58] [Sidenote: Such are the conclusions of a native of Chaldea.] Such are the reflections of one who lived at a Mohammedan court, and who, moreover, flourishing as he did a thousand years ago, was sufficiently near the early spread of Islam to be able to contrast what he saw and heard and read of the causes of its success with those of the Gospel, and had the courage to confess the same. [Sidenote: Hinderances or inducements inherent in the faith itself.] Apart, now, from the outward and extraneous aids given to Islam by the sword and by the civil arm I will inquire for a moment what natural effect the teaching of Islam itself had in attracting or repelling mankind. I do not now speak of any power contained in the truths it inculcated to convert to Islam by the rousing and quickening of spiritual impulses; for that lies beyond my present purpose, which is to inquire whether there is not in material causes and secular motives enough in themselves to account for success. I speak rather of the effect of the indulgences granted by Islam, on the one hand, as calculated to attract; and of the restraints imposed and sacrifices required, on the other, as calculated to repel. How far, in fact, did there exist inducements or hinderances to its adoption inherent in the religion itself? [Sidenote: Requirements of Islam: prayer. Prohibition of wine, games of chance, and usury. Fast of Ramzan.] What may be regarded as the most constant and irksome of the obligations of Islam is the duty of prayer, which must be observed at stated intervals, five times every day, with the contingent ceremony of lustration. The rite consists of certain forms and passages to be repeated with prescribed series of prostrations and genuflexions. These must be repeated at the right times--but anywhere, in the house or by the wayside, as well as in the mosque; and the ordinance is obligatory in whatever state of mind the worshiper may be, or however occupied. As the appointed hour comes round the Moslem is bound to turn aside to pray--so much so that in Central Asia we read of the police driving the backward worshiper by the lash to discharge the duty. Thus, with the mass of Mussulmans, the obligation becomes a mere formal ceremony, and one sees it performed anywhere and every-where by the whole people, like any social custom, as a matter of course. No doubt there are exceptions; but with the multitude it does not involve the irksomeness of a spiritual service, and so it sits lightly on high and low. The Friday prayers should as a rule be attended in the mosque; but neither need there be much devotion there; and, once performed, the rest of the day is free for pleasure or for business.[59] The prohibition of wine is a restriction which was severely felt in the early days of the faith; but it was not long before the universal sentiment (though eluded in some quarters) supported it. The embargo upon games of chance was certainly unpopular; and the prohibition of the receipt of interest was also an important limitation, tending as it did to shackle the freedom of mercantile speculation; but they have been partially evaded on various pretexts. The fast throughout the month of Ramzan was a severer test; but even this lasts only during the day; and at night, from sunset till dawn, all restrictions are withdrawn, not only in respect of food, but of all otherwise lawful gratifications.[60] [Sidenote: Little that is unpopular in these ordinances.] There is nothing, therefore, in the requirements and ordinances of Islam, excepting the fast, that is very irksome to humanity, or which, as involving any material sacrifice, or the renunciation of the pleasures or indulgences of life, should lead a man of the world to hesitate in embracing the new faith. [Sidenote: Indulgences allowed in the matter of wives and concubines.] On the other hand, the license allowed by the Koran between the sexes--at least in favor of the male sex--is so wide that for such as have the means and the desire to take advantage of it there need be no limit whatever to sexual indulgence. It is true that adultery is punishable by death and fornication with stripes. But then the Koran gives the believer permission to have four wives at a time. And he may exchange them--that is, he may divorce them at pleasure, taking others in their stead.[61] And, as if this were not license enough, the divine law permits the believer to consort with all female slaves whom he may be the master of--such, namely, as have been taken in war, or have been acquired by gift or purchase. These he may receive into his harem instead of wives, or in addition to them; and without any limit of number or restraint whatever he is at liberty to cohabit with them. [Sidenote: Polygamy, concubinage, and divorce. Practice at the rise of Islam.] A few instances taken at random will enable the reader to judge how the indulgences thus allowed by the religion were taken advantage of in the early days of Islam. In the great plague which devastated Syria seven years after the prophet's death Khalid, the Sword of God, lost _forty_ sons. Abdal Rahman, one of the "companions" of Mohammed, had issue by sixteen wives, not counting slave-girls.[62] Moghira ibn Shoba, another "companion," and governor of Kufa and Bussorah, had in his harem eighty consorts, free and servile. Coming closer to the Prophet's household, we find that Mohammed himself at one period had in his harem no fewer than nine wives and two slave-girls. Of his grandson Hasan we read that his vagrant passion gained for him the unenviable sobriquet of _The Divorcer_; for it was only by continually divorcing his consorts that he could harmonize his craving for fresh nuptials with the requirements of the divine law, which limited the number of his free wives to four. We are told that, as a matter of simple caprice, he exercised the power of divorce seventy (according to other traditions ninety) times. When the leading men complained to Aly of the licentious practice of his son his only reply was that the remedy lay in their own hands, of refusing Hasan their daughters altogether.[63] Such are the material inducements, the "works of the flesh," which Islam makes lawful to its votaries, and which promoted thus its early spread. [Sidenote: Practice in modern times. The Malays of Penang. Lane's testimony concerning Egypt. The princess of Bhopal's account of Mecca.] Descending now to modern times, we still find that this sexual license is taken advantage of more or less in different countries and conditions of society. The following examples are simply meant as showing to what excess it is possible for the believer to carry these indulgences, _under the sanction of his religion_. Of the Malays in Penang it was written not very long ago: "Young men of thirty to thirty-five years of age may be met with who have had from fifteen to twenty wives, and children by several of them. These women have been divorced, married others, and had children by them." Regarding Egypt, Lane tells us: "I have heard of men who have been in the habit of marrying a new wife almost every month."[64] Burkhardt speaks of an Arab forty-five years old who had had fifty wives, "so that he must have divorced two wives and married two fresh ones on the average every year." And not to go further than the sacred city of Mecca, the late reigning princess of Bhopal, in central India, herself an orthodox follower of the Prophet, after making the pilgrimage of the holy places, writes thus: Women frequently contract as many as ten marriages, and those who have only been married twice are few in number. If a woman sees her husband growing old, or if she happen to admire any one else, she goes to the Shereef (the spiritual and civil head of the holy city), and after having settled the matter with him she puts away her husband and takes to herself another, who is, perhaps, good-looking and rich. In this way a marriage seldom lasts more than a year or two. And of slave-girls the same high and impartial authority, still writing of the holy city and of her fellow-Moslems, tells us: Some of the women (African and Georgian girls) are taken in marriage; and after that, on being sold again, they receive from their masters a divorce, and are sold in their houses--that is to say, they are sent to the purchaser from their master's house on receipt of payment, and are not exposed for sale in the slave-market. They are only _married_ when purchased for the first time.... When the poorer people buy (female) slaves they keep them for themselves, and change them every year as one would replace old things by new; but the women who have children are not sold.[65] [Sidenote: Islam sanctions a license between the sexes which Christianity forbids. The laws of Christianity deter men from carnal indulgences. Islam the "Easy Way."] What I desire to make clear is the fact that such things may be practiced _with the sanction_ of the Scripture which the Moslem holds to be divine, and that these same indulgences have from the first existed as inducements which helped materially to forward the spread of the faith. I am very far, indeed, from implying that excessive indulgence in polygamy is the universal state of Moslem society. Happily this is not the case. There are not only individuals, but tribes and districts, which, either from custom or preference, voluntarily restrict the license given them in the Koran; while the natural influence of the family, even in Moslem countries, has an antiseptic tendency that often itself tends greatly to neutralize the evil.[66] Nor am I seeking to institute any contrast between the morals at large of Moslem countries and the rest of the world. If Christian nations are (as with shame it must be confessed) in some strata of society immoral, it is in the teeth of their divine law. And the restrictions of that law are calculated, and in the early days of Christianity did tend, in point of fact, _to deter men_ devoted to the indulgences of the flesh from embracing the faith.[67] The religion of Mohammed, on the other hand, gives direct sanction to the sexual indulgences we have been speaking of. Thus it panders to the lower instincts of humanity and makes its spread the easier. In direct opposition to the precepts of Christianity it "makes provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof." Hence Islam has been well called by its own votaries the _Easy Way_. Once more, to quote Al Kindy: Thou invitest me (says our apologist to his friend) into the "Easy way of faith and practice." Alas, alas! for our Saviour in the Gospel telleth us, "When ye have done all that ye are commanded, say, We are unprofitable servants; we have but done that which was commanded us." Where then is our merit? The same Lord Jesus saith, "How strait is the road which leadeth unto life, and how few they be that walk therein! How wide the gate that leadeth to destruction, and how many there be that go in thereat!" Different this, my friend, from the comforts of thy wide and easy gate, and the facilities for enjoying, as thou wouldst have me, the pleasures offered by thy faith in wives and damsels![68] FOOTNOTES: [a] A.D. 623. [b] A.D. 630. [c] A.D. 632. [d] A.D. 635. II. WHY THE SPREAD OF ISLAM WAS STAYED. [Sidenote: Islam stationary in area, and in civilization retrograde.] Having thus traced the rapid early spread of Islam to its proper source, I proceed to the remaining topics, namely, the causes which have checked its further extension, and those likewise which have depressed the followers of this religion in the scale of civilization. I shall take the former first--just remarking here, in respect of the latter, that the depression of Islam is itself one of the causes which retard the expansion of the faith. [Sidenote: The Arabs ceased, in second century, to be a crusading force.] As the first spread of Islam was due to the sword, so when the sword was sheathed Islam ceased to spread. The apostles and missionaries of Islam were, as we have seen, the martial tribes of Arabia--that is to say, the grand military force organized by Omar, and by him launched upon the surrounding nations. Gorged with the plunder of the world, these began, after a time, to settle on their lees and to mingle with the ordinary population. So soon as this came to pass they lost the fiery zeal which at the first had made them irresistible. By the second and third centuries the Arabs had disappeared as the standing army of the caliphate, or, in other words, as a body set apart for the dissemination of the faith. The crusading spirit, indeed, ever and anon burst forth--and it still bursts forth, as opportunity offers--simply for the reason that this spirit pervades the Koran, and is ingrained in the creed. But with the special agency created and maintained during the first ages for the spread of Islam the incentive of crusade ceased as a distinctive missionary spring of action, and degenerated into the common lust of conquest which we meet with in the world at large. [Sidenote: With cessation of conquest, Islam ceased to spread.] The extension of Islam, depending upon military success, stopped wherever that was checked. The religion advanced or retired, speaking broadly, as the armed predominance made head or retroceded. Thus the tide of Moslem victory, rushing along the coast of Africa, extinguished the seats of European civilization on the Mediterranean, overwhelmed Spain, and was rapidly advancing north, when the onward wave was stemmed at Tours; and as with the arms, the faith also of Islam was driven back into Spain and bounded by the Pyrenees. So, likewise, the hold which the religion seized both of Spain and Sicily came to an end with Mussulman defeat. It is true that when once long and firmly rooted, as in India and China, Islam may survive the loss of military power, and even flourish. But it is equally true that in no single country has Islam been planted, nor has it anywhere materially spread, saving under the banner of the Crescent or the political ascendency of some neighboring State. Accordingly, we find that, excepting some barbarous zones in Africa which have been raised thereby a step above the groveling level of fetichism, the faith has in modern times made no advance worth mentioning.[69] From the Jewish and Christian religions there has (again speaking broadly) been no secession whatever to Islam since the wave of Saracen victory was stayed, excepting by the force of arms. Even in the palmy days of the Abbasside caliphs, our apologist could challenge his adversary to produce a single conversion otherwise than by reason of some powerful material inducement. Here is his testimony: [Sidenote: Al Kindy's challenge to produce a Christian convert to Islam apart from material inducements.] Now tell me, hast thou ever seen, my Friend, (the Lord be gracious unto thee!) or ever heard of a single person of sound mind--any one of learning and experience, and acquainted with the Scriptures, renouncing Christianity otherwise than for some worldly object to be reached only through thy religion, or for some gratification withheld by the faith of Jesus? Thou wilt find none. For, excepting the tempted ones, all continue steadfast in their faith, secure under our most gracious sovereign, in the profession of their own religion.[70] III. LOW POSITION OF ISLAM IN THE SCALE OF CIVILIZATION. [Sidenote: Social and intellectual depression.] I pass on to consider why Mohammedan nations occupy so low a position, halting as almost every-where they do, in the march of social and intellectual development. [Sidenote: Islam intended for the Arabs. Wants the faculty of adaptation.] The reason is not far to find. Islam was meant for Arabia, not for the world; for the Arabs of the seventh century, not for the Arabs of all time; and being such, and nothing more, its claim of divine origin renders change or development impossible. It has within itself neither the germ of natural growth nor the lively spring of adaptation. Mohammed declared himself a prophet to the Arabs;[71] and however much in his later days he may have contemplated the reformation of other religions beyond the Peninsula, or the further spread of his own (which is doubtful), still the rites and ceremonies, the customs and the laws enjoined upon his people, were suitable (if suitable at all) for the Arabs of that day, and in many respects for them alone. Again, the code containing these injunctions, social and ceremonial, as well as doctrinal and didactic, is embodied with every particularity of detail, as part of the divine law, in the Koran; and so defying, as sacrilege, all human touch, it stands unalterable forever. From the stiff and rigid shroud in which it is thus swathed the religion of Mohammed cannot emerge. It has no plastic power beyond that exercised in its earliest days. Hardened now and inelastic, it can neither adapt itself nor yet shape its votaries, nor even suffer them to shape themselves to the varying circumstances, the wants and developments, of mankind. [Sidenote: Local ceremonies: pilgrimage. Fast of Ramzan.] We may judge of the local and inflexible character of the faith from one or two of its ceremonies. To perform the pilgrimage to Mecca and Mount Arafat, with the slaying of victims at Mina, and the worship of the Kaaba, is an ordinance obligatory (with the condition only that they have the means) on all believers, who are bound to make the journey even from the furthest ends of the earth--an ordinance intelligible enough in a local worship, but unmeaning and impracticable when required of a world-wide religion. The same may be said of the fast of Ramzan. It is prescribed in the Koran to be observed by all with undeviating strictness during the whole day, from earliest dawn till sunset throughout the month, with specified exemptions for the sick and penalties for every occasion on which it is broken. The command, imposed thus with an iron rule on male and female, young and old, operates with excessive inequality in different seasons, lands, and climates. However suitable to countries near the equator, where the variations of day and night are immaterial, the fast becomes intolerable to those who are far removed either toward the north or the south; and still closer to the poles, where night merges into day and day into night, impracticable. Again, with the lunar year (itself an institution divinely imposed), the month of Ramzan travels in the third of a century from month to month over the whole cycle of a year. The fast was established at a time when Ramzan fell in winter, and the change of season was probably not foreseen by the Prophet. But the result is one which, under some conditions of time and place, involves the greatest hardship. For when the fast comes round to summer the trial in a sultry climate, like that of the burning Indian plains, of passing the whole day without a morsel of bread or a drop of water becomes to many the occasion of intense suffering. Such is the effect of the Arabian legislator's attempt at circumstantial legislation in matters of religious ceremonial. [Sidenote: Political and social depression owing to relations between the sexes.] Nearly the same is the case with all the religions obligations of Islam, prayer, lustration, etc. But although the minuteness of detail with which these are enjoined tends toward that jejune and formal worship which we witness every-where in Moslem lands, still there is nothing in these observances themselves which (religion apart) should lower the social condition of Mohammedan populations and prevent their emerging from that normal state of semi-barbarism and uncivilized depression in which we find all Moslem peoples. For the cause of this we must look elsewhere; and it may be recognized, without doubt, in the relations established by the Koran between the sexes. Polygamy, divorce, servile concubinage, and the veil are at the root of Moslem decadence. [Sidenote: Depression of the female sex. Divorce.] In respect of married life the condition allotted by the Koran to woman is that of an inferior dependent creature, destined only for the service of her master, liable to be cast adrift without the assignment of a single reason or the notice of a single hour. While the husband possesses the power of a divorce--absolute, immediate, unquestioned--no privilege of a corresponding nature has been reserved for the wife. She hangs on, however unwilling, neglected, or superseded, the perpetual slave of her lord, if such be his will. When actually divorced she can, indeed, claim her dower--her _hire_, as it is called in the too plain language of the Koran; but the knowledge that the wife can make this claim is at the best a miserable security against capricious taste; and in the case of bondmaids even that imperfect check is wanting. The power of divorce is not the only power that may be exercised by the tyrannical husband. Authority to _confine_ and to _beat_ his wives is distinctly vested in his discretion.[72] "Thus restrained, secluded, degraded, the mere minister of enjoyment, liable at the caprice or passion of the moment to be turned adrift, it would be hard to say that the position of a wife was improved by the code of Mohammed."[73] Even if the privilege of divorce and marital tyranny be not exercised, the knowledge of its existence as a potential right must tend to abate the self-respect, and in like degree to weaken the influence of the sex, impairing thus the ameliorating and civilizing power which she was meant to exercise upon mankind. And the evil has been stereotyped by the Koran for all time. [Sidenote: Principal Fairbairn on home-life under Islam.] I must quote one more passage from Principal Fairbairn on the lowering influence of Moslem domestic life: The God of Mohammed ... "spares the sins the Arab loves. A religion that does not purify the home cannot regenerate the race; one that depraves the home is certain to deprave humanity. Motherhood is to be sacred if manhood is to be honorable. Spoil the wife of sanctity and for the man the sanctities of life have perished. And so it has been with Islam. It has reformed and lifted savage tribes; it has depraved and barbarized civilized nations. At the root of its fairest culture a worm has ever lived that has caused its blossoms soon to wither and die. Were Mohammed the hope of man, then his state were hopeless; before him could only be retrogression, tyranny, and despair."[74] [Sidenote: Demoralizing influence of servile concubinage.] Still worse is the influence of servile concubinage. The following is the evidence of a shrewd and able observer in the East: All zenana life must be bad for men at all stages of their existence.... In youth it must be ruin to be petted and spoiled by a company of submissive slave-girls. In manhood it is no less an evil that when a man enters into private life his affections should be put up to auction among foolish, fond competitors full of mutual jealousies and slanders. We are not left entirely to conjecture as to the effect of female influence on home-life when it is exerted under these unenlightened and demoralizing conditions. That is plainly an element _lying at the root of all the most important features that differentiate progress from stagnation_.[75] [Sidenote: Deteriorating influence of relations established between the sexes.] Such are the institutions which gnaw at the root of Islam and prevent the growth of freedom and civilization. "By these the unity of the household is fatally broken and the purity and virtue of the family tie weakened; the vigor of the dominant classes is sapped; the body politic becomes weak and languid, excepting for intrigues, and the throne itself liable to fall a prey to a doubtful or contested succession"[76]--contested by the progeny of the various rivals crowded into the royal harem. From the palace downward polygamy and servile concubinage lower the moral tone, loosen the ties of domestic life, and hopelessly depress the people. [Sidenote: The veil.] Nor is the veil, albeit under the circumstances a necessary precaution, less detrimental, though in a different way, to the interests of Moslem society. This strange custom owes its origin to the Prophet's jealous temperament. It is forbidden in the Koran for women to appear unveiled before any member of the other sex with the exception of certain near relatives of specified propinquity.[77] And this law, coupled with other restrictions of the kind, has led to the imposition of the _boorka_ or _purdah_ (the dress which conceals the person and the veil) and to the greater or less seclusion of the harem and zenana. [Sidenote: Society vitiated by the withdrawal of the female sex. Mohammedan society, thus truncated, incapable of progress. The defects of Mohammedan society.] This ordinance and the practices flowing from it must survive, more or less, so long as the Koran remains the rule of faith. It may appear at first sight a mere negative evil, a social custom comparatively harmless; but in truth it has a more debilitating effect upon the Moslem race perhaps than any thing else, for by it _woman is totally withdrawn from her proper place in the social circle_. She may, indeed, in the comparatively laxer license of some lands be seen flitting along the streets or driving in her carriage; but even so it is like one belonging to another world, veiled, shrouded, and cut off from intercourse with those around her. Free only in the retirement of her own secluded apartments, she is altogether shut out from her legitimate sphere in the duties and enjoyments of life. But the blight on the sex itself from this unnatural regulation, sad as it is, must be regarded as a minor evil. The mischief extends beyond her. The tone and framework of society as it came from the Maker's hands are altered, damaged, and deteriorated. From the veil there flows this double injury. The bright, refining, softening influence of woman is withdrawn from the outer world, and social life, wanting the gracious influences of the female sex, becomes, as we see throughout Moslem lands, forced, hard, unnatural, and morose. Moreover, the Mohammedan nations, for all purposes of common elevation and for all efforts of philanthropy and liberty, are (as they live in public and beyond the inner recesses of their homes) but a truncated and imperfect exhibition of humanity. They are wanting in one of its constituent parts, the better half, the humanizing and the softening element. And it would be against the nature of things to suppose that the body, thus shorn and mutilated, can possess in itself the virtue and power of progress, reform, and elevation. The link connecting the family with social and public life is detached, and so neither is _en rapport_, as it should be, with the other. Reforms fail to find entrance into the family or to penetrate the domestic soil where alone they could take root, grow into the national mind, live, and be perpetuated. Under such conditions the seeds of civilization refuse to germinate. No real growth is possible in free and useful institutions, nor any permanent and healthy force in those great movements which elsewhere tend to uplift the masses and elevate mankind. There may, it is true, be some advance, from time to time, in science and in material prosperity; but the social groundwork for the same is wanting, and the people surely relapse into the semi-barbarism forced upon them by an ordinance which is opposed to the best instincts of humanity. Sustained progress becomes impossible. Such is the outcome of an attempt to improve upon nature and banish woman, the help-meet of man, from the position assigned by God to her in the world. [Sidenote: Yet the veil necessary under existing circumstances.] At the same time I am not prepared to say that in view of the laxity of the conjugal relations inherent in the institutions of Islam some such social check as that of the veil (apart from the power to confine and castigate) is not needed for the repression of license and the maintenance of outward decency. There is too much reason to apprehend that free social intercourse might otherwise be dangerous to morality under the code of Mohammed, and with the example before men and women of the early worthies of Islam. So long as the sentiments and habits of the Moslem world remain as they are some remedial or preventive measure of the kind seems indispensable. But the peculiarity of the Mussulman polity, as we have seen, is such that the sexual laws and institutions which call for restrictions of the kind as founded on the Koran are incapable of change; they must co-exist with the faith itself, and last while it lasts. So long, then, as this polity prevails the depression of woman, as well as her exclusion from the social circle, must injure the health and vitality of the body politic, impair its purity and grace, paralyze vigor, retard progress in the direction of freedom, philanthropy, and moral elevation, and generally perpetuate the normal state of Mohammedan peoples, as one of semi-barbarism. To recapitulate, we have seen: [Sidenote: Recapitulation.] _First._ That Islam was propagated mainly by the sword. With the tide of conquest the religion went forward; where conquest was arrested made no advance beyond; and at the withdrawal of the Moslem arms the faith also commonly retired. _Second._ The inducements, whether material or spiritual, to embrace Islam have proved insufficient of themselves (speaking broadly) to spread the faith, in the absence of the sword, and without the influence of the political or secular arm. _Third._ The ordinances of Islam, those especially having respect to the female sex, have induced an inherent weakness, which depresses the social system and retards its progress. [Sidenote: Contrast with Christianity.] If the reader should have followed me in the argument by which these conclusions have been reached the contrast with the Christian faith has no doubt been suggesting itself at each successive step. [Sidenote: Christianity not propagated by force.] Christianity, as Al Kindy has so forcibly put it, gained a firm footing in the world without the sword, and without any aid whatever from the secular arm. So far from having the countenance of the State it triumphed in spite of opposition, persecution, and discouragement. "My kingdom," said Jesus, "is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but now is my kingdom not from hence.... For this end came I into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Every one that is of the truth, heareth my voice."[78] [Sidenote: Nor by worldly inducements.] The religion itself, in its early days, offered no worldly attractions or indulgences. It was not, like Islam, an "easy way." Whether in withdrawal from social observances deeply tainted with idolatry, the refusal to participate in sacrificial ceremonies insisted on by the rulers, or in the renunciation of indulgences inconsistent with a saintly life, the Christian profession required self-denial at every step. [Sidenote: Adaptive principles and plastic faculty of Christianity.] But otherwise the teaching of Christianity nowhere interfered with the civil institutions of the countries into which it penetrated or with any social customs or practices that were not in themselves immoral or idolatrous. It did not, indeed, neglect to guide the Christian life. But it did so by the enunciation of principles and rules of wide and far-reaching application. These, no less than the injunctions of the Koran, served amply for the exigencies of the day. But they have done a vast deal more. They have proved themselves capable of adaptation to the most advanced stages of social development and intellectual elevation. And, what is infinitely more, it may be claimed for the lessons embodied in the Gospel that they have been themselves promotive, if indeed they have not been the immediate cause, of all the most important reforms and philanthropies that now prevail in Christendom. The principles thus laid down contained germs endowed with the power of life and growth which, expanding and flourishing, slowly it may be, but surely, have at the last borne the fruits we see. [Sidenote: Examples: slavery. Relations between the sexes.] Take, for example, the institution of slavery. It prevailed in the Roman Empire at the introduction of Christianity, as it did in Arabia at the rise of Islam. In the Moslem code, as we have seen, the practice has been perpetuated. Slavery must be held permissible so long as the Koran is taken to be the rule of faith. The divine sanction thus impressed upon the institution, and the closeness with which by law and custom it intermingles with social and domestic life, make it impossible for any Mohammedan people to impugn slavery as contrary to sound morality or for any body of loyal believers to advocate its abolition upon the ground of principle. There are, moreover, so many privileges and gratifications accruing to the higher classes from its maintenance that (excepting under the strong pressure of European diplomacy) no sincere and hearty effort can be expected from the Moslem race in the suppression of the inhuman traffic, the horrors of which, as pursued by Moslem slave-traders, their Prophet would have been the first to denounce. Look now at the wisdom with which the Gospel treats the institution. It is nowhere in so many words proscribed, for that would, under the circumstances, have led to the abnegation of relative duties and the disruption of society. It is accepted as a prevailing institution recognized by the civil powers. However desirable freedom might be, slavery was not inconsistent with the Christian profession: "Art thou called being a servant? care not for it: but if thou mayest be made free, use it rather."[e] The duty of obedience to his master is enjoined upon the slave, and the duty of mildness and urbanity toward his slave is enjoined upon the master. But with all this was laid the seed which grew into emancipation. "_Our Father_," gave the key-note of freedom. "Ye are _all_ the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." "There is neither bond nor free, ... for ye are all one in Christ Jesus."[f] "He that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman."[g] The converted slave is to be received "not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved."[h] The seed has borne its proper harvest. Late in time, no doubt, but by a sure and certain development, the grand truth of the equality of the human race, and the right of every man and woman to freedom of thought and (within reasonable limit of law) to freedom of action, has triumphed; and it has triumphed through the Spirit and the precepts inculcated by the Gospel eighteen hundred years ago. Nor is it otherwise with the relations established between the sexes. Polygamy, divorce, and concubinage with bondmaid's have been perpetuated, as we have seen, by Islam for all time; and the ordinances connected therewith have given rise, in the laborious task of defining the conditions and limits of what is lawful, to a mass of prurient casuistry defiling the books of Mohammedan law. Contrast with this our Saviour's words, "_He which made them at the beginning made them male and female.... What therefore God hath joined together let not man put asunder_."[i] From which simple utterance have resulted monogamy and (in the absence of adultery) the indissolubility of the marriage bond. While in respect of conjugal duties we have such large, but sufficiently intelligible, commands as "to render due benevolence,"[j] whereby, while the obligations of the marriage state are maintained, Christianity is saved from the impurities which, in expounding the ordinances of Mohammed, surround the sexual ethics of Islam, and cast so foul a stain upon its literature. [Sidenote: Elevation of woman.] Take, again, the place of woman in the world. We need no injunction of the veil or the harem. As the temples of the Holy Ghost, the body is to be kept undefiled, and every one is "to possess his vessel in sanctification and honor."[k] Men are to treat "the elder women as mothers; the younger as sisters, with all purity."[l] Women are to "adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety."[m] These, and such like maxims embrace the whole moral fitness of the several relations and duties which they define. They are adapted for all ages of time and for all conditions of men. They are capable of being taken by every individual for personal guidance, according to his own sense of propriety, and they can be accommodated by society at large with a due reference to the habits and customs of the day. The attempt of Mohammed to lay down, with circumstantial minuteness, the position of the female sex, the veiling of her person, and her withdrawal from the gaze of man, has resulted in seclusion and degradation; while the spirit of the Gospel, and injunctions like that of "giving honor to the wife as to the weaker vessel,"[n] have borne the fruit of woman's elevation, and have raised her to the position of influence, honor, and equality which (notwithstanding the marital superiority of the husband in the ideal of a Christian family) she now occupies in the social scale. [Sidenote: Relations with the State. Christianity leaves humanity free to expand.] In the type of Mussulman government which (though not laid down in the Koran) is founded upon the spirit of the faith and the precedent of the Prophet the civil is indissolubly blended with the spiritual authority, to the detriment of religious liberty and political progress. The _Ameer_, or commander of the faithful, should, as in the early times, so also in all ages, be the _Imam_, or religious chief; and as such he should preside at the weekly cathedral service. It is not a case of the Church being subject to the State, or the State being subject to the Church. Here (as we used to see in the papal domains) the Church is the State, and the State the Church. They both are one. And in this we have another cause of the backwardness and depression of Mohammedan society. Since the abolition of the temporal power in Italy we have nowhere in Christian lands any such theocratic union of Cæsar and the Church, so that secular and religious advance is left more or less unhampered; whereas in Islam the hierarchico-political constitution has hopelessly welded the secular arm with the spiritual in one common scepter, to the furthering of despotism, and elimination of the popular voice from its proper place in the concerns of State. [Sidenote: The Koran checks progress.] And so, throughout the whole range of political, religious, social, and domestic relations, the attempt made by the founder of Islam to provide for all contingencies, and to fix every thing aforehand by rigid rule and scale, has availed to cramp and benumb the free activities of life and to paralyze the natural efforts of society at healthy growth, expansion, and reform. As an author already quoted has so well put it, "_The Koran has frozen Mohammedan thought; to obey it is to abandon progress_."[79] [Sidenote: Is Islam suitable for any nation?] Writers have indeed been found who, dwelling upon the benefits conferred by Islam on idolatrous and savage nations, have gone so far as to hold that the religion of Mohammed may in consequence be suited to certain portions of mankind--as if the faith of Jesus might peaceably divide with it the world. But surely to acquiesce in a system which reduces the people to a dead level of social depression, despotism, and semi-barbarism would be abhorrent from the first principles of philanthropy. With the believer, who holds the Gospel to be "good tidings of great joy, _which shall be to all people_,"[o] such a notion is on higher grounds untenable; but even in view of purely secular considerations it is not only untenable, but altogether unintelligible. As I have said elsewhere: The eclipse in the East, which still sheds its blight on the ancient seats of Jerome and Chrysostom, and shrouds in darkness the once bright and famous sees of Cyprian and Augustine, has been disastrous every-where to liberty and progress, equally as it has been to Christianity. And it is only as that eclipse shall pass away and the Sun of righteousness again shine forth that we can look to the nations now dominated by Islam sharing with us those secondary but precious fruits of divine teaching. Then with the higher and enduring blessings which our faith bestows, but not till then, we may hope that there will follow likewise in their wake freedom and progress, and all that tends to elevate the human race.[80] [Sidenote: No sacrifice for sin or redemptive grace.] Although with the view of placing the argument on independent ground I have refrained from touching the peculiar doctrines of Christianity, and the inestimable benefits which flow to mankind therefrom, I may be excused, before I conclude, if I add a word regarding them. The followers of Mohammed have no knowledge of God as a _Father_; still less have they knowledge of him as "_Our_ Father"--the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. They acknowledge, indeed, that Jesus was a true prophet sent of God; but they deny his crucifixion and death, and they know nothing of the power of his resurrection. To those who have found redemption and peace in these the grand and distinctive truths of the Christian faith, it may be allowed to mourn over the lands in which the light of the Gospel has been quenched, and these blessings blotted out, by the material forces of Islam; where, together with civilization and liberty, Christianity has given place to gross darkness, and it is as if now "there were no more sacrifice for sins." We may, and we do, look forward with earnest expectation to the day when knowledge of salvation shall be given to these nations "by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God, whereby the Dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."[p] [Sidenote: Contrast between divine and human work.] But even apart from these, the special blessings of Christianity, I ask, which now of the two faiths bears, in its birth and growth, the mark of a divine hand and which the human stamp? Which looks likest the handiwork of the God of nature, who "hath laid the measures of the earth," and "hath stretched the line upon it,"[q] but not the less with an ever-varying adaptation to time and place? and which the artificial imitation? [Sidenote: Islam.] "As a reformer, Mohammed did indeed advance his people to a certain point, but as a prophet he left them fixed immovably at that point for all time to come. As there can be no return, so neither can there be any progress. The tree is of artificial planting. Instead of containing within itself the germ of growth and adaptation to the various requirements of time, and clime, and circumstance, expanding with the genial sunshine and the rain from heaven, it remains the same forced and stunted thing as when first planted twelve centuries ago."[81] [Sidenote: Christianity compared by Christ to the works of nature.] Such is Islam. Now what is Christianity? Listen to the prophetic words of the Founder himself, who compares it to the works of nature: "_So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground;_ "_And should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how._ "_For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself: first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear._"[r] And again: "_Whereunto shall we liken the kingdom of God, or with what comparison shall we compare it?_ "_It is like a grain of mustard-seed, which, when it is sown in the earth, is less than all seeds that be in the earth;_ "_But when it is sown, it groweth up and becometh greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches, so that the fowls of the air may lodge under the shadow of it._"[s] [Sidenote: Islam the work of man; Christianity the work of God.] Which is _nature_, and which is _art_, let the reader judge. Which bears the impress of man's hand, and which that of Him who "is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in working?" In fine, of the Arabian it may be said: "_Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed._" But of Christ: "_His name shall endure forever: his name shall be continued as long as the sun: and men shall be blessed in him: all nations shall call him blessed._ "_He shall have dominion also from sea to sea, and from the river unto the ends of the earth._ "_Blessed be the Lord God, the God of Israel, who only doeth wondrous things. And blessed be his glorious name forever: and let the whole earth be filled with his glory. Amen, and Amen._"[t] FOOTNOTES: [e] 1 Cor. vii, 21. [f] Gal. iii, 26, 28. [g] 1 Cor. vii, 22. [h] Philemon 16. [i] Matt. xix, 4. [j] 1 Cor. vii, 3. [k] 1 Thess. iv, 4. [l] 1 Tim. v, 2. [m] 1 Tim. ii, 9. [n] 1 Pet. iii, 7. [o] Luke ii, 10. [p] Luke i, 77-79. [q] Job xxxviii, 5. [r] Mark iv, 26-28. [s] Mark iv, 30-32. [t] Psa. lxxii, 17, 8, 18, 19. THE END. FOOTNOTES: [1] Barth. [2] Bergaigne, in his able treatise, _La Religion Védique_, insists earnestly on what he calls the "liturgical contamination of the myths." See vol. iii, p. 320. [3] R.V., ix, 42, 4. [4] R.V., ix, 97, 24. [5] The religion of the Indo-European race, while still united, "recognized a supreme God; an organizing God; almighty, omniscient, moral.... This conception was a heritage of the past.... The supreme God was originally the God of heaven." So Darmesteter, _Contemporary Review_, October, 1879. Roth had previously written with much learning and acuteness to the same effect. [6] Muir's _Sanskrit Texts_, v, 412. [7] R.V., iii, 62, 10. [8] The rites, says Haug, "must have existed from times immemorial."--_Aitareya Brâhmana_, pp. 7, 9. [9] Weber, _History of Indian Literature_, p. 38. [10] Max Müller, _Ancient Sanskrit Literature_, p. 389. [11] "The haughty Indra takes precedence of all gods." R.V., 1, 55. [12] "These two personages [Indra and Varuna] sum up the two conceptions of divinity, between which the religious consciousness of the Vedic Aryans seems to oscillate."--Bergaigne, _La Religion Védique_, vol. iii, p. 149. [13] The meaning of the term is not quite certain. _Sessions_, or _Instructions_, may perhaps be the rendering. So Monier Williams. [14] For example, Wordsworth: "Thou, Thou alone Art everlasting, and the blessed Spirits Which Thou includest, as the sea her waves." --_Excursion_, book iv. [15] Or, the thing that really is--the [Greek: ontôs on]. [16] _Ekamadvitiyam._ [17] This illustration is in the mouth of every Hindu disputant at the present day. [18] Barth, p. 75. [19] _Ekamadvitiyam._ [20] Volui tibi suaviloquenti Carmine Pierio rationem exponere nostram Et quasi Musæo dulci contingere melle. [21] Dr. J. Muir, in _North British Review_, No. xlix, p. 224. [22] _Miscellaneous Writings_ (Macmillan, 1861), vol. i, p. 77. [23] But the truth is that every man is accounted a good Hindu who keeps the rules of caste and pays due respect to the Brahmans. What he believes, or disbelieves, is of little or no consequence. [24] Yaska, probably in the fifth century B.C. [25] Weber thinks that Christian elements may have been introduced, in course of time, into the representation. [26] His Ramayana was written in Hindi verse in the sixteenth century. [27] When Jhansi was captured in the times of the great mutiny English officers were disgusted to see the walls of the queen's palace covered with what they described as "grossly obscene" pictures. There is little or no doubt that these were simply representations of the acts of Krishna. Therefore to the Hindu queen they were religious pictures. When questioned about such things the Brahmans reply that deeds which would be wicked in men were quite right in Krishna, who, being God, could do whatever he pleased. [28] Born probably in 1649. [29] Raja Narayan Basu (Bose), in enumerating the sacred books of Hinduism, excluded the philosophical systems and included the Tantras. He was and, we believe, is a leading man in the Adi Brahma Somaj. [30] Barth, as above, p. 202. [31] So writes Vans Kennedy, a good authority. The rites, however, vary with varying places. [32] _Asiatic Researches_, v, p. 356. [33] Cicero. [34] We learned from his own lips that among the books which most deeply impressed him were the Bible and the writings of Dr. Chalmers. [35] See _Life of Mohammed_, p. 138. Smith & Elder. [36] _Life of Mohammed_, p. 172, where the results are compared. [37] _Life of Mohammed_, p. 341; Sura ii, 257; xxix, 46. [38] The only exceptions were the Jews of Kheibar and the Christians of Najran, who were permitted to continue in the profession of their faith. They were, however, forced by Omar to quit the peninsula, which thenceforward remained exclusively Mohammedan. "Islam" is a synonym for the Mussulman faith. Its original meaning is "surrender" of one's self to God. [39] _Apology of Al Kindy, the Christian_, p. 18. Smith & Elder, 1882. This remarkable apologist will be noticed further below. [40] Principal Fairbairn: "The Primitive Polity of Islam," _Contemporary Review_, December, 1882, pp. 866, 867. [41] Herr von Kremer, _Culturgeschichte des Orients_, unter den Chalifen, vol. i, p. 383. [42] _Annals of the Early Caliphate_, p. 9. Smith & Elder, 1883. [43] Gibbon's _Decline and Fall_, chapter li, and _Annals of the Early Caliphate_, p. 184. [44] _Ibid._; and Sura xliv, v. 25. _We_--that is, the Lord. [45] _Annals of the Early Caliphate_, p. 46. [46] See, for example, Sura lxxviii: "Verily for the pious there is a blissful abode: gardens and vineyards; and damsels with swelling bosoms, of a fitting age; and a full cup. Lovely large-eyed girls, like pearls hidden in their shells, a reward for that which the faithful shall have wrought. Verily We have created them of a rare creation, virgins, young and fascinating.... Modest damsels averting their eyes, whom no man shall have known before, nor any Jinn," etc. The reader will not fail to be struck by the materialistic character of Mohammed's paradise. [47] See Sura _Jehad_; also _Annals of the Early Caliphate_, p. 167, _et. seq._ [48] _Annals of the Early Caliphate_, p. 105, _et. seq._ [49] See _Annals_, etc., p. 253. [50] Sura ix, v. 30. [51] So Jews and Christians as possessing the Bible are named in the Koran. [52] See _Annals_, etc., p. 213. [53] _The Apology of Al Kindy_, written at the court of Al Mamun A.H. 215 (A.D. 830), with an essay on its age and authorship, p. 12. Smith & Elder, 1882. [54] _Ibid._, p. 34. [55] _Apology_, p. 47, _et. seq._ [56] Alluding to the "_Ansar_," or mortal "Helpers" of Mohammed at Medina. Throughout, the apologist, it will be observed, is drawing a contrast with the means used for the spread of Islam. [57] _Apology_, p. 16. [58] _Apology_, p. 57. [59] I am not here comparing the value of these observances with those of other religions. I am inquiring only how far the obligations of Islam may be held to involve hardship or sacrifice such as might have retarded the progress of Islam by rendering it on its first introduction unpopular. [60] See Sura ii, v. 88. [61] Sura iv, 18. "Exchange" is the word used in the Koran. [62] Each of his widows had 100,000 golden pieces left her. _Life of Mohammed_, p. 171. [63] "These divorced wives were irrespective of his concubines or slave-girls, upon the number and variety of whom there was no limit or check whatever."--_Annals_, p. 418. [64] Lane adds: "There are many men in this country who, in the course of ten years, have married as many as twenty, thirty, or more wives; and women not far advanced in age have been wives to a dozen or more husbands successively." Note that all this is entirely within the religious sanction. [65] _Pilgrimage to Mecca_, by her highness the reigning Begum of Bhopal, translated by Mrs. W. Osborne (1870), pp. 82, 88. Slave-girls cannot be _married_ until freed by their masters. What her highness tells of women _divorcing_ their husbands is of course entirely _ultra vires_, and shows how the laxity of conjugal relations allowed to the male sex has extended itself to the female also, and that in a city where, if anywhere, we should have expected to find the law observed. [66] In India, for example, there are Mohammedan races among whom monogamy, as a rule, prevails by custom, and individuals exercising their right of polygamy are looked upon with disfavor. On the other hand, we meet occasionally with men who aver that rather against their will (as they will sometimes rather amusingly say) they have been forced by custom or family influence to add by polygamy to their domestic burdens. In Mohammedan countries, however, when we hear of a man confining himself to _one wife_, it does not necessarily follow that he has no slaves to consort with in his harem. I may remark that slave-girls have by Mohammedan laws no conjugal rights whatever, but are like playthings, at the absolute discretion of their master. [67] The case of the Corinthian offender is much in point, as showing how the strict discipline of the Church must have availed to make Christianity unpopular with the mere worldling. [68] [Sidenote: Laxity among nominal Christians.] _Apology_, p. 51. I repeat, that in the remarks I have made under this head, no comparison is sought to be drawn betwixt the morality of nominally Christian and Moslem peoples. On this subject I may be allowed to quote from what I have said elsewhere: "The Moslem advocate will urge ... the social evil as the necessary result of inexorable monogamy. The Koran not only denounces any illicit laxity between the sexes in the severest terms, but exposes the transgressor to condign punishment. For this reason, and because the conditions of what is licit are so accommodating and wide, a certain negative virtue (it can hardly be called continence or chastity) pervades Mohammedan society, in contrast with which the gross and systematic immorality in certain parts of every European community may be regarded by the Christian with shame and confusion. In a purely Mohammedan land, however low may be the general level of moral feeling, the still lower depths of fallen humanity are unknown. The 'social evil' and intemperance, prevalent in Christian lands, are the strongest weapons in the armory of Islam. We point, and justly, to the higher morality and civilization of those who do observe the precepts of the Gospel, to the stricter unity and virtue which cement the family, and to the elevation of the sex; but in vain, while the example of our great cities, and too often of our representatives abroad, belies the argument. And yet the argument is sound. For, in proportion as Christianity exercises her legitimate influence, vice and intemperance will wane and vanish, and the higher morality pervade the whole body; whereas in Islam the deteriorating influences of polygamy, divorce, and concubinage have been stereotyped for all time."--_The Koran: its Composition and Teaching, and the Testimony it bears to the Holy Scriptures_, p. 60. [69] [Sidenote: Alleged progress of Islam in Africa.] Much loose assertion has been made regarding the progress of Islam in Africa; but I have found no proof of it apart from armed, political, or trading influence, dogged too often by the slave-trade; to a great extent a social rather than a religious movement, and raising the fetich tribes (haply without intemperance) into a somewhat higher stage of semi-barbarism. I have met nothing which would touch the argument in the text. The following is the testimony of Dr. Koelle, the best possible witness on the subject: "It is true the Mohammedan nations in the interior of Africa, namely, the Bornuese, Mandengas, Pulas, etc., invited by the weak and defenseless condition of the surrounding negro tribes, still occasionally make conquests, and after subduing a tribe of pagans, by almost exterminating its male population and committing the most horrible atrocities, impose upon those that remain the creed of Islam; but keeping in view the whole of the Mohammedan world this fitful activity reminds one only of these green branches sometimes seen on trees, already, and for long, decayed at the core from age."--_Food for Reflection_, p. 37. [70] _Apology_, p. 34. [71] _Annals_, pp. 61, 224. [72] Sura iv, v. 33. [73] _Life of Mohammed_, p. 348. [74] _The City of God_, p, 91. Hodder & Stoughton, 1883. [75] _The Turks in India_, by H.G. Keene, C.S.I. Allen & Co., 1879. [76] _Annals_, etc., p. 457. [77] See Sura xxxiv, v. 32. The excepted relations are: "Husbands, fathers, husbands' fathers, sons, husbands' sons, brothers, brothers' sons, sisters' sons, the captives which their right hands possess, such men as attend them and have no need of women, or children below the age of puberty." [78] John xviii, 36, 37. [79] Dr. Fairbairn, _Contemporary Review_, p. 865. [80] _The Early Caliphate and Rise of Islam_, being the Rede Lecture for 1881, delivered before the University of Cambridge, p. 28. [81] _The Koran_, etc., p. 65. Transcriber's Note: The following section was originally at the beginning of the text. The Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle. STUDIES FOR 1891-92. Leading Facts of American History. Montgomery, $1 00 Social Institutions of the United States. Bryce, 1 00 Initial Studies in American Letters. Beers, 1 00 Story of the Constitution of the United States. Thorpe, 60 Classic German Course in English. Wilkinson, 1 00 Two Old Faiths. Mitchell and Muir, 40 
13539	----	Team DR. SCUDDER'S TALES FOR LITTLE READERS, ABOUT THE HEATHEN. 1849 The following work, so far as the Hindoos are concerned, is principally a compilation from the writings of Duff, Dubois, and others. Should the eyes of any Christian father or mother rest upon it, I would ask them if they have not a son or a daughter to dedicate to the _missionary_ work. The duty of devoting themselves to this work of Christ, or at least, of consecrating to it their money, their efforts, and their prayers, is the great duty to be perseveringly and prayerfully impressed on the minds of our children. A generation thus trained would, with aid from on high, soon effect the moral revolution of the world. Blessed will be that father, blessed will be that mother, who shall take any part in such a training. And I would add, too, blessed will be that pastor, and blessed will be that Sabbath-school teacher, who shall come up to their help. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. General Remarks CHAPTER II. The Color and Ornaments of the Hindoos CHAPTER III. Dress, Houses, Eating, and Salutation of the Hindoos CHAPTER IV. Marriage among the Hindoos CHAPTER V. Death and Funerals among the Hindoos CHAPTER VI. The Gods of the Hindoos CHAPTER VII. The Three Hundred and Thirty Millions of the Gods of the Hindoos--The Creation of the Universe--The Transmigration of Souls--The different Hells CHAPTER VIII. Hindoo Castes CHAPTER IX. Hindoo Temples--Cars--Procession of Idols CHAPTER X. Festivals of the Hindoos CHAPTER XI. The worship of the Serpent CHAPTER XII. The River Ganges CHAPTER XIII. The Goddess Durga CHAPTER XIV. The Goddess Karle CHAPTER XV. Self-tortures of the Hindoos Chapter XVI. The Suttee, or Burning of Widows CHAPTER XVII. The revengeful Nature of the Hindoo Religion CHAPTER XVIII. The Deception of the Hindoos CHAPTER XIX. Superstition of the Hindoos CHAPTER XX. Burmah, China, etc., etc. CHAPTER XXI. The duty of Praying and Contributing for the Spread of the Gospel CHAPTER XXII. Personal Labors among the Heathen CHAPTER XXIII. Success of the Gospel in India and Ceylon DR. SCUDDER'S TALES FOR LITTLE READERS, ABOUT THE HEATHEN. CHAPTER I. GENERAL REMARKS My dear children--When I was a little boy, my dear mother taught me, with the exception of the last line, the following prayer: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take; And this I ask for Jesus' sake." Though I am now more than fifty years old, I often like to say this prayer before I go to sleep. Have you ever learned it, my dear children? If you have not, I hope that you will learn it _now_; and I hope, too, that when you say your other prayers at night, you will also say this. I think that you would be glad to see how this prayer looks in the Tamul language--the language in which I am now preaching the Gospel, and in which I hope that some of you will hereafter tell the heathen of the Saviour. The following is a translation of it: [Illustration: The Lord's Prayer in Tamul] I wish that all the little heathen children knew this prayer; but their fathers and mothers do not teach it to them. Their fathers and mothers teach them to pray to gods of gold, or brass, or stone. They take them, while they are very young, to their temples, and teach them to put up their hands before an idol, and say, "Swammie." Swammie means Lord. As idolatry is the root of all sin, these children, as you may suppose, in early life become very wicked. They disobey their parents, speak bad words, call ill names, swear, steal, and tell lies. They also throw themselves on the ground in anger, and in their rage they tear their hair, or throw dirt over their heads, and do many other wicked things. Let me give you an instance, to show you how they will speak bad words. A few months ago, a little girl about twelve years of age was brought to me, with two tumors in her back. To cut them out, I had to make an incision about eight inches in length; and as one of these tumors had extended under the shoulder-blade she suffered much before the operation was finished. While I was operating she cried out, "I will pull out my eyes." "I will pull out my tongue." "Kurn kertta tayvun." The translation of this is, "The blind-eyed god." By this expression, she meant to say, "What kind of a god are you, not to look upon me, and help me in my distress?" If this little girl had had a Christian father to teach her to love the Saviour, she would not have used such bad language. But this father was even more wicked than his daughter, inasmuch as those who grow old in sin, are worse than those who have not sinned so long. I never saw a more hard-hearted parent. That he was so, will appear from his conduct after the operation was finished. He left his daughter, and went off to his home, about forty miles distant. Before going, he said to his wife, or to one who came with her, "If the child gets well, bring her home; if she dies, take her away and bury her." I hope, my dear children, that when you think of the wicked little girl just mentioned, you will be warned never to speak bad words. God will be very angry with you, if you do. Did you never read what is said in 2 Kings, 2d chapter and 23d verse, about the little children who mocked the prophet Elijah, and spoke bad words to him. O, how sorry must they have felt for their conduct, when they saw the paws of those great bears lifted up to tear them in pieces, and which did tear them in pieces. Besides all this, little children who speak bad words can never go to heaven. God will cast them into the great fire. Have you ever spoken bad words? If so, God is angry with you, and he will not forgive you unless you are sorry that you have done so, and seek his forgiveness through the blood of his dear Son. CHAPTER II. THE COLOR AND ORNAMENTS OF THE HINDOOS. My dear children--If you will take a piece of mahogany in your hands, and view its different shades, you will have a pretty good representation of the color of a large class of this heathen people--I say, of a large class, for there is a great variety of colors. Some appear to be almost of a bronze color. Some are quite black. It is difficult to account for the different colors which we often see in the same family. For instance, one child will be of the reddish hue to which I just referred; another will be quite dark. When I was in Ceylon, two sisters of this description joined my church. One was called Sevappe, or the red one; the other was called Karappe, or the black one. This people very much resemble the English and Americans in their features. Many of them are very beautiful. This remark will apply particularly to children, and more especially to the children of Brahmins and others, who are delicately brought up. But however beautiful any of this people may be, they try to make themselves appear more so, by the ornaments which they wear. These ornaments are of very different kinds, and are made of gold, silver, brass, precious stones, or glass. All are fond of ear-rings. Sometimes four or five are worn in each ear, consisting of solid gold, the lower one being the largest, and the upper one the smallest. Some men wear a gold ornament attached to the middle of the ear, in which a precious stone is inserted. Sometimes they wear very large circular ear-rings, made of the wire of copper, around which gold is twisted so as to cover every part of it. These are frequently ornamented with precious stones. The females, in addition to ear-rings, have an ornament which passes through the rim of the ear, near the head, half of it being seen above the rim, and half of it below it. An ornamental chain is sometimes attached to this, which goes some distance back, when it is lost in the hair. They sometimes also wear a jewel in the middle of the rim of the ear, and another on that little forward point which strikes your finger when you attempt to put it into the ear. Nose jewels also are worn. Sometimes three are worn at the same time. Holes are made through each side of the lower part of the nose, and through the cartilage, or that substance which divides the nostrils, through which they are suspended. The higher and wealthier females wear a profusion of ornaments of gold and pearls around the neck. A very pretty ornament, about three inches in diameter, having the appearance of gold, is also frequently worn by them on that part of the head where the females in America put up their hair in a knot. In addition to this, the little girls sometimes wear one or two similar but smaller ornaments below this, as well as an ornament at the end of the long braid of hair which hangs down over the middle of their backs. Occasionally the whole, or the greater part of this braid is covered with an ornament of the same materials with those just described. They also wear an ornament extending from the crown of the head to the forehead, just in that spot where the little girls to whom I am writing part their hair. Attached to this, I have seen a circular piece of gold filled with rubies. Rings are worn on the toes as well as on the fingers, and bracelets of gold or silver on the wrists. Anklets similar to bracelets, and tinkling ornaments are worn on the ankles. The poor, who cannot afford to wear gold or silver bracelets, have them made of glass stained with different colors. I have seen nearly a dozen on each wrist. The little boys wear gold or silver bracelets; also gold or silver anklets. I just alluded to finger-rings. I have seen a dozen on the same hand. In this part of the country, the little opening which is made in the ears of the children is gradually distended until it becomes very large. At first, the opening is only large enough to admit a wire. After this has been worn for a short time, a knife is introduced into the ear in the direction of the opening, and an incision made large enough to admit a little cotton. This is succeeded by a roll of oiled cloth, and by a peculiar shrub, the English name of which, if it has any, I do not know. When the hole becomes sufficiently large, a heavy ring of lead, about an inch in diameter, is introduced. This soon increases the size of the opening to such an extent, that a second, and afterwards a third, a fourth, and a fifth ring are added. By these weights, the lower parts of the ear are drawn down sometimes very nearly, or quite to the shoulders. Not unfrequently the little girls, when they run, are obliged to catch hold of these rings to prevent the injury which they would receive by their striking against their necks. I need hardly say, that in due time, these rings are removed, and ornamented rings are substituted. A different plan is pursued with the Mohammedan little girls. They have their ears bored from the top to the bottom of the ear. The openings which are at first made are small, and are never enlarged. A ring is inserted in each of these openings. I have seen a little girl to-day in whose ears I counted twenty-four rings. Flowers in great profusion are sometimes used to add to the adornment of the jewels. I cannot conclude my account of the jewels of the little girls, without giving you a description of the appearance of a little patient of mine who came here a few days ago, loaded with trinkets. I will give it in the words of my daughter, which she wrote in part while the girl was here. "On the 17th, a little dancing-girl came to see us. She was adorned with many jewels, some of which were very beautiful. The jewel in the top of the ear was a circle, nearly the size of a dollar. It was set with rubies. Nine pearls were suspended from it. In the middle of the ear was a jewel of a diamond shape, set with rubies and pearls. The lowest jewel in the ear was shaped like a bell. It was set with rubies, and from it hung a row of pearls. Close by the ear, suspended from the hair, was a jewel which reached below her ear. It consisted of six bells of gold, one above the other. Around each was a small row of pearls, which reached nearly to the bell below, thus forming a jewel resembling very many drops of pearls. It is the most beautiful jewel that I ever saw. In the right side of her nose was a white stone, set with gold, in the shape of a star. From it hung a large pearl. There was a hole bored in the partition between the nostrils. This hole had a jewel in it, about an inch in length, in the middle of which was a white stone with a ruby on each side. It also had a ruby on the top. From the white stone hung another, of a similar color, attached to it by a piece of gold. In the left side of the nose was a jewel about an inch in diameter. It was somewhat in the shape of a half-moon, and was set with rubies, pearls, emeralds, etc. etc. This jewel hung below her mouth. On the back of her head was a large, round gold piece, three inches in diameter. Another piece about two inches in diameter, hung below this. Her hair was braided in one braid, and hung down her back. At the bottom of this were three large tassels of silk, mounted with gold. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were painted with black. Her neck was covered with jewels of such beauty, and of such a variety, that it is impossible for me to describe them. Around her ankles were large rings which looked like braided silver. To these were attached very many little bells, which rung as she walked. I believe all dancing-girls wear these rings. We felt very sad when we thought that she was dedicated to a life of infamy and shame." There is an ornament worn by the followers of the god Siva, on their arms, or necks, or in their hair. It is called the _lingum_. The nature of this is so utterly abominable, that I cannot tell you a word about it. Married women wear an ornament peculiar to themselves. It is called the tahly. It is a piece of gold, on which is engraven the image of some one of their gods. This is fastened around the neck by a short yellow string, containing one hundred and eight threads of great fineness. Various ceremonies are performed before it is applied, and the gods, of whom I will tell you something by and by, with their wives, are called upon to give their blessing. When these ceremonies are finished, the tahly is brought on a waiter, ornamented with sweet-smelling flowers, and is tied by the bridegroom to the neck of the bride. This ornament is never taken off, unless her husband dies. In such a case she is deprived of it, to wear it no more for ever--deprived of it, after various ceremonies, by her nearest female relative, who cuts the thread by which it is suspended, and removes it. After this a barber is called, who shaves her head, and she becomes, in the eyes of the people, a _despised_ widow--no more to wear any ornament about her neck but a plain one--no more to stain her face with yellow water, nor to wear on her forehead those marks which are considered by the natives as among their chief ornaments. I have now told you something about the jewels of this people. I hope that you will never be disposed to imitate them, and load your bodies with such useless things. They are not only useless, but tend to encourage pride and vanity. All that you need is, the "Pearl of great price," even Jesus. Adorn yourself with this Pearl, and you will be beautiful indeed--beautiful even in the sight of your heavenly Father. Have you this Pearl of great price, my dear children? Tell me, have you this Pearl of great price? If you have not, what have you? I just now alluded to those marks which the natives consider among their chief ornaments. These are different among different sects. The followers of Siva rub ashes on their foreheads. These ashes are generally prepared by burning what in the Tamul language is called [Tamul:] _chaarne._ They also apply these ashes in streaks, generally three together, on their breasts, and on their arms. Some besmear their whole bodies with them. The followers of Vrishnoo wear a very different ornament from that just described. It consists of a perpendicular line drawn on the forehead, generally of a red or yellow color, and a white line on each side of it, which unite at the bottom with the middle line, and form a trident. Another ornament consists of a small circle, which is called pottu. This is stamped in the middle of the forehead. Sometimes it is red, sometimes yellow or black. Large numbers of women, in this part of the country, wash their faces with a yellow water, made so by dissolving in it a paste made of a yellow root and common shell-lime. The Brahmins frequently instead of rubbing ashes, draw a horizontal line over the middle of their foreheads, to show that they have bathed and are pure. Sometimes the people ornament themselves with a paste of sandal-wood. They rub themselves from head to foot with it. This has a very odoriferous smell. When the people are loaded with jewels, and covered with the marks which I have just described they think themselves to be highly ornamented But after all, "they are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness." The "Pearl of great price," to which I before alluded, the only Pearl which is of any value in the sight of Him who looketh at the heart, and not at the outward appearance, they possess not. Millions in this Eastern world have never even heard of it. O how incessantly ought you to pray that they may come into possession of it. How gladly should you give your money to send it to them. I wish, in this place, to ask you one question. Who of you expect, by and by, to become missionaries to this land, to tell this people of the Pearl of great price? CHAPTER III. DRESS, HOUSES, EATING, AND SALUTATION OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--The dress of the Hindoos is very simple. A single piece of cloth uncut, about three yards in length and one in width, wrapped round the loins, with a shawl thrown over the shoulders, constitutes the usual apparel of the people of respectability. These garments are often fringed with red silk or gold. The native ladies frequently almost encase themselves in cloth or silk. Under such circumstances, their cloths are perhaps twenty yards in length. Most of the native gentlemen now wear turbans, an ornament which they have borrowed from the Mohammedans This consists of a long piece of very fine stuff, sometimes twenty yards in length and one in breadth. With this they encircle the head in many folds. Those who are employed by European or Mohammedan princes, wear a long robe of muslin, or very fine cloth. This also, is in imitation of the Mohammedans, and was formerly unknown in the country. The houses of the Hindoos are generally very plainly built. In the country, they are commonly made of earth, and thatched with straw. In the cities, they are covered with tiles. The kitchen is situated in the most retired part of the house. In the houses of the Brahmins, the kitchen-door is always barred, to prevent strangers from looking upon their earthen vessels; for if they should happen to see them, their look would pollute them to such a degree that they must be broken to pieces. The hearth is generally placed on the south-west side, which is said to be the side of the _god of fire_, because they say that this god actually dwells there. The domestic customs of this people are very different from ours. The men and women do not eat together. The husband first eats, then the wife. The wife waits upon the husband After she has cooked the rice, she brings a brass plate, if they are possessors of one; or if not, a piece of a plantain-leaf, and puts it down on the mat before him. She then bails out the rice, places it upon the leaf, and afterwards pours the currie over it. This being done, the husband proceeds to mix up the currie and the rice with his hands, and puts it into his mouth. He never uses a knife and fork, as is customary with us. The currie of which I have spoken is a sauce of a yellow color, owing to the _munchel_, a yellow root which they put in it. This and onions, kottamaly-seeds mustard, serakum, pepper, etc., constitute the ingredients of the currie. Some add to these ghea, or melted butter, and cocoa-nut milk. By the cocoa-nut milk, I do not mean the water of the cocoa-nut. This--except in the very young cocoa-nut, when it is a most delicious beverage--is never used. The milk is squeezed from the _meat_ of the cocoa-nut, after it has been reduced to a pulp by means of an indented circular iron which they use for this purpose. After the husband has eaten, the wife brings water for him to wash his hands. This being done, she supplies him with vettalay, paakku, shell-lime, and tobacco, which he puts into his mouth as his dessert. The vettalay is a very spicy leaf. Why they use paakku, I do not know. It is a nut, which they cut into small pieces, but it has not much taste. Sometimes the wife brings her husband a segar. This people, I am sorry to say, are great smokers and chewers, practices of which I hope that you, my dear children, will never be guilty. In Ceylon, it is customary for females to smoke. Frequently, after the husband has smoked for a while, he hands the segar to his wife. She then puts it into her mouth, and smokes. Several years ago, one of the schoolmasters in that island became a Christian. After he had partaken of the Lord's supper, his wife considered him so defiled, that she would not put his segar into her mouth for a month afterwards. She, however, has since become a Christian. I spoke just now of the plantain-leaf. This leaf is sometimes six feet long, and in some places a foot and a half wide. It is an unbroken leaf, with a large stem running through the middle of it. It is one of the handsomest of leaves. Pieces enough can be torn from a single leaf, to take the place of a dozen plates. When quite young, it is an excellent application to surfaces which have been blistered. When this people eat, they do not use tables and chairs. They sit down on mats, and double their legs under them, after the manner of our friends the tailors in America, when they sew. This is the way in which the natives as a general thing, sit in our churches. It is not common to have benches or pews for them. Carpenters and other tradesmen also sit down either on a board, or on the ground, or on their legs, when they work. It would divert you much to see their manoeuvring. If a carpenter, for instance, wants to make a little peg, he will take a small piece of board, and place it in an erect position between his feet, the soles of which are turned inward so as to press upon the board. He then takes his chisel in one hand, and his mallet in the other, and cuts off a small piece. Afterwards he holds the piece in one hand, and while he shapes it with his chisel with the other, he steadies it by pressing it against his great toe. [Illustration] The blacksmiths, with the exception of those who use the sledge-hammer, sit as do the carpenters while they hammer the iron. I wish you could see them at work with their simple apparatus. They have small anvils, which they place in a hole made in a log of wood which is buried in the ground. They do not use such bellows as you see in America. Theirs consist of two leather bags, about a foot wide and a foot and a half long, each having a nozzle at one end. The other end is left open to admit the air. When they wish to blow the fire, they extend these bags to let in the air. They then close them by means of the thumb on one side, and the fingers on the other, and press them down towards the nozzle of the bellows, which forces the air through them into the fire. I should have said before, that the nozzle of the bellows passes through a small semicircular mound of dried mud. I mentioned that the natives do not use tables and chairs in their houses. Neither do they, as a general thing, use bedsteads. They have no beds. They sleep on mats, which are spread down on the floor. Sometimes they use a cotton bolster for their heads. More generally their pillows are hard boards, which they put under the mat. In addition to cooking, the females have to prepare the rice for this purpose, by taking it out of the husk. This they do by beating it in a mortar about two feet high. The pestle with which they pound it, is about five feet long, made of wood, with an iron rim around the lower part of it. Three women can work at these mortars at the same time. Of course they have to be very skilful in the use of the pestle, so as not to interfere with each others' operations. Sometimes, while thus engaged, the children, who are generally at play near their mothers, put their hands on the edge of the mortars. In such cases, when the pestle happens to strike the edge, their fingers are taken off in a moment. The Hindoos have many modes of salutation. In some places they raise their right hand to the heart. In others, they simply stretch it out towards the person who is passing, if they know him, for they never salute persons with whom they are not acquainted. In many places there is no show of salutation. When they meet their acquaintances they content themselves by saying a friendly word or two in passing, and then pursue their way. They have borrowed the word _salam_ from the Mohammedans. They salute both Mohammedans and Europeans with this word, at the same time raising their hand to the forehead. When they address persons of high rank, they give them their _salam_ thrice, touching the ground as often with both hands, and then lifting them up to their foreheads. The other castes salute the Brahmins by joining the hands and elevating them to the forehead, or sometimes over the head. It is accompanied with _andamayya_, which means, Hail, respected lord. The Brahmins stretch out their hands and say, _aaseervaathum_--benediction. Another very respectful kind of salutation consists in lowering both hands to the feet of the person to be honored, or even in falling-down and embracing them. Of all the forms of salutation, the most respectful is the _shaashtaangkum_, or prostration, in which the feet, the knees, the stomach, the head, and the arms, all touch the ground. In doing this, they throw themselves at their whole length on the ground, and stretch out both arms above their heads. This is practised before priests, and in the presence of an assembly, when they appear before it to beg pardon for a crime. Relations, who have long been separated, testify their joy when they meet by chucking each other under the chin, and shedding tears of joy. I am not aware that grown persons ever kiss each other. Sometimes mothers, or other individuals, will put their noses to the cheeks of little children, and draw the air through them, just as we do when we smell any thing which is agreeable. At other times they will apply the thumb and first finger to the cheek of the child, and then apply them to their own noses, and, as it were, smell them. The women, as a mark of respect, turn their backs, or at least their faces aside, when they are in the presence of those whom they highly esteem. They are never permitted to sit in the presence of men. A married woman cannot do this, even in the presence of her husband. If a person meets another of high rank, he must leave the path, if on foot, or alight, if on horseback, and remain standing until he has passed. He must at the same time take off his slippers. He also must take off his slippers when he enters a house. Should he fail to do this, it would be considered a great impropriety. In addressing a person of note, they mast keep at a certain distance from him, and cover their mouths with their hands while they are speaking, lest their breath, or a particle of moisture, should escape to trouble him. When the Hindoos visit a person of distinction for the first time, civility requires them to take some present as a mark of respect, or to show that they come with a friendly intention; especially if they wish to ask some favor in return. When they have not the means of making large presents, they carry with them sugar, plantains, milk, and other things of this kind. In case of mourning, visits must always be made, though at a distance of a hundred miles. Letters of condolence would by no means be received as a substitute. CHAPTER IV. MARRIAGE AMONG THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--Marriage, to the Hindoos is the greatest event of their lives. In the celebration of it, many ceremonies are performed Of these I will mention some of the most important. If the father of the young girl is a Brahmin, and if he is rich and liberal, he will frequently bear all the expenses of the marriage of his daughter. To give a daughter in marriage and to sell her, are about the same thing. Almost every parent makes his daughter an article of traffic, refusing to give her up until the sum of money for which he consented to let her go, is paid. Men of distinction generally lay out this money for jewels, which they present to their daughters on their wedding-day. You will infer from what I have just said, that the parties to be married have nothing to do in the choice of each other. There are properly but four months in the year in which marriages can take place, namely March, April, May, and June. This probably arises from the circumstance that these are the hottest seasons of the year--the seasons when the people have more leisure to attend to them. From the harvest, also, which has just been gathered in, they are provided with means to perform the various ceremonies. The marriage ceremony lasts five days. The bride and bridegroom are first placed under a puntel, a kind of bower, covered with leaves, in front of the house. This is superbly adorned. The married women then come forward, and perform the ceremony called _arati_, which is as follows. Upon a plate of copper, they place a lamp made of a paste from rice flour. It is supplied with oil, and lighted. They then take hold of the plate with both hands, and raise it as high as the heads of the couple to be married, and describe a number of circles with the plate and lamp. This is to prevent the evil of any jealous looks, which certain persons might make. The Hindoos believe that great evils arise from wicked looks. They consider that even the gods themselves are not out of the reach of malicious eyes; and therefore after they have been carried through the streets, the ceremony of arati is always performed, to efface the evil which they may have suffered from these looks. It ought to have been mentioned, that before any thing is done, they place an image of Pullian under the puntel. This god is much honored because he is much feared. And although the great ugliness of his appearance has hitherto kept him without a wife, they never fail to pay him the greatest attention, lest he should in some way or other injure them. After arati and many other ceremonies are performed, the kankanan, which is merely a bit of saffron, is tied to the right wrist of the young man, and to the left wrist of the girl. This is done with great solemnity. Another remarkable ceremony succeeds this. The young man being seated with his face towards the east, his future father-in-law supposes that he beholds in him the great Vrishnoo. With this impression, he offers him a sacrifice, and then, making him put both of his feet in a new dish filled with cow-dung, he first washes them with water, then with milk, and again with water, accompanying the whole with suitable muntrums or prayers. After many other ceremonies, he takes the hand of his daughter and puts it into that of his son-in-law. He then pours water over them in honor of Vrishnoo. This is the most solemn of all the ceremonies, being the token of his resigning his daughter to the authority of the young man. She must be accompanied with three gifts, namely, one or more cows, some property in land, and a _salagrama_, which consists of some little amulet stones in high esteem among the Brahmins. This ceremony being finished, the tahly is brought to be fastened to the neck of the bride. This, as I before said, is presented on a salver, decked and garnished with sweet-smelling flowers. Incense is offered to it, and it is presented to the assistants each of whom touches it and invokes blessings upon it. The bride then turning towards the East, the bridegroom takes the tahly, repeats a muntrum or prayer aloud, and ties it around her neck. Fire is then brought in, upon which the bridegroom offers up the sacrifice of _homam_, which consists of throwing boiled rice with melted butter upon the fire. He then takes his bride by the hand, and they walk three times around it, while the incense is blazing. There is another ceremony, which, perhaps, ought to be mentioned, as it is considered by some to be one of much importance. Two baskets of bamboo are placed close together, one for the bride, the other for the bridegroom. They step into them, and two other baskets being brought, filled with ground rice, the husband takes up one with both hands and pours the contents over the head of the bride. She does the same to him. In the marriage of great princes pearls are sometimes used instead of rice. On the evening of the third day, when the constellations appear, the astrologer points out to the married pair a very small star, close to the middle or in the tail of _Ursa Major_, which he directs them to worship, and which he says is the wife of Vasestha. While the assembled guests, are dining, the bridegroom and the bride also partake, and eat together from the same plate. This is a token of the closest union. This is the only instance in which they ever eat together. After all the ceremonies are finished, a procession is made through the streets of the village It commonly takes place in the night, by torchlight, accompanied with fire-works. The newly married pair are seated in one palanquin with their faces towards each other, both richly dressed. The bride, in particular, is generally covered with jewels and precious stones. The procession moves slowly; and their friends and relations come out of their houses, as they pass; the women hailing the married couple with the ceremony of _arati_, and the men with presents of silver, fruits, sugar, and betel. I once witnessed one of these marriage processions in the streets of Madras at night, but can give you but little idea of its magnificence. The lamps used on the occasion could not be numbered. The shrubbery, which was drawn on carts or other vehicles, appeared exceedingly beautiful, in consequence of the light reflected from the lamps. Intermingled with this shrubbery, were to be seen little girls elegantly dressed, and adorned with flowers on their heads. Many elephants, with their trappings of gold and silver and red, formed a part of the procession. Fire-works were also added to make the scene more brilliant. CHAPTER V. DEATH AND FUNERALS OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--The death of a Hindoo is followed by many ridiculous ceremonies. I will give you a description of a few, connected with the death of one who has moved in one of the higher ranks--of a Brahmin. [Illustration] When it is evident that a Brahmin has but a little time to live, a space is prepared with earth, well spread with cow-dung, over which a cloth, that has never been worn, is spread. The dying man is placed upon this at full length. Another cloth is wrapped around his loins. This being done, the ceremony of expiating his sins is performed as follows. The chief of the funeral brings on one plate some small pieces of silver or copper coin, and on another the punchakaryam, etc. A little of this punchakaryam is then put into his mouth, and, by virtue of this nauseous draught, the body is perfectly purified. Besides this, there is a general cleansing, which is accomplished by making the dying man recite within himself, if he cannot speak, the proper muntrums, by which he is delivered from all his sins. After this, a cow is introduced with her calf. Her horns are decorated with rings of gold or brass, and her neck with garlands of flowers. A pure cloth is laid over her body. Thus decked, she is led up to the sick man, who takes hold of her tail. Prayers are now offered up that the cow may conduct him, by a blessed path, to the next world. He then makes a gift of a cow to a Brahmin. This gift is considered indispensable to enable the soul to go over the river of fire, which it is said all must pass after death. Those who have made this gift, are met by one of these favored creatures the moment they arrive at the bank of the stream, and by her help, they are enabled to pass without injury from the flames. As soon as the breath has left his body, all who are present must weep for a reasonable time, and join in lamentations together. After various ceremonies, the body is washed, and a barber is called to shave his head. He is then clad with his finest clothes and adorned with jewels. He is rubbed with sandal-wood where the body is uncovered, and the accustomed mark is put upon his forehead. Thus dressed he is placed on a kind of state bed, where he remains until he is carried to the pile. After every preparation is made to bear away the corpse, the person who is to conduct the funeral, with the assistance of some relative or friend, strips it of its clothing and jewels, and covers it with a handkerchief provided for the occasion. The corpse is then placed on a litter. Those who die in a state of marriage, have their faces left uncovered. The litter, adorned with flowers and foliage, and sometimes decked with valuable stuffs, is borne by four Brahmins. The procession is arranged as follows. The chief of the funeral marches foremost, carrying fire in a vessel. The body follows, attended by the relations and friends, without their turbans, and with nothing on their heads but a bit of cloth, in token of mourning. The women never attend the funeral, but remain in the house, where they set up a hideous cry when the corpse is taken out. While advancing on the road, the custom is to stop three times on the way, and, at each pause, to put into the mouth of the dead a morsel of unboiled rice, moistened. The object of stopping is considered to be very important. It is not without reason; for they say that persons supposed to be dead have been alive, or even when lifeless have been restored; and sometimes, also, it has happened that the gods of the infernal regions have mistaken their aim, and seized one person instead of another. In any view, it is right to afford the opportunity for correcting these mistakes, so as not to expose to the flames a person who is still alive. Hence the propriety of these pauses, each of which continues half of the quarter of an hour. Having arrived at the place for burning the dead, they dig a trench about six or seven feet in length. This is consecrated by the muntrums. It is slightly sprinkled with water to lay the dust, and a few pieces of money in gold are scattered upon it. Here the pile is erected of dried wood, on which the body is laid out at full length. Over the body a quantity of twigs are laid, which are sprinkled with punchakaryam The chief of the funeral then takes on his shoulders a pitcher of water, and goes around the pile three times, letting the water run through a hole made in it. After this he breaks the pitcher in pieces near the head of the corpse. At last the torch is brought for setting fire to the pile, and is handed to the chief of the funeral. Before he receives it, however, he is obliged to make some grimaces to prove his sorrow. He rolls about on the ground, beats his breast, and makes the air resound with his cries. The assistants also cry, or appear to cry. Fire being applied to the four corners of the pile, the crowd retire, except the four Brahmins who carried the body; they remain until the whole is consumed. The funerals of the Sudras differ in some particulars from those of the Brahmins. Deafening sounds of drums, trumpets, and other instruments of music, not in use among the Brahmins, accompany their funerals. To increase the noise, they sometimes shoot off an instrument which somewhat resembles a small cannon. I do not now think of any other particular worthy of mention. By the ceremonies which are performed at their funerals, this wretched people expect to secure the pardon of all the sins of those who have died. Alas, what a delusion! O, that Christians had sent the Gospel to this dark land in the days when they sent it to our heathen fathers. Then might the Hindoos now be seeking the expiation of their sins, through the blood of the ever-blessed Redeemer. Of this Redeemer, however, they know nothing. They enter eternity, not that their souls may be consumed as their bodies have been, but to endure the flames of divine wrath for ever and ever. Alas, alas, that it should be so! O, that the generation of Christians now living would lay these things to heart, and do what they can, through grace, to rescue those who are yet within the reach of hope from so tremendous a doom. What, my dear children, will you do for this purpose? CHAPTER VI. THE GODS OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--The word heathen is applied to those who worship idols, or who do not know any thing about the true God. This is the case with this people. They say that there is one supreme being, whom they call BRAHM; but he is very different from Jehovah, and is never worshipped. Generally, he is fast asleep. In the place of Brahm, they worship many gods--gods of all colors: some black, some white, some blue, some red--gods of all shapes and sizes: some in the shape of beasts, some in the shape of men; some partly in the shape of beasts, and partly in the shape of men, having four, or ten, or a hundred, or a thousand eyes, heads, and hands. They ride through the air on elephants, buffaloes, lions, sheep, deer, goats, peacocks, vultures, geese, serpents, and rats. They hold in their hands all kinds of weapons, offensive and defensive, thunderbolts javelins, spears, clubs, bows, arrows, shields, flags, and shells. They are of all employments. There are gods of the heavens above and of the earth below, gods of wisdom and of folly, gods of war and of peace, gods of good and of evil, gods of pleasure, gods of cruelty and wrath, whose thirst must be satiated with torrents of blood. These gods fight and quarrel with one another. They lie, steal, commit adultery, murder, and other crimes. They pour out their curses when they cannot succeed in their wicked plots, and invent all kinds of lying tales to hide their wickedness. There are three principal gods, who compose what is called the Hindoo triad. Their names are Brumha, Vrishnoo, and Siva. They were somehow drawn from Brahm's essence, on one occasion when he was awake. Brumha, they say, is the creator of the world, Vrishnoo the preserver, and Siva the destroyer. Brumha has no temple erected for his worship, on account of a great falsehood which he told. I will tell you what it was. Once, as it is said, there was a dispute between him and Vrishnoo, as to who is the greatest. While thus disputing, Siva appeared between the two as a fire-post and told them that he who would find the bottom or the top of the post first, would show that he is the greatest. Vrishnoo immediately changed himself into a hog, and began to root up the earth with the hope of finding the bottom of the post. Brumha changed himself into a swan, flew up towards the top of the post, and cried out, I have found it, when he had not. This, you know, my dear children, was a falsehood. For this falsehood, it is said, no temple is erected for his worship. Vrishnoo was a thief and a liar. He was once dwelling in the house of a dairyman, and he used constantly to be stealing butter and curdled milk from the dairyman's wife. She did not know, for a long time, what became of her butter and curdled milk; but at last she found out that Vrishnoo was the thief. To punish him for his theft, she tied him to a rice mortar. Siva's conduct was very bad. I will tell you but one thing about him. On one occasion he was playing at cards with his wife Parvathe. Vrishnoo was appointed to determine who was the best player. After playing for a little season Parvathe won the game. Siva then beckoned to Vrishnoo to declare that he, instead of Parvathe, had won it. This he did. In consequence of this falsehood, he was cursed by Parvathe, and changed into a snake. And now, my dear children, why do I tell you about these gods? I tell you for the purpose of making you thankful that you were born in a Christian land, where you have the Bible to teach you better things. Had you not the Bible, you would worship just such wretched beings as these poor Hindoos worship. Perhaps you know that our Saxon fathers, before they had the Bible, were as great idolaters as are this people. They worshipped Thor and Woden and other similar idols, and they were even in the habit of offering up human sacrifices Surely, if there is any thing which should make you give your hearts to your Saviour and love him above all things, it is God's gift of the Bible to you. CHAPTER VII. THE THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MILLIONS OF THE GODS OF THE HINDOOS--THE CREATION OF THE UNIVERSE--THE TRANSMIGRATION OF SOULS--THE DIFFERENT HELLS. My dear children--I told you that in one of those seasons when Brahm was awake, Brumha, Vrishnoo, and Siva were somehow drawn from Brahm's essence. The three hundred and thirty millions of the gods of the Hindoos were also drawn from this essence; as were all the atoms which compose the earth, the sun, moon, and stars. At first, these atoms were all in disorder. For the purpose of reducing them to order, Brahm created what is called the great mundane egg. Into this egg he himself entered, under the form, of Brumha, taking with him all these atoms. After remaining in this egg four thousand three hundred millions of years, to arrange these atoms, he burst its shell and came out, with a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, and a thousand arms. With him, he brought out all those harmonized atoms, which, when separated, produced this beautiful universe that we see above and around us. The universe, as it came from the mundane egg, is generally divided into fourteen worlds: seven inferior or lower worlds, and seven superior or upper worlds. The seven lower worlds are filled with all kinds of wicked and loathsome creatures. Our earth, which is the first of the upper worlds, it is said, is flat. The following figure will give you some idea of it. [Illustration: Concentric circles with labels on each from outermost to innermost: Sea of Sweet Water. Sea of Milk. Sea of Sour Curds. Sea of Clarified Butter. Sea of Spirituous Liquors. Sea of Sugar Cane Juice. Sea of Salt Water. Earth.] That part of the earth which is inhabited consists of seven circular islands, or continents each of which is surrounded by a different ocean. The island in the centre, where we dwell, is surrounded by a sea of salt water, the second island is surrounded by a sea of sugar-cane juice, the third island is surrounded by a sea of spirituous liquors, the fourth is surrounded by a sea of clarified butter, the fifth is surrounded by a sea of sour curds, the sixth is surrounded by a sea of milk, the seventh is surrounded by a sea of sweet water. In all the worlds above ours are mansions where the gods reside. In the third is the heaven of Indra. This is the heaven to which it is said the widow goes, after she has burned herself to death on the funeral pile of her husband Its palaces are of the purest gold. And such are the quantities of diamonds, and jasper, and sapphire, and emerald, and all manner of precious stones there, that it shines with a brightness superior to that of twelve thousand suns. Its streets are of the clearest crystal, fringed with gold. In the seventh, or the highest of the upper worlds, is the heaven where Brumha chiefly resides. This far exceeds all the other heavens in point of beauty. In the inferior worlds it is stated that there are one hundred thousand hells. These are provided for such as have been great criminals. The Hindoos say, that those who have not been very wicked, can make an atonement for their sins in this world. Should they neglect to do this, they must suffer for it in another birth. They believe in what is called the transmigration of souls, or the passing of the soul, after death, into another body. The soul must suffer in the next birth, if not purified in this. Hence it is asserted, that if a man is a stealer of gold from a Brahmin, he is doomed to have whitlows on his nails; if a drinker of spirits, black teeth; if a false detractor, fetid breath; if a stealer of grain, the defect of some limb; if a stealer of clothes, leprosy; if a horse-stealer, lameness; if a stealer of a lamp, total blindness. If he steals grain in the husk, he will be born a rat; if yellow mixed metal, a gander; if money, a great stinging gnat; if fruit, an ape; if the property of a priest, a crocodile. Those persons whose sins are too great to be forgiven in this world, must be sent to one of the hells to winch I have alluded. Weeping, wailing, shrieking, they are dragged to the palace of _Yama_, the king of those doleful regions. On arriving there, they behold him clothed with terror, two hundred and forty miles in height, his eyes as large as a lake of water, his voice as loud as thunder, the hairs of his body as long as palm-trees, a flame of fire proceeding from his mouth, the noise of his breath like the roaring of a tempest, and in his right hand a terrific iron club. Sentence is passed, and the wretched beings are doomed to receive punishment according to the nature of their crimes. Some are made to tread on burning sands, or sharp-edged stones. Others are rolled among thorns and spikes and putrefying flesh. Others are dragged along the roughest places by cords passed through the tender parts of the body. Some are attacked by jackals, tigers, and elephants. Others are pierced with arrows, beaten with clubs, pricked with needles, seared with hot irons, and tormented by flies and wasps. Some are plunged into pans of liquid fire or boiling oil. Others are dashed from lofty trees, many hundred miles high. The torment of these hells does not continue for ever. After criminals have been punished for a longer or shorter time, their souls return to the earth again in the bodies of men. Here they may perform such good acts as may raise them to one of the heavens of the gods; or commit crimes, which may be the means of their being sent again to the abodes of misery. Things will go on in this way until the universe comes to an end, when every thing is to disappear, and to be swallowed up in Brahm. The Hindoos say, that it is now more than one hundred and fifty billions of years since the world was created. After it has continued about one hundred and fifty billions of years more, it is to come to an end. Then Brumha is to die, and to be swallowed up with the universe in the sole existing Brahm. By what you have heard, you will learn that the Hindoos expect, by their sufferings, to make an atonement for their sins. But there is no atonement for sin, except through the blood of Jesus Christ. We must come as lost sinners to our heavenly Father, confess our transgressions to him, and plead for his forgiveness, only through the sufferings and death which Christ endured. My dear children, have you done this? If not, do it speedily, or the regions of the lost must soon be your everlasting abode. CHAPTER VIII. HINDOO CASTES. My dear Children--The people of India are divided into castes, as they are called. Their sacred books declare, that after Brumha had peopled the heavens above and the worlds below, he created the human race, consisting of four classes or castes. From his mouth proceeded the Brahmin caste. Those of this class are the highest and noblest beings on earth, and hold the office of priests. At the same time there flowed from his mouth the _Vedas_, or sacred books, of which the Brahmins are the sole teachers To their fellow-men, they were to give such parts of these books as they thought best. From Brumha's arm proceeded the military caste. The business of this class is to defend their country when attacked by enemies. From his breast proceeded the third caste, consisting of farmers and merchants. From his feet, the member of inferiority, proceeded the Sudras, or servile caste. Carpenters, braziers, weavers, dyers, and the manual cultivators of the soil, are included in this class. Caste is not a civil, but a sacred institution. You must get some one older than yourself to explain what this means. Caste is a difference of _kind_. Hence, a man of one caste can never be changed into a man of another caste, any more than a lion can be changed into a mole, or a mole into a lion. Each caste has its laws, the breaking of which is attended with great disgrace, and even degradation below all the other castes. For instance, if a Brahmin should, by eating any forbidden thing, break his caste, he would sink below all the other castes. He would become an outcast, or pariah. For beneath the fourth, or lowest caste, there is a class of people belonging to no caste--a class of outcasts, held in the utmost abhorrence. By the system of castes, the Hindoos have been divided into so many selfish sections, each scowling on all the rest with feelings of hatred and contempt. The spirit which upholds it, is similar to that spirit which says, "Stand by thyself, for I am holier than thou," and, of course, is nothing but pride. This is one of the greatest obstacles to the spread of Christianity in this dark land, and for the exhibition of which we were lately obliged to cut off many of the members of our churches. The Brahmins, in consequence of their being of the highest caste, and of their having been taught from their infancy to regard all other classes of men with the utmost contempt, are very proud. They make great efforts to keep themselves pure, in their sense of the word, both without and within. They are exceedingly afraid of being defiled by persons of other castes. They have the utmost dread even of being touched by a pariah. For them to eat with any of these pariahs, or to go into their houses, or to drink water which they have drawn, or from vessels which they have handled, is attended with the loss of their caste. A Brahmin who should enter their houses, or permit them to enter his, would be cut off from his caste, and could not be restored without many troublesome ceremonies and great expense. The pariahs are considered to be so low, that if a Brahmin were to touch them, even with the end of a long pole, he would be looked upon as polluted In some districts they are obliged to make a long circuit, when they perceive Brahmins in the way, that their breath may not infect them, or their shadow fall upon them as they pass. In some places their very approach is sufficient to pollute a whole neighborhood. The Brahmins carry their ideas of purity very far. Should a Sudra happen to look upon the vessels in which they cook their food, they would be considered as defiled. They can never touch any kind of leather or skin, except the skin of the tiger and antelope. The most disagreeable of all American fashions, in their eyes, is that of boots and gloves. They rarely eat their food from plates; and when they do so, it is only at home. They use the leaf of the plantain or other trees as a substitute. To offer them any thing to eat on a metal or earthen plate which others have used, would be considered a great affront. For the same reason, they will neither use a spoon nor a fork when they eat; and they are astonished that any one, after having applied them to their mouths, and infected them with saliva, should repeat the act a second time. They have a great abhorrence of the toothpick, if used a second time. When they eat any thing dry, they throw it into their mouths, so that the fingers may not approach the lips. They do not drink as we do, by applying the cup to the lips. This would be considered a gross impropriety. They pour the water into their months. The reason why they do these things is, because they consider the saliva to be the most filthy secretion that comes from the body. It is on this account that no one is ever permitted to spit within doors. The use of animal food they consider to be defiling. Not only will they not eat animal food, but they will eat nothing that has the principle of life in it. On this account, they cannot eat eggs of any kind. I was once breaking an egg in my medicine-room at Panditeripo, while a Brahmin was present. He told me that, under such circumstances, he could not remain with me any longer. In his view, I was committing a great sin. To kill an ox or a cow, is considered by them as a crime which can never be atoned for, and to eat their flesh is a defilement which can never be washed away. To kill a cow is, by _Hindoo_ law, punishable with death. The touch of most animals, particularly that of the dog, defiles a Brahmin. Should a dog touch them, they would be obliged instantly to plunge into water, and wash their clothes, in order to get rid of such a stain. Notwithstanding this, the dog is one of the gods worshipped by the Hindoos. The Hindoos consider themselves to be unclean if they have assisted at a funeral. When the ceremony is over, they immediately plunge into water for the sake of purification. Even the news of the death of a relative, a hundred miles off, has the same effect. The person who hears such news is considered unclean until he has bathed. In unison with this feeling, a person is no sooner dead, than he is hastened away to be buried or burned; for, until this is done, those in the house can neither eat nor drink, nor go on with their occupations. A Brahmin who is particular in his delicacy, must be careful what he treads upon. He is obliged to wash his body or bathe, if he happens to tread on a bone, or a broken pot, a bit of rag, or a leaf from which one has been eating. He must also be careful where he sits down. Some devotees always carry their seats with them, that is, a tiger or antelope's skin, which are always held pure. Some are contented with a mat. They may sit down on the ground without defilement, provided it has been newly rubbed over with cow-dung. This last specific is used daily to purify their houses from the defilement occasioned by comers, and goers. When thus applied, diluted with water, it has unquestionably one good effect. It completely destroys the fleas and other insects, with which they are very much annoyed. There is one thing more which I wish to mention. It is, that all the high castes consider the use of intoxicating drinks to be defiling. I hope that you, my dear children, will always have the same opinion, and never touch them any sooner than you would touch arsenic or other poisons. A person may be restored to his caste, provided he has not committed an unpardonable offence. This is done as follows. After he has gained the consent of his relations to be restored he prostrates himself very humbly before them, they being assembled for that purpose, and submits to the blows or other punishment which they may think proper to inflict, or pays the fine which they may have laid upon him. Then, after shedding tears of sorrow, and making promises that, by his future conduct, he will wipe away the stain of his expulsion from caste, he makes the shaashtaangkum before the assembly. This being done, he is declared fit to be restored to his tribe. When a man has been expelled from his caste for some great offence, those who restore him sometimes slightly burn his tongue with a piece of gold made hot. They likewise apply to different parts of the body redhot iron stamps, which leave marks that remain for ever. Sometimes they compel the offender to walk on burning embers; and to complete the purification, he must drink the punchakaryam, which literally means the _five things_; these all come from the cow, and must be mixed together. The first three of these I will mention, namely, the milk, butter, and curds. The other two, for the sake of delicacy, I must not mention. After the ceremony of punchakaryam is finished the person who has been expelled from his caste must give a grand feast. This finishes all he has to do, and he is then restored to favor. There are certain offences which, when committed cut off all hope that the offender will ever be restored to his caste. For instance, should he eat the flesh of the cow, no presents which he might make, nor any fines which lie might be disposed to pay, no, not even the punchakaryam itself, would be of any avail for his restoration or purification. I will make a remark here, which I might have made before. It is, that in Christian countries, there is a spirit of pride which much resembles the spirit of caste. Many are to be found who are very proud that they have descended from rich and honorable _ancestors_, and who look down, almost with disdain, upon those in other situations. I need hardly tell you that this is a very wicked spirit, and entirely opposed to the spirit of the Gospel. No matter what may be our high thoughts of ourselves, we appear but very low in the sight of Him who created us. We are all sinners, and, as such, are offensive in his sight. If we would go to heaven, the first thing which we have to do, is to humble ourselves for the pride of our hearts, and become as little children before him. We must have that spirit of which the apostle speaks, when he says, "Let each esteem others better than themselves." With a humble spirit we may approach a holy God, with the assurance that he will, for Christ's sake, forgive all our sins. CHAPTER IX. HINDOO TEMPLES--CARS--PROCESSION OF IDOLS. My dear Children--I will proceed to give you a description of the Hindoo temples. These are very numerous. One is to be found in almost every village. They are to be found, also, in out-of-the-way places, distant from villages, in woods, on the banks and in the middle of rivers; but, above all, on mountains and steep rocks. This latter practice, of building temples on mountains, is very ancient. The Israelites were accustomed to choose a mountain when they offered up their sacrifices to the Lord. Solomon, before the building of the temple, chose Mount Gibeon on which to offer his burnt-offerings; and when the ten tribes separated themselves, in the reign of Jeroboam, they built their altars on the mountain of Samaria. This practice may have come from the circumstance, that Noah offered to God a great sacrifice of thanks on one of the highest mountains of Armenia. Probably Mount Ararat continued long to be remembered, by him and his descendants, as the scene of their deliverance. Besides the temples of the idols, there are various objects of worship, made of earth and stone. Some of the idols are carved. Some consist merely of the rough stone. These are to be seen on the high-roads, at the entrance into villages, and, above all, under lofty trees. Some of these are covered; but generally they are exposed in the open air. You will read in Genesis, 28th chap, and 18th verse, that Jacob, after his dream, rose up early in the morning and took the stone that he had put for his pillow, and set it up for a pillar, and poured oil upon the top of it. Whether it has happened from this circumstance or not, that the heathen universally pour oil over their idols, I cannot tell. All I know is, that they do it. No idol can become an object of worship until a Brahmin has said his muntrums, or prayers, for the purpose of bringing down the god to live, as it is said be does, in the image, and until he has drenched it with oil and liquid butter. The idols, in the great temples, are clothed with rich garments, and adorned with jewels, which are enriched with precious stones of immense value. Sacrifices are constantly made to these idols, consisting of boiled rice, flowers, fruits, etc., but, above all, of lamps, of which many thousands are sometimes seen burning. They feed them with butter, in preference to oil. The priests of the temples offer up sacrifices twice every day, morning and evening. They begin the ceremony by washing their idol. The water which is used is brought from a river or tank. Every morning a procession, with music, passes before our door, with this water. Every priest who offers up sacrifices, must have several lighted lamps with a bell, which he holds in his left hand. With his right hand he makes an offering to the idol, adorns it with flowers, and rubs its forehead and various parts of its body with sandal-wood and holy ashes. While all this is going on, he is alone in the temple, the door of which is closed. The unholy multitude remain without, silently waiting till he has done. What he does, they cannot know, only hearing the sound of the bell. When he has done, he comes out and distributes among the people a part of the things which have been offered to the idol. These are considered as holy. If they consist of rice and fruit, they are immediately eaten; if of flowers, the men put them in their turbans, and the girls entwine them in their hair. Next to the priests, the most important persons about the temples are the dancing girls. These are persons of the vilest character. They perform their religious duties in the temple twice a day. They also assist at the public ceremonies, and dance. At the same time they sing the most abominable and filthy songs. Of these wicked creatures, however, I must not tell you any thing further. The next order of persons employed in the temples, are players on musical instruments. Every temple of note has a band of these musicians who, as well as the dancers, are obliged to attend the temple twice a day. They are also obliged to assist at all the public festivals. Their band generally consists of wind, instruments, resembling clarionets and hautboys, to which they add cymbals and drums. They have a bass, produced by blowing into a kind of tube, widened below, and which gives an uninterrupted sound. Part of the musicians sing hymns in honor of their gods. The expenses of the temples are borne by the voluntary offerings of the people, consisting of money, jewels, cattle, provisions, and other articles. In order to induce them to make such offerings, the Brahmins use all kinds of deception. Sometimes they will put their idols in irons, chaining their hands and feet. They exhibit them in this sad condition, declaring that they have been brought into it by creditors from whom their gods had to borrow money, in times of trouble, to supply their wants. They declare that their creditors refuse to set the gods at liberty, until the money with the interest is paid. The people, seeing the deplorable condition into which they have been brought, come forward and pay off the debt; when the chains are taken off, and the god is set at liberty. Another way in which the Brahmins sometimes deceive the people, is as follows. They say that the god is afflicted with some dreadful disease, brought on by the distress which he has had, because the people do not worship him as much as they should. In such cases, the idol is sometimes placed at the door of the temple where they rub his forehead and temples with various kinds of medicine. They also set before him all sorts of medicines, pretending in this way to do all they can to cure him. But as all their efforts prove to be vain, and the disease becomes worse, the Brahmins send out persons to tell the sad news. The people, believing the report, hasten to bring in their gifts and offerings. The god, on beholding such proofs of their attachment to him, feels himself cured of his disease, and immediately returns to his throne within the temple. The Brahmins use another kind of deception, in order to procure offerings for the temples. They declare that their gods are angry with certain individuals who have offended them, and that they have sent some evil spirit or devil to take possession of their bodies and torment them. Accordingly, persons appear wandering about in different parts of the country, showing, by their dreadful convulsions, their writhings and twistings, every symptom of being possessed with the devil. The people who see them are filled with dismay, fall down before them, and offer gifts and sacrifices, for fear of being injured by them. Whatever they ask is granted. The people give them to eat and drink abundantly; and when they leave a place, accompany them with instruments of music, till they arrive at some other place, where the same deception is practised. There are various other ways in which the Brahmins deceive the people; but I have told you enough. At every large temple, there is at least yearly one grand procession. The idol is brought out from its inclosure, and placed in a great car or chariot, prepared for this express purpose. This stands upon four wheels of great strength, not made like ours, of spokes with a rim, but of three or four pieces of thick, solid timber, rounded and fitted to each other. The car is sometimes forty or fifty feet high, having upon it carved images of a most abominable nature. I must not tell you any thing about them. The car, when finished, presents somewhat the shape of a pyramid. [Illustration] On the day of the procession, it is adorned with painted cloth, garlands of flowers, green shrubbery, and precious stuffs. The idol is placed in the centre, loaded with jewels, etc., to attract the attention of the people. Having fastened ropes to this enormous car, eight or nine hundred or a thousand people catch hold of the ropes and slowly drag it along, accompanied with the awful roaring of their voices. At certain periods they stop; when the immense crowds, collected from all parts of the country, set up one universal shout, or rather yell. This, with the sound of their instruments and numerous drums, produces much uproar and confusion. Sometimes the weighty car comes to a stand, from the dampness of the ground or from the narrowness of the streets, when the tumult and noise are redoubled. [Illustration] Perhaps you know that on some occasions, when the cars are drawn, people throw themselves under the wheels, and are crushed to death. This occurs at the drawing of the car of Juggernaut, as you may learn if you will read my Sermon to Children, on the Condition of the Heathen. Here is a picture of Juggernaut, and on the last page you may see a picture of his car, and two men crushed to death under the wheels. Not long since, five persons were thus crushed to death. Many dreadful accidents also take place at the drawing of these cars. A few years ago several persons in this city had their limbs amputated, in consequence of injuries received. [Illustration] When I was in America, I showed to many of the dear children an idol called Pulliar, which was _formerly_ worshipped by Raamu, one of our native helpers, when he was a heathen. I gave a particular description, of the I manner in which he daily worshiped it, in the sermon above mentioned Here is a picture, which will give you some idea of this god. You will see that it is partly in the shape of a man, and partly in the shape of a beast. You, my dear children, would put no confidence in such vain idols; but this people do, as you may know from what I am now going to tell you. Some months ago, a woman was brought to me with a cancer in her breast. It had made sad ravages. On the morning after her arrival I took it out. Before she was brought to me, her brother went to the temple of the goddess Meenaache, to ascertain what was her will respecting his bringing her to me, or taking her to a native doctor. In order to ascertain it, he had recourse to the following expedient. He prepared several bundles of red and white flowers--the red to represent the red or Tamil man, the white to represent the white man. These flowers were carefully inclosed in leaves, so as to prevent their color being seen, and then laid down on the ground, at the entrance of the temple. After this, he called a little child to him, and then proceeded to entreat Meenaache that, if it were her will that he should bring the sick woman to me, she would direct the child to take up one of the parcels containing the white flowers. It so happened that the child took up one of these parcels. Of course, he brought her to me. Had it taken up a parcel containing the red flowers, she would have been taken to a native doctor. May we not hope that, not Meenaache, but Jehovah directed him to bring her to me, that she might hear of a very different being from her goddess, even of Jesus. Of him she has fully heard. CHAPTER X. FESTIVALS OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--The Hindoos have many festivals. These are all occasions of joy and gladness. On such days, the people quit their usual employments. Friends and relations unite in family parties, and give entertainments according to their means. Innocent pastimes and amusements of various kinds are resorted too to add to their happiness. There are eighteen principal festivals yearly, and no month passes without one or more of them. One of the most solemn of these ceremonies is held in the month of September, and appears to be principally in honor of Parvathe, the wife of Siva. At this time every laborer and every artisan offers sacrifices and prayers to his tools. The laborer brings his plough, hoe, and other farming utensils. He piles them together, and offers a sacrifice to them, consisting of flowers, fruit, rice, and other articles. After this, he prostrates himself before them at full length, and then returns them to their places. The mason offers the same adoration and sacrifice to his trowel, rule, and other instruments The carpenter adores his hatchet, adze, and plane. The barber collects his razors together and worships them with similar rites. The writing-master sacrifices to the iron pen or style, with which he writes upon the palm-leaf the tailor to his needles, the weaver to his loom, the butcher to his cleaver. The women, on this day, collect into a heap their baskets, rice-mill, rice-pounder, and other household utensils, and, after having offered sacrifices to them, fall down in adoration before them. Every person, in short, in this solemnity sanctifies and adores the instrument or tool by which he gains a living. The tools are considered as so many gods, to whom they present their prayers that they will continue to furnish them still with the means of getting a livelihood. This least is concluded by making an idol to represent Parvathe. It is made of the paste of grain, and being placed under a sort of canopy, is carried through the streets with great pomp, and receives the worship of the people. Another festival of great celebrity is observed in October. At this time, each person, for himself, makes offerings of boiled rice and other food, to such of their relations as have died, that they may have a good meal on that day. They afterwards offer sacrifices of burning lamps, of fruit, and of flowers, and also new articles of dress, that their ancestors may be freshly clothed. At this festival, soldiers offer sacrifices to their weapons, in order to obtain success in war. On such occasions, a ram is offered in sacrifice to their armor. In November, a festival is observed, which is called the feast of lamps. At this season, the Hindoos light lamps, and place them around the doors of their houses. This festival was established to commemorate the deliverance of the earth from a giant, who had been a great scourge to the people. He was slain by Vrishnoo, after a dreadful battle. In many places, on this day, a sacrifice is offered to the _dunghill_ which is afterwards to enrich the ground. In the villages, each one has his own heap, to which he makes his offering of burning lamps, fruit, flowers, etc. The most celebrated of all the festivals, is that which is held in the end of December. It is called the feast of Pongul, and is a season of rejoicing for two reasons: the first is, because the month of December, every day of which is unlucky, is about to end; and the other is, because it is to be followed by a month, every day of which is fortunate. For the purpose of preventing the evil effects of this month, the women every morning scour a place about two feet square before the door of the house, upon which they draw white lines, with flour. Upon these they place several little balls of cow-dung, sticking in each a flower. Each day these little balls, with their flowers, are preserved, and on the last day of the month, they are thrown into tanks or waste-places. The first day of this festival is called the Pongul of rejoicing. Near relatives are invited to a feast, which passes off with mirth and gladness. The second day is called the Pongul of the sun, and is set apart to worship that luminary. Married women, after bathing themselves, proceed to boil rice with milk, in the open air. When the milk begins to simmer, they make a loud cry, "Pongul, O Pongul." The vessel is then taken from the fire, and set before an idol. Part of this rice is offered to the image, and, after standing there for some time, it is given to the cows. The remainder is given to the people. This is the great day for visiting among friends. The salutation begins by the question, "Has the milk boiled?" To which the answer is, "It has boiled." From this, the festival takes the name of pongul, which signifies to boil. The third day is called the _Pongul of cows._ In a great vessel, filled with water, they put saffron and other things. These being well mixed, they go around the cows and oxen belonging to the house several times, sprinkling them with water. After this, the men prostrate themselves before them four times. The cows are then dressed, their horns being painted with various colors. Garlands of flowers are also put round their necks, and over their backs. To these are added strings of cocoa-nuts and other kinds of fruit, which, however, are soon shaken off, when they are in motion, and are picked up by children and others, who greedily eat what they gather, as something sacred. After being driven through the streets, they are suffered, during the day, to feed wherever they please, without a keeper. I have, however, told you enough. Are you ready to exclaim, Is it possible that a people can be guilty of such utter folly? But you, my dear children, would be guilty of just such folly, if you had not the Bible. Should not the gratitude, then, which you owe to your heavenly Father, for your distinguished mercies, constrain you to do all that you can to send this blessed book to this dark land? CHAPTER XI. THE WORSHIP OF THE SERPENT. My dear Children--If you have never heard much about the Hindoos, you will be astonished to learn how numerous are the objects of their worship. They worship many living creatures, such as the ape, the tiger, the elephant the horse, the ox, the stag, the sheep, the hog, the dog, the cat, the rat, the peacock, the eagle, the cock, the hawk, the serpent, the chameleon, the lizard, the tortoise, fishes, and even insects. Of these, some receive much more worship than others, such as the cow, the ox, and the serpent Cobra Capella. I will speak at present only of the worship of the serpent. Of all the dangerous creatures found in India, there are none that occasion so many deaths as serpents. The people are very much exposed to their bite, especially at night, when they are walking. They tread upon them, and, as they generally do not wear shoes, the snakes turn their heads, and strike their fangs into those parts of the feet which are nearest to the place where the pressure is made upon their bodies. Sometimes the bite is followed with instant death. The Cobra Capella is one of the most common snakes, and one of the most poisonous. It is said, that it has a thousand heads, one of which holds up the earth. It has a peculiar mark on its back, just behind the head. This mark very much resembles a pair of spectacles, without the handles. If you should go near it, it would raise the fore part of its body about six inches, widen out its neck, so as to be about double its common width, and prepare to strike you. The reason why the Hindoos offer sacrifices and adoration to it above all the other serpents is, because it is so frequently met with, and is so much dreaded. In order to induce the people to worship this dangerous enemy, the Hindoos have filled their books with tales concerning it. Figures of it are often to be seen in the temples, and on other buildings. They seek out their holes, which are generally to be found in the hillocks of earth which are thrown up by the white ants; and when they find one, they go from time to time and offer milk, plantains, and other good things to it. [Illustration] The Hindoos, as I before observed, have eighteen annual festivals. One of these festivals is held for the purpose of worshipping this serpent. Temples in many places are erected to it, of which there is one of great celebrity in Mysore. When the festival occurs at this temple, great crowds of people come together to offer sacrifices to this creeping god. Many serpents besides the Cobra Capella live within it, in holes made especially for them. All of these are kept and well fed by the Brahmins with milk, butter, and plantains. By such means they become very numerous, and may be seen swarming from every crevice in the temple. To injure or to kill one would be considered a great crime. Many of the natives call the Cobra Capella nulla paampu, that is, good snake. They are afraid to call it a bad snake, lest it should injure them. The following is the prayer which is offered before the image of this snake. O, divine Cobra, preserve and sustain us. O, Sheoh, partake of these offerings, and be gracious unto us. Can you think of any thing, my dear children more dishonoring to a holy God, than such worship? And what have you ever done to prevent it? Have you, every morning and evening, prayed that the Gospel might be sent to this people? Did you ever give any money to send it to them? Did you ever think whether it may not be your duty, by and by, to come to them, to tell them of this Gospel? CHAPTER XII. THE RIVER GANGES. My dear Children--If you will look at the map of Asia, and find the country of Hindostan, you will see running through it a very celebrated river--the river Ganges. It is called the Ganges, after the goddess Gunga. The Hindoos say that the goddess Gungu--who was produced from the sweat of Vrishnoo's foot, which Brumha caught and preserved in his alms-dish--came down from heaven, and divided herself into one hundred streams, which are the mouths of the river Ganges. All classes and castes worship her. The sight, the name, or the touch of the river Ganges is said to take away all sin. To die on the edge of the river, or to die partly buried in the stream, drinking its waters, while their bodies are besmeared with mud, is supposed to render them very holy. On this account, when it is expected that a person will die, he is hurried down to the river, whether willing or unwilling. Sometimes the wood which the people bring to burn their bodies after death, is piled up before their eyes. O, how inhuman is this. After it is supposed that they are dead, and they are placed on the pile of wood, if they should revive and attempt to rise, it is thought that they are possessed with the devil, and they are beaten down with a hatchet or bamboo. Were you standing on the banks of the Ganges you might, perhaps, in one place see two or three young men carrying a sick female to the river. If you should ask what they are going to do with her, perhaps they would reply, We are going to give her up to Gunga, to purify her soul, that she may go to heaven; for she is our mother. In another place you might see a father and mother sprinkling a beloved child with muddy water, endeavoring to soothe his dying agonies by saying, "It is blessed to die by Gunga, my son; to die by Gunga is blessed, my son." In another place you might see a man descending from a boat with empty water-pans tied around his neck, which pans, when filled, will drag down the poor creature to the bottom, to be seen no more. Here is murder in the name of religion. He is a devotee, and has purchased heaven, as he supposes, by this his last good deed. In another place you might see a person seated in the water, accompanied by a priest, who pours down the throat of the dying man mud and water, and cries out, "O mother Gunga, receive his soul." The dying man may be roused to sensibility by the violence. He may entreat his priest to desist; but his entreaties are drowned. He persists in pouring the mud and water down his throat, until he is gradually stifled, suffocated--suffocated in the name of humanity--suffocated in the name of religion. It happens, sometimes, in cases of sudden and violent attacks of disease, that they cannot be conveyed to the river before death. Under such circumstances, a bone is preserved, and at a convenient season is taken down and thrown into the river. This, it is believed, contributes essentially to the salvation of the deceased. Sometimes strangers are left on the banks to die, without the ceremony of drinking Ganges water. Of these, some have been seen creeping along with the flesh half eaten off their bones by the birds; others with their limbs torn by dogs and jackals, and others partly covered with insects. After a person is taken down to the river, if he should recover, it is looked upon by his friends as a great misfortune. He becomes an outcast. Even his own children will not eat with him, nor offer him the least attention. If they should happen to touch him, they must wash their bodies, to cleanse them from the pollution which has been contracted. About fifty miles north of Calcutta, are two villages inhabited entirely by these poor creatures, who have become outcasts in consequence of their recovery after having been taken down to the Ganges. At the mouth of the river Hoogly, which is one of the branches of the Ganges, is the island Sauger, which I saw as we approached Calcutta after having been at sea for one hundred and twenty-eight days. Now, my dear children, if you come out to India as missionaries, you will have to sail nearly one hundred and thirty days before you can reach it. Sauger island is the island where, formerly, hundreds of mothers were in the habit of throwing their children to the crocodiles, and where these mothers were wont to weep and cry if the crocodiles did not devour their children before their eyes. Think what a dreadful religion that must be, which makes mothers so hard-hearted. Did you ever take any corn or Indian meal and throw it to the chickens? And what did these chickens do? Did they not come around you and eat it? Well, just in this way the crocodiles would come near those mothers, and devour their children. Here is a picture of a mother throwing her child to a crocodile. [Illustration] I am glad to tell you, that the British have put a stop to the sacrifice of children at that place; but mothers continue to destroy their children elsewhere, and will continue to destroy them until Christians send the Gospel to them. It is not improbable that vast numbers of children are annually destroyed in the Ganges. Mothers sacrifice them, in consequence of vows which they have made. When the time to sacrifice them has come, they take them down to the river, and encourage them to go out so far that they are taken away by the stream, or they push them off with their own hands. I just remarked, that mothers will continue to destroy their children until the Gospel is sent to them. That the Gospel does prevent such things, the following circumstance will show. Several years ago, a missionary lady went from New England to India. As she was walking out one morning, on the banks of the Ganges, she saw a heathen mother weeping. She went up to her, sat down by her side, put her hand into hers, and asked what was the matter with her. "I have just been making a basket of flags," said she, "and putting my infant in it--pushing it off into the river, and drowning it. And my gods are very much pleased with me, because I have done it." After this missionary lady had heard all she had to say, she told her that her gods were no gods; that the only true God delights not in such sacrifices, but turns in horror from them; and that, if she would be happy here and hereafter, she must forsake her sins, and pray to Jesus Christ, who died to save sinners like herself. This conversation was the means of the conversion of that mother, and she never again destroyed any of her infants. Such is the power of the blessed Gospel. And what the Gospel has done once, it can do again. If Christians will send it to them, with the blessing of God, the time will soon come when heathen mothers will no more destroy their children. And have you nothing to do in this great work, my dear children? When you grow up, cannot you go and tell them of the Saviour? Here is a very pretty hymn about a heathen mother throwing her child to a crocodile. See that heathen mother stand Where the sacred currents flow, With her own maternal hand, 'Mid the waves her infant throw. Hark, I hear the piteous scream-- Frightful monsters seize their prey, Or the dark and bloody stream Bears the struggling child away. Fainter now, and fainter still, Breaks the cry upon the ear; But the mother's heart is steel, She unmoved that cry can hear. Send, O send the Bible there, Let its precepts reach the heart; She may then her children spare, Act the mother's tender part. I have heard of a little boy who learned this hymn. He was deeply affected by it, and wanted very much to give something to send the Gospel to India. But he had no money. He was, however, willing to labor in order to earn some. Hearing that a gentleman wanted the chips removed from the ground near his woodpile, he hired himself to him, removed the chips, got his money, and, with glistening eyes, went and delivered it up, to be sent to the heathen, repeating, as he went, Send, O send the Bible there, Let its precepts reach the heart; She may then her children spare, Act the mother's tender part. About one hundred miles above the mouth of the Hoogly is the city of Calcutta, and about five hundred miles above that city is the city of Benares. In these cities, as well as in other places, we see how much the heathen will contribute to support their wretched religion. A rich native in Calcutta has been known to spend more than one hundred thousand dollars on a single festival--the festival of the goddess Karle--and more than thirty thousand dollars every year afterwards during his life, for the same purpose. Not long since, a rich native gave at one time to his idols more than one million two hundred thousand dollars. And what have Christians ever done to honor their Saviour, which will bear a comparison with what the heathen do for their idols? Alas, alas, few Christian men or Christian women, in all the church, are willing to give even one-tenth of their annual income to the Lord. Most of those who are rich, hoard up their money, instead of spending it for the purpose of saving souls. And there are many persons who have never given a farthing to send the Gospel to the heathen. O, what will such say, when they must meet the heathen at the bar of God? CHAPTER XIII. THE GODDESS DURGA. My dear Children--From what I said, in my last chapter, about the goddess Gunga, you see that the Hindoos worship goddesses as well as gods. There is another goddess much worshipped the wife of the god Siva. She has appeared in a thousand forms, with a thousand different names. Of all these thousand forms, Durga and Karle are the most regarded by the people. I will speak of Durga first. Of all the festivals in Eastern India, hers is the most celebrated. She has ten hands, in which she holds an iron club, a trident, a battle-axe, spears, thunderbolts, etc. Thus armed, she is ever ready to fight with her enemies. Were you to be present in the city of Calcutta in the month of September, you might everywhere see the people busy in preparing for the yearly festival of this goddess. Images representing her you would find in great numbers for sale, as bread or meat is sold. In the houses of the rich, images are to be found made of gold, silver, brass, copper, crystal, stone, or mixed metal, which are daily worshipped. These are called permanent images. Besides these, multitudes of what are called temporary images are made--made merely for the occasion and then destroyed. They may be made of hay, sticks, clay, wood, or other such things. Their size varies from a few inches to twenty feet in height. If any persons are too poor to buy one of these images, they can make them for themselves. When the festival is near at hand, people are seen in every direction taking the images to their houses. After they are thus supplied, the festival commences. It lasts fifteen days. The greater part of this time is spent in preparing for the three great days of worship. Early on the morning of the first of the three great days, the Brahmins proceed to consecrate the images, or to give them, as they suppose, life and understanding. Until they are consecrated, they are not thought to be of any value. They are looked upon as senseless. A wealthy family can always receive the services of one or more Brahmins, and a few of the poor may unite and secure the services of one of them. At length the solemn hour arrives. The Brahmin, with the leaves of a sacred tree, comes near the image. With the two forefingers of his right hand he touches the breast, the two cheeks, the eyes, and the forehead of the image, at each touch saying the prayer, "Let the spirit of Durga descend and take possession of this image." By such ceremonies, and by repeating various _muntrums_, it is supposed that the Brahmins have the power to bring down the goddess to take possession of the image. Having been thus consecrated, it is believed to be a proper object of worship. Having eyes, it can now behold every act of worship which is made; having ears, it can be delighted with music and with songs; having a nose, it can smell the sweet perfumes which are offered; having a mouth, it can be delighted with the rich food which is prepared for it. After the image is consecrated, the worship begins. The devotee comes near the image, and falls down before it. He then twists himself into a great variety of shapes. Sometimes he sits on the floor, sometimes he stands, sometimes he looks in one direction, sometimes in another. Then he sprinkles the idol with holy water, rinses its mouth, washes its feet, wipes it with a dry cloth, throws flowers over it, puts jewels on it, offers perfumes to it, and finishes by performing shaashtaangkum. The worship of the idol is succeeded by a season of carousing, joy, and festivity. On this occasion, large offerings are made to the idols. A rich native has been known to offer eighty thousand pounds of sweetmeats, eighty thousand pounds of sugar, a thousand suits of cloth garments, a thousand suits of silk, a thousand offerings of rice, plantains, and other fruits. Bloody sacrifices are offered up on such occasions. The king of Nudiya, some time ago, offered a large number of sheep, goats, and buffaloes on the first day of the feast, and vowed to double the offering every day; so that the whole number sacrificed amounted to more than sixty-five thousand. You may remember that king Solomon offered up on one occasion twenty-two thousand oxen, and a hundred and twenty thousand sheep. If all the animals slain throughout Hindostan, at the festival of the goddess Durga, were collected together, they would amount to a much larger number than Solomon offered. After the worship and offerings have been continued for three days, the festival closes. As the morning of the first day was devoted to the consecration of the images, the morning of the fourth is spent in unconsecrating them. This work is done by the Brahmins. They profess, by various ceremonies, to send back the goddess to her heaven, concluding with a farewell address, in which they tell her that they expect her to accept of all their services, and return and pay them a visit again in the coming year. Then all unite in bidding her a sorrowful adieu, and many seem affected even to the shedding of tears. Soon afterwards the images are carried forth into the streets, placed on stages or platforms, and raised on men's shoulders. As the procession moves onward through the streets, accompanied with music and songs, amid clouds of dust, you might see them waving long hairy brushes to wipe off the dust, and to keep off the flies and mosquitoes, which might trouble the senseless images. But where are these processions going? To the banks of the Ganges. And for what purpose? For the purpose of casting the images into the river. When all the ceremonies connected with the occasion are finished, those who carry the images suddenly fall upon them, break them to pieces, and then throw them with violence into the river. After this the people return to their homes. I have now given you a specimen of the image-worship of the Hindoos; and how different is it from the worship which the Bible enjoins. "God is a Spirit; and they who worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." The very reverse of this, as you have seen, marks the worship of the heathen. They are not satisfied, unless they can have some object before them, to which they can make their offerings and their prayers. Thus daily are they engaged in a service which, above all others, is the most offensive and provoking to a holy God--a service which has caused him to declare, that idolaters shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. This, too, is the service in which every person, who has never given himself to the Saviour, is engaged; and, of course, in which you are engaged if you have not given your hearts to him. Those who think more of their money than they think of Christ, just as certainly worship the image which is stamped on a dollar or a cent, as the heathen worship their idols. Those who love their fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters more than Christ, make these their idols. And are you, my dear children, yet out of Christ? If so, you have your idols. And what are these idols? Are they the world and its vanities? Then God is as angry with you as he is with the heathen, and unless you give up these idols, you too must be lost. In a tract of mine, published by the American Tract Society, entitled, "Knocking at the Door"--a tract which I _most earnestly_ entreat you to get and read--you will find an account of the death of a young lady, who had chosen the world and its vanities as her idols. I was her physician. After having attended her for about a month, I perceived, one morning, that her disease must soon prove fatal. I told her that she could not live. She then exclaimed, "Doctor, can I not live a month?" I informed her that she could not. Again she exclaimed, "Can I not live two weeks?" She was told that she could not live two weeks. And such a scene of horror followed as I never before witnessed, and may God be pleased to grant that I may never witness such another. Until laid upon a dying bed, I fear that she had neglected to think about her soul's concerns. Now she requested to be taken from it, and placed upon her knees, that she might call upon God to have mercy upon her. As her case excited much attention, some of the youth came to see her. These she warned, in the most solemn manner, not to put off repentance, as she had done, to a dying hour. Looking up at me, on one occasion, she exclaimed, "Doctor, cannot you save me?" Alas, what could I do for the poor sufferer. Witness, now, how anxious she was to obtain the favor of that God whom she had hitherto neglected. Yes, so anxious that she requested her friends not to allow her to sleep, that she might spend every remaining breath in calling upon God to have mercy upon her. One very affecting circumstance occurred. She requested her trunk either to be brought to her bedside, or to be opened. From this a ring, which was set with red garnets, was taken out by herself, or by another, and handed to her. She then called a young friend to her bedside, put the ring upon her finger, and said to her, "Don't you put off repentance, as I have done, until a dying hour." That ring is now in my possession. In less than forty-eight hours after I told her that she could not live, she passed into eternity. Would that I could show you that mournful countenance, which continued long after the last spark of life had become extinct; yes, even up to the moment when the lid of her coffin for ever hid it from our view. Never, never shall I forget it. It was a sad monument of the wreck within. Now, my dear children, you would not like to die as, I fear, this young lady died. Well, then, if you would die differently, you must live differently. You must live for Christ, if you would die in Christ. And are you Christ's, or are you yet gay and thoughtless--as gay and as thoughtless as this young lady was, until laid upon her dying bed? If you are so, and if you continue to remain in this sad condition, your season of sorrow too will certainly come, and it will come when you expect it not. As the little insect which flies round and round your candle is dazzled with its brightness, and feels nothing but pleasure, until it unconsciously strikes the blaze with its little wings, and is swallowed up in the flame; so you are dazzled with the pleasures of the world, thinking nothing of the flames which may swallow you up in a moment, and put a stop to all your joys for ever. O, that the death-bed scene of Miss Matthews might have a happy effect upon you. O, that the solemn warning which she gave to her young friend, not to put off repentance as she had done, until a dying hour, might continue to sound in your ears, until you would no longer delay repentance. My dear children, this young lady, though dead, yet speaketh. She speaks to you. She calls upon you from her tomb--from the eternal world, to delay repentance no longer. Will you, then, be so mad as to turn a deaf ear to this call? Will you ever take another sip from the cup of unhallowed pleasure? Will you ever direct your little feet to the ballroom, or other places of sinful amusement? Will you hereafter prefer your worldly joys to Christ? O, you must not, you must not. It will not do for you to be lost. Who, O who can lie down in everlasting burnings? Who can dwell for ever with devouring flames? CHAPTER XIV. THE GODDESS KARLE. My dear Children--In the preceding chapter I spoke of Karle. She, as I there mentioned, is the wife of Siva, and, like her husband, has the power of destruction. From the images made of her, it would appear that she is a female, of a black or dark blue color. She has four arms. In one hand she holds a sword, and in another a human head. Her hair is dishevelled, reaching down to her feet. Her countenance is most ferocious. Her tongue comes out of her mouth, and hangs over her chin. She has three eyes, red and fiery. Her lips and eyebrows are streaked with blood. She has two dead bodies for ear-rings, and wears a girdle around her loins--a girdle made of bloody hands, which she cut off from the bodies of her enemies. She has a necklace of skulls, which she took from the bodies of the giants and others killed by her. [Illustration] Of all the Hindoo divinities, this goddess is the most cruel and revengeful. Such is her thirst for blood, that being unable at one time to procure any giants for her prey, in order to quench her thirst, she cut her own throat, that the blood issuing thence might spout into her mouth. Different acts of worship are performed to appease her. If, for example, a devotee should burn his body, by applying a burning lamp to it, it would be very pleasing to her. If he should draw some of his blood and give it to her, or if he should cut off a piece of his flesh and offer it as a burnt-offering, she would be still move pleased. If he should present _whole_ burnt-offerings upon the altar, saying, "Hrang, brang, Karle, Karle! O, horrid-toothed goddess, eat, eat; destroy all the malignant: cut with this axe; bind, bind; seize, seize; drink this blood; spheng, spheng; secure, secure; salutation to Karle," she would be much delighted. It is said that she will be pleased for three months, if the people offer her the blood of a crocodile--for a thousand years, if they offer her the blood of one man, and a hundred thousand years, if they offer her the blood of three. This goddess is the patroness of thieves. To her they pay their devotions, to obtain help to carry on their wicked delights. Gangs meet together, and, after having offered bloody sacrifices, and worshipped their weapons, and having drunk some intoxicating liquor, and rubbed their bodies with oil, they go forth to rob. They have a prayer, which they offer when they worship their weapons. It is as follows: "O, instrument formed by the goddess, Karle commands thee to cut a passage into the house, to cut through stones, bones, bricks, wood, the earth, and mountains, and cause the dust thereof to be carried away by the wind." Scattered throughout India, there is a lawless set of men whose profession it is to get their food by murder. They are called Phansiagars, or Thugs. They owe their origin and laws to Karle. They say that she told them to become murderers and plunderers. They are called Phansiagars, from the name of the instrument which they use when they murder people. Phansiagar means a strangler, and they use a phansi, or noose, which they throw over the necks of those whom they intend to plunder, and strangle them. These Phansiagars are composed of all castes, Hindoos, Mahommedans, pariahs, and chandellars. This arises from the circumstance that they never destroy the children of those whom they rob and murder. These children they take care of, and bring up to their own horrible mode of life. They always murder those whom they rob, acting upon the maxim that "dead men tell no tales." A gang of these robbers varies from a dozen to sixty or seventy persons. These divide into small parties. Those whom they murder are travellers, whom they happen to meet on the road. Sometimes two or three of a gang will take up their station in a choultry, or place where the traveller stops, and while he sleeps, they rouse him from his sleep, and cast the noose over his head and kill him. It takes two persons to kill a man. One casts the noose over his head, and immediately tightens it with all his strength; the other strikes him on the joint of his knees as he rises, which causes him to fall forwards. After he has fallen, they kick him on the temples till he dies, which is usually in a minute. They never commit a murder until they have taken every precaution not to be found out. They will follow a traveller for weeks, if necessary, before they destroy him. After they have murdered him, they gash the body all over and bury it. They gash it, that it may not swell, and cause cracks to take place in the ground, which might cause the jackals to dig down to the body, and thus expose their guilt. If a dog accompanies the person, they always kill it, lest the faithful creature should lead to the discovery of his master. They think it to be a very good act to give a part of the plunder, which they get when they murder a person, to their goddess. If they fail to put him to death according to their rules, they suppose that they have made her angry, and they make offerings to her, that she may be appeased. Thus, you see that their religion teaches them to commit the blackest of crimes. The reason why this people gash and bury the bodies of those whom they murder, is as follows. They say that the goddess used to save them the trouble of burying the corpses of their victims by eating them, thus screening the murderers from all chance of being found out. Once, after the murder of a traveller, the body was, as usual, left unburied. One of the Phansiagars employed, unguardedly looking behind him, saw the goddess in the act of feasting upon it. This made her so angry, that she vowed never again to devour a body slaughtered by them; they having, by this one act of curiosity, forfeited her favor. However, as an equivalent for withdrawing her patronage, she plucked one of the fangs from her jaw, and gave it to them, saying that they might use it as a pickaxe, which would never wear out. She then opened her side and pulled out one of her ribs, which she gave them for a knife, whose edge nothing could blunt. Having done this, she stooped down and tore off the hem of her garment, which she gave to them for a noose, declaring that it would never fail to strangle any person about whose throat it might be cast. She moreover commanded them to gash and bury the bodies of those whom they destroyed. The Phansiagars bring up their children to their own profession. To learn this, the boy is placed under the care of a tutor. Sometimes his father is his teacher. By him he is taught that it is just as proper to murder a man, as it is to kill a snake which lies in his path and would bite him as he passes. He is not permitted at first to see the murders, but merely a dead body; his mind being gradually prepared for the sight. After this, the dreadful secret of his trade is, by degrees, told him. When he expresses a wish to be engaged in this horrid business, they tell him all about it. In the meantime he is allowed a small part of the plunder, in order that his desire to commit these murders may be increased; since it is only by murder that the plunder is obtained. He is from time to time allowed to assist in some things, while the murder is taking place, or allowed to be present to see how the business is managed. It is not, however, until he becomes a man, that he is permitted to apply the noose. To attain this privilege, he usually devotes eight or ten years. Before he can commit a murder, his tutor must present him with a noose. This sets him loose upon the world, as a licensed murderer. When the tutor is about to give him the noose, he takes him apart, and solemnly enjoins it upon him to use it with skill, as it is to be the means of his earning his food, and as his safety will depend upon the skill with which it is used. After he receives it, he tries his skill in strangling a person the first opportunity that offers. By the course of education which the Phansiagars undergo, they become so fond of their dreadful occupation, that nothing can induce them to quit it. Some who have been employed in the East India Company's service, have always returned to their business when an opportunity offered of a successful enterprise. When the Phansiagars become old, they do not quit the service, but act as watchers, and decoy the traveller, by some false tale of distress, into some distant place, where he is murdered. Women are sometimes admitted to the society of these plunderers, and, on some occasions, are allowed to apply the noose. They select a handsome girl, and place her in a convenient spot, where, by her beauty, or by a false story of distress, she may decoy some unsuspecting traveller, and be the means of his destruction. Should he be on horseback, she will induce him to take her up behind him; after which, when an opportunity offers, she throws the noose over his head, leaps from the horse, drags him to the ground, and strangles him. I will mention an instance. It happened that a horseman of Coorg, in the Madras presidency, was passing by a spot where one of these interesting-looking girls was stationed. She told him a piteous story of having been robbed and badly treated, and begged him to assist her. Feeling sorry for her, he offered to take her behind him, on his horse, and thus assist her a few miles on her journey. She expressed much gratitude for his kindness, and mounted. Soon afterwards she suddenly passed a noose over his head, and, drawing it with all her might, endeavored to pull him from his saddle. At this moment, a number of Phansiagars started from the neighboring thicket and surrounded him. The murderess then slipped from the horse; but the Coorg striking his heels into the horse's sides, it threw out its hind legs with great violence, and struck to the ground the girl, who immediately let go the cord. He then drew his sword, and, cutting his way through the robbers, effected his escape. He wounded two of them severely. These men were shortly afterwards taken, and, through their means, twelve others fell into the hands of the judicial officers of the king of Coorg, including the girl who attempted the murder. They were all put to death. And is it possible that such persons can go to heaven? How could such ever relish its pure joys? What would they do, could they be admitted there? My dear children, it is a charity which has no foundation, to suppose that the heathen can go to heaven. I have preached the Gospel to tens of thousands of them, but I never saw one who had the least atom of a qualification for that holy place. "They have all gone out of the way." Every crime which the apostle Paul speaks of in the latter part of the first chapter of his epistle to the Romans, they commit, and crimes of so dreadful a nature that I cannot mention them--crimes which, should they be written in the Bible, would cause the Bible to be a sealed book for ever. CHAPTER XV. SELF-TORTURES OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--As the heathen have no Bible to direct them, they have devised various means by which they expect to obtain the favor of their gods, and get to heaven. I will mention some of these. Some burn a lamp in a temple. They think that this is a very meritorious act. Some roll on the ground after the god, as he is carried in a great car or chariot around the temple. It is customary for the people to build very high cars or chariots, and cover them with very beautiful cloths. They also tie the cocoa-nut blossom and plantain-tree within them, and attach great ropes to them. When they are ready to drag these cars, or chariots, they bring their gods of gold or of brass from the temples, and place them on them. Then one, two, three, six, nine hundred, and even a thousand persons, when the cars are very large, catch hold of these ropes and drag them around the temple. While they are doing this, many of the heathen, to fulfil vows which they made when in sickness, and at other times of distress, throw themselves on the ground, and roll over from side to side, and frequently much injure themselves. Some swing on great hooks, which are passed through the tender parts of their backs. Sometimes they swing for half an hour; sometimes an hour. The longer they can bear the torture of the swinging, the more acceptable they suppose it will be to their goddess. It occasionally happens, that the flesh in which the hooks are fastened gives way, in which case the poor creature is dashed to the ground. When this occurs, the people hold him in the greatest abhorrence. They judge him to be a great criminal, and suppose that he has met a violent death in consequence of sins which he committed in a former birth. Not long since, I attended one of these hook-swingings, not far from the city of Madura. It took place on the morning of June 8th, 1848, just twenty-nine years after I first left America for India. It should have taken place on the preceding afternoon; but one of the axle-trees of the car, which was to support the machine on which the man was to be elevated in the air, was broken. Nothing, of course, could be done until it was repaired. The carpenters and others worked with great diligence until about eleven o'clock at night, when every thing was prepared for the swinging. I expected immediately after this to witness the ceremony. It however did not take place until the morning. While waiting for the man who was to be swung to make his appearance, I took a pencil and made a drawing of the machine to which he was to be fastened. The picture on the first page of the book will give you some idea of it. Yon have, perhaps, often seen a well-sweep. The long beam in the picture is swung in the same manner as is the well-sweep, with a single exception. In addition to its usual motion, it is made to turn horizontally. The cuts which you may have seen, in two or three of my little books, differ much from the above; of course different machines are used at different times. There are stationary swingings, as well as swingings of the kind to which I just alluded. Between six and seven o'clock in the morning, the man who was to be swung made his appearance for a few moments, and then disappeared. The hooks by which he was to be swung, as well as the iron rods with which a number of devotees were immediately to pierce their sides, were carried through the streets, and held up that they might be seen by the people. Soon afterwards the man again appeared with the hooks in his back, and went up to the end of the beam to which he was to be fastened. This, of course, was lowered. Notwithstanding the dense multitudes of people, I made my way to the same spot, determined to be satisfied whether or not there was any deception in the application of the hooks. There was no deception. They passed through the skin, on the sides of the backbone. To these hooks were attached yellow ropes, by which he was fastened to the beam, as you will perceive in the picture. This being done, the men, five or six in number, who had hold of the ropes fastened to the end of the beam which you see resting on the ground, and which was then, of course, high in the air, drew him up until the beam lay horizontally. Then, after making him perform one circular motion around the car, they elevated him, as you see in the picture. When thus elevated, it was thought that he was forty feet from the ground. All being ready, the people seized the ropes which you see in front of the car, and began to draw it. Mr. Chandler and myself accompanied it through the streets, until it came to the place from which it set out. The distance of ground passed over was at least half a mile, and the time in which the journey was accomplished exceeded an hour. Of course he was swinging more than an hour. As the car passed through the streets, the people threw plantains from the tops of the houses to the crowds below. The man who was swung was adorned with flowers and other ornaments. He had a tinselled turban on his head. His body was rubbed over with a yellow paste, made, most probably, from the sandal-wood. Around his ankles were rings, hung with little bells, which he made to tinkle, as he was swinging, by striking his legs together. He wore a dark or black pair of pantaloons, which came a little below the knees, and which had a border of gold around them. He held a handkerchief in one hand, and a knife somewhat resembling a dagger, in the other. These he kept in constant motion, by moving his arms. On one occasion, a bunch of plantains was tied to one of the long ropes which you see hanging down by the side of the swinger. These he drew up, and afterwards scattered over the people on a house opposite to him. [Illustration.] After following the car for a quarter of a mile or more, we went before it, and there witnessed another appalling sight. There were five or six men, who had the rods of iron which I just mentioned passed through the skin of their sides. They were dancing along, and, as they danced, they made these rods go backward and forward through the skin. After the car had reached the place from which it set out, the end of the beam from which the man was swinging was then lowered and he was untied. Again I looked very carefully at the hooks in the back. The people say that no blood is shed by their introduction, and consider this to be a miracle. The falsity of this assertion was shown by the blood which I saw on the side of one of the wounds. I have been long in this country, and consequently have become so familiarized with heathenism, that my feelings, though deeply wounded at this sight, were not so keenly affected as were those of my new associate, Mr. Chandler. He has been on heathen ground but a short time. When they tied the man to the beam, he was unnerved and wellnigh overcome; and he told me, that during all the time he was following the car, he felt like shedding tears. While following the car, the young men of America came into my mind. They refuse to come, said I, to help these miserable creatures. O, they will not come--they will not come. I thought, that if many of the dear children of that land--children to whom I lately preached, as well as others, could witness this poor creature swinging from the end of a long beam, far above the tops of the trees, and that, too, by hooks passing through the tender parts of his back, they would say, we will, by and by, become missionaries, and, by the help of God, proclaim to the heathen that there is a Saviour. On the evening of the day on which the swinging takes place, another act of great cruelty is practised. Devotees throw themselves from, the top of a high wall, or a scaffold of twenty or thirty feet in height, upon a bed of iron spikes, or on bags of straw with knives in them. Many are often mangled and torn. Others are quickly killed. At night, many of the devotees sit down in the open air, and pierce the skin of their foreheads, by inserting a small rod of iron. To this is suspended a lamp, which is kept burning till daylight. Sometimes bundles of thorns are collected before the temple, among which the devotees roll themselves without any covering. These thorns are then set on fire, when they briskly dance over the flames. Other devotees swing before a slow fire; some stand between two fires, as you see in this picture. [Illustration:] Some have their breasts, arms, and other parts stuck entirely full of pins, about the thickness of small nails, or packing needles. Another very cruel torture is practised. Some of the devotees make a vow. With one hand they cover their under lip with wet earth or mud. On this, with the other hand, they place some small grains, usually of mustard-seed They then stretch themselves flat on their backs, exposed to the dews of night, and the blazing and scorching sun by day. Their vow is, that from this position they will not stir, that they will not move nor turn, nor eat nor drink, till the seeds planted on their lips begin to sprout. This usually takes place on the third or fourth day. After this they arise, and then think that they are very holy. There is a class of devotees in this country called Yogis, whose object it is to root out every human feeling. Some live in holes and caves. Some drag around a heavy chain attached to them. Some make the circuit of an empire, creeping on their hands and knees. Some roll their bodies from the shores of the Indus to the Ganges. The Rev. Mr. Heyer, in one of his letters from India, says, that an Indian devotee has spent more than nine years on a journey from Benares to Cape Comorin, that is, from the 27th to the 7th degree of north latitude. The whole journey is made by rolling on the bare ground, from side to side. When he comes to a river, of course he cannot roll over it. He therefore fords it, or passes over it in a boat, and then rolls on the banks of the river just as far as the river is wide. By doing this, he supposes that his determination to roll all the way is fully carried out. [Illustration] Some devotees hold up one or both arms, until the muscles become rigid, and their limbs become shrivelled into stumps. In the above cut, you have a representation of a man with one of these shrivelled arms. See how long his finger-nails have grown. One has run through his hand and back through his arm. Some stretch themselves on beds of iron spikes. Some wear great square irons on their necks. I have seen not only a man, but a woman, with these great square irons around their necks, each nearly two feet in length and two feet in breadth. These they put on for the purpose of fulfilling some vow which they have made. For instance, if a mother has a very sick little boy, she will say, "Now, Swammie, if you will cure my little boy, I will have a square iron put on my neck, and wear it all my life." After this vow is made, if the little boy gets well, the mother thinks that her Swammie has cured him, and to fulfil her engagement she will have one of these irons put on her neck. [Illustration:] [Illustration:] Other devotees throw themselves from the tops of precipices, and are dashed to pieces; some bury themselves alive in holes, which their own relatives have dug; some bind themselves with ropes or chains to trees, until they die; some keep gazing so long and so constantly at the heavens, that the muscles of their neck become contracted, and no aliment but liquids can pass into the stomach. But I will not continue this subject. You perceive, my dear children, what a wretched religion that must be which encourages its followers to perform such acts. And how vain are all these acts--how utterly destitute are they of any merit. Those who practise them are not made better by them, and they are just as far from the kingdom of heaven after having performed them, as they were before. The Christian religion encourages no such things. It tells us to perform no pilgrimages to holy places, to inflict no self-tortures. But it has its requirements, and these are very simple, and may easily be performed by all who are willing to do their duty. These requirements are, repentance, forsaking sin, faith in Christ, and a supreme devotedness to his service. Have you, my dear children, attended to these requirements? If not, you are in a much worse condition than these poor heathen of whom you have been reading. They are not as guilty before God as you are. They know not their Master's will. Still, they must perish, unless the Gospel is sent to them. But though they perish, their punishment will be lighter than the punishment of those who refuse to love and obey the Saviour. That servant who knows his Lord's will, and prepares not himself, neither does according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes. But he that knows not, and does commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes. Should it be your sad lot to perish at last, it would be far better for you to go down to hell enveloped in all the darkness of a heathen land, than to go down to hell from a land of such gospel light and privileges as you enjoy. CHAPTER XVI. THE SUTTEE, OR BURNING OF WIDOWS. My dear children--From what I have already told you, you know that the Hindoos are a cruel people. But I have not told you of the extent to which they carry their cruelty. Perhaps it is shown to the highest degree in their practice of the suttee, or burning of widows. The British have abolished this rite throughout their dominions in India. They have also made great exertions to have it abolished in the territories of the native princes, but I am sorry to say, that in some of these territories it is still practised. Within the last three years, twenty-three of the princes just alluded to, have issued orders for its abolishment throughout their dominions. These orders have probably been issued solely in consequence of their fear of the British power, for it is a practice which is riveted in the affections of the people. This power they know that it will be dangerous to resist. In my "Sermon to Children, on the Condition of the Heathen," I mentioned, that the sacred books of the heathen encourage the suttee. I also mentioned several instances, in which widows had been burned to death with the corpses of their husbands. Even though you may have seen that book, it will be well for me to give you two or three other cases, to impress your minds more fully with the horrors of the Hindoo religion. The first took place in a village of Tanjore. A merchant having died, his wife, who was about thirty years old, determined to burn herself with his corpse. The news of what she was going to do, quickly spread in every direction, and large numbers of people collected to witness the burning. After she was adorned with jewels and dressed in her best clothing, and after her body was tinged with the yellow infusion of sandal-wood and saffron, bearers arrived to take away the corpse with the wretched woman. The body of the man was placed on a car, ornamented with costly stuffs, flowers, etc. There he was seated like a living man, elegantly decorated with all his jewels, and clothed in rich attire. The corpse being carried first, the wife followed in a rich palanquin. As she went along, the surrounding multitudes of people stretched out their hands towards her to show how much they admired her conduct. The women in particular went up to her to wish her joy, apparently desiring to receive her blessing, or at least, that she would pronounce over them some pleasing word. She tried to satisfy them all, saying to one, that she would long continue to enjoy her worldly happiness, and to another, that she would be the mother of many beautiful children. Another was informed, that she would soon arrive at great honor in the world. These, and similar expressions, she made to all who came near her, and they departed with the full belief that they would enjoy all the blessings of which she had spoken. She also distributed among them some betel-leaves, which they gladly received as relics, or something of blessed influence. During the whole procession, which was very long, her countenance was serene and even cheerful, until they came to the pile upon which she was to die. Then she suddenly became pensive. She no longer attended to what was passing around her. Her looks were wildly fixed upon the pile. Her face grew pale. She trembled with fear, and seemed ready to faint away. The Brahmins, who took the lead in this ceremony, with her relations, seeing her sad condition, ran to her, and endeavored to restore her spirits, but she seemed not to know what they said, and answered not a word. They made her quit the palanquin, and her nearest relatives took her to a pond of water which was near the pile, where they washed her. They then attended her to the pile, on which the corpse of her husband had already been laid. It was surrounded with Brahmins, each with a lighted torch in one hand, and a bowl of melted butter in the other, all ready, as soon as the poor victim was placed on the pile, to envelope her in fire. The relatives armed with muskets, sabres, and other weapons, stood closely around in a double line, for the purpose, it was said, of making her afraid, if she might wish to draw back, or of frightening any body who might pity her, and endeavor to rescue her. At length the time for firing the pile being proclaimed, the young widow was stripped of her jewels, and led on towards the pile. She was then commanded to walk three times around it, two of her nearest relations supporting her by the arms. The first round she accomplished with tottering steps; but in the second, her strength forsook her, and she fainted away in the arms of those who were holding her. They were obliged to drag her between them for the third round. Then senseless, she was thrown upon the corpse of her husband. At that instant, the multitude made the air to ring with their shouts of gladness, while the Brahmins poured the butter on the dry wood, and applied the torches. Instantly the whole pile was in a blaze. As soon as the flames began to rage, the poor woman, now in the midst of them, was called upon by name, from all sides; but as insensible as the corpse on which she lay, she made no answer. She entered eternity, suffocated at once, most probably, by the flames. The second case of suttee which I shall mention took place at the death of the rajah, or king of Tanjore. He left behind him four wives. The Brahmins having determined that two of these four should be burned with the corpse of their husband, and having selected the two whom they thought best to sacrifice, they told them of what awaited them. They received the information with apparent joy. A refusal would have been attended with their utter disgrace. One day only was necessary to get ready for the funeral ceremonies. They were conducted as follows: In a field somewhat distant from the palace, the people made a hollow, not very deep, but about twelve or fifteen feet square. Within it they made a pyramid of the sweet-smelling sandal-wood. On the middle of the pyramid, a scaffold was built in such a manner that the posts could easily be taken away, by which means the scaffold would fall at once. On the four corners of the platform, large jars were placed, filled with melted butter, to besmear the pyramid, that it might be the more easily set on fire. The following was the order of the procession. It was headed by a great number of soldiers under arms. They were followed by a multitude of musicians, chiefly trumpeters, who made the air reëcho with their melancholy sounds. Next came the body of the king upon a splendid palanquin, richly adorned. This was surrounded by the nearest relations and by the priest of the king. They were all on foot, and without their turbans in token of mourning. A large party of Brahmins formed around them as an immediate escort. The two wives who were to be burned with the corpse came next, each borne on a palanquin. During the journey they appeared calm and cheerful. The troops kept off the immense crowds who were assembled from every direction. The two queens, loaded with jewels, were attended by their favorite women, with whom they occasionally conversed, and by their relations of both sexes. To many of these they had made presents before leaving the palace. They were also accompanied by thousands of Brahmins, collected from different quarters. These were followed by an innumerable multitude of persons of both sexes. When they arrived at the ground where they were to be burned, the two victims were made to descend from their palanquins, for the purpose of performing the preparatory ceremonies. They went through the whole without showing any fear until towards the close, when their countenances began to change, and their three circuits around the pile were not performed without considerable effort to maintain calmness. In the meantime, the body of the king had been placed on the scaffold over the platform. The two queens were also laid down beside the corpse, one on the right hand, and the other on the left, and they joined hands by stretching them over the body. The astrologer having then declared that the happy moment was come for firing the pile, the Brahmins repeated several prayers in a loud voice, and sprinkled the pile with holy water. When these ceremonies were finished, a signal was given, and the pillars which supported the pyramid and the scaffold were suddenly taken away. Immediately the women were covered with the falling mass of timber, which tumbled over them with a crash. At the same instant the pile was fired in all its parts. On one side, the nearest relative of the king applied his torch, and on the other side, the priest; while the Brahmins, in every quarter, were pouring jars of melted butter on the flames, creating so intense a heat as must instantly have consumed the victims. Then the multitude shouted for joy, and the relations approaching the pile also set up a loud cry, calling them by their names. They supposed that they heard a voice in answer pronouncing _Enna?_ that is, _What_? but the fall of the platform, and the immediate bursting out of the flames, must have stifled them at once. Such was the miserable cud of these poor unhappy queens--unhappy victims of the most cruel religion that ever disgraced the earth. Not unfrequently the sons take a prominent part in destroying their mothers. This will appear from the following case. A Brahmin died, and was brought to the place of burning. His wife was fastened to the pile, and the fire was kindled, but the night was dark and rainy. When the fire began to scorch the poor woman, she contrived to disentangle herself from the dead body, and creeping from under the pile, hid herself among some brushwood. In a little time it was discovered that there was but one body on the pile. The relations immediately took the alarm, and searched for the poor creature. The son soon dragged her forth, and insisted that she should throw herself on the pile again, or drown or hang herself. She pleaded for her life at the hands of her own son, and declared that she could not embrace so horrid a death; but she pleaded in vain. He urged, that he should lose his caste if she were spared, and added, that either he or she must die. Unable to persuade her to hang or drown herself, the son and the others present tied her hands and feet, and threw her on the funeral pile, where she quickly perished. [Illustration: BURNING OF WIDOWS] I observed that the rite of suttee is riveted in the affections of this people. The following communications from two of the native princes who lately consented to put a stop to this rite, will show you that this is the case. The rajah of Oorcha declares, that "no subject of his state shall in future be permitted to become a suttee, though according to the Shasters, it is no doubt very meritorious for a widow to die of grief for the death of her husband." The rajah of Sumpthem says, "The practice of suttee is so very old, and has been countenanced and encouraged by the wise men of so many generations that I have never thought myself justified in interposing to prevent it; but my anxiety to meet the wishes of the governor-general in this and in all things, is so great, that I have waived all other considerations, and forbidden suttee." If the British were to lose their power in India, the suttee would immediately be rëestablished. Power has put it down, but power alone will never root it out of the affections of the people. Nothing but the Gospel can do this. O that Christians would think of this, and hasten, yea, with great haste, to send this blessed Gospel to them. CHAPTER XVII. THE REVENGEFUL NATURE OF THE HINDOO RELIGION. My dear Children--The sacred books of the Hindoos encourage revenge. In the Vedas, which are the most sacred books, are laid down forms of religious service, or acts of worship, which are designed to injure or destroy their enemies. When a person wishes to have his enemy destroyed, he goes to a Brahmin or priest, and secures his supposed aid. The Brahmin, before he proceeds to his work, clothes himself with a black garment. He also makes four images of the foe, and clothes these with black garments. He then kindles a sacrificial fire, and after the performance of various ceremonies, he takes pieces of some animal which has been consecrated for the purpose, and throws them into this fire. On every occasion when he makes this burnt-offering, he touches the mouth of the image of this enemy, uttering one or other of the forms of prayer which are written in the sacred books. Of these, the following are a few: "O Agni," god of fire, "thou who art the mouth of all gods, do thou destroy the wisdom of my enemy." "O Agni, fill with distraction the mind of this my enemy." "O Agni, destroy the senses of this my enemy." "O Agni, make dumb the mouth of this my enemy." "O Agni, fasten with a peg the tongue of this my enemy." "O Agni, reduce to ashes this my enemy." How different, my dear children, is the religion of Jesus from the religion of which I have been giving you a description. No precepts teach us that we may injure or destroy our enemies. On the contrary, they teach us to love them, and do them good. Let me repeat to you some of the words which our Saviour spoke on this point. "Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy; but I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust." One of the young Hindoos in Dr. Duff's school in Calcutta, when reading the above and similar passages, was so struck with the difference between these precepts and the precepts of his Shasters, that he could not but exclaim "O, how beautiful, how divine. Surely this is the truth--this is the truth--this is the truth." The consequence was, that he never could rest until he had thrown aside his sacred books and his idols, and embraced that Saviour whose precepts appeared to him to be so beautiful. And was this heathen so struck with the beauty of the precepts of the Bible--so struck, that he had no peace until he gave himself to his Saviour? And have you ever, my dear children, been struck with the precepts of your Saviour--so struck with them, that you could never rest until you had given up your hearts to him? If not, how great is the contrast between you and that young Hindoo. He gave his heart to the Saviour. You withhold yours. He, through grace, will dwell for ever with Christ in heaven. You, if you continue in your present awful condition, must be banished from his presence, and cast into hell, where you shall be tormented day and night for ever, with the devil and his angels. Flee, my dear children, flee to the Saviour now, if you have never yet done so. Flee to him, and then you also shall dwell for ever with him. CHAPTER XVIII. THE DECEPTION OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--From what I have previously stated, you are aware that the Hindoos are a very deceitful people. Let me give you another instance of their deception. A late head catechist of one of my missionary brethren was, before his conversion, the priest of a temple. A man from whom about one thousand rupees' worth of jewels and similar things had been stolen, came to this priest, and promised to reward him well, if he would detect the thief, and secure to him the restoration of his property. The priest promised to comply with his wishes; and in order to effect his purpose, he had drums beaten through the village, and proclaimed, that at a certain time he would hold a meeting and detect the thief. At the appointed time, a large concourse of people assembled, the priest appearing in the midst of them with a cocoa-nut bound around with saffron-cords. He then told them, that if, after putting down the cocoa-nut, it should move of its own accord towards him, they might know that he would be able certainly to detect the thief; and added, that after it had thus moved, it would pursue the offender, and follow him until it would break his head. He then performed certain ceremonies calculated to awaken superstitious feelings in the minds of the people, and laid the cocoa-nut down at a little distance from him. To the great amazement of all present, it began to move towards the priest, and continued to move until it reached his feet. This being done, he told the people, that they might conclude from what they had seen, that the cocoa-nut would follow the thief until it would break his head. He consented, however, to give him a little grace--to spare his life until the next day; adding his advice, that the thief, whoever he might be, had better come to him privately, and tell him where the property was. In the dead of the night, a tap was heard at the door of the priest; the thief presented himself, and delivered up the property. The priest received a present from the owner of the property, and rewarded the thief for his promptness. After this man was converted, he was asked how he contrived to make the cocoa-nut move towards him. "Why, sir," he answered, "if you will carefully divide a cocoa-nut, scoop out the kernel from one-half of it, enclose a strong, lively rat, put the parts of the cocoa-nut together, and bind the whole with saffron-cords, to prevent the crack being seen, and then place it on a declivity previously prepared, it is clear, that if you place yourself at the foot of this declivity the rat will twirl the cocoa-nut, and cause it to descend until it reaches your feet." CHAPTER XIX. SUPERSTITION OF THE HINDOOS. My dear Children--In my Sermon to Children, before alluded to, I mentioned a few particulars to prove that the people of India are very superstitious. Let me mention a few more. It is said that no act, however good it may be, if performed on Sunday, will succeed. Some will not eat at all on Sunday, until they have seen a certain bird--the bird on which the god Vrishnoo rides. If a man rubs oil on his head on Monday, and bathes, he will commit a sin equal to the sin of destroying a temple of Siva. If he has his hair out on Tuesday, he will become poor. Even to worship the gods on Wednesday, is bad. If a person takes medicine on Thursday, his sickness will be increased. Should he lend any thing on Friday, he will lose his property. If he should buy a new cloth on Saturday, take it home, and keep it there, death may be the consequence. Should he die on this day, some other member of the family will die on the following week. If the foundation of a house is laid in June, the destruction of that house will follow. Should a family enter a new house in March, some member of the family will die. If a marriage is celebrated in September, the husband and wife will fight with each other. Should a thunderbolt fall on a house, or a vulture alight on it, some evil will befall the people living in it. If a crow should strike any person on the head with its wings, some of his relations will die. Should a cat or a snake cross his path, it would be an indication of evil. In the latter case, one of his relations will die. If, when returning home, a person should meet him bearing a light, a quarrel will be the result. After a person has left his house, should he meet a single Brahmin, or a woman who has had her head shaved, or a dumb or a blind man, or a washerman or a barber, the object for which he left would not succeed. Or, when going out, should he hit his head against the top of the door-frame, or should any one ask him where he was going, or should he happen to sneeze, he would consider these things as hinderances to his going, and reënter the house. Should a son or a daughter be born on the new moon in April, they will become thieves. If a person is born under the planet Saturn, he will be slandered, his riches will be dissipated, and his wife, son, and friends will be destroyed. He will also be at variance with others, and endure many sufferings. Should he be born under the planet Mars, he will be full of anxious thoughts, be imprisoned, and oppressed with fear from robbers, fire, etc. He also will lose his lands, trees, and good name. If a person dreams that a monkey has bitten him, he will die in six months; or if he dreams that bedbugs, in large numbers, are creeping over his body to bite him, he will die in eight days. Should he dream that a dog has bitten him, he will die in three years; or should he dream that a dead person has appeared to him and spoken to him, he will die immediately. If a man has a little head, he will become rich. If he has a large head, he will be poor. If his forehead is wide, he will live a hundred years. If he has a small neck, he will be a murderer. If the second toe is long, he will be a bad man. If a woman has curly hair, she will not prosper. If her nose is long, she will have a good disposition. If her ear is wide, she will tell falsehoods. If she has a mole on her nose, she will be subject to anger; if on her lips, she will be learned; if on the eyebrows she will be cunning. I could continue to fill a number of pages with things of the same description, but it will be unnecessary. I will merely mention one instance more. On a certain night in the month of November, the people will not look at the moon. The reason assigned for this, is as follows. Once, when the elephant-faced god Pulliar was dancing before the gods, the moon happening to see him, laughed at him, and told him that he had a large stomach, an ear like a winnowing-fan, etc. This so enraged him, that he cursed her. This curse was inflicted on the night above mentioned. How does the wretchedness of a people, both in reference to the things of this world and of the world to come, show itself where the Bible is unknown. If this blessed book was not an inspired book--if it did no more than remove the temporal miseries of men, how invaluable would it be! Of how much more value then, is it, in reference to the removal of their spiritual miseries? O, why is it that Christians have not long since sent this Bible to them? Why is it that they do not send it to them _now_? This is a mystery, which we must leave to be unravelled at the judgment-seat of the last day. My dear children, you are to stand before that judgment-seat. Shall any of these heathen among whom I dwell, rise up at that awful season--stretch out their hands towards you, and say, There stand the children who might have sent us the Bible, but they did not send it; and now we must be lost--_lost for ever!_ CHAPTER XX. BURMAH, CHINA, ETC., ETC. My dear children--If you will look on your map of Asia, you will see, adjoining Hindostan, at the east, a country called Burmah. This is another land of idols. Here the "Baptist General Convention for Foreign Missions" have one of the most interesting and flourishing missions in the world. The people of Burmah are, if possible, still further removed from divine knowledge than the people of India. They are in reality atheists, or, in other words, people who do not believe in a creator or preserver of the world. But still they worship gods, who, they say, have become so by acts of religious merit. He whom they now worship is called Gaudama, or Boodh. He is reputed to be the son of the king of Benares, and, if their history be correct, was born six hundred years before Christ. The Boodhists are all idolaters. They have many temples erected to the honor of Boodh and his image. Before this image they present flowers, incense, rice, betel-nuts etc. Like all other idolatrous nations, the Burmese are very wicked. They do not respect their females as they should do. They treat them as an inferior order of beings. They often sell them. A very singular custom prevails in that country. It consists in paying a kind of homage to a white elephant. This elephant is sumptuously dressed and fed. It is provided with officers, like a second sovereign, and is made to receive presents from foreign ambassadors. It is next in rank to the king, and _superior_ to the queen. Burmah is the country in which Drs. Judson and Price, and Messrs. Hough and Wade suffered so much, during the war with England several years ago. Messrs. Hough and Wade were the first to suffer. As the ships which were to make the attack upon Rangoon approached the city, they were seized and cast into prison. Their legs were bound together with ropes, and eight or ten Burmans, armed with spears and battle-axes, were placed over them, as a guard. They were afterwards put in irons. The next morning, as the fleet approached still nearer the city, orders were sent to the guard, through the grates of their prison, that the instant the shipping should fire upon the town, they were to kill them, together with the other prisoners confined with them. The guard, on receiving these orders, began to sharpen the instruments with which they intended to kill them, and moved them about their heads to show with how much skill and pleasure they would attend to their orders. Upon the floor where they intended to butcher them, a large quantity of sand was spread to receive the blood. The gloom and silence of death reigned among the prisoners; the vast ocean of eternity seemed but a step before them. At length the fleet arrived, and the firing commenced The first ball which was thrown into the town passed, with a tremendous noise, directly over their heads. This so frightened the guard, that they seemed unable to execute their murderous orders. They shrunk away into one corner of the prison, where they remained quiet, until a broadside from one of the ships made the prison shake and tremble to its very foundation. This so alarmed them, that they burst open the doors of the prison and fled. The missionaries, with the other prisoners, were then left alone. Their danger, however, was not at an end; but as God had protected them thus far, he continued to protect them until they were set at liberty, and allowed to preach the Gospel again to those perishing heathen. Drs. Judson and Price were also imprisoned, and suffered much; but they, too, were preserved and delivered. The accounts of their sufferings are so long, that I cannot now relate them all to you. You will find them in the life of Mrs. Judson. After the war was over, the missionaries were permitted to go everywhere to proclaim the name of the Saviour; and their efforts have been very much blessed, especially among the Karens. It will be impossible for me to give you an account of their many labors, and of the many tokens which they have received of God's favor towards multitudes who have become followers of the Redeemer. Suffice it to say, that more than six thousand have been received into the Christian church. One of the native teachers not long since baptized, on one occasion, three hundred and seventy-two persons. Adjoining Burmah, is China, a country containing more than three hundred millions of people, about twenty times as many as there are in the United States of America. It is a country filled with idols. Many of the people earn their living by making and selling these idols. There are many shops where they are sold, or repaired when they become broken or defaced. The females in that country are in a very degraded state. They are the slaves of their husbands, and live and die in the greatest ignorance. Any attempt to raise themselves to the level of females in Christian lands, is considered as very wicked. The little female child is tortured from her birth. You have, perhaps, heard that the women of China have small feet. These are made small by a very cruel practice--by putting bandages of cloth so tightly around them, that they cannot grow. Many women have feet not larger than those of an American infant of one year old. Mr. Doty, missionary to China, says, that he was acquainted with a little girl whose mother had bound up her feet so tightly, that she cried two or three hours every day, on account of the great pain which she suffered. With such little feet, you may well suppose that it would be very difficult for the women to walk. It is so. They limp and hobble along, just as if their feet had been cut off, and they had to walk on stumps. The Chinese do not count their daughters among their children. Mr. Doty says, he one day asked his Chinese teacher how many children he had. He replied, that he had several. "How many of these," he then inquired, "are daughters?" "We do not count our daughters among our children," he answered. "I have three daughters, but we Chinese count our sons only as children." When this missionary was in a Chinese village where he had never been before, a man called to see him, bringing with him two pretty little girls, neatly dressed, about six and seven years old. He said that they were his daughters and that he wished to sell them. Mr. Doty refused to buy them, as it was wicked to buy and sell children; but he told him, that if he would commit them to him, he would take them home with him, and educate them, and that they might return home after they had grown. To this proposal he would not consent but said, that if he would buy them, they should be his for ever. He could have bought them both for about twenty-six dollars. The Chinese have many schools, but none for their daughters, as they do not teach them, to read. When they are about thirteen years old, they shut them up in what are called "women's apartments," where they remain until the time of their marriage. Then the parents sell them to those who wish to have wives for their sons. In this way, they are frequently married to persons whom they never before saw. Many parents in China destroy their little girls soon after they are born, or while they are very small. This they frequently do by throwing them into rivers, or into the sea, after they have wrapped them up in coarse mats. There is a little Chinese girl, named Ellen, now living in Newark, New Jersey, whose father was about to kill her when she was three weeks old. An English lady heard of his intentions, and sent a person with ten dollars to see if she could not be bought. He was offered the ten dollars, but refused to take them. She sent ten dollars more. He consented to take the twenty dollars. This little girl was brought by this English lady to America, when she was about six years old. The friends who have her under their care, are educating her with the hope that she may go back to China, to tell its females of the Saviour. Did you ever, my dear girls, think why it is that your parents love you, and educate you--why it is that they try to make you happy, instead of cramping your feet, shutting you up, and, perhaps, at last selling you? It is because they have the Bible. Then, how anxious should you be to save what money you can, to buy Bibles to send to those poor heathen. As I am now speaking of the destruction of infants, I would observe, that this crime is common in other heathen countries. It was quite common, until lately, in the island of Tahiti, and other places in the South Pacific Ocean. When the missionaries of the London Missionary Society went there, many years ago, they found the females in a very degraded situation. Mr. Nott, one of these missionaries, declared that three out of four of the children were murdered as soon as they were born. He met a woman soon after this dreadful crime had been abolished to whom he said, "How many children have you?" "This one in my arms," was her answer. "And how many did you kill?" She replied, "Eight." Another woman, who was asked the same question, said that she had destroyed _seventeen_. Infanticide, or, in other words, the destruction of infants, says the Rev. Mr. Williams, was carried to an almost incredible extent in Tahiti, and some other islands. He writes, "During the visit of the deputation, G. Bennet, Esq., was our guest for three or four days; and on one occasion, while conversing on this subject, he expressed a wish to obtain accurate knowledge of the extent to which this cruel practice had prevailed. Three women were sitting in the room at the time, making European garments, under Mrs. Williams direction; and, after replying to Mr. Bennet's inquiries, I said, 'I have no doubt but that each of these women has destroyed some of her children.' Mr. Bennet exclaimed, 'Impossible; such motherly, respectable women could never have been guilty of so great an atrocity.' 'Well,' I added, 'we will ask them.' Addressing the first, I said to her, 'Friend, how many children have you destroyed?' She was startled at my question, and at first charged me with unkindness, in harrowing up her feelings, by bringing the destruction of her babes to her remembrance; but upon learning the object of my inquiry, she replied, with a faltering voice, 'I have destroyed _nine_.' The second, with eyes suffused with tears, said, 'I have destroyed _seven_;' and the third informed us that she had destroyed _five_. Had the missionaries gone there but a few years before, with the blessing of God, they would have prevented all this. These mothers were all Christians at the time this conversation was held." "On another occasion," says Mr. Williams, "I was called to visit the wife of a chief in dying circumstances. She had professed Christianity for many years, had learned to read when about sixty, and was a very active teacher in our adult school. In the prospect of death, she sent a pressing request that I would visit her immediately; and on my entering her apartment she exclaimed, 'O, servant of God, come and tell me what I must do.' Perceiving that she suffered great mental distress, I inquired the cause of it, when she replied, 'I am about to die.' 'Well,' I rejoined, 'if it be so, what creates this agony of mind?' 'O, my sins, my sins,' she cried; 'I am about to die.' I then inquired what the particular sins were which so greatly distressed her, when she exclaimed, 'O, my children, my murdered children! I am about to die, and shall meet them all at the judgment-seat of Christ.' Upon this I inquired how many children she had destroyed, and to my astonishment she replied, 'I have destroyed _sixteen_, and now I am about to die.'" After this Mr. Williams tried to comfort her, by telling her that she had done this when a heathen, and during the times of ignorance, which God winked at. But she received no consolation from this thought, and exclaimed again, "O, my children, my children." He then directed her to the "faithful saying, which is worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners." This gave her a little comfort; and after visiting her frequently, and directing her to that blood which cleanseth from all sin, he succeeded, with the blessing of God, in bringing peace to her mind. She died soon after, rejoicing in the hope that her sins, though many, would be forgiven her. Well may you exclaim, my dear children, "Holy Bible, book divine, Precious treasure, thou art mine." Infanticide still prevails in India, but as I have given a particular description of this crime in my Sermon to Children, on the Condition of the Heathen, I will here say nothing farther on the subject. CHAPTER XXI. THE DUTY OF PRAYING AND CONTRIBUTING FOR THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. My dear children--There is another story connected with India, which I might have mentioned in my last chapter while writing about the destruction of infants. I will relate it now, in order that you may be constrained to pray more frequently for the heathen. Some time ago, the wife of a native prince had a little daughter. The father ordered it to be put to death, immediately after it was born. Had it been a son, an heir to the throne, he would have taken great care of it. A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth little daughter was born. All these were also put to death by the command of the father. When a sixth little daughter was born, the mother's heart yearned over it. "I cannot part with it," said she; "I will have it taken away and hid, so that the king may know nothing about it." This was done, but the poor mother never dared to send for her little girl. She never saw her again, but died sometime after. Many of the little girls in India are very pretty. They have dark eyes, and sweet, expressive countenances. This little child grew to be a very beautiful girl; and when she was eleven years old, some of her relations ventured to bring her to her father. They thought that he would be struck with the sight of his sweet child, and that he would love her for the sake of her mother who had died. The little girl fell at his feet and clasped his knees, and looked up in his face and said, "My father." And what do you think that father did? Do you think that he took her up in his arms, and kissed her? No. He seized her by the hair of her head, drew his sword from his belt, and with a single blow took off her head. Now, my dear children, do you not think that you ought to pray for the poor heathen--to pray that God will send the Gospel to them? I want to tell you of a little boy who heard me preach some time ago about the heathen. One night he said his prayers, and went to bed. After he got into bed, he said to the nurse, "I have forgotten to pray for the heathen, and I must get out of bed and pray for them." The nurse then told him that it would not be necessary for him to get up, as he could pray for them while in bed. "No," said he, "I must get out of bed and pray for them." And the dear little boy would not rest until he got out of bed and prayed for them. Now I want all of you, my dear children, every morning and evening, to kneel down and pray for the heathen, as this little boy did. And I want you to do something more. I want you always to be punctual in attending _the usual monthly concerts of prayer,_ provided there are no juvenile monthly concerts to which you can go. I have long wished to see juvenile monthly concerts of prayer established. They would be very interesting if I am to judge from the account of one which I some time ago received from a friend of mine, the Rev. Mr. V----. I will give you some extracts from his letter. He writes, "According to promise, I send you an account of the first children's monthly concert, so far as I can learn, held on Long Island. As notice was not given either in the church or Sabbath-school, the attendance was smaller than it otherwise would have been. Still, about sixty interesting children attended. After a few remarks concerning the object of the meeting by the superintendent of the Sabbath-school they sung with melting eyes the hymn that describes the wretched heathen mother casting her lovely babe into the jaws of the monster of the Granges. Prayer then was made, of about two or three minutes in length. Then I gave some of the most affecting accounts of the cruelties and ignorance of the heathen, as related by the devoted Williams, that martyr missionary. Their silent attention and subdued countenances told that their hearts were with the wretched idolaters. After having thus spent about ten minutes, the children sung in a sweet manner, a hymn--a prayer for those laboring amid the heathen: "When worn by toil, their spirits fail, Bid them the glorious future hail; Bid them the crown of life survey, And onward urge their conquering way." "After which, two resolutions were passed, unanimously, by the children. First, that they will each one attend the monthly concert of prayer regularly, when able, and bring with them all their companions whom they can persuade to come. "Secondly, that they, with the children of the various schools of W----, will constitute ---- a life member of the W---- Bible Society. Some of the smaller children had brought their little Bibles to give them to ----, that he might carry them to the poor children of the heathen. But when informed that the heathen could not understand English, they determined to raise money, and send it out to purchase Bibles for the children. This interesting meeting was closed by prayer, the doxology, and benediction." But not only can you pray for the heathen, you can give _something_ to send the Gospel to them. Do you say that you have no money to give? But cannot you earn some? Many young persons have done so. One of whom I have read, says, "Besides supporting a school in Ceylon, we are going to support five Chinese boys. I earn six cents a week for not using tea, one for not using sugar, and three for not using coffee." Another says, "I, with three others, have been making matches to the amount of ten dollars, and should have made more, but the people are pretty well supplied. I am going to dig my father's garden, and my mother is going to give me a quarter of a dollar for digging it, which I shall give to the missionaries. I am going to do all I can, and to earn all I can, and save all that I have, to support the missionaries." Another says, "I am going to leave off buying candy." What is that? Can little girls and boys do without sugar-candy? I am afraid that many of you, my dear children, would find it difficult to go without it. But let me quote all that this child wrote. "I am going to leave off buying candy and such little notions, unless it is necessary, and save every cent that I can get and give it to the missionaries." Now, my dear children, I do think that if you would save some of those cents which you spend in buying candy, fire-crackers, and similar things, and buy Bibles and tracts for the poor heathen, you would do much more good with them. I want to tell you about a little boy who belonged to one of my schools in Ceylon, who has, as I hope, gone to heaven through the means of a tract which cost only two or three cents, and which was the cause of his coming under my care. After he had attended preaching for some time, he begged me to admit him to the church. As he was quite young, not eleven years old, I was afraid to receive him. This feeling, perhaps, was wrong. He never joined the church on earth. He has, however, I hope, gone to join the church in heaven. When he was about eleven years of age, he was attacked with the cholera and died. In this country, when children are very ill, the father or mother will catch up a cocoa-nut or a few plantains, and run off to the temple, and say, "Now, Swammie, if you will cure my little boy or little girl, I will give you this cocoa-nut, or these plantains." The mother of this boy saw that he was very ill, and she told him that she wished to go to make offerings to one of her idols, in order that he might get well. But he requested her not to do so. "I do not worship idols," said he; "I worship Christ, my Saviour. If he is pleased to spare me a little longer in the world, it will be well; if not, I shall go to him." The last words he uttered were, "I am going to Christ the Lord." Now when you think about this little boy, I want you to ask yourselves, whether it is not better to give two or three cents to try and save the soul of some poor little heathen boy or girl, than to spend them in buying candy, and other useless things. But I must tell you about a little girl whom I saw some time ago, who refused to buy candy while there are so many heathen without the Bible. Her father is a sea-captain. Being absent from home, he sent her five dollars to buy candy, or any thing else which she wished. As this little girl had heard about the heathen, she determined to throw all her money into the missionary-box, instead of spending it for her own pleasure. The mother, on learning her intentions, asked her if she would not like to spend a part of it for candy, and similar things. She replied, that she would not, and in due time she put her five dollars into the missionary-box. Not long after this, she was attacked with a severe toothache. The mother proposed that the defective tooth should be extracted. The little creature, for she was only about eight years old, dreaded the operation, and seemed at first to be backward about having it performed. To encourage her to submit to it, her mother offered her twenty-five cents. This little girl did not then begin to reason, Now, if I can only get those twenty-five cents, I can buy a doll, or I can buy some sugar-candy; but she reasoned thus, Now, if I can get those twenty-five cents, I can go and put them into the missionary-box. So she said to her mother, I will go and have the tooth taken out. The tooth, however, ceased to ache, but still she wished to have it extracted. Her mother then interfered, and told her that, as it had ceased to ache, it might be well for her not to have it drawn until it ached again. The little girl, however, persisted, saying, that if it were not taken out, she could not get the twenty-five cents to devote to the missionary cause. She therefore went to the dentist's, submitted to the operation, received her twenty-five cents, and went and threw them into the Lord's treasury. Was not that a noble little girl? Doubtless you will all say she was. I must tell you about a noble little boy also. Some time ago, I was preaching to the children of Canandaigua, in the western part of New York. After I had preached there, I went on to Rochester. Returning from that place, I met with a lady in the cars, who told me as follows: "After you had preached in Canandaigua," said she, "a young lady there, who had lost her mother, and who had six or seven or eight of her brothers and sisters under her care, formed them into a missionary society." Oh, I wish that all the dear children in America were formed into missionary societies. After she had done this, she asked her little brother how he was going to get money to put into the missionary-box. "By catching mice," said he. His sister gave him two or three cents for every mouse he caught. Thus it appears, that this dear little boy was going to throw all his earnings into the Lord's treasury. But let me tell you a little more about the children to whom I before alluded. Another says, "In some of the day-schools of this city, the girls have formed sewing societies, and make pin-cushions, needle-books, emery-bags, and the like, and send the money that is raised from the sale of them to the missionaries, to be used for the heathen. There are seven Sabbath-schools in this town, and in each of them there is a missionary association; so that in all about five hundred dollars are sent from the Sabbath-schools every year." Now, my dear girls, I want you to think of what has now been said about the formation of sewing societies; and I want you to ask your mothers whether they will not allow you to form such societies, to meet once a week, or once in two weeks, or once a month to sew, to get some money to send the Gospel to the heathen. Many societies of this kind have been formed. After I had preached to the children in one of the churches in Third-street, New York, the little girls who attend that church formed such a society. The account which I received of it is as follows. "You may remember, that in your address to our Sabbath-school, you related instances of little girls knitting, sewing, etc., to earn something for the missionary-box The examples which you related were not lost to the girls of the Sabbath-school. Immediately they began to talk about forming themselves into a sewing society, and making small articles, and giving the proceeds to the missionary society. They did not stop here, but went right to work, and soon formed their society, which they styled the Juvenile Sewing Society. They are in a very prosperous and flourishing condition at present. I know not the amount of funds they possess--they pay a cent a week into their treasury--but they have a large assortment of articles already made. I understand, also, they meet once a week to sew." After I had preached at a place called Little Falls, New York, the girls formed a sewing society there. The following account of this society I received from one of its little members. "When you were here last fall, and told us how much good little girls had done in having sewing societies, we thought we would see if _we_ could not do some good in the world, as well as they; and, since October, we have met weekly, and by holding a fair, we have succeeded in raising sixty-two dollars. We hope it will be the means of saving some poor heathen children." Now, as I said before, I want you, my dear girls, to ask your mothers if you may not form such societies also. Will you think of it? I hope you will. Another of the children to whom I have twice referred, says, "I can try and save their souls, if I am not there. I can work for them, and send some money to you to buy them Bibles, and I can pray for them; and if I should save some souls, O how would they thank me. But if I did not send my money, nor care any thing about them, and I should not go to heaven, and they should not, how would they rise up in judgment against me, and say, If we had had the privileges that you had, we should not be here. O, how thankful we ought to be, that we were not born in heathen lands. O, if the poor heathen could only have such privileges as we have, how thankful would they be; and if we were born in heathen lands, I have no doubt that they would come and tell us about a Saviour." I have received many letters from children, breathing the same spirit which is manifested in the notes I have copied. One writes, "Last winter I brought in the wood for mother, and she gave me fifty cents. I now am very glad that I have not spent it, as I can give it to you to buy tracts for the little heathen children of India." A second writes, "The enclosed fifty cents my grandmother gave me when I was a very little boy, for sitting still one hour. Will you please to use it to furnish the Bible and missionary to the heathen." A third writes, "I have always spent my money for candy and other trifles, but since I have heard about the darkness and misery of the heathen, I intend to save it all, and put it into the missionary-box." A fourth writes, "The enclosed I earned by knitting. I intended to save it, till I had sufficient to carry me a short journey to see some of my friends; but when I heard you tell about the little heathen girls, I thought I would give it to you, for the poor heathen children." A fifth writes, "I have enclosed twelve and a half cents, which my father gave me to go and see General Tom Thumb. When I heard you lecture last evening, I came home and concluded to give it to you, and let you buy Bibles for the poor heathen." A sixth writes, "I remember, before my mother died, she used to tell me a great deal about the children of India, and now she is in heaven. I think she would like to have me give my heart to the Saviour, and go and teach those poor children. I give you some money that was given to me to see an exhibition, which I saved to give for such things, rather than go." A seventh writes, "You told us that two cents were the means of converting a young man. I would give two cents every week, if it would convert souls to Christ." An eighth writes, "My mother told me, some time ago, that every day I recited my lessons without missing a word, she would give me a penny; and not being desirous to spend it, I do wish you would take it--fifty cents--to the heathen. It may buy some tracts at the bazaar or market." A ninth writes, "We feel sorry for those poor heathen children. We will try to earn some money to buy Bibles for the heathen. Father has promised us some land to work next summer, and we think we can raise something and sell it to get the money." A tenth writes, "Since you were here last spring, I have saved what I could--one dollar--for the heathen children, and should be glad if I could do more." An eleventh writes, "The money which you will find enclosed, I earned by working for my mother on Saturday, which I intended to keep to buy a microscope; but when I heard you preach on Sabbath, I concluded to give it to buy Bibles for the poor heathen children." A twelfth writes, "The enclosed, five dollars, was a birthday present from my father, but I want to give it to Dr. Scudder, for the poor little boys in Ceylon." A thirteenth writes, "Please accept my mite, by the hand of my brother. I have been keeping it for the purpose of buying a geography; but when I heard you preach yesterday, I thought I had better send it to you, for the poor heathen." A fourteenth writes, "I would like much to become a missionary, as I am named after one; I hope I shall be one. I have been saving a dollar to buy myself some books, but concluded to give it to buy some books for the heathen." The last two children, whose letters you have been reading, gave to the missionary cause the money which they had been earning to buy books. When you have been earning money for the express purpose of giving it to the missionary cause, then you should devote it all to that cause; but I would advise you not to do as did the two children last mentioned. Had my opinion been asked, relative to the disposal of their money, I would have recommended them to give _one-tenth,_ or perhaps a little more, of the sums they had been earning, to their Saviour, and to keep the rest to buy their books. The giving of not less than one-tenth of all you earn, for charitable purposes, is the principle which I wish to have impressed fully on your minds, and I hope you will grow up under the influence of this principle, and _never, never_ depart from it. But while I thus speak, you must not suppose that I wish you to confine yourselves to the giving of one-tenth, when you can give more; I hope you will not give merely this, but one-half, or more, if you can afford it. Indeed, if you do not go as missionaries to the heathen, I want you to make it your great object _to make money for Christ, and to spend it for Christ_. O, if the generation which is grown, were as anxious to make money for Christ, and to spend it for Christ, as they are to make it for themselves, and to spend it for themselves, or to hoard it up--it may be for the everlasting destruction of the souls of their heirs--there would be no complaints that money could not be had to send the Gospel to the destitute, both at home and abroad. In my twelfth chapter, I spoke of the liberal donations which the heathen of India make for the support of their religion. In the city of Calcutta alone, it is supposed that two millions of dollars are spent every year on the festival of a single goddess--a festival which lasts only a few days. A single native has been known to give, as I before said, more than one hundred thousand dollars at one time to this festival, and afterwards thirty thousand dollars yearly. How vast, then, must be the sums which are spent upon all the different festivals of their gods. Would that we could see such liberality among Christians. Would that we could see the generality of them willing to give even one-tenth of their annual income to the Lord. Alas, what would the heathen say, if they were to learn how much greater are the sums of money which they give to their idols, than Christians give to honor their Saviour? Would they not exclaim, It is because Christianity is false, and heathenism is true, that Christians give so little for Christ, while we give so much for our gods? My dear children, I hope that you will never allow the heathen to say that the Christian religion is false, because you do not give your money for the spread of the Gospel. Will you not resolve now, that you will, so long as God prospers you in worldly goods, give _at least_ one-tenth of all you earn to the Lord? Do, my dear children, do make the resolution now. CHAPTER XXII. PERSONAL LABORS AMONG THE HEATHEN. My dear children--You have, perhaps, often seen Campbell's missionary map of the world. If not, I want you very carefully to look at it. I want you to look at the red spots on it, and think how many millions of people embrace the religion both of the Greek and Roman Catholic churches--a religion which is nothing more nor less than paganism, with a few Christian doctrines added to it. After this, I want you to look at the green spots, and think of the hundred and twenty millions of Mohammedans, who spurn the name of Jesus as a Saviour, and who have set up Mahomet as their prophet. I want you also to look at all the dark spots, where, with comparatively a few exceptions, the people are in pagan darkness, without any knowledge of God and the only Saviour of sinners Jesus Christ. And in view of all this darkness--in view of the need of more than half a million of ministers of the Gospel to preach the news of salvation to them, I want you, my dear boys, to ask yourselves whether it may not be your duty, after you grow up, to become ministers, and go and preach the Gospel to them. You know that you are bound to do all the good to others which you can; and even if you do not love the Saviour, you are not released from your obligations to do good. I would by no means have you become ministers without giving your hearts to Christ; but this you are as much bound to do, as you are bound to do all the good you can to others. If you are not Christians, I want you, through grace, to become such, and I want many of you to become ministers and missionaries. Two of my sons are now missionaries in India, and four others, I hope, are preparing to come. And why should not you also come here, or go to other heathen lands? If you can be excused from coming or going, why may not all who are now little boys also be excused? In such a case, there will be no missionaries at all. And you know that this would be very wrong. But I do not merely want many of you, my dear boys, to become missionaries, I want many of you, my dear girls, to become missionaries also. Many little girls and boys have expressed a desire to become missionaries. Several little boys who wrote to Mr. Hutchings, one of my missionary brethren, and several little boys and girls who have written to me, have said that they would like to be missionaries. One writes, "I should like to go and be a missionary, and instruct the poor heathen children to love God." A second says, "I have been selling matches that I made. I got five dollars--just as many dollars as I am years old. I think I shall become a missionary, and come and help you. I hope I shall see you again when I come to Ceylon. Tell the heathen children they must love God, and be good children. They must not give the children to the crocodiles, nor throw them into the water; and they must not worship wooden and brass gods. They must worship the true God, and keep his commandments." A third says, "I like to send money to help the poor heathen to learn to read the Bible, and other good books. I think it will be pleasant to sail across the ocean, and teach them to turn from their idols. I would teach them not to lay themselves down before the car of Juggernaut, and be crushed to death; and I would teach them not to burn themselves to death on the funeral pile." A fourth says, "I mean to save something to send to you, to help support one school. Should my life be spared, and the way be opened at some future day, I think I should be willing to leave my native home, to go to some distant land to tell the heathen of a Saviour, whom I hope I have found." A fifth says, "If you are ever in want of money, just please to send on to me, and I will endeavor to raise all that you want. If I live to be a man, I hope be a missionary to Ceylon or China." One little boy wrote to me as follows: "I have for a long time been saving three shillings, for the purpose of buying a little racoon, which I intended to do on Monday. On Sunday I heard you preach, and thought I would give it to you to save some poor heathen soul; and I hope you will pray for me, that I may become a minister, and go to India, and preach to the heathen." Another writes, "This is to certify that I, Charles D.H. Frederick, pledge myself, if God spares my life, when I get to be a man, and he pardons me through Christ Jesus, I will go and preach to the heathen." A little girl wrote me as follows: "According to my present feelings, I should like to engage in so glorious a cause," as the missionary cause, "and I hope, when I arrive at an age to be of use to God, and the poor heathen, to embrace so glorious a cause." Another little girl writes, "I felt very bad when I heard you tell about the poor heathen who worship the idols. I could not keep from weeping, when you told us about the man who came so far to get a teacher to come and tell the Gospel to his friends, and was disappointed. I felt very bad Sunday evening; and on Monday evening I felt that the Lord had given me a new heart. I felt happy, and sang some beautiful verses that I learned in one of mother's little books. I have read the Day-springs, and thought a great deal about the heathen for two years. "I used to think a great deal about having nice clothes, before I thought so much about the heathen. My mother told me some time ago, that she thought she would get me a white dress when I was ten years old. I am now ten years old, and this evening mother gave me two dollars to get the dress, or dispose of it in any way I thought best; and I wish you would take it to have the poor heathen taught about the Saviour. If I live, and it is the Lord's will, I hope I shall come and help you teach the poor heathen about the Saviour." There is a little boy in the city of New York, who formerly used to tell his mother, that he meant to be a cab-driver, and all she could say to him was of no avail in making him think differently. This little boy came with his mother to hear me preach about the heathen. After he had left the church, as he was going home, he burst into tears, and exclaimed, "Mother, I mean to be a missionary to the heathen;" and so far as I know, he has never talked about being any thing else since. And I hope that many of you will never talk about being any thing else than missionaries to the heathen. I am acquainted with a little girl in Ohio, who has resolved to become a missionary. She is a niece of Mr. Campbell, late missionary to Africa. She was not quite four years old when I saw her. When she was eighteen months of age, she saw the picture of a heathen mother throwing her child into the mouth of a crocodile She was deeply impressed with the sight. When she was two and a half years old, she resolved to be a missionary, and follow her uncle to Africa. From this resolution she has never drawn hack. When I was at her father's house, she was asked if she would not go to India. She replied, that she would not go to India, but to Africa. She was asked why she wished to go to Africa. "To teach the heathen," was her answer. "Why should you teach the heathen?" "Because they worship idols." Her mother told me, that ever since she began to get money, she has contributed to the missionary cause; and this money has generally, if not always, been earned by some act of self-denial on her part. I hope that many of you will feel just as this little girl felt, and do just as she did. When I was in America, I used continually, when preaching, to ask the dear children whether they would not become missionaries. I used also to beg them to write down what I had asked them. Many complied with my request. While I was at the Avon Springs, one of the daughters of a physician there, not only wrote it down, but gave me what she had written. The following is a copy of what she wrote, _August 18, 1844._ _Dr. Scudder requested me to come to India to help him when I am grown._ S. P. S. _Avon Springs_ Could I raise my voice loud enough to reach America, I would beg of _you_ to write down the following sentence: Dr. Scudder asks me, to-day, whether I will not hereafter become a missionary to the heathen. Perhaps you will write it down _immediately_. Now, my dear boys, if you will come out to India, or go to Burmah or China, to tell the heathen of the Saviour, you may, with the blessing of God, do as much good as Swartz and Carey, and others have done. And if you, my dear girls, will do the same, you also may do much good. This will appear from what I am going to tell you about a little girl in Ceylon. This little girl belonged to the boarding-school at Oodooville. She early gave her heart to the Saviour, and joined the church when she was thirteen years old. I should like to know if there are any of you who have not followed her example. If so, this is not right. My dear children, it is not right. Shall this little girl, in a heathen land, a land filled with idols, give her heart to Christ; and you, in a Christian land, a land of Sabbaths, and Sabbath-schools, and Bibles, not give your hearts to him? This is not right. You know that it is not right. But let me go on with my account of the little girl. After she had joined the church, she wanted to go and see her mother, who was a heathen, for the purpose of conversing with her about her soul's concerns. Now, in this country, when children who have been absent from their parents for any length of time go home, the mother spreads a mat down on the floor, and tells them to sit down upon it, adding that she will go and cook rice for them. They have no seats to sit on, as you have in America. Well, this little girl went home. When her mother saw her, she was very glad; and after she had spread a mat for her, and told her to sit down, she said that she would go and cook rice for her. The little girl told her that she was not hungry, and did not wish to eat, but wanted to talk with her. "You cannot talk with me," said her mother, "until I have cooked rice for you." "Mother," said the little girl, "you worship idols, and I am afraid that you will lose your soul, and I want to talk with you about Jesus Christ." The mother became quite angry with her, and rebuked her. But still the little girl continued to talk with her about her soul. The mother then became so angry, that she told her to be silent, or she would punish her. The little girl replied, "Mother, though you do whip me, I must talk to you about Jesus Christ," and she burst into tears. The mother's heart was broken. She sat down on the mat, and her little daughter talked with her, and prayed with her. After this the little girl was so troubled, fearing that her mother's soul might be lost, that she was heard praying for her during all parts of the night. And God heard her prayers. Her mother forsook her idols, and became a Christian, and her conversion was followed by the conversion of one or two others. Now, my dear little girls, if you will give your hearts to the Saviour, and in due time come here, or go to other heathen lands, and tell the people of a Saviour, you may, with the help of the Holy Spirit, be as useful as this little girl was. Female missionaries have done much good among the heathen. I mentioned an instance on page 88, to prove this. Let me mention another instance more. In the year 1838, an English lady, Miss Aldersey, went to the East, at her own expense to promote female education among the Chinese. At that time, she could not go to China, as that country was not open to missionaries She therefore went to Java, where there was a colony of Chinese. Here she hired a house, and collected about twenty-five girls, whom she clothed, and boarded, and taught. The Lord blessed her labors, and several of these girls were hopefully converted. When their parents saw that they would no longer worship idols, they became much opposed to the school, and some of them took their daughters from it. In the year 1842, God opened the door for the entrance of the Gospel into China. This missionary then broke up her school in Java, went to that country, and resided in the city of Ningpo. Of the girls who had become Christians while under her care, two were much persecuted by their parents. They were whipped and beaten, with the hope that they would again return to their idols; but all the efforts which were made to induce them to forsake the Saviour were in vain. They declared that they would sooner die than forsake him. When their parents saw that stripes and blows were of no avail, they determined to marry them to men who were much devoted to their idols. This stratagem, they thought, might succeed in destroying all their interest in their new religion. Here, however, they were again foiled. The girls became alarmed, and fled from their parents. An English gentleman, but who was not a professor of religion, felt deeply interested for them, and assisted them to get on board a ship going to Batavia. Here they were pursued but escaped from the pursuers by going on board of a ship which sailed for Singapore. From Singapore they sailed for China, where they were permitted to join the old friend who had been the means of their conversion. This lady collected a school at Ningpo of more than thirty girls. Thus you see how much good female missionaries have done by going to heathen lands. And are none of you willing to follow their example? Are none of you willing to say, Here am I, Lord, send me? CHAPTER XXIII. SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL IN INDIA AND CEYLON. My dear Children--I have told you that India is a very dark land, but there are a few bright spots in it. Through the blessing of God upon the prayers of his people in Christian lands, and upon the prayers and labors of his missionary servants, many of the heathen of India and Ceylon have forsaken their idols, and are now enlisted under the banner of Jehovah Jesus. In the Travancore and Tinnivelly districts to say nothing of the success of the Gospel in other places, thousands and tens of thousands of the people have embraced Christianity. In hundreds of villages where but a few years ago the name of Jesus had never been heard, it is now known and adored. You have often heard of Ceylon. If you will look at the map of Hindostan, you will find it close to that country. Here Christianity has begun to prevail. This island is two hundred miles long, and in some places quite wide. A large part of it is covered with what is called jungle. Jungle and wilderness mean the same thing. In this jungle there are many wild beasts, such as elephants, bears, wild hogs, and buffaloes. In it also, there are men, women, and children, running wild, just like the wild beasts. This people are called Verders, or wild people. They wear scarcely any clothing. They have no houses. When it rains, they creep into holes, or go under overhanging rocks. Their beds consist of a few leaves. Sunk almost to the level of the brute, they live and die like their shaggy companions of the forest. Even upon these the Gospel has tried its power. More than fifty families have settled down, forming two pleasant, and now Christian villages. They have schoolmasters and Christian teachers. I must give you a description of two revivals of religion which occurred while I was in the island of Ceylon, in the year 1833. Before those revivals took place, there was no particular manifestation of much seriousness at any of our stations. It was in the month of October of that year, that we began to feel that we must labor more, and pray more for the conversion of perishing souls. A protracted meeting was spoken of, and it was determined that one should be held at our seminary in Batticotta--a seminary which was established for the purpose of raising up a native ministry. On the morning of the day in which the meeting was commenced, Mr. Spaulding and myself went to that station to assist Mr. Poor, the principal of the seminary, in laboring with the students. In these labors we spent five days. It was good to be there. No sooner had we begun our exercises, than a blessing from on high was experienced. The windows of heaven were opened, and the Holy Ghost descended. This was evident from the spirit of prayer which was poured out upon the pious students of the seminary. They were heard "a great while before day" pleading, in their social circles, that God would have mercy upon their impenitent companions, and bring them into the kingdom of his grace. We trust, also, that a spirit of prayer was given to those of us who took a prominent part in the meeting. At the termination of our exercises, with the exception of a few lads belonging to a Tamul class, who had lately been admitted to the seminary, there was not, so far as I know, an individual connected with it, who was not humbled at the foot of the cross, either to lie there until healed of his wounds, or to show, if he perished, that he must perish under circumstances of a very aggravated nature. After we had finished our meeting at Batticotta we went to the female seminary at Oodooville, to hold similar meetings. Before we reached that station, the church-members there, after having heard what God was doing at Batticotta, became very much aroused to pray for the influences of the Holy Spirit to descend upon the impenitent in their seminary also. Soon after we reached the station, we held a meeting with the girls. Some of them were then deeply concerned for the salvation of their souls; but it was not until Wednesday afternoon, that we knew how powerfully the Spirit of God had been at work. The meeting which we held with the seminarists at that time was one of the most solemn meetings which I ever attended. One of them, a girl of high caste, and of a very good family, said to her companions in that meeting, "My sisters, I have been a proud one among you. I hope that if you ever see me proud again, you will tell me of it. I used to tell the missionaries, that I had given myself to the Saviour, but I had not done it." Another of the girls burst into tears, and cried out aloud. As she could not restrain her feelings, and did not wish to disturb the assembly, she arose and left it. She retired to one of the prayer-rooms adjoining the seminary, there to weep alone. She, however, was not left alone. Mr. Poor, one of my missionary associates, followed her, and endeavored to administer the consolations of the Gospel to her; but she refused to be comforted. All her distress seemed to arise from a single source. "I told you a falsehood," said she, "last Monday, in saying that I had dedicated myself to the Saviour, when I had not." Perhaps she thought at that time, that she had thus dedicated herself to the Saviour, but afterwards found that she had deceived herself. In this wretched state of mind, she continued until half-past ten o'clock that night, when she came into Mr. Spaulding's house, where I then was, and wished to know what she must do to be saved. She was told, as she had often been told before, that she must dedicate herself entirely to her Saviour. She went away, and returned the same night at about half-past eleven o'clock, saying, that she had found HIM. "Friends, is not my case amazing? What a Saviour I have found." My dear young friends, are there any of you who have never given your hearts to Christ? If so, let me entreat you to follow the example of that dear little girl of whom I have now been speaking. She found it to be necessary to give her heart to the Saviour, and I hope that she did give it to him. O that you too might give up your hearts to him. Alas, if you do not, you must soon go down to eternal burnings where you will be constrained to cry out, Lost, lost, lost for ever! Be careful, my dear children, O be careful that this young girl does not rise up against you in the last day, and condemn you. She must do so--she will do so, if you do not, like her, choose Christ as your portion. But I am digressing, and must go back to the point I left. The next day, one of our missionary sisters, who had lately reached Ceylon from America, came to Oodooville, to witness the nature of the work which she heard was in progress at that place. As she was entering Mr. Spaulding's house, she was met by one of the most consistent church-members of the seminary, who declared that she had lost her hope of being a Christian. Perhaps this church-member was disposed to write bitter things against herself because she did not feel all that warmth in religion which marked the conduct of those who, at that time, were indulging the hope that they had passed from death to life. After the sister to whom I alluded had been in the house a little while, she requested Mrs. Spaulding to allow her to have an interview with such of the girls as were entertaining a hope of their interest in the Saviour. These were twenty-two in number. This interview was granted. As she knew nothing about the Tamul language, I acted as her interpreter. Through me, she requested the girls to give a statement of their feelings. One of them arose, and said, "I feel as happy as an angel. I feel joys that I can express to no one but my Saviour; and I am just as certain that my sins are forgiven, as if I had sent up a karduthaase," that is, a letter to heaven, "and received an answer to it." Another of the girls said, that the missionaries had often talked with her about her dedicating herself to the Saviour, but that she did not then know what it meant. "I now know," added she, "what it means, for God has taught it to me." Another of the girls said, "Though they put me in the fire, I will never forsake the Saviour." Now, my dear children, I must bid you farewell Probably I shall never see you, unless you come to this heathen land, until I meet you at the judgment-seat of Christ. If you do not become missionaries, most of you will probably die, and be buried where you now are. Probably I shall die in this heathen land. But we shall not always sleep in our graves. After a little season, the archangel's trumpet will sound, and you in America, and I in India, shall hear his voice proclaiming, "Awake, ye dead, and come to judgment." And we shall all at once rise from our graves, and stand before our Judge. And where shall I then see you? Shall I see any of you on the left hand of Christ, and hear him say, "Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels?" O, if I should hear that dreadful sentence pronounced against you, how would my heart die within me. How could I bear to hear it. Oh, I could not--I could not bear to hear it. My dear children, if you are yet out of Christ, I entreat you, _at this very moment_, to lay down this book, and throw yourselves at the feet of your Saviour. Tell him, that you are lost sinners, deserving to be cast into everlasting burnings. Tell him, that though you have been wicked children, you will leave off your wickedness, and be his for ever. Plead with him, with as much earnestness as a _drowning_ man would plead with you to save him, to give you the influences of his Holy Spirit, to create within you a clean heart, and renew within you a right spirit, without which you are eternally undone; and continue to plead, until he pardons you, and receives you as his children. By all the sufferings of the Son of God, by all the joys of heaven, by all the torments of hell, by the solemnities of your dying bed, by the value of your immortal souls _which, if once lost, must be lost for ever_, I beseech you thus _immediately_ to throw yourselves at his feet, and plead with him to make you his. Neglect this duty--neglect giving yourselves to Christ, even for one minute, and it may be, that you will be lost, yea, LOST FOR EVER. 
29288	----	THE UNKNOWN LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST The Original Text of Nicolas Notovitch's 1887 Discovery by NICOLAS NOTOVITCH Translated by J. H. Connelly and L. Landsberg Printed in the United States of America New York: R.F. Fenno. 1890. Table of Contents _Preface_ vi _A Journey in Thibet_ 1 _Ladak_ 33 _A Festival in a Gonpa_ 45 _The Life of Saint Issa_ 61 _Resumé_ 89 _Explanatory Notes_ 117 Preface After the Turkish War (1877-1878) I made a series of travels in the Orient. From the little remarkable Balkan peninsula, I went across the Caucasus to Central Asia and Persia, and finally, in 1887, visited India, an admirable country which had attracted me from my earliest childhood. My purpose in this journey was to study and know, at home, the peoples who inhabit India and their customs, the grand and mysterious archæology, and the colossal and majestic nature of their country. Wandering about without fixed plans, from one place to another, I came to mountainous Afghanistan, whence I regained India by way of the picturesque passes of Bolan and Guernaï. Then, going up the Indus to Raval Pindi, I ran over the Pendjab--the land of the five rivers; visited the Golden Temple of Amritsa--the tomb of the King of Pendjab, Randjid Singh, near Lahore; and turned toward Kachmyr, "The Valley of Eternal Bliss." Thence I directed my peregrinations as my curiosity impelled me, until I arrived in Ladak, whence I intended returning to Russia by way of Karakoroum and Chinese Turkestan. One day, while visiting a Buddhist convent on my route, I learned from a chief lama, that there existed in the archives of Lhassa, very ancient memoirs relating to the life of Jesus Christ and the occidental nations, and that certain great monasteries possessed old copies and translations of those chronicles. As it was little probable that I should make another journey into this country, I resolved to put off my return to Europe until a later date, and, cost what it might, either find those copies in the great convents or go to Lhassa--a journey which is far from being so dangerous and difficult as is generally supposed, involving only such perils as I was already accustomed to, and which would not make me hesitate at attempting it. During my sojourn at Leh, capital of Ladak, I visited the great convent Himis, situated near the city, the chief lama of which informed me that their monastic library contained copies of the manuscripts in question. In order that I might not awaken the suspicions of the authorities concerning the object of my visit to the cloister, and to evade obstacles which might be opposed to me as a Russian, prosecuting further my journey in Thibet, I gave out upon my return to Leh that I would depart for India, and so left the capital of Ladak. An unfortunate fall, causing the breaking of a leg, furnished me with an absolutely unexpected pretext for returning to the monastery, where I received surgical attention. I took advantage of my short sojourn among the lamas to obtain the consent of their chief that they should bring to me, from their library, the manuscripts relating to Jesus Christ, and, assisted by my interpreter, who translated for me the Thibetan language, transferred carefully to my notebook what the lama read to me. Not doubting at all the authenticity of this chronicle, edited with great exactitude by the Brahminic, and more especially the Buddhistic historians of India and Nepaul, I desired, upon my return to Europe, to publish a translation of it. To this end, I addressed myself to several universally known ecclesiastics, asking them to revise my notes and tell me what they thought of them. Mgr. Platon, the celebrated metropolitan of Kiew, thought that my discovery was of great importance. Nevertheless, he sought to dissuade me from publishing the memoirs, believing that their publication could only hurt me. "Why?" This the venerable prelate refused to tell me more explicitly. Nevertheless, since our conversation took place in Russia, where the censor would have put his veto upon such a work, I made up my mind to wait. A year later, I found myself in Rome. I showed my manuscript to a cardinal very near to the Holy Father, who answered me literally in these words:--"What good will it do to print this? Nobody will attach to it any great importance and you will create a number of enemies. But, you are still very young! If it is a question of money which concerns you, I can ask for you a reward for your notes, a sum which will repay your expenditures and recompense you for your loss of time." Of course, I refused. In Paris I spoke of my project to Cardinal Rotelli, whose acquaintance I had made in Constantinople. He, too, was opposed to having my work printed, under the pretext that it would be premature. "The church," he added, "suffers already too much from the new current of atheistic ideas, and you will but give a new food to the calumniators and detractors of the evangelical doctrine. I tell you this in the interest of all the Christian churches." Then I went to see M. Jules Simon. He found my matter very interesting and advised me to ask the opinion of M. Renan, as to the best way of publishing these memoirs. The next day I was seated in the cabinet of the great philosopher. At the close of our conversation, M. Renan proposed that I should confide to him the memoirs in question, so that he might make to the Academy a report upon the discovery. This proposition, as may be easily understood, was very alluring and flattering to my _amour propre_. I, however, took away with me the manuscript, under the pretext of further revising it. I foresaw that if I accepted the proposed combination, I would only have the honor of having found the chronicles, while the illustrious author of the "Life of Jesus" would have the glory of the publication and the commenting upon it. I thought myself sufficiently prepared to publish the translation of the chronicles, accompanying them with my notes, and, therefore, did not accept the very gracious offer he made to me. But, that I might not wound the susceptibility of the great master, for whom I felt a profound respect, I made up my mind to delay publication until after his death, a fatality which could not be far off, if I might judge from the apparent general weakness of M. Renan. A short time after M. Renan's death, I wrote to M. Jules Simon again for his advice. He answered me, that it was my affair to judge of the opportunity for making the memoirs public. I therefore put my notes in order and now publish them, reserving the right to substantiate the authenticity of these chronicles. In my commentaries I proffer the arguments which must convince us of the sincerity and good faith of the Buddhist compilers. I wish to add that before criticising my communication, the societies of _savans_ can, without much expense, equip a scientific expedition having for its mission the study of those manuscripts in the place where I discovered them, and so may easily verify their historic value. --_Nicolas Notovitch_ The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ _A Journey in Thibet_ During my sojourn in India, I often had occasion to converse with the Buddhists, and the accounts they gave me of Thibet excited my curiosity to such an extent that I resolved to make a journey into that still almost unknown country. For this purpose I set out upon a route crossing Kachmyr (Cashmere), which I had long intended to visit. On the 14th of October, 1887, I entered a railway car crowded with soldiers, and went from Lahore to Raval-Pinidi, where I arrived the next day, near noon. After resting a little and inspecting the city, to which the permanent garrison gives the aspect of a military camp, I provided myself with the necessaries for a journey, where horses take the place of the railway cars. Assisted by my servant, a colored man of Pondichery, I packed all my baggage, hired a tonga (a two-wheeled vehicle which is drawn by two horses), stowed myself upon its back seat, and set out upon the picturesque road leading to Kachmyr, an excellent highway, upon which we travelled rapidly. We had to use no little skill in making our way through the ranks of a military caravan--its baggage carried upon camels--which was part of a detachment returning from a country camp to the city. Soon we arrived at the end of the valley of Pendjab, and climbing up a way with infinite windings, entered the passes of the Himalayas. The ascent became more and more steep. Behind us spread, like a beautiful panorama, the region we had just traversed, which seemed to sink farther and farther away from us. As the sun's last glances rested upon the tops of the mountains, our tonga came gaily out from the zigzags which the eye could still trace far down the forest-clad slope, and halted at the little city of Muré; where the families of the English functionaries came to seek shade and refreshment. Ordinarily, one can go in a tonga from Muré to Srinagar; but at the approach of the winter season, when all Europeans desert Kachmyr, the tonga service is suspended. I undertook my journey precisely at the time when the summer life begins to wane, and the Englishmen whom I met upon the road, returning to India, were much astonished to see me, and made vain efforts to divine the purpose of my travel to Kachmyr. Abandoning the tonga, I hired saddle horses--not without considerable difficulty--and evening had arrived when we started to descend from Muré, which is at an altitude of 5,000 feet. This stage of our journey had nothing playful in it. The road was torn in deep ruts by the late rains, darkness came upon us and our horses rather guessed than saw their way. When night had completely set in, a tempestuous rain surprised us in the open country, and, owing to the thick foliage of the centenarian oaks which stood on the sides of our road, we were plunged in profound darkness. That we might not lose each other, we had to continue exchanging calls from time to time. In this impenetrable obscurity we divined huge masses of rock almost above our heads, and were conscious of, on our left, a roaring torrent, the water of which formed a cascade we could not see. During two hours we waded in the mud and the icy rain had chilled my very marrow, when we perceived in the distance a little fire, the sight of which revived our energies. But how deceitful are lights in the mountains! You believe you see the fire burning quite near to you and at once it disappears, to reappear again, to the right, to the left, above, below you, as if it took pleasure in playing tricks upon the harassed traveller. All the time the road makes a thousand turns, and winds here and there, and the fire--which is immovable--seems to be in continual motion, the obscurity preventing you realizing that you yourself modify your direction every instant. I had quite given up all hope of approaching this much-wished-for fire, when it appeared again, and this time so near that our horses stopped before it. I have here to express my sincere thanks to the Englishmen for the foresight of which they gave proof in building by the roadsides the little bengalows--one-story houses for the shelter of travellers. It is true, one must not demand comfort in this kind of hotel; but this is a matter in which the traveller, broken down by fatigue, is not exacting, and he is at the summit of happiness when he finds at his disposal a clean and dry room. The Hindus, no doubt, did not expect to see a traveller arrive at so late an hour of the night and in this season, for they had taken away the keys of the bengalow, so we had to force an entrance. I threw myself upon a bed prepared for me, composed of a pillow and blanket saturated with water, and almost at once fell asleep. At daybreak, after taking tea and some conserves, we took up our march again, now bathed in the burning rays of the sun. From time to time, we passed villages; the first in a superb narrow pass, then along the road meandering in the bosom of the mountain. We descended eventually to the river Djeloum (Jhelum), the waters of which flow gracefully, amid the rocks by which its course is obstructed, between rocky walls whose tops in many places seem almost to reach the azure skies of the Himalayas, a heaven which here shows itself remarkably pure and serene. Toward noon we arrived at the hamlet called Tongue--situated on the bank of the river--which presents an unique array of huts that give the effect of boxes, the openings of which form a façade. Here are sold comestibles and all kinds of merchandise. The place swarms with Hindus, who bear on their foreheads the variously colored marks of their respective castes. Here, too, you see the beautiful people of Kachmyr, dressed in their long white shirts and snowy turbans. I hired here, at a good price, a Hindu cabriolet, from a Kachmyrian. This vehicle is so constructed that in order to keep one's seat in it, one must cross his legs in the Turkish fashion. The seat is so small that it will hold, at most, only two persons. The absence of any support for the back makes this mode of transportation very dangerous; nevertheless, I accepted this kind of circular table mounted on two wheels and drawn by a horse, as I was anxious to reach, as soon as possible, the end of my journey. Hardly, however, had I gone five hundred yards on it, when I seriously regretted the horse I had forsaken, so much fatigue had I to endure keeping my legs crossed and maintaining my equilibrium. Unfortunately, it was already too late. Evening was falling when I approached the village of Hori. Exhausted by fatigue; racked by the incessant jolting; my legs feeling as if invaded by millions of ants, I had been completely incapable of enjoying the picturesque landscape spread before us as we journeyed along the Djeloum, the banks of which are bordered on one side by steep rocks and on the other by the heavily wooded slopes of the mountains. In Hori I encountered a caravan of pilgrims returning from Mecca. Thinking I was a physician and learning my haste to reach Ladak, they invited me to join them, which I promised I would at Srinagar. I spent an ill night, sitting up in my bed, with a lighted torch in my hand, without closing my eyes, in constant fear of the stings and bites of the scorpions and centipedes which swarm in the bengalows. I was sometimes ashamed of the fear with which those vermin inspired me; nevertheless, I could not fall asleep among them. Where, truly, in man, is the line that separates courage from cowardice? I will not boast of my bravery, but I am not a coward, yet the insurmountable fear with which those malevolent little creatures thrilled me, drove sleep from my eyelids, in spite of my extreme fatigue. Our horses carried us into a flat valley, encircled by high mountains. Bathed as I was in the rays of the sun, it did not take me long to fall asleep in the saddle. A sudden sense of freshness penetrated and awoke me. I saw that we had already begun climbing a mountain path, in the midst of a dense forest, rifts in which occasionally opened to our admiring gaze ravishing vistas, impetuous torrents; distant mountains; cloudless heavens; a landscape, far below, of wondrous beauty. All about us were the songs of numberless brilliantly plumaged birds. We came out of the forest toward noon, descended to a little hamlet on the bank of the river, and after refreshing ourselves with a light, cold collation, continued our journey. Before starting, I went to a bazaar and tried to buy there a glass of warm milk from a Hindu, who was sitting crouched before a large cauldron full of boiling milk. How great was my surprise when he proposed to me that I should take away the whole cauldron, with its contents, assuring me that I had polluted the milk it contained! "I only want a glass of milk and not a kettle of it," I said to him. "According to our laws," the merchant answered me, "if any one not belonging to our caste has fixed his eyes for a long time upon one of our cooking utensils, we have to wash that article thoroughly, and throw away the food it contains. You have polluted my milk and no one will drink any more of it, for not only were you not contented with fixing your eyes upon it, but you have even pointed to it with your finger." I had indeed a long time examined his merchandise, to make sure that it was really milk, and had pointed with my finger, to the merchant, from which side I wished the milk poured out. Full of respect for the laws and customs of foreign peoples, I paid, without dispute, a rupee, the price of all the milk, which was poured in the street, though I had taken only one glass of it. This was a lesson which taught me, from now on, not to fix my eyes upon the food of the Hindus. There is no religious belief more muddled by the numbers of ceremonious laws and commentaries prescribing its observances than the Brahminic. While each of the other principal religions has but one inspired book, one Bible, one Gospel, or one Koran--books from which the Hebrew, the Christian and the Musselman draw their creeds--the Brahminical Hindus possess such a great number of tomes and commentaries in folio that the wisest Brahmin has hardly had the time to peruse one-tenth of them. Leaving aside the four books of the Vedas; the Puranas--which are written in Sanscrit and composed of eighteen volumes--containing 400,000 strophes treating of law, rights, theogony, medicine, the creation and destruction of the world, etc.; the vast Shastras, which deal with mathematics, grammar, etc.; the Upa-Vedas, Upanishads, Upo-Puranas--which are explanatory of the Puranas;--and a number of other commentaries in several volumes; there still remain twelve vast books, containing the laws of Manu, the grandchild of Brahma--books dealing not only with civil and criminal law, but also the canonical rules--rules which impose upon the faithful such a considerable number of ceremonies that one is surprised into admiration of the illimitable patience the Hindus show in observance of the precepts inculcated by Saint Manu. Manu was incontestably a great legislator and a great thinker, but he has written so much that it has happened to him frequently to contradict himself in the course of a single page. The Brahmins do not take the trouble to notice that, and the poor Hindus, whose labor supports the Brahminic caste, obey servilely their clergy, whose prescriptions enjoin upon them never to touch a man who does not belong to their caste, and also absolutely prohibit a stranger from fixing his attention upon anything belonging to a Hindu. Keeping himself to the strict letter of this law, the Hindu imagines that his food is polluted when it receives a little protracted notice from the stranger. And yet, Brahminism has been, even at the beginning of its second birth, a purely monotheistic religion, recognizing only one infinite and indivisible God. As it came to pass in all times and in religions, the clergy took advantage of the privileged situation which places them above the ignorant multitude, and early manufactured various exterior forms of cult and certain laws, thinking they could better, in this way, influence and control the masses. Things changed soon, so far that the principle of monotheism, of which the Vedas have given such a clear conception, became confounded with, or, as it were, supplanted by an absurd and limitless series of gods and goddesses, half-gods, genii and devils, which were represented by idols, of infinite variety but all equally horrible looking. The people, once glorious as their religion was once great and pure, now slip by degrees into complete idiocy. Hardly does their day suffice for the accomplishment of all the prescriptions of their canons. It must be said positively that the Hindus only exist to support their principal caste, the Brahmins, who have taken into their hands the temporal power which once was possessed by independent sovereigns of the people. While governing India, the Englishman does not interfere with this phase of the public life, and so the Brahmins profit by maintaining the people's hope of a better future. The sun passed behind the summit of a mountain, and the darkness of night in one moment overspread the magnificent landscape we were traversing. Soon the narrow valley of the Djeloum fell asleep. Our road winding along ledges of steep rocks, was instantly hidden from our sight; mountains and trees were confounded together in one dark mass, and the stars glittered in the celestial vault. We had to dismount and feel our way along the mountain side, for fear of becoming the prey of the abyss which yawned at our feet. At a late hour of the night we traversed a bridge and ascended a steep elevation leading to the bengalow Ouri, which at this height seems to enjoy complete isolation. The next day we traversed a charming region, always going along the river--at a turn of which we saw the ruins of a Sikh fortress, that seemed to remember sadly its glorious past. In a little valley, nestled amid the mountains, we found a bengalow which seemed to welcome us. In its proximity were encamped a cavalry regiment of the Maharajah of Kachmyr. When the officers learned that I was a Russian, they invited me to share their repast. There I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Col. Brown, who was the first to compile a dictionary of the Afghan-pouchton language. As I was anxious to reach, as soon as possible, the city of Srinagar, I, with little delay, continued my journey through the picturesque region lying at the foot of the mountains, after having, for a long time, followed the course of the river. Here, before our eyes, weary of the monotonous desolation of the preceding landscapes, was unfolded a charming view of a well-peopled valley, with many two-story houses surrounded by gardens and cultivated fields. A little farther on begins the celebrated valley of Kachmyr, situated behind a range of high rocks which I crossed toward evening. What a superb panorama revealed itself before my eyes, when I found myself at the last rock which separates the valley of Kachmyr from the mountainous country I had traversed. A ravishing tableau truly enchanted my sight. This valley, the limits of which are lost in the horizon, and is throughout well populated, is enshrined amid the high Himalayan mountains. At the rising and the setting of the sun, the zone of eternal snows seems a silver ring, which like a girdle surrounds this rich and delightful plateau, furrowed by numerous rivers and traversed by excellent roads, gardens, hills, a lake, the islands in which are occupied by constructions of pretentious style, all these cause the traveller to feel as if he had entered another world. It seems to him as though he had to go but a little farther on and there must find the Paradise of which his governess had told him so often in his childhood. The veil of night slowly covered the valley, merging mountains, gardens and lake in one dark amplitude, pierced here and there by distant fires, resembling stars. I descended into the valley, directing myself toward the Djeloum, which has broken its way through a narrow gorge in the mountains, to unite itself with the waters of the river Ind. According to the legend, the valley was once an inland sea; a passage opened through the rocks environing it, and drained the waters away, leaving nothing more of its former character than the lake, the Djeloum and minor water-courses. The banks of the river are now lined with boat-houses, long and narrow, which the proprietors, with their families, inhabit the whole year. From here Srinagar can be reached in one day's travel on horseback; but with a boat the journey requires a day and a half. I chose the latter mode of conveyance, and having selected a boat and bargained with its proprietor for its hire, took my seat in the bow, upon a carpet, sheltered by a sort of penthouse roof. The boat left the shore at midnight, bearing us rapidly toward Srinagar. At the stern of the bark, a Hindu prepared my tea. I went to sleep, happy in knowing my voyage was to be accomplished. The hot caress of the sun's rays penetrating my little roof awakened me, and what I experienced delighted me beyond all expression. Entirely green banks; the distant outlines of mountain tops covered with snow; pretty villages which from time to time showed themselves at the mountain's foot; the crystalline sheet of water; pure and peculiarly agreeable air, which I breathed with exhilaration; the musical carols of an infinity of birds; a sky of extraordinary purity; behind me the plash of water stirred by the round-ended paddle which was wielded with ease by a superb woman (with marvellous eyes and a complexion browned by the sun), who wore an air of stately indifference: all these things together seemed to plunge me into an ecstasy, and I forgot entirely the reason for my presence on the river. In that moment I had not even a desire to reach the end of my voyage--and yet, how many privations remained for me to undergo, and dangers to encounter! I felt myself here so well content! The boat glided rapidly and the landscape continued to unfold new beauties before my eyes, losing itself in ever new combinations with the horizon, which merged into the mountains we were passing, to become one with them. Then a new panorama would display itself, seeming to expand and flow out from the sides of the mountains, becoming more and more grand.... The day was almost spent and I was not yet weary of contemplating this magnificent nature, the view of which reawakened the souvenirs of childhood and youth. How beautiful were those days forever gone! The more nearly one approaches Srinagar, the more numerous become the villages embowered in the verdure. At the approach of our boat, some of their inhabitants came running to see us; the men in their turbans, the women in their small bonnets, both alike dressed in white gowns reaching to the ground, the children in a state of nudity which reminded one of the costumes of our first parents. When entering the city one sees a range of barks and floating houses in which entire families reside. The tops of the far-off, snow-covered mountains were caressed by the last rays of the setting sun, when we glided between the wooden houses of Srinagar, which closely line both banks of the river. Life seems to cease here at sunset; the thousands of many colored open boats (dunga) and palanquin-covered barks (bangla) were fastened along the beach; men and women gathered near the river, in the primitive costumes of Adam and Eve, going through their evening ablutions without feeling any embarrassment or prudery before each other, since they performed a religious rite, the importance of which is greater for them than all human prejudices. On the 20^th of October I awoke in a neat room, from which I had a gay view upon the river that was now inundated with the rays of the sun of Kachmyr. As it is not my purpose to describe here my experiences in detail, I refrain from enumerating the lovely valleys, the paradise of lakes, the enchanting islands, those historic places, mysterious pagodas, and coquettish villages which seem lost in vast gardens; on all sides of which rise the majestic tops of the giants of the Himalaya, shrouded as far as the eye can see in eternal snow. I shall only note the preparations I made in view of my journey toward Thibet. I spent six days at Srinagar, making long excursions into the enchanting surroundings of the city, examining the numerous ruins which testify to the ancient prosperity of this region, and studying the strange customs of the country. * * * * * Kachmyr, as well as the other provinces attached to it, Baltistan, Ladak, etc., are vassals of England. They formerly formed part of the possessions of Randjid Sing, the Lion of the Pendjab. At his death, the English troops occupied Lahore, the capital of the Pendjab, separated Kachmyr from the rest of the empire and ceded it, under color of hereditary right, and for the sum of 160,000,000 francs, to Goulab-Sing, one of the familiars of the late sovereign, conferring on him besides the title of Maharadja. At the epoch of my journey, the actual Maharadja was Pertab-Sing, the grandchild of Goulab, whose residence is Jamoo, on the southern slope of the Himalaya. The celebrated "happy valley" of Kachmyr (eighty-five miles long by twenty-five miles wide) enjoyed glory and prosperity only under the Grand Mogul, whose court loved to taste here the sweetness of country life, in the still existent pavilions on the little island of the lake. Most of the Maharadjas of Hindustan used formerly to spend here the summer months, and to take part in the magnificent festivals given by the Grand Mogul; but times have greatly changed since, and the happy valley is today no more than a beggar retreat. Aquatic plants and scum have covered the clear waters of the lake; the wild juniper has smothered all the vegetation of the islands; the palaces and pavilions retain only the souvenir of their past grandeur; earth and grass cover the buildings which are now falling in ruins. The surrounding mountains and their eternally white tops seem to be absorbed in a sullen sadness, and to nourish the hope of a better time for the disclosure of their immortal beauties. The once spiritual, beautiful and cleanly inhabitants have grown animalistic and stupid; they have become dirty and lazy; and the whip now governs them, instead of the sword. The people of Kachmyr have so often been subject to invasions and pillages and have had so many masters, that they have now become indifferent to every thing. They pass their time near the banks of the rivers, gossiping about their neighbors; or are engaged in the painstaking work of making their celebrated shawls; or in the execution of filagree gold or silver work. The Kachmyr women are of a melancholy temperament, and an inconceivable sadness is spread upon their features. Everywhere reigns misery and uncleanness. The beautiful men and superb women of Kachmyr are dirty and in rags. The costume of the two sexes consists, winter and summer alike, of a long shirt, or gown, made of thick material and with puffed sleeves. They wear this shirt until it is completely worn out, and never is it washed, so that the white turban of the men looks like dazzling snow near their dirty shirts, which are covered all over with spittle and grease stains. The traveller feels himself permeated with sadness at seeing the contrast between the rich and opulent nature surrounding them, and this people dressed in rags. The capital of the country, Srinagar (City of the Sun), or, to call it by the name which is given to it here after the country, Kachmyr, is situated on the shore of the Djeloum, along which it stretches out toward the south to a distance of five kilometres and is not more than two kilometres in breadth. Its two-story houses, inhabited by a population of 100,000 inhabitants, are built of wood and border both river banks. Everybody lives on the river, the shores of which are united by ten bridges. Terraces lead from the houses to the Djeloum, where all day long people perform their ceremonial ablutions, bathe and wash their culinary utensils, which consist of a few copper pots. Part of the inhabitants practice the Musselman religion; two-thirds are Brahminic; and there are but few Buddhists to be found among them. It was time to make other preparations for travel before plunging into the unknown. Having purchased different kinds of conserves, wine and other things indispensable on a journey through a country so little peopled as is Thibet, I packed all my baggage in boxes; hired six carriers and an interpreter, bought a horse for my own use, and fixed my departure for the 27^th of October. To cheer up my journey, I took from a good Frenchman, M. Peicheau, the wine cultivator of the Maharadja, a big dog, Pamir, who had already traversed the road with my friends, Bonvallot, Capus and Pepin, the well-known explorers. As I wished to shorten my journey by two days, I ordered my carriers to leave at dawn from the other side of the lake, which I crossed in a boat, and joined them and my horse at the foot of the mountain chain which separates the valley of Srinagar from the Sind gorge. I shall never forget the tortures which we had to undergo in climbing almost on all fours to a mountain top, three thousand feet high. The carriers were out of breath; every moment I feared to see one tumble down the declivity with his burden, and I felt pained at seeing my poor dog, Pamir, panting and with his tongue hanging out, make two or three steps and fall to the ground exhausted. Forgetting my own fatigue, I caressed and encouraged the poor animal, who, as if understanding me, got up to make another two or three steps and fall anew to the ground. The night had come when we reached the crest; we threw ourselves greedily upon the snow to quench our thirst; and after a short rest, started to descend through a very thick pine forest, hastening to gain the village of Haïena, at the foot of the defile, fearing the attacks of beasts of prey in the darkness. A level and good road leads from Srinagar to Haïena, going straight northward over Ganderbal, where I repaired by a more direct route across a pass three thousand feet high, which shortened for me both time and distance. My first step in the unknown was marked by an incident which made all of us pass an ugly quarter of an hour. The defile of the Sind, sixty miles long, is especially noteworthy for the inhospitable hosts it contains. Among others it abounds in panthers, tigers, leopards, black bears, wolves and jackals. As though by a special misfortune, the snow had covered with its white carpet the heights of the chain, compelling those formidable, carnivorous beasts to descend a little lower for shelter in their dens. We descended in silence, amid the darkness, a narrow path that wound through the centennary firs and birches, and the calm of the night was only broken by the crackling sound of our steps. Suddenly, quite near to us, a terrible howling awoke the echoes of the woods. Our small troop stopped. "A panther!" exclaimed, in a low and frightened voice, my servant. The small caravan of a dozen men stood motionless, as though riveted to the spot. Then it occurred to me that at the moment of starting on our ascent, when already feeling fatigued, I had entrusted my revolver to one of the carriers, and my Winchester rifle to another. Now I felt bitter regret for having parted with my arms, and asked in a low voice where the man was to whom I had given the rifle. The howls became more and more violent, and filled the echoes of the woods, when suddenly a dull sound was heard, like the fall of some body. A minute later we heard the noise of a struggle and a cry of agony which mingled with the fierce roars of the starved animal. "Saaïb, take the gun," I heard some one near by. I seized feverishly the rifle, but, vain trouble, one could not see two steps before oneself. A new cry, followed by a smothered howling, indicated to me vaguely the place of the struggle, toward which I crawled, divided between the ardent desire to "kill a panther" and a horrible fear of being eaten alive. No one dared to move; only after five minutes it occurred to one of the carriers to light a match. I then remembered the fear which feline animals exhibit at the presence of fire, and ordered my men to gather two or three handfuls of brush, which I set on fire. We then saw, about ten steps from us, one of our carriers stretched out on the ground, with his limbs frightfully lacerated by the claws of a huge panther. The beast still lay upon him defiantly, holding a piece of flesh in its mouth. At its side, gaped a box of wine broken open by its fall when the carrier was torn down. Hardly did I make a movement to bring the rifle to my shoulder, when the panther raised itself, and turned toward us while dropping part of its horrible meal. One moment, it appeared about to spring upon me, then it suddenly wheeled, and rending the air with a howl, enough to freeze one's blood, jumped into the midst of the thicket and disappeared. My coolies, whom an odious fear had all the time kept prostrated on the ground, recovered little by little from their fright. Keeping in readiness a few packages of dry grass and matches, we hastened to reach the village Haïena, leaving behind the remains of the unfortunate Hindu, whose fate we feared sharing. An hour later we had left the forest and entered the plain. I ordered my tent erected under a very leafy plane tree, and had a great fire made before it, with a pile of wood, which was the only protection we could employ against the ferocious beasts whose howls continued to reach us from all directions. In the forest my dog had pressed himself against me, with his tail between his legs; but once under the tent, he suddenly recovered his watchfulness, and barked incessantly the whole night, being very careful, however, not to step outside. I spent a terrible night, rifle in hand, listening to the concert of those diabolical howlings, the echoes of which seemed to shake the defile. Some panthers approached our bivouac to answer the barking of Pamir, but dared not attack us. I had left Srinagar at the head of eleven carriers, four of whom had to carry so many boxes of wine, four others bore my travelling effects; one my weapons, another various utensils, and finally a last, who went errands or on reconnaissance. His name was "Chicari," which means "he who accompanies the hunter and gathers the prey." I discharged him in the morning on account of his cowardice and his profound ignorance of the country, and only retained four carriers. It was but slowly that I advanced toward the village of Gounde. How beautiful is nature in the Sind pass, and how much is it beloved by the hunters! Besides the great fallow deer, you meet there the hind, the stag, the mountain sheep and an immense variety of birds, among which I want to mention above all the golden pheasant, and others of red or snow-white plumage, very large partridges and immense eagles. The villages situated along the Sind do not shine by their dimensions. They contain, for the greatest part, not more than ten to twenty huts of an extremely miserable appearance. Their inhabitants are clad in rags. Their cattle belongs to a very small race. I crossed the river at Sambal, and stopped near the village Gounde, where I procured relay horses. In some villages they refused to hire horses to me; I then threatened them with my whip, which at once inspired respect and obedience; my money accomplished the same end; it inspired a servile obedience--not willingness--to obey my least orders. Stick and gold are the true sovereigns in the Orient; without them the Very Grand Mogul would not have had any preponderance. Night began to descend, and I was in a hurry to cross the defile which separates the villages Gogangan and Sonamarg. The road is in very bad condition, and the mountains are infested by beasts of prey which in the night descend into the very villages to seek their prey. The country is delightful and very fertile; nevertheless, but few colonists venture to settle here, on account of the neighborhood of the panthers, which come to the dooryards to seize domestic animals. At the very exit of the defile, near the village of Tchokodar, or Thajwas, the half obscurity prevailing only permitted me to distinguish two dark masses crossing the road. They were two big bears followed by a young one. I was alone with my servant (the caravan having loitered behind), so I did not like to attack them with only one rifle; but the long excursions which I had made on the mountain had strongly developed in me the sense of the hunter. To jump from my horse, shoot, and, without even verifying the result, change quickly the cartridge, was the affair of a second. One bear was about to jump on me, a second shot made it run away and disappear. Holding in my hand my loaded gun, I approached with circumspection, the one at which I had aimed, and found it laying on its flank, dead, with the little cub beside it. Another shot killed the little one, after which I went to work to take off the two superb jet-black skins. This incident made us lose two hours, and night had completely set in when I erected my tent near Tchokodar, which I left at sunrise to gain Baltal, by following the course of the Sind river. At this place the ravishing landscape of the "golden prairie" terminates abruptly with a village of the same name (Sona, gold, and Marg, prairie). The abrupt acclivity of Zodgi-La, which we next surmounted, attains an elevation of 11,500 feet, on the other side of which the whole country assumes a severe and inhospitable character. My hunting adventures closed before reaching Baltal. From there I met on the road only wild goats. In order to hunt, I would have had to leave the grand route and to penetrate into the heart of the mountains full of mysteries. I had neither the inclination nor the time to do so, and, therefore, continued quietly my journey toward Ladak. * * * * * How violent the contrast I felt when passing from the laughing nature and beautiful population of Kachmyr to the arid and forbidding rocks and the beardless and ugly inhabitants of Ladak! The country into which I penetrated is situated at an altitude of 11,000 to 12,000 feet. Only at Karghil the level descends to 8,000 feet. The acclivity of Zodgi-La is very rough; one must climb up an almost perpendicular rocky wall. In certain places the road winds along upon rock ledges of only a metre in width, below which the sight drops into unfathomable abysses. May the Lord preserve the traveller from a fall! At one place, the way is upon long beams introduced into holes made in the rock, like a bridge, and covered up with earth. Brr!--At the thought that a little stone might get loose and roll down the slope of the mountain, or that a too strong oscillation of the beams could precipitate the whole structure into the abyss, and with it him who had ventured upon the perilous path, one feels like fainting more than once during this hazardous passage. After crossing the glaciers we stopped in a valley and prepared to spend the night near a hut, a dismal place surrounded by eternal ice and snow. From Baltal the distances are determined by means of daks, _i.e._, postal stations for mail service. They are low huts, about seven kilometres distant from each other. A man is permanently established in each of these huts. The postal service between Kachmyr and Thibet is yet carried on in a very primitive form. The letters are enclosed in a leather bag, which is handed to the care of a carrier. The latter runs rapidly over the seven kilometres assigned to him, carrying on his back a basket which holds several of these bags, which he delivers to another carrier, who, in his turn, accomplishes his task in an identical manner. Neither rain nor snow can arrest these carriers. In this way the mail service is carried on between Kachmyr and Thibet, and _vice versa_ once a week. For each course the letter carrier is paid six annas (twenty cents); the same wages as is paid to the carriers of merchandise. This sum I also paid to every one of my servants for carrying a ten times heavier load. It makes one's heart ache to see the pale and tired-looking figures of these carriers; but what is to be done? It is the custom of the country. The tea is brought from China by a similar system of transportation, which is rapid and inexpensive. In the village of Montaiyan, I found again the Yarkandien caravan of pilgrims, whom I had promised to accompany on their journey. They recognized me from a distance, and asked me to examine one of their men, who had fallen sick. I found him writhing in the agonies of an intense fever. Shaking my hands as a sign of despair, I pointed to the heavens and gave them to understand that human will and science were now useless, and that God alone could save him. These people journeyed by small stages only; I, therefore, left them and arrived in the evening at Drass, situated at the bottom of a valley near a river of the same name. Near Drass, a little fort of ancient construction, but freshly painted, stands aloof, under the guard of three Sikhs of the Maharadja's army. At Drass, my domicile was the post-house, which is a station--and the only one--of an unique telegraph line from Srinagar to the interior of the Himalayas. From that time on, I no more had my tent put up each evening, but stopped in the caravansarais; places which, though made repulsive by their dirt, are kept warm by the enormous piles of wood burned in their fireplaces. From Drass to Karghil the landscape is unpleasing and monotonous, if one excepts the marvellous effects of the rising and setting sun and the beautiful moonlight. Apart from these the road is wearisome and abounding with dangers. Karghil is the principal place of the district, where the governor of the country resides. Its site is quite picturesque. Two water courses, the Souron and the Wakkha, roll their noisy and turbulent waters among rocks and sunken snags of uprooted trees, escaping from their respective defiles in the rocks, to join in forming here the river Souron, upon the banks of which stands Karghil. A little fort, garrisoned by two or three Sikhs, shows its outlines at the junction of the streams. Provided with a horse, I continued my journey at break of day, entering now the province of Ladak, or Little Thibet. I traversed a ricketty bridge, composed--like all the bridges of Kachmyr--of two long beams, the ends of which were supported upon the banks and the floor made of a layer of fagots and sticks, which imparted to the traveller, at least the illusion of a suspension bridge. Soon afterward I climbed slowly up on a little plateau, which crosses the way at a distance of two kilometres, to descend into the narrow valley of Wakkha. Here there are several villages, among which, on the left shore, is the very picturesque one called Paskium. Here my feet trod Buddhist ground. The inhabitants are of a very simple and mild disposition, seemingly ignorant of "quarreling." Women are very rare among them. Those of them whom I encountered were distinguished from the women I had hitherto seen in India or Kachmyr, by the air of gaiety and prosperity apparent in their countenances. How could it be otherwise, since each woman in this country has, on an average, three to five husbands, and possesses them in the most legitimate way in the world. Polyandry flourishes here. However large a family may be, there is but one woman in it. If the family does not contain already more than two husbands, a bachelor may share its advantages, for a consideration. The days sacred to each one of those husbands are determined in advance, and all acquit themselves of their respective duties and respect each others' rights. The men generally seem feeble, with bent backs, and do not live to old age. During my travels in Ladak, I only encountered one man so old that his hair was white. From Karghil to the centre of Ladak, the road had a more cheerful aspect than that I had traversed before reaching Karghil, its prospect being brightened by a number of little hamlets, but trees and verdure were, unfortunately, rare. Twenty miles from Karghil, at the end of the defile formed by the rapid current of the Wakkha, is a little village called Chargol, in the centre of which stand three chapels, decorated with lively colors (_t'horthenes_, to give them the name they bear in Thibet). Below, near the river, are masses of rocks, in the form of long and large walls, upon which are thrown, in apparent disorder, flat stones of different colors and sizes. Upon these stones are engraved all sorts of prayers, in Ourd, Sanscrit and Thibetan, and one can even find among them inscriptions in Arabic characters. Without the knowledge of my carriers, I succeeded in taking away a few of these stones, which are now in the palace of the Trocadero. Along the way, from Chargol, one finds frequently oblong mounds, artificial constructions. After sunrise, with fresh horses, I resumed my journey and stopped near the _gonpa_ (monastery) of Moulbek, which seems glued on the flank of an isolated rock. Below is the hamlet of Wakkha, and not far from there is to be seen another rock, of very strange form, which seems to have been placed where it stands by human hands. In one side of it is cut a Buddha several metres in height. Upon it are several cylinders, the turning of which serves for prayers. They are a sort of wooden barrel, draped with yellow or white fabrics, and are attached to vertically planted stakes. It requires only the least wind to make them turn. The person who puts up one of these cylinders no longer feels it obligatory upon him to say his prayers, for all that devout believers can ask of God is written upon the cylinders. Seen from a distance this white painted monastery, standing sharply out from the gray background of the rocks, with all these whirling, petticoated wheels, produce a strange effect in this dead country. I left my horses in the hamlet of Wakkha, and, followed by my servant, walked toward the convent, which is reached by a narrow stairway cut in the rock. At the top, I was received by a very fat lama, with a scanty, straggling beard under his chin--a common characteristic of the Thibetan people--who was very ugly, but very cordial. His costume consisted of a yellow robe and a sort of big nightcap, with projecting flaps above the ears, of the same color. He held in his hand a copper prayer-machine which, from time to time, he shook with his left hand, without at all permitting that exercise to interfere with his conversation. It was his eternal prayer, which he thus communicated to the wind, so that by this element it should be borne to Heaven. We traversed a suite of low chambers, upon the walls of which were images of Buddha, of all sizes and made of all kinds of materials, all alike covered by a thick layer of dust. Finally we reached an open terrace, from which the eyes, taking in the surrounding region, rested upon an inhospitable country, strewn with grayish rocks and traversed by only a single road, which on both sides lost itself in the horizon. When we were seated, they brought us beer, made with hops, called here _Tchang_ and brewed in the cloister. It has a tendency to rapidly produce _embonpoint_ upon the monks, which is regarded as a sign of the particular favor of Heaven. They spoke here the Thibetan language. The origin of this language is full of obscurity. One thing is certain, that a king of Thibet, a contemporary of Mohammed, undertook the creation of an universal language for all the disciples of Buddha. To this end he had simplified the Sanscrit grammar, composed an alphabet containing an infinite number of signs, and thus laid the foundations of a language the pronunciation of which is one of the easiest and the writing the most complicated. Indeed, in order to represent a sound one must employ not less than eight characters. All the modern literature of Thibet is written in this language. The pure Thibetan is only spoken in Ladak and Oriental Thibet. In all other parts of the country are employed dialects formed by the mixture of this mother language with different idioms taken from the neighboring peoples of the various regions round about. In the ordinary life of the Thibetan, there exists always two languages, one of which is absolutely incomprehensible to the women, while the other is spoken by the entire nation; but only in the convents can be found the Thibetan language in all its purity and integrity. The lamas much prefer the visits of Europeans to those of Musselmen, and when I asked the one who received me why this was so, he answered me: "Musselmen have no point of contact at all with our religion. Only comparatively recently, in their victorious campaign, they have converted, by force, part of the Buddhists to Islam. It requires of us great efforts to bring back those Musselmen, descendants of Buddhists, into the path of the true God. As regards the Europeans, it is quite a different affair. Not only do they profess the essential principles of monotheism, but they are, in a sense, adorers of Buddha, with almost the same rites as the lamas who inhabit Thibet. The only fault of the Christians is that after having adopted the great doctrines of Buddha, they have completely separated themselves from him, and have created for themselves a different Dalai-Lama. Our Dalai-Lama is the only one who has received the divine gift of seeing, face to face, the majesty of Buddha, and is empowered to serve as an intermediary between earth and heaven." "Which Dalai-Lama of the Christians do you refer to?" I asked him; "we have one, the Son of God, to whom we address directly our fervent prayers, and to him alone we recur to intercede with our One and Indivisible God." "It is not him of whom it is a question, Sahib," he replied. "We, too, respect him, whom we reverence as son of the One and Indivisible God, but we do not see in him the Only Son, but the excellent being who was chosen among all. Buddha, indeed, has incarnated himself, with his divine nature, in the person of the sacred Issa, who, without employing fire or iron, has gone forth to propagate our true and great religion among all the world. Him whom I meant was your terrestrial Dalai-Lama; he to whom you have given the title of 'Father of the Church.' That is a great sin. May he be brought back, with the flock, who are now in a bad road," piously added the lama, giving another twirl to his prayer-machine. I understood now that he alluded to the Pope. "You have told me that a son of Buddha, Issa, the elect among all, had spread your religion on the Earth. Who is he?" I asked. At this question the lama's eyes opened wide; he looked at me with astonishment and pronounced some words I could not catch, murmuring in an unintelligible way. "Issa," he finally replied, "is a great prophet, one of the first after the twenty-two Buddhas. He is greater than any one of all the Dalai-Lamas, for he constitutes part of the spirituality of our Lord. It is he who has instructed you; he who brought back into the bosom of God the frivolous and wicked souls; he who made you worthy of the beneficence of the Creator, who has ordained that each being should know good and evil. His name and his acts have been chronicled in our sacred writings, and when reading how his great life passed away in the midst of an erring people, we weep for the horrible sin of the heathen who murdered him, after subjecting him to torture." I was struck by this recital of the lama. The prophet Issa--his tortures and death--our Christian Dalai-Lama--the Buddhist recognizing Christianity--all these made me think more and more of Jesus Christ. I asked my interpreter not to lose a single word of what the lama told me. "Where can those writings be found, and who compiled them?" I asked the monk. "The principal scrolls--which were written in India and Nepaul, at different epochs, as the events happened--are in Lhassa; several thousands in number. In some great convents are to be found copies, which the lamas, during their sojourn in Lhassa, have made, at various times, and have then given to their cloisters as souvenirs of the period they spent with the Dalai-Lama." "But you, yourselves; do you not possess copies of the scrolls bearing upon the prophet Issa?" "We have not. Our convent is insignificant, and since its foundation our successive lamas have had only a few hundred manuscripts in their library. The great cloisters have several thousands of them; but they are sacred things which will not, anywhere, be shown to you." We spoke together a few minutes longer, after which I went home, all the while thinking of the lama's statements. Issa, a prophet of the Buddhists! But, how could this be? Of Jewish origin, he lived in Palestine and in Egypt; and the Gospels do not contain one word, not even the least allusion, to the part which Buddhism should have played in the education of Jesus. I made up my mind to visit all the convents of Thibet, in the hope of gathering fuller information upon the prophet Issa, and perhaps copies of the chronicles bearing upon this subject. * * * * * We traversed the Namykala Pass, at 30,000 feet of altitude, whence we descended into the valley of the River Salinoumah. Turning southward, we gained Karbou, leaving behind us, on the opposite bank, numerous villages, among other, Chagdoom, which is at the top of a rock, an extremely imposing sight. Its houses are white and have a sort of festive look, with their two and three stories. This, by the way, is a common peculiarity of all the villages of Ladak. The eye of the European, travelling in Kachmyr, would soon lose sight of all architecture to which he had been accustomed. In Ladak, on the contrary, he would be agreeably surprised at seeing the little two and three-story houses, reminders to him of those in European provinces. Near the city of Karbou, upon two perpendicular rocks, one sees the ruins of a little town or village. A tempest and an earthquake are said to have shaken down its walls, the solidity of which seems to have been exceptional. The next day I traversed the Fotu-La Pass, at an altitude of 13,500 feet. At its summit stands a little _t'horthene_ (chapel). Thence, following the dry bed of a stream, I descended to the hamlet of Lamayure, the sudden appearance of which is a surprise to the traveller. A convent, which seems grafted on the side of the rock, or held there in some miraculous way, dominates the village. Stairs are unknown in this cloister. In order to pass from one story of it to another, ropes are used. Communication with the world outside is through a labyrinth of passages in the rock. Under the windows of the convent--which make one think of birds' nests on the face of a cliff---is a little inn, the rooms of which are little inviting. Hardly had I stretched myself on the carpet in one of them, when the monks, dressed in their yellow robes, filled the apartment, bothered me with questions as to whence I came, the purpose of my coming, where I was going, and so on, finally inviting me to come and see them. In spite of my fatigue I accepted their invitation and set out with them, to climb up the excavated passages in the rock, which were encumbered with an infinity of prayer cylinders and wheels, which I could not but touch and set turning as I brushed past them. They are placed there that they may be so turned, saving to the passers-by the time they might otherwise lose in saying their prayers--as if their affairs were so absorbing, and their time so precious, that they could not find leisure to pray. Many pious Buddhists use for this purpose an apparatus arranged to be turned by the current of a stream. I have seen a long row of cylinders, provided with their prayer formulas, placed along a river bank, in such a way that the water kept them constantly in motion, this ingenious device freeing the proprietors from any further obligation to say prayers themselves. I sat down on a bench in the hall, where semi-obscurity reigned. The walls were garnished with little statues of Buddha, books and prayer-wheels. The loquacious lamas began explaining to me the significance of each object. "And those books?" I asked them; "they, no doubt, have reference to religion." "Yes, sir. These are a few religious volumes which deal with the primary and principal rites of the life common to all. We possess several parts of the words of Buddha consecrated to the Great and Indivisible Divine Being, and to all that issue from his hands." "Is there not, among those books, some account of the prophet Issa?" "No, sir," answered the monk. "We only possess a few principal treatises relating to the observance of the religious rites. As for the biographies of our saints, they are collected in Lhassa. There are even great cloisters which have not had the time to procure them. Before coming to this gonpa, I was for several years in a great convent on the other side of Ladak, and have seen there thousands of books, and scrolls copied out of various books by the lamas of the monastery." By some further interrogation I learned that the convent in question was near Leh, but my persistent inquiries had the effect of exciting the suspicions of the lamas. They showed me the way out with evident pleasure, and regaining my room, I fell asleep--after a light lunch--leaving orders with my Hindu to inform himself in a skillful way, from some of the younger lamas of the convent, about the monastery in which their chief had lived before coming to Lamayure. In the morning, when we set forth on our journey, the Hindu told me that he could get nothing from the lamas, who were very reticent. I will not stop to describe the life of the monks in those convents, for it is the same in all the cloisters of Ladak. I have seen the celebrated monastery of Leh--of which I shall have to speak later on--and learned there the strange existences the monks and religious people lead, which is everywhere the same. In Lamayure commences a declivity which, through a steep, narrow and sombre gorge, extends toward India. Without having the least idea of the dangers which the descent presented, I sent my carriers in advance and started on a route, rather pleasant at the outset, which passes between the brown clay hills, but soon it produced upon me the most depressing effect, as though I was traversing a gloomy subterranean passage. Then the road came out on the flank of the mountain, above a terrible abyss. If a rider had met me, we could not possibly have passed each other, the way was so narrow. All description would fail to convey a sense of the grandeur and wild beauty of this cañon, the summit of the walls of which seemed to reach the sky. At some points it became so narrow that from my saddle I could, with my cane, touch the opposite rock. At other places, death might be fancied looking up expectantly, from the abyss, at the traveller. It was too late to dismount. In entering alone this gorge, I had not the faintest idea that I would have occasion to regret my foolish imprudence. I had not realized its character. It was simply an enormous crevasse, rent by some Titanic throe of nature, some tremendous earthquake, which had split the granite mountain. In its bottom I could just distinguish a hardly perceptible white thread, an impetuous torrent, the dull roar of which filled the defile with mysterious and impressive sounds. Far overhead extended, narrow and sinuously, a blue ribbon, the only glimpse of the celestial world that the frowning granite walls permitted to be seen. It was a thrilling pleasure, this majestic view of nature. At the same time, its rugged severity, the vastness of its proportions, the deathly silence only invaded by the ominous murmur from the depths beneath, all together filled me with an unconquerable depression. I had about eight miles in which to experience these sensations, at once sweet and painful. Then, turning to the right, our little caravan reached a small valley, almost surrounded by precipitous granite rocks, which mirrored themselves in the Indus. On the bank of the river stands the little fortress Khalsi, a celebrated fortification dating from the epoch of the Musselman invasion, by which runs the wild road from Kachmyr to Thibet. We crossed the Indus on an almost suspended bridge which led directly to the door of the fortress, thus impossible of evasion. Rapidly we traversed the valley, then the village of Khalsi, for I was anxious to spend the night in the hamlet of Snowely, which is placed upon terraces descending to the Indus. The two following days I travelled tranquilly and without any difficulties to overcome, along the shore of the Indus, in a picturesque country--which brought me to Leh, the capital of Ladak. While traversing the little valley of Saspoula, at a distance of several kilometres from the village of the same name, I found "_t'horthenes_" and two cloisters, above one of which floated the French flag. Later on, I learned that a French engineer had presented the flag to the monks, who displayed it simply as a decoration of their building. I passed the night at Saspoula and certainly did not forget to visit the cloisters, seeing there for the tenth time the omnipresent dust-covered images of Buddha; the flags and banners heaped in a corner; ugly masks on the floor; books and papyrus rolls heaped together without order or care, and the inevitable abundance of prayer-wheels. The lamas demonstrated a particular pleasure in exhibiting these things, doing it with the air of shopmen displaying their goods, with very little care for the degree of interest the traveller may take in them. "We must show everything, in the hope that the sight alone of these sacred objects will force the traveller to believe in the divine grandeur of the human soul." Respecting the prophet Issa, they gave me the same account I already had, and I learned, what I had known before, that the books which could instruct me about him were at Lhassa, and that only the great monasteries possessed some copies. I did not think any more of passing Kara-koroum, but only of finding the history of the prophet Issa, which would, perhaps, bring to light the entire life of the best of men, and complete the rather vague information which the Gospels afford us about him. Not far from Leh, and at the entrance of the valley of the same name, our road passed near an isolated rock, on the top of which were constructed a fort--with two towers and without garrison--and a little convent named Pitak. A mountain, 10,500 feet high, protects the entrance to Thibet. There the road makes a sudden turn toward the north, in the direction of Leh, six miles from Pitak and a thousand feet higher. Immense granite mountains tower above Leh, to a height of 18,000 or 19,000 feet, their crests covered with eternal snow. The city itself, surrounded by a girdle of stunted aspen trees, rises upon successive terraces, which are dominated by an old fort and the palaces of the ancient sovereigns of Ladak. Toward evening I made my entrance into Leh, and stopped at a bengalow constructed especially for Europeans, whom the road from India brings here in the hunting season. Ladak Ladak formerly was part of Great Thibet. The powerful invading forces from the north which traversed the country to conquer Kachmyr, and the wars of which Ladak was the theatre, not only reduced it to misery, but eventually subtracted it from the political domination of Lhassa, and made it the prey of one conqueror after another. The Musselmen, who seized Kachmyr and Ladak at a remote epoch, converted by force the poor inhabitants of old Thibet to the faith of Islam. The political existence of Ladak ended with the annexation of this country to Kachmyr by the sëiks, which, however, permitted the Ladakians to return to their ancient beliefs. Two-thirds of the inhabitants took advantage of this opportunity to rebuild their gonpas and take up their past life anew. Only the Baltistans remained Musselman schüttes--a sect to which the conquerors of the country had belonged. They, however, have only conserved a vague shadow of Islamism, the character of which manifests itself in their ceremonials and in the polygamy which they practice. Some lamas affirmed to me that they did not despair of one day bringing them back to the faith of their ancestors. From the religious point of view Ladak is a dependency of Lhassa, the capital of Thibet and the place of residence of the Dalai-Lama. In Lhassa are located the principal Khoutoukhtes, or Supreme Lamas, and the Chogzots, or administrators. Politically, it is under the authority of the Maharadja of Kachmyr, who is represented there by a governor. The inhabitants of Ladak belong to the Chinese-Touranian race, and are divided into Ladakians and Tchampas. The former lead a sedentary existence, building villages of two-story houses along the narrow valleys, are cleanly in their habits, and cultivators of the soil. They are excessively ugly; thin, with stooping figures and small heads set deep between their shoulders; their cheek bones salient, foreheads narrow, eyes black and brilliant, as are those of all the Mongol race; noses flat, mouths large and thin-lipped; and from their small chins, very thinly garnished by a few hairs, deep wrinkles extend upward furrowing their hollow cheeks. To all this, add a close-shaven head with only a little bristling fringe of hair, and you will have the general type, not alone of Ladak, but of entire Thibet. The women are also of small stature, and have exceedingly prominent cheek bones, but seem to be of much more robust constitution. A healthy red tinges their cheeks and sympathetic smiles linger upon their lips. They have good dispositions, joyous inclinations, and are fond of laughing. The severity of the climate and rudeness of the country, do not permit to the Ladakians much latitude in quality and colors of costume. They wear gowns of simple gray linen and coarse dull-hued clothing of their own manufacture. The pantaloons of the men only descend to their knees. People in good circumstances wear, in addition to the ordinary dress, the "choga," a sort of overcoat which is draped on the back when not wrapped around the figure. In winter they wear fur caps, with big ear flaps, and in summer cover their heads with a sort of cloth hood, the top of which dangles on one side, like a Phrygian cap. Their shoes are made of felt and covered with leather. A whole arsenal of little things hangs down from their belts, among which you will find a needle case, a knife, a pen and inkstand, a tobacco pouch, a pipe, and a diminutive specimen of the omnipresent prayer-cylinder. The Thibetan men are generally so lazy, that if a braid of hair happens to become loose, it is not tressed up again for three months, and when once a shirt is put on the body, it is not again taken off until it falls to pieces. Their overcoats are always unclean, and, on the back, one may contemplate a long oily stripe imprinted by the braid of hair, which is carefully greased every day. They wash themselves once a year, but even then do not do so voluntarily, but because compelled by law. They emit such a terrible stench that one avoids, as much as possible, being near them. The Thibetan women, on the contrary, are very fond of cleanliness and order. They wash themselves daily and as often as may be needful. Short and clean chemises hide their dazzling white necks. The Thibetan woman throws on her round shoulders a red jacket, the flaps of which are covered by tight pantaloons of green or red cloth, made in such a manner as to puff up and so protect the legs against the cold. She wears embroidered red half boots, trimmed and lined with fur. A large cloth petticoat with numerous folds completes her home toilet. Her hair is arranged in thin braids, to which, by means of pins, a large piece of floating cloth is attached,--which reminds one of the headdress so common in Italy. Underneath this sort of veil are suspended a variety of various colored pebbles, coins and pieces of metal. The ears are covered by flaps made of cloth or fur. A furred sheepskin covers the back, poor women contenting themselves with a simple plain skin of the animal, while wealthy ladies wear veritable cloaks, lined with red cloth and adorned with gold fringes. The Ladak woman, whether walking in the streets or visiting her neighbors, always carries upon her back a conical basket, the smaller end of which is toward the ground. They fill it with the dung of horses or cows, which constitute the combustible of the country. Every woman has money of her own, and spends it for jewelry. Generally she purchases, at a small expense, large pieces of turquoise, which are added to the _bizarre_ ornaments of her headdress. I have seen pieces so worn which weighed nearly five pounds. The Ladak woman occupies a social position for which she is envied by all women of the Orient. She is free and respected. With the exception of some rural work, she passes the greatest part of her time in visiting. It must, however, be added that women's gossip is here a perfectly unknown thing. The settled population of Ladak is engaged in agriculture, but they own so little land (the share of each may amount to about eight acres) that the revenue drawn from it is insufficient to provide them with the barest necessities and does not permit them to pay taxes. Manual occupations are generally despised. Artisans and musicians form the lowest class of society. The name by which they are designated is Bem, and people are very careful not to contract any alliance with them. The hours of leisure left by rural work are spent in hunting the wild sheep of Thibet, the skins of which are highly valued in India. The poorest, _i.e._, those who have not the means to purchase arms for hunting, hire themselves as coolies. This is also an occupation of women, who are very capable of enduring arduous toil. They are healthier than their husbands, whose laziness goes so far that, careless of cold or heat, they are capable of spending a whole night in the open air on a bed of stones rather than take the trouble to go to bed. Polyandry (which I shall treat later more fully) causes the formation of very large families, who, in common, cultivate their jointly possessed lands, with the assistance of yaks, zos and zomos (oxen and cows). A member of a family cannot detach himself from it, and when he dies, his share reverts to the survivors in common. They sow but little wheat and the grain is very small, owing to the severity of the climate. They also harvest barley, which they pulverize before selling. When work in the field is ended, all male inhabitants go to gather on the mountain a wild herb called "enoriota," and large thorn bushes or "dama," which are used as fuel, since combustibles are scarce in Ladak. You see there neither trees nor gardens, and only exceptionally thin clumps of willows and poplars grow on the shores of the rivers. Near the villages are also found some aspen trees; but, on account of the unfertility of the ground, arboriculture is unknown and gardening is little successful. The absence of wood is especially noticeable in the buildings, which are made of sun-dried bricks, or, more frequently, of stones of medium size which are agglomerated with a kind of mortar composed of clay and chopped straw. The houses of the settled inhabitants are two stories high, their fronts whitewashed, and their window-sashes painted with lively colors. The flat roof forms a terrace which is decorated with wild flowers, and here, during good weather, the inhabitants spend much of their time contemplating nature, or turning their prayer-wheels. Every dwelling-house is composed of many rooms; among them always one of superior size, the walls of which are decorated with superb fur-skins, and which is reserved for visitors. In the other rooms are beds and other furniture. Rich people possess, moreover, a special room filled with all kinds of idols, and set apart as a place of worship. Life here is very regular. They eat anything attainable, without much choice; the principal nourishment of the Ladak people, however, being exceedingly simple. Their breakfast consists of a piece of rye bread. At dinner, they serve on the table a bowl with meal into which lukewarm water is stirred with little rods until the mixture assumes the consistency of thick paste. From this, small portions are scooped out and eaten with milk. In the evening, bread and tea are served. Meat is a superfluous luxury. Only the hunters introduce some variety in their alimentation, by eating the meat of wild sheep, eagles or pheasants, which are very common in this country. During the day, on every excuse and opportunity, they drink "tchang," a kind of pale, unfermented beer. If it happens that a Ladakian, mounted on a pony (such privileged people are very rare), goes to seek work in the surrounding country, he provides himself with a small stock of meal; when dinner time comes, he descends to a river or spring, mixes with water, in a wooden cup that he always has with him, some of the meal, swallows the simple refreshment and washes it down with water. The Tchampas, or nomads, who constitute the other part of Ladak's population, are rougher, and much poorer than the settled population. They are, for the most part, hunters, who completely neglect agriculture. Although they profess the Buddhistic religion, they never frequent the cloisters unless in want of meal, which they obtain in exchange for their venison. They mostly camp in tents on the summits of the mountains, where the cold is very great. While the properly called Ladakians are peaceable, very desirous of learning, of an incarnated laziness, and are never known to tell untruth; the Tchampas, on the contrary, are very irascible, extremely lively, great liars and profess a great disdain for the convents. Among them lives the small population of Khombas, wanderers from the vicinity of Lhassa, who lead the miserable existence of a troupe of begging gipsies on the highways. Incapable of any work whatever, speaking a language not spoken in the country where they beg for their subsistence, they are the objects of general contempt, and are only tolerated out of pity for their deplorable condition, when hunger drives their mendicant bands to seek alms in the villages. * * * * * Polyandry, which is universally prevalent here, of course interested my curiosity. This institution is, by the way, not the outcome of Buddha's doctrines. Polyandry existed long before the advent of Buddha. It assumed considerable proportions in India, where it constituted one of the most effective means for checking the growth of a population which tends to constant increase, an economic danger which is even yet combatted by the abominable custom of killing newborn female children, which causes terrible ravages in the child-life of India. The efforts made by the English in their enactments against the suppression of the future mothers have proved futile and fruitless. Manu himself established polyandry as a law, and Buddhist preachers, who had renounced Brahminism and preached the use of opium, imported this custom into Ceylon, Thibet, Corea, and the country of the Moguls. For a long time suppressed in China, polyandry, which flourishes in Thibet and Ceylon, is also met with among the Kalmonks, between Todas in Southern India, and Nairs on the coast of Malabar. Traces of this strange constitution of the family are also to be found with the Tasmanians and the Irquois Indians in North America. Polyandry, by the way, has even flourished in Europe, if we may believe Cæsar, who, in his _De Bello Gallico_, book V., page 17, writes: "_Uxores habent deni duodenique inter se communes, et maxime fratres cum fratribus et parentes cum liberis._" In view of all this it is impossible to hold any religion responsible for the existence of the institution of polyandry. In Thibet it can be explained by motives of an economical nature; the small quantity of arable land falling to the share of each inhabitant. In order to support the 1,500,000 inhabitants distributed in Thibet, upon a surface of 1,200,000 square kilometres, the Buddhists were forced to adopt polyandry. Moreover, each family is bound to enter one of its members in a religious order. The firstborn is consecrated to a gonpa, which is inevitably found upon an elevation, at the entrance of every village. As soon as the child attains the age of eighteen years, he is entrusted to the caravans which pass Lhassa, where he remains from eight to fifteen years as a novice, in one of the gonpas which are near the city. There he learns to read and write, is taught the religious rites and studies the sacred parchments written in the Pali language--which formerly used to be the language of the country of Maguada, where, according to tradition, Buddha was born. The oldest brother remaining in a family chooses a wife, who becomes common to his brothers. The choice of the bride and the nuptial ceremonies are most rudimentary. When a wife and her husband have decided upon the marriage of a son, the brother who possesses the right of choice, pays a visit to a neighboring family in which there is a marriageable daughter. The first and second visits are spent in more or less indifferent conversations, blended with frequent libations of tchang, and on the third visit only does the young man declare his intention to take a wife. Upon this the girl is formally introduced to him. She is generally not unknown to the wooer, as, in Ladak, women never veil their faces. A girl cannot be married without her consent. When the young man is accepted, he takes his bride to his house, and she becomes his wife and also the wife of all his brothers. A family which has an only son sends him to a woman who has no more than two or three husbands, and he offers himself to her as a fourth husband. Such an offer is seldom declined, and the young man settles in the new family. The newly married remain with the parents of the husbands, until the young wife bears her first child. The day after that event, the grandparents of the infant make over the bulk of their fortune to the new family, and, abandoning the old home to them, seek other shelter. Sometimes marriages are contracted between youth who have not reached a marriageable age, but in such event, the married couple are made to live apart, until they have attained and even passed the age required. An unmarried girl who becomes _enceinte_, far from being exposed to the scorn of every one, is shown the highest respect; for she is demonstrated fruitful, and men eagerly seek her in marriage. A wife has the unquestioned right of having an unlimited number of husbands and lovers. If she likes a young man, she takes him home, announces that he has been chosen by her as a "jingtuh" (a lover), and endows him with all the personal rights of a husband, which situation is accepted by her temporarily supplanted husbands with a certain philosophic pleasure, which is the more pronounced if their wife has proved sterile during the three first years of her marriage. They certainly have here not even a vague idea of jealousy. The Thibetan's blood is too cold to know love, which, for him, would be almost an anachronism; if indeed he were not conscious that the sentiment of the entire community would be against him, as a flagrant violator of popular usage and established rights, in restraining the freedom of the women. The selfish enjoyment of love would be, in their eyes, an unjustifiable luxury. In case of a husband's absence, his place may be offered to a bachelor or a widower. The latter are here in the minority, since the wife generally survives her feeble husbands. Sometimes a Buddhist traveller, whom his affairs bring to the village, is chosen for this office. A husband who travels, or seeks for work in the neighboring country, at every stop takes advantage of his co-religionists' hospitality, who offer him their own wives. The husbands of a sterile woman exert themselves to find opportunities for hospitality, which may happily eventuate in a change in her condition, that they may be made happy fathers. The wife enjoys the general esteem, is ever of a cheerful disposition, takes part in everything that is going on, goes and comes without any restriction, anywhere and everywhere she pleases, with the exception of the principal prayer-room of the monastery, entrance into which is formally prohibited to her. Children know only their mother, and do not feel the least affection for their fathers, for the simple reason that they have so many. Without approving polyandry, I could not well blame Thibet for this institution, since without it, the population would prodigiously increase. Famine and misery would fall upon the whole nation, with all the sinister _sequellæ_ of murder and theft, crimes so far absolutely unknown in the whole country. _A Festival in a Gonpa_ Leh, the capital of Ladak, is a little town of 5,000 inhabitants, who live in white, two-story houses, upon two or three streets, principally. In its centre is the square of the bazaar, where the merchants of India, China, Turkestan, Kachmyr and Thibet, come to exchange their products for the Thibetan gold. Here the natives provide themselves with cloths for themselves and their monks, and various objects of real necessity. An old uninhabited palace rises upon a hill which dominates the town. Fronting the central square is a vast building, two stories in height, the residence of the governor of Ladak, the Vizier Souradjbal--a very amiable and universally popular Pendjaban, who has received in London the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. To entertain me, during my sojourn in Leh, the governor arranged, on the bazaar square, a game of polo--the national sport of the Thibetans, which the English have adopted and introduced into Europe. In the evening, after the game, the people executed dances and played games before the governor's residence. Large bonfires illuminated the scene, lighting up the throng of inhabitants, who formed a great circle about the performers. The latter, in considerable numbers, disguised as animals, devils and sorcerers, jumped and contorted themselves in rhythmic dances timed to the measure of the monotonous and unpleasing music made by two long trumpets and a drum. The infernal racket and shouting of the crowd wearied me. The performance ended with some graceful dances by Thibetan women, who spun upon their heels, swaying to and fro, and, in passing before the spectators in the windows of the residence, greeted us by the clashing together of the copper and ivory bracelets on their crossed wrists. The next day, at an early hour, I repaired to the great Himis convent, which, a little distance from Leh, is elevated upon the top of a great rock, on a picturesque site, commanding the valley of the Indies. It is one of the principal monasteries of the country, and is maintained by the gifts of the people and the subsidies it receives from Lhassa. On the road leading to it, beyond the bridge crossing the Indus, and in the vicinity of the villages lining the way, one finds heaps of stones bearing engraved inscriptions, such as have already been described, and _t'horthenes_. At these places, our guides were very careful to turn to the right. I wished to turn my horse to the left, but the Ladakians made him go back and led him by his halter to the right, explaining to me that such was their established usage. I found it impossible to learn the origin or reason of this custom. Above the gonpa rises a battlemented tower, visible from a great distance. We climbed, on foot, to the level on which the edifice stands and found ourselves confronted by a large door, painted in brilliant colors, the portal of a vast two-story building enclosing a court paved with little pebbles. To the right, in one of the angles of the court, is another huge painted door, adorned with big copper rings. It is the entrance to the principal temple, which is decorated with paintings of the principal gods, and contains a great statue of Buddha and a multitude of sacred statuettes. To the left, upon a verandah, was placed an immense prayer-cylinder. All the lamas of the convent, with their chief, stood about it, when we entered the court. Below the verandah were musicians, holding long trumpets and drums. At the right of the court were a number of doors, leading to the rooms of the lamas; all decorated with sacred paintings and provided with little prayer-barrels fancifully surmounted by black and white tridents, from the points of which floated ribbons bearing inscriptions--doubtless prayers. In the centre of the court were raised two tall masts, from the tops of which dangled tails of yaks, and long paper streamers floated, covered with religious inscriptions. All along the walls were numerous prayer-barrels, adorned with ribbons. A profound silence reigned among the many spectators present. All awaited anxiously the commencement of a religious "mystery," which was about to be presented. We took up a position near the verandah. Almost immediately, the musicians drew from their long trumpets soft and monotonous tones, marking the time by measured beats upon an odd-looking drum, broad and shallow, upreared upon a stick planted in the ground. At the first sounds of the strange music, in which joined the voices of the lamas in a melancholy chant, the doors along the wall opened simultaneously, giving entrance to about twenty masked persons, disguised as animals, birds, devils and imaginary monsters. On their breasts they bore representations of fantastic dragons, demons and skulls, embroidered with Chinese silk of various colors. From the conical hats they wore, depended to their breasts long multicolored ribbons, covered with inscriptions. Their masks were white death's-heads. Slowly they marched about the masts, stretching out their arms from time to time and flourishing with their left hands spoon-shaped objects, the bowl portions of which were said to be fragments of human crania, with ribbons attached, having affixed to their ends human hair, which, I was assured, had been taken from scalped enemies. Their promenade, in gradually narrowing circles about the masts, soon became merely a confused jostling of each other; when the rolling of the drum grew more accentuated, the performers for an instant stopped, then started again, swinging above their heads yellow sticks, ribbon-decked, which with their right hands they brandished in menacing attitudes. After making a salute to the chief lama, they approached the door leading to the temple, which at this instant opened, and from it another band came forth, whose heads were covered by copper masks. Their dresses were of rich materials, embroidered in various bright colors. In one hand each of them carried a small tambourine and with the other he agitated a little bell. From the rim of each tambourine depended a metallic ball, so placed that the least movement of the hand brought it in contact with the resonant tympanum, which caused a strange, continuous undercurrent of pulsating sound. There new performers circled several times about the court, marking the time of their dancing steps by measured thumpings of the tambourines. At the completion of each turn, they made a deafening noise with their instruments. Finally, they ran to the temple door and ranged themselves upon the steps before it. For a moment, there was silence. Then we saw emerge from the temple a third band of performers. Their enormous masks represented different deities, and each bore upon its forehead "the third eye." At their head marched Thlogan-Poudma-Jungnas (literally "he who was born in the lotus flower"). Another richly dressed mask marched beside him, carrying a yellow parasol covered with symbolic designs. His suite was composed of gods, in magnificent costumes; Dorje-Trolong and Sangspa-Kourpo (_i.e._, Brahma himself), and others. These masks, as a lama sitting near me explained to us, represented six classes of beings subject to the metamorphoses; the gods, the demigods, men, animals, spirits and demons. On each side of these personages, who advanced gravely, marched other masks, costumed in silks of brilliant hues and wearing on their heads golden crowns, fashioned with six lotus-like flowers on each, surmounted by a tall dart in the centre. Each of these masks carried a drum. These disguises made three turns about the masts, to the sound of a noisy and incoherent music, and then seated themselves on the ground, around Thlogan-Pondma-Jungnas, a god with three eyes, who gravely introduced two fingers into his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle. At this signal, young men dressed in warrior costumes--with ribbon-decked bells dangling about their legs--came with measured steps from the temple. Their heads were covered by enormous green masks, from which floated triangular red flags, and they, too, carried tambourines. Making a diabolical din, they whirled and danced about the gods seated on the ground. Two big fellows accompanying them, who were dressed in tight clown costumes, executed all kinds of grotesque contortions and acrobatic feats, by which they won plaudits and shouts of laughter from the spectators. Another group of disguises--of which the principal features were red mitres and yellow pantaloons--came out of the temple, with bells and tambourines in their hands, and seated themselves opposite the gods, as representatives of the highest powers next to divinity. Lastly there entered upon the scene a lot of red and brown masks, with a "third eye" painted on their breasts. With those who had preceded them, they formed two long lines of dancers, who to the thrumming of their many tambourines, the measured music of the trumpets and drums, and the jingling of a myriad of bells, performed a dance, approaching and receding from each other, whirling in circles, forming by twos in a column and breaking from that formation to make new combinations, pausing occasionally to make reverent obeisance before the gods. After a time this spectacular excitement--the noisy monotony of which began to weary me--calmed down a little; gods, demigods, kings, men and spirits got up, and followed by all the other maskers, directed themselves toward the temple door, whence issued at once, meeting them, a lot of men admirably disguised as skeletons. All those sorties were calculated and prearranged, and every one of them had its particular significance. The _cortège_ of dancers gave way to the skeletons, who advanced with measured steps, in silence, to the masts, where they stopped and made a concerted clicking with pieces of wood hanging at their sides, simulating perfectly the rattling of dry bones and gnashing of teeth. Twice they went in a circle around the masts, marching in time to low taps on the drums, and then joined in a lugubrious religious chant. Having once more made the concerted rattling of their artificial bones and jaws, they executed some contortions painful to witness and together stopped. Then they seized upon an image of the Enemy of Man--made of some sort of brittle paste--which had been placed at the foot of one of the masts. This they broke in pieces and scattered, and the oldest men among the spectators, rising from their places, picked up the fragments which they handed to the skeletons--an action supposed to signify that they would soon be ready to join the bony crew in the cemetery. * * * * * The chief lama, approaching me, tendered an invitation to accompany him to the principal terrace and partake of the festal "tchang"; which I accepted with pleasure, for my head was dizzy from the long spectacle. We crossed the court and climbed a staircase--obstructed with prayer-wheels, as usual--passed two rooms where there were many images of gods, and came out upon the terrace, where I seated myself upon a bench opposite the venerable lama, whose eyes sparkled with spirit. Three lamas brought pitchers of tchang, which they poured into small copper cups, that were offered first to the chief lama, then to me and my servants. "Did you enjoy our little festival?" the lama asked me. "I found it very enjoyable and am still impressed by the spectacle I have witnessed. But, to tell the truth, I never suspected for a moment that Buddhism, in these religious ceremonies, could display such a visible, not to say noisy, exterior form." "There is no religion, the ceremonies of which are not surrounded with more theatrical forms," the lama answered. "This is a ritualistic phase which does not by any means violate the fundamental principles of Buddhism. It is a practical means for maintaining in the ignorant mass obedience to and love for the one Creator, just as a child is beguiled by toys to do the will of its parents. The ignorant mass is the child of The Father." "But what is the meaning," I said to him, "of all those masks, costumes, bells, dances, and, generally, of this entire performance, which seems to be executed after a prescribed programme?" "We have many similar festivals in the year," answered the lama, "and we arrange particular ones to represent 'mysteries,' susceptible of pantomimic presentation, in which each actor is allowed considerable latitude of action, in the movements and jests he likes, conforming, nevertheless, to the circumstances and to the leading idea. Our mysteries are simply pantomimes calculated to show the veneration offered to the gods, which veneration sustains and cheers the soul of man, who is prone to anxious contemplation of inevitable death and the life to come. The actors receive the dresses from the cloister and they play according to general indications, which leave them much liberty of individual action. The general effect produced is, no doubt, very beautiful, but it is a matter for the spectators themselves to divine the signification of one or another action. You, too, have recourse sometimes to similar devices, which, however, do not in the least violate the principle of monotheism." "Pardon me," I remarked, "but this multitude of idols with which your gonpas abound, is a flagrant violation of that principle." "As I have told you," replied the lama to my interruption, "man will always be in childhood. He sees and feels the grandeur of nature and understands everything presented to his senses, but he neither sees nor divines the Great Soul which created and animates all things. Man has always sought for tangible things. It was not possible for him to believe long in that which escaped his material senses. He has racked his brain for any means for contemplating the Creator; has endeavored to enter into direct relations with him who has done him so much good, and also, as he erroneously believes, so much evil. For this reason he began to adore every phase of nature from which he received benefits. We see a striking example of this in the ancient Egyptians, who adored animals, trees, stones, the winds and the rain. Other peoples, who were more sunk in ignorance, seeing that the results of the wind were not always beneficent, and that the rain did not inevitably bring good harvests, and that the animals were not willingly subservient to man, began to seek for direct intermediaries between themselves and the great mysterious and unfathomable power of the Creator. Therefore they made for themselves idols, which they regarded as indifferent to things concerning them, but to whose interposition in their behalf, they might always recur. From remotest antiquity to our own days, man was ever inclined only to tangible realities. "While seeking a route to lead their feet to the Creator, the Assyrians turned their eyes toward the stars, which they contemplated without the power of attaining them. The Guebers have conserved the same belief to our days. In their nullity and spiritual blindness, men are incapable of conceiving the invisible spiritual bond which unites them to the great Divinity, and this explains why they have always sought for palpable things, which were in the domain of the senses, and by doing which they minimized the divine principle. Nevertheless, they have dared to attribute to their visible and man-made images a divine and eternal existence. We can see the same fact in Brahminism, where man, given to his inclination for exterior forms, has created, little by little, and not all at once, an army of gods and demigods. The Israelites may be said to have demonstrated, in the most flagrant way, the love of man for everything which is concrete. In spite of a series of striking miracles accomplished by the great Creator, who is the same for all the peoples, the Jewish people could not help making a god of metal in the very minute when their prophet Mossa spoke to them of the Creator! Buddhism has passed through the same modifications. Our great reformer, Sakya-Muni, inspired by the Supreme Judge, understood truly the one and indivisible Brahma, and forbade his disciples attempting to manufacture images in imaginary semblance of him. He had openly broken from the polytheistic Brahmins, and appreciated the purity, oneness and immortality of Brahma. The success he achieved by his teachings in making disciples among the people, brought upon him persecution by the Brahmins, who, in the creation of new gods, had found a source of personal revenue, and who, contrary to the law of God, treated the people in a despotic manner. Our first sacred teachers, to whom we give the name of buddhas--which means, learned men or saints--because the great Creator has incarnated in them, settled in different countries of the globe. As their teachings attacked especially the tyranny of the Brahmins and the misuse they made of the idea of God--of which they indeed made a veritable business--almost all the Buddhistic converts, they who followed the doctrines of those great teachers, were among the common people of China and India. Among those teachers, particular reverence is felt for the Buddha, Sakya-Muni, known in China also under the name of Fô, who lived three thousand years ago, and whose teachings brought all China back into the path of the true God; and the Buddha, Gautama, who lived two thousand five hundred years ago, and converted almost half the Hindus to the knowledge of the impersonal, indivisible and only God, besides whom there is none. "Buddhism is divided into many sects which, by the way, differ only in certain religious ceremonies, the basis of the doctrine being everywhere the same. The Thibetan Buddhists, who are called 'lamaists,' separated themselves from the Fô-ists fifteen hundred years ago. Until that time we had formed part of the worshippers of the Buddha, Fô-Sakya-Muni, who was the first to collect all the laws compiled by the various buddhas preceding him, when the great schism took place in the bosom of Brahmanism. Later on, a Khoutoukhte-Mongol translated into Chinese the books of the great Buddha, for which the Emperor of China rewarded him by bestowing upon him the title of 'Go-Chi--'Preceptor of the King!' After his death, this title was given to the Dalai-Lama of Thibet. Since that epoch, all the titularies of this position have borne the title of Go-Chi. Our religion is called the Lamaic one--from the word 'lama,' superior. It admits of two classes of monks, the red and the yellow. The former may marry, and they recognize the authority of the Bantsine, who resides in Techow Loumba, and is chief of the civil administration in Thibet. We, the yellow lamas, have taken the vow of celibacy, and our direct chief is the Dalai-Lama. This is the difference which separates the two religious orders, the respective rituals of which are identical." "Do all perform mysteries similar to that which I have just witnessed?" "Yes; with a few exceptions. Formerly these festivals were celebrated with very solemn pomp, but since the conquest of Ladak our convents have been, more than once, pillaged and our wealth taken away. Now we content ourselves with simple garments and bronze utensils, while in Thibet you see but golden robes and gold utensils." "In a visit which I recently made to a gonpa, one of the lamas told me of a prophet, or, as you call him, a buddha, by the name of Issa. Could you not tell me anything about him?" I asked my interlocutor, seizing this favorable moment to start the subject which interested me so greatly. "The name Issa is very much respected among the Buddhists," he replied, "but he is only known by the chief lamas, who have read the scrolls relating to his life. There have existed an infinite number of buddhas like Issa, and the 84,000 scrolls existing are filled brim full of details concerning each one of them. But very few persons have read the one-hundredth part of those memoirs. In conformity with established custom, every disciple or lama who visits Lhassa makes a gift of one or several copies, from the scrolls there, to the convent to which he belongs. Our gonpa, among others, possesses already a great number, which I read in my leisure hours. Among them are the memoirs of the life and acts of the Buddha Issa, who preached the same doctrine in India and among the sons of Israel, and who was put to death by the Pagans, whose descendants, later on, adopted the beliefs he spread,--and those beliefs are yours. "The great Buddha, the soul of the Universe, is the incarnation of Brahma. He, almost always, remains immobile, containing in himself all things, being in himself the origin of all and his breath vivifying the world. He has left man to the control of his own forces, but, at certain epochs, lays aside his inaction and puts on a human form that he may, as their teacher and guide, rescue his creatures from impending destruction. In the course of his terrestrial existence in the similitude of man, Buddha creates a new world in the hearts of erring men; then he leaves the earth, to become once more an invisible being and resume his condition of perfect bliss. Three thousand years ago, Buddha incarnated in the celebrated Prince Sakya-Muni, reaffirming and propagating the doctrines taught by him in his twenty preceding incarnations. Twenty-five hundred years ago, the Great Soul of the World incarnated anew in Gautama, laying the foundation of a new world in Burmah, Siam and different islands. Soon afterward, Buddhism began to penetrate China, through the persevering efforts of the sages, who devoted themselves to the propagation of the sacred doctrine, and under Ming-Ti, of the Honi dynasty, nearly 2,050 years ago, the teachings of Sakya-Muni were adopted by the people of that country. Simultaneously with the appearance of Buddhism in China, the same doctrines began to spread among the Israelites. It is about 2,000 years ago that the perfect Being, awaking once more for a short time from his inaction, incarnated in the newborn child of a poor family. It was his will that this little child should enlighten the unhappy upon the life of the world to come and bring erring men back into the path of truth; showing to them, by his own example, the way they could best return to the primitive morality and purity of our race. When this sacred child attained a certain age, he was brought to India, where, until he attained to manhood, he studied the laws of the great Buddha, who dwells eternally in heaven." "In what language are written the principal scrolls bearing upon the life of Issa?" I asked, rising from my seat, for I saw that my interesting interlocutor evidenced fatigue, and had just given a twirl to his prayer-wheel, as if to hint the closing of the conversation. "The original scrolls brought from India to Nepaul, and from Nepaul to Thibet, relating to the life of Issa, are written in the Pali language and are actually in Lhassa; but a copy in our language--I mean the Thibetan--is in this convent." "How is Issa looked upon in Thibet? Has he the repute of a saint?" "The people are not even aware that he ever existed. Only the principal lamas, who know of him through having studied the scrolls in which his life is related, are familiar with his name; but, as his doctrine does not constitute a canonical part of Buddhism, and the worshippers of Issa do not recognize the authority of the Dalai-Lama, the prophet Issa--with many others like him--is not recognized in Thibet as one of the principal saints." "Would you commit a sin in reciting your copy of the life of Issa to a stranger?" I asked him. "That which belongs to God," he answered me, "belongs also to man. Our duty requires us to cheerfully devote ourselves to the propagation of His doctrine. Only, I do not, at present, know where that manuscript is. If you ever visit our gonpa again, I shall take pleasure in showing it to you." At this moment two monks entered, and uttered to the chief lama a few words unintelligible to me. "I am called to the sacrifices. Will you kindly excuse me?" said he to me, and with a salute, turned to the door and disappeared. I could do no better than withdraw and lie down in the chamber which was assigned to me and where I spent the night. * * * * * In the evening of the next day I was again in Leh--thinking of how to get back to the convent. Two days later I sent, by a messenger, to the chief lama, as presents, a watch, an alarm clock, and a thermometer. At the same time I sent the message that before leaving Ladak I would probably return to the convent, in the hope that he would permit me to see the manuscript which had been the subject of our conversation. It was now my purpose to gain Kachmyr and return from there, some time later, to Himis. But fate made a different decision for me. In passing a mountain, on a height of which is perched the gonpa of Piatak, my horse made a false step, throwing me to the ground so violently that my right leg was broken below the knee. It was impossible to continue my journey, I was not inclined to return to Leh; and seeking the hospitality of the gonpa of Piatak was not, from the appearance of the cloister, an enticing prospect. My best recourse would be to return to Himis, then only about half a day's journey distant, and I ordered my servants to transport me there. They bandaged my broken leg--an operation which caused me great pain--and lifted me into the saddle. One carrier walked by my side, supporting the weight of the injured member, while another led my horse. At a late hour of the evening we reached the door of the convent of Himis. When informed of my accident, the kind monks came out to receive me and, with a wealth of extraordinary precautions of tenderness, I was carried inside, and, in one of their best rooms, installed upon an improvised bed, consisting of a mountain of soft fabrics, with the naturally-to-be-expected prayer-cylinder beside me. All this was done for me under the personal supervision of their chief lama, who, with affectionate sympathy, pressed the hand I gave him in expression of my thanks for his kindness. In the morning, I myself bound around the injured limb little oblong pieces of wood, held by cords, to serve as splints. Then I remained perfectly quiescent and nature was not slow in her reparative work. Within two days my condition was so far improved that I could, had it been necessary, have left the gonpa and directed myself slowly toward India in search of a surgeon to complete my cure. While a boy kept in motion the prayer-barrel near my bed, the venerable lama who ruled the convent entertained me with many interesting stories. Frequently he took from their box the alarm clock and the watch, that I might illustrate to him the process of winding them and explain to him their uses. At length, yielding to my ardent insistence, he brought me two big books, the large leaves of which were of paper yellow with age, and from them read to me the biography of Issa, which I carefully transcribed in my travelling notebook according to the translation made by the interpreter. This curious document is compiled under the form of isolated verses, which, as placed, very often had no apparent connection with, or relation to each other. On the third day, my condition was so far improved as to permit the prosecution of my journey. Having bound up my leg as well as possible, I returned, across Kachmyr, to India; a slow journey, of twenty days, filled with intolerable pain. Thanks, however, to a litter, which a French gentleman, M. Peicheau, had kindly sent to me (my gratitude for which I take this occasion to express), and to an ukase of the Grand Vizier of the Maharajah of Kachmyr, ordering the local authorities to provide me with carriers, I reached Srinagar, and left almost immediately, being anxious to gain India before the first snows fell. In Muré I encountered another Frenchman, Count André de Saint Phall, who was making a journey of recreation across Hindostan. During the whole course, which we made together, to Bombay, the young count demonstrated a touching solicitude for me, and sympathy for the excruciating pain I suffered from my broken leg and the fever induced by its torture. I cherish for him sincere gratitude, and shall never forget the friendly care which I received upon my arrival in Bombay from the Marquis de Morés, the Vicomte de Breteul, M. Monod, of the Comptoir d'Escompte, M. Moët, acting consul, and all the members of the very sympathetic French colony there. During a long time I revolved in my mind the purpose of publishing the memoirs of the life of Jesus Christ found by me in Himis, of which I have spoken, but other interests absorbed my attention and delayed it. Only now, after having passed long nights of wakefulness in the coordination of my notes and grouping the verses conformably to the march of the recital, imparting to the work, as a whole, a character of unity, I resolve to let this curious chronicle see the light. _The Life of Saint Issa_ "Best of the Sons of Men." I. 1. The earth trembled and the heavens wept, because of the great crime committed in the land of Israel. 2. For there was tortured and murdered the great and just Issa, in whom was manifest the soul of the Universe; 3. Which had incarnated in a simple mortal, to benefit men and destroy the evil spirit in them; 4. To lead back to peace, love and happiness, man, degraded by his sins, and recall him to the one and indivisible Creator whose mercy is infinite. 5. The merchants coming from Israel have given the following account of what has occurred: II. 1. The people of Israel--who inhabit a fertile country producing two harvests a year and affording pasture for large herds of cattle--by their sins brought down upon themselves the anger of the Lord; 2. Who inflicted upon them terrible chastisements, taking from them their land, their cattle and their wealth. They were carried away into slavery by the rich and mighty Pharaohs who then ruled the land of Egypt. 3. The Israelites were, by the Pharaohs, treated worse than beasts, condemned to hard labor and put in irons; their bodies were covered with wounds and sores; they were not permitted to live under a roof, and were starved to death; 4. That they might be maintained in a state of continual terror and deprived of all human resemblance; 5. And in this great calamity, the Israelites, remembering their Celestial Protector, implored his forgiveness and mercy. 6. At that period reigned in Egypt an illustrious Pharaoh, who was renowned for his many victories, immense riches, and the gigantic palaces he had erected by the labor of his slaves. 7. This Pharaoh had two sons, the younger of whom, named Mossa, had acquired much knowledge from the sages of Israel. 8. And Mossa was beloved by all in Egypt for his kindness of heart and the pity he showed to all sufferers. 9. When Mossa saw that the Israelites, in spite of their many sufferings, had not forsaken their God, and refused to worship the gods of Egypt, created by the hands of man. 10. He also put his faith in their invisible God, who did not suffer them to betray Him, despite their ever growing weakness. 11. And the teachers among Israel animated Mossa in his zeal, and prayed of him that he would intercede with his father, Pharaoh, in favor of their co-religionists. 12. Prince Mossa went before his father, begging him to lighten the burden of the unhappy people; Pharaoh, however, became incensed with rage, and ordered that they should be tormented more than before. 13. And it came to pass that Egypt was visited by a great calamity. The plague decimated young and old, the healthy and the sick; and Pharaoh beheld in this the resentment of his own gods against him. 14. But Prince Mossa said to his father that it was the God of his slaves who thus interposed on behalf of his wretched people, and avenged them upon the Egyptians. 15. Thereupon, Pharaoh commanded Mossa, his son, to gather all the Israelite slaves, and lead them away, and found, at a great distance from the capital, another city where he should rule over them. 16. Then Mossa made known to the Hebrew slaves that he had obtained their freedom in the name of his and their God, the God of Israel; and with them he left the city and departed from the land of Egypt. 17. He led them back to the land which, because of their many sins, had been taken from them. There he gave them laws and admonished them to pray always to God, the indivisible Creator, whose kindness is infinite. 18. After Prince Mossa's death, the Israelites observed rigorously his laws; and God rewarded them for the ills to which they had been subjected in Egypt. 19. Their kingdom became one of the most powerful on earth; their kings made themselves renowned for their treasures, and peace reigned in Israel. III. 1. The glory of Israel's wealth spread over the whole earth, and the surrounding nations became envious. 2. But the Most High himself led the victorious arms of the Hebrews, and the Pagans did not dare to attack them. 3. Unfortunately, man is prone to err, and the fidelity of the Israelites to their God was not of long duration. 4. Little by little they forgot the favors he had bestowed upon them; rarely invoked his name, and sought rather protection by the magicians and sorcerers. 5. The kings and the chiefs among the people substituted their own laws for those given by Mossa; the temple of God and the observances of their ancient faith were neglected; the people addicted themselves to sensual gratifications and lost their original purity. 6. Many centuries had elapsed since their exodus from Egypt, when God bethought himself of again inflicting chastisement upon them. 7. Strangers invaded Israel, devastated the land, destroyed the villages, and carried their inhabitants away into captivity. 8. At last came the Pagans from over the sea, from the land of Romeles. These made themselves masters of the Hebrews, and placed over them their army chiefs, who governed in the name of Cæsar. 9. They defiled the temples, forced the inhabitants to cease the worship of the indivisible God, and compelled them to sacrifice to the heathen gods. 10. They made common soldiers of those who had been men of rank; the women became their prey, and the common people, reduced to slavery, were carried away by thousands over the sea. 11. The children were slain, and soon, in the whole land, there was naught heard but weeping and lamentation. 12. In this extreme distress, the Israelites once more remembered their great God, implored his mercy and prayed for his forgiveness. Our Father, in his inexhaustible clemency, heard their prayer. IV. 1. At that time the moment had come for the compassionate Judge to reincarnate in a human form; 2. And the eternal Spirit, resting in a state of complete inaction and supreme bliss, awakened and separated from the eternal Being, for an undetermined period, 3. So that, in human form, He might teach man to identify himself with the Divinity and attain to eternal felicity; 4. And to show, by His example, how man can attain moral purity and free his soul from the domination of the physical senses, so that it may achieve the perfection necessary for it to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, which is immutable and where bliss eternal reigns. 5. Soon after, a marvellous child was born in the land of Israel. God himself spoke, through the mouth of this child, of the miseries of the body and the grandeur of the soul. 6. The parents of the infant were poor people, who belonged to a family noted for great piety; who forgot the greatness of their ancestors in celebrating the name of the Creator and giving thanks to Him for the trials which He had sent upon them. 7. To reward them for adhering to the path of truth, God blessed the firstborn of this family; chose him for His elect, and sent him to sustain the fallen and comfort the afflicted. 8. The divine child, to whom the name Issa was given, commenced in his tender years to talk of the only and indivisible God, exhorting the strayed souls to repent and purify themselves from the sins of which they had become guilty. 9. People came from all parts to hear him, and marvelled at the discourses which came from his infantile mouth; and all Israel agreed that the Spirit of the Eternal dwelt in this child. 10. When Issa was thirteen years old, the age at which an Israelite is expected to marry, 11. The modest house of his industrious parents became a meeting place of the rich and illustrious, who were anxious to have as a son-in-law the young Issa, who was already celebrated for the edifying discourses he made in the name of the All-Powerful. 12. Then Issa secretly absented himself from his father's house; left Jerusalem, and, in a train of merchants, journeyed toward the Sindh, 13. With the object of perfecting himself in the knowledge of the word of God and the study of the laws of the great Buddhas. V. 1. In his fourteenth year, young Issa, the Blessed One, came this side of the Sindh and settled among the Aryas, in the country beloved by God. 2. Fame spread the name of the marvellous youth along the northern Sindh, and when he came through the country of the five streams and Radjipoutan, the devotees of the god Djaïne asked him to stay among them. 3. But he left the deluded worshippers of Djaïne and went to Djagguernat, in the country of Orsis, where repose the mortal remains of Vyassa-Krishna, and where the white priests of Brahma welcomed him joyfully. 4. They taught him to read and to understand the Vedas, to cure physical ills by means of prayers, to teach and to expound the sacred Scriptures, to drive out evil desires from man and make him again in the likeness of God. 5. He spent six years in Djagguernat, in Radjagriha, in Benares, and in other holy cities. The common people loved Issa, for he lived in peace with the Vaisyas and the Sudras, to whom he taught the Holy Scriptures. 6. But the Brahmins and the Kshatnyas told him that they were forbidden by the great Para-Brahma to come near to those who were created from his belly and his feet;[1] 7. That the Vaisyas might only hear the recital of the Vedas, and this only on the festal days, and 8. That the Sudras were not only forbidden to attend the reading of the Vedas, but even to look on them; for they were condemned to perpetual servitude, as slaves of the Brahmins, the Kshatriyas and even the Vaisyas. 9. "Death alone can enfranchise them from their servitude," has said Para-Brahma. "Leave them, therefore, and come to adore with us the gods, whom you will make angry if you disobey them." 10. But Issa, disregarding their words, remained with the Sudras, preaching against the Brahmins and the Kshatriyas. 11. He declaimed strongly against man's arrogating to himself the authority to deprive his fellow-beings of their human and spiritual rights. "Verily," he said, "God has made no difference between his children, who are all alike dear to Him." 12. Issa denied the divine inspiration of the Vedas and the Puranas, for, as he taught his followers,--"One law has been given to man to guide him in his actions: 13. "Fear the Lord, thy God; bend thy knees only before Him and bring to Him only the offerings which come from thy earnings." 14. Issa denied the Trimurti and the incarnation of Para-Brahma in Vishnu, Siva, and other gods; "for," said he: 15. "The eternal Judge, the eternal Spirit, constitutes the only and indivisible soul of the universe, and it is this soul alone which creates, contains and vivifies all. 16. "He alone has willed and created. He alone has existed from eternity, and His existence will be without end; there is no one like unto Him either in the heavens or on the earth. 17. "The great Creator has divided His power with no other being; far less with inanimate objects, as you have been taught to believe, for He alone is omnipotent and all-sufficient. 18. "He willed, and the world was. By one divine thought, He reunited the waters and separated them from the dry land of the globe. He is the cause of the mysterious life of man, into whom He has breathed part of His divine Being. 19. "And He has put under subjection to man, the lands, the waters, the beasts and everything which He created, and which He himself preserves in immutable order, allotting to each its proper duration. 20. "The anger of God will soon break forth upon man; for he has forgotten his Creator; he has filled His temples with abominations; and he adores a multitude of creatures which God has subordinated to him; 21. "And to gain favor with images of stone and metal, he sacrifices human beings in whom dwells part of the Spirit of the Most High; 22. "And he humiliates those who work in the sweat of their brows, to gain favor in the eyes of the idler who sitteth at a sumptuous table. 23. "Those who deprive their brothers of divine happiness will themselves be deprived of it; and the Brahmins and the Kshatriyas shall become the Sudras of the Sudras, with whom the Eternal will stay forever. 24. "In the day of judgment the Sudras and the Vaisyas will be forgiven for that they knew not the light, while God will let loose his wrath upon those who arrogated his authority." 25. The Vaisyas and the Sudras were filled with great admiration, and asked Issa how they should pray, in order not to lose their hold upon eternal life. 26. "Pray not to idols, for they cannot hear you; hearken not to the Vedas where the truth is altered; be humble and humiliate not your fellow man. 27. "Help the poor, support the weak, do evil to none; covet not that which ye have not and which belongs to others." VI. 1. The white priests and the warriors,[2] who had learned of Issa's discourse to the Sudras, resolved upon his death, and sent their servants to find the young teacher and slay him. 2. But Issa, warned by the Sudras of his danger, left by night Djagguernat, gained the mountain, and settled in the country of the Gautamides, where the great Buddha Sakya-Muni came to the world, among a people who worshipped the only and sublime Brahma. 3. When the just Issa had acquired the Pali language, he applied himself to the study of the sacred scrolls of the Sutras. 4. After six years of study, Issa, whom the Buddha had elected to spread his holy word, could perfectly expound the sacred scrolls. 5. He then left Nepaul and the Himalaya mountains, descended into the valley of Radjipoutan and directed his steps toward the West, everywhere preaching to the people the supreme perfection attainable by man; 6. And the good he must do to his fellow men, which is the sure means of speedy union with the eternal Spirit. "He who has recovered his primitive purity," said Issa, "shall die with his transgressions forgiven and have the right to contemplate the majesty of God." 7. When the divine Issa traversed the territories of the Pagans, he taught that the adoration of visible gods was contrary to natural law. 8. "For to man," said he, "it has not been given to see the image of God, and it behooves him not to make for himself a multitude of divinities in the imagined likeness of the Eternal. 9. "Moreover, it is against human conscience to have less regard for the greatness of divine purity, than for animals or works of stone or metal made by the hands of man. 10. "The eternal Lawgiver is One; there are no other Gods than He; He has parted the world with none, nor had He any counsellor. 11. "Even as a father shows kindness toward his children, so will God judge men after death, in conformity with His merciful laws. He will never humiliate his child by casting his soul for chastisement into the body of a beast. 12. "The heavenly laws," said the Creator, through the mouth of Issa, "are opposed to the immolation of human sacrifices to a statue or an animal; for I, the God, have sacrificed to man all the animals and all that the world contains. 13. "Everything has been sacrificed to man, who is directly and intimately united to me, his Father; therefore, shall the man be severely judged and punished, by my law, who causes the sacrifice of my children. 14. "Man is naught before the eternal Judge; as the animal is before man. 15. "Therefore, I say unto you, leave your idols and perform not ceremonies which separate you from your Father and bind you to the priests, from whom heaven has turned away. 16. "For it is they who have led you away from the true God, and by superstitions and cruelty perverted the spirit and made you blind to the knowledge of the truth." VII. 1. The words of Issa spread among the Pagans, through whose country he passed, and the inhabitants abandoned their idols. 2. Seeing which, the priests demanded of him who thus glorified the name of the true God, that he should, in the presence of the people, prove the charges he made against them, and demonstrate the vanity of their idols. 3. And Issa answered them: "If your idols, or the animals you worship, really possess the supernatural powers you claim, let them strike me with a thunderbolt before you!" 4. "Why dost not thou perform a miracle," replied the priests, "and let thy God confound ours, if He is greater than they?" 5. But Issa said: "The miracles of our God have been wrought from the first day when the universe was created; and are performed every day and every moment; whoso sees them not is deprived of one of the most beautiful gifts of life. 6. "And it is not on inanimate objects of stone, metal or wood that He will let His anger fall, but on the men who worship them, and who, therefore, for their salvation, must destroy the idols they have made. 7. "Even as a stone and a grain of sand, which are naught before man, await patiently their use by Him. 8. "In like manner, man, who is naught before God, must await in resignation His pleasure for a manifestation of His favor. 9. "But woe to you! ye adversaries of men, if it is not the favor you await, but rather the wrath of the Most High; woe to you, if you demand that He attest His power by a miracle! 10. "For it is not the idols which He will destroy in His wrath, but those by whom they were created; their hearts will be the prey of an eternal fire and their flesh shall be given to the beasts of prey. 11. "God will drive away the contaminated animals from His flocks; but will take to Himself those who strayed because they knew not the heavenly part within them." 12. When the Pagans saw that the power of their priests was naught, they put faith in the words of Issa. Fearing the anger of the true God, they broke their idols to pieces and caused their priests to flee from among them. 13. Issa furthermore taught the Pagans that they should not endeavor to see the eternal Spirit with their eyes; but to perceive Him with their hearts, and make themselves worthy of His favors by the purity of their souls. 14. "Not only," he said to them, "must ye refrain from offering human sacrifices, but ye may not lay on the altar any creature to which life has been given, for all things created are for man. 15. "Withhold not from your neighbor his just due, for this would be like stealing from him what he had earned in the sweat of his brow. 16. "Deceive none, that ye may not yourselves be deceived; seek to justify yourselves before the last judgment, for then it will be too late. 17. "Be not given to debauchery, for it is a violation of the law of God. 18. "That you may attain to supreme bliss ye must not only purify yourselves, but must also guide others into the path that will enable them to regain their primitive innocence." VIII. 1. The countries round about were filled with the renown of Issa's preachings, and when he came unto Persia, the priests grew afraid and forbade the people hearing him; 2. Nevertheless, the villages received him with joy, and the people hearkened intently to his words, which, being seen by the priests, caused them to order that he should be arrested and brought before their High Priest, who asked him: 3. "Of what new God dost thou speak? Knowest thou not, unfortunate man that thou art! that Saint Zoroaster is the only Just One, to whom alone was vouchsafed the honor of receiving revelations from the Most High; 4. "By whose command the angels compiled His Word in laws for the governance of His people, which were given to Zoroaster in Paradise? 5. "Who, then, art thou, who darest to utter blasphemies against our God and sow doubt in the hearts of believers?" 6. And Issa said to them: "I preach no new God, but our celestial Father, who has existed before the beginning and will exist until after the end. 7. "Of Him I have spoken to the people, who--even as innocent children--are incapable of comprehending God by their own intelligence, or fathoming the sublimity of the divine Spirit; 8. "But, as the newborn child in the night recognizes the mother's breast, so your people, held in the darkness of error by your pernicious doctrines and religious ceremonies, have recognized instinctively their Father, in the Father whose prophet I am. 9. "The eternal Being says to your people, by my mouth, 'Ye shall not adore the sun, for it is but a part of the universe which I have created for man; 10. "It rises to warm you during your work; it sets to accord to you the rest that I have ordained. 11. "To me only ye owe all that ye possess, all that surrounds you and that is above and below you.'" 12. "But," said the priests, "how could the people live according to your rules if they had no teachers?" 13. Whereupon Issa answered: "So long as they had no priests, they were governed by the natural law and conserved the simplicity of their souls; 14. "Their souls were in God and to commune with the Father they had not to have recourse to the intermediation of idols, or animals, or fire, as taught by you. 15. "Ye pretend that man must adore the sun, and the Genii of Good and Evil. But I say unto you that your doctrine is pernicious. The sun does not act spontaneously, but by the will of the invisible Creator, who has given to it being." 16. "Who, then, has caused that this star lights the day, warms man at his work and vivifies the seeds sown in the ground?" 17. "The eternal Spirit is the soul of everything animate, and you commit a great sin in dividing Him into the Spirit of Evil and the Spirit of Good, for there is no God other than the God of Good. 18. "And He, like to the father of a family, does only good to His children, to whom He forgives their transgressions if they repent of them. 19. "And the Spirit of Evil dwells upon earth, in the hearts of those who turn the children of God away from the right path. 20. "Therefore, I say unto you; Fear the day of judgment, for God will inflict a terrible chastisement upon all those who have led His children astray and beguiled them with superstitions and errors; 21. "Upon those who have blinded them who saw; who have brought contagion to the well; who have taught the worship of those things which God made to be subject to man, or to aid him in his works. 22. "Your doctrine is the fruit of your error in seeking to bring near to you the God of Truth, by creating for yourselves false gods." 23. When the Magi heard these words, they feared to themselves do him harm, but at night, when the whole city slept, they brought him outside the walls and left him on the highway, in the hope that he would not fail to become the prey of wild beasts. 24. But, protected by the Lord our God, Saint Issa continued on his way, without accident. IX. 1. Issa--whom the Creator had selected to recall to the worship of the true God, men sunk in sin--was twenty-nine years old when he arrived in the land of Israel. 2. Since the departure therefrom of Issa, the Pagans had caused the Israelites to endure more atrocious sufferings than before, and they were filled with despair. 3. Many among them had begun to neglect the laws of their God and those of Mossa, in the hope of winning the favor of their brutal conquerors. 4. But Issa, notwithstanding their unhappy condition, exhorted his countrymen not to despair, because the day of their redemption from the yoke of sin was near, and he himself, by his example, confirmed their faith in the God of their fathers. 5. "Children, yield not yourselves to despair," said the celestial Father to them, through the mouth of Issa, "for I have heard your lamentations, and your cries have reached my ears. 6. "Weep not, oh, my beloved sons! for your griefs have touched the heart of your Father and He has forgiven you, as He forgave your ancestors. 7. "Forsake not your families to plunge into debauchery; stain not the nobility of your souls; adore not idols which cannot but remain deaf to your supplications. 8. "Fill my temple with your hope and your patience, and do not adjure the religion of your forefathers, for I have guided them and bestowed upon them of my beneficence. 9. "Lift up those who are fallen; feed the hungry and help the sick, that ye may be altogether pure and just in the day of the last judgment which I prepare for you." 10. The Israelites came in multitudes to listen to Issa's words; and they asked him where they should thank their Heavenly Father, since their enemies had demolished their temples and robbed them of their sacred vessels. 11. Issa told them that God cared not for temples erected by human hands, but that human hearts were the true temples of God. 12. "Enter into your temple, into your heart; illuminate it with good thoughts, with patience and the unshakeable faith which you owe to your Father. 13. "And your sacred vessels! they are your hands and your eyes. Look to do that which is agreeable to God, for in doing good to your fellow men, you perform a ceremony that embellishes the temple wherein abideth Him who has created you. 14. "For God has created you in His own image, innocent, with pure souls, and hearts filled with kindness and not made for the planning of evil, but to be the sanctuaries of love and justice. 15. "Therefore, I say unto you, soil not your hearts with evil, for in them the eternal Being abides. 16. "When ye do works of devotion and love, let them be with full hearts, and see that the motives of your actions be not hopes of gain or self-interest; 17. "For actions, so impelled, will not bring you nearer to salvation, but lead to a state of moral degradation wherein theft, lying and murder pass for generous deeds." X. 1. Issa went from one city to another, strengthening by the word of God the courage of the Israelites, who were near to succumbing under their weight of woe, and thousands of the people followed him to hear his teachings. 2. But the chiefs of the cities were afraid of him and they informed the principal governor, residing in Jerusalem, that a man called Issa had arrived in the country, who by his sermons had arrayed the people against the authorities, and that multitudes, listening assiduously to him, neglected their labor; and, they added, he said that in a short time they would be free of their invader rulers. 3. Then Pilate, the Governor of Jerusalem, gave orders that they should lay hold of the preacher Issa and bring him before the judges. In order, however, not to excite the anger of the populace, Pilate directed that he should be judged by the priests and scribes, the Hebrew elders, in their temple. 4. Meanwhile, Issa, continuing his preaching, arrived at Jerusalem, and the people, who already knew his fame, having learned of his coming, went out to meet him. 5. They greeted him respectfully and opened to him the doors of their temple, to hear from his mouth what he had said in other cities of Israel. 6. And Issa said to them: "The human race perishes, because of the lack of faith; for the darkness and the tempest have caused the flock to go astray and they have lost their shepherds. 7. "But the tempests do not rage forever and the darkness will not hide the light eternally; soon the sky will become serene, the celestial light will again overspread the earth, and the strayed flock will reunite around their shepherd. 8. "Wander not in the darkness, seeking the way, lest ye fall into the ditch; but gather together, sustain one another, put your faith in your God and wait for the first glimmer of light to reappear. 9. "He who sustains his neighbor, sustains himself; and he who protects his family, protects all his people and his country. 10. "For, be assured that the day is near when you will be delivered from the darkness; you will be reunited into one family and your enemy will tremble with fear, he who is ignorant of the favor of the great God." 11. The priests and the elders who heard him, filled with admiration for his language, asked him if it was true that he had sought to raise the people against the authorities of the country, as had been reported to the governor Pilate. 12. "Can one raise against estrayed men, to whom darkness has hidden their road and their door?" answered Issa. "I have but forewarned the unhappy, as I do here in this temple, that they should no longer advance on the dark road, for an abyss opens before their feet. 13. "The power of this earth is not of long duration and is subject to numberless changes. It would be of no avail for a man to rise in revolution against it, for one phase of it always succeeds another, and it is thus that it will go on until the extinction of human life. 14. "But do you not see that the powerful, and the rich, sow among the children of Israel a spirit of rebellion against the eternal power of Heaven?" 15. Then the elders asked him: "Who art thou, and from what country hast thou come to us? We have not formerly heard thee spoken of and do not even know thy name!" 16. "I am an Israelite," answered Issa; "and on the day of my birth have seen the walls of Jerusalem, and have heard the sobs of my brothers reduced to slavery, and the lamentations of my sisters carried away by the Pagans; 17. "And my soul was afflicted when I saw that my brethren had forgotten the true God. When a child I left my father's house to go and settle among other people. 18. "But, having heard it said that my brethren suffered even greater miseries now, I have come back to the land of my fathers, to recall my brethren to the faith of their ancestors, which teaches us patience upon earth in order to attain the perfect and supreme bliss above." 19. Then the wise old men put to him again this question: "We are told that thou disownest the laws of Mossa, and that thou teachest the people to forsake the temple of God?" 20. Whereupon Issa: "One does not demolish that which has been given by our Heavenly Father, and which has been destroyed by sinners. I have but enjoined the people to purify the heart of all stains, for it is the veritable temple of God. 21. "As regards the laws of Mossa, I have endeavored to reestablish them in the hearts of men; and I say unto you that ye ignore their true meaning, for it is not vengeance but pardon which they teach. Their sense has been perverted." XI. 1. When the priests and the elders heard Issa, they decided among themselves not to give judgment against him, for he had done no harm to any one, and, presenting themselves before Pilate--who was made Governor of Jerusalem by the Pagan king of the country of Romeles--they spake to him thus: 2. "We have seen the man whom thou chargest with inciting our people to revolt; we have heard his discourses and know that he is our countryman; 3. "But the chiefs of the cities have made to you false reports, for he is a just man, who teaches the people the word of God. After interrogating him, we have allowed him to go in peace." 4. The governor thereupon became very angry, and sent his disguised spies to keep watch upon Issa and report to the authorities the least word he addressed to the people. 5. In the meantime, the holy Issa continued to visit the neighboring cities and preach the true way of the Lord, enjoining the Hebrews' patience and promising them speedy deliverance. 6. And all the time great numbers of the people followed him wherever he went, and many did not leave him at all, but attached themselves to him and served him. 7. And Issa said: "Put not your faith in miracles performed by the hands of men, for He who rules nature is alone capable of doing supernatural things, while man is impotent to arrest the wrath of the winds or cause the rain to fall. 8. "One miracle, however, is within the power of man to accomplish. It is, when his heart is filled with sincere faith, he resolves to root out from his mind all evil promptings and desires, and when, in order to attain this end, he ceases to walk the path of iniquity. 9. "All the things done without God are only gross errors, illusions and seductions, serving but to show how much the heart of the doer is full of presumption, falsehood and impurity. 10. "Put not your faith in oracles. God alone knows the future. He who has recourse to the diviners soils the temple of his heart and shows his lack of faith in his Creator. 11. "Belief in the diviners and their miracles destroys the innate simplicity of man and his childlike purity. An infernal power takes hold of him who so errs, and forces him to commit various sins and give himself to the worship of idols. 12. "But the Lord our God, to whom none can be equalled, is one omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent; He alone possesses all wisdom and all light. 13. "To Him ye must address yourselves, to be comforted in your afflictions, aided in your works, healed in your sickness and whoso asks of Him, shall not ask in vain. 14. "The secrets of nature are in the hands of God, for the whole world, before it was made manifest, existed in the bosom of the divine thought, and has become material and visible by the will of the Most High. 15. "When ye pray to him, become again like little children, for ye know neither the past, nor the present, nor the future, and God is the Lord of Time." XII. 1. "Just man," said to him the disguised spies of the Governor of Jerusalem, "tell us if we must continue to do the will of Cæsar, or expect our near deliverance?" 2. And Issa, who recognized the questioners as the apostate spies sent to follow him, replied to them: "I have not told you that you would be delivered from Cæsar; it is the soul sunk in error which will gain its deliverance. 3. "There cannot be a family without a head, and there cannot be order in a people without a Cæsar, whom ye should implicitly obey, as he will be held to answer for his acts before the Supreme Tribunal." 4. "Does Cæsar possess a divine right?" the spies asked him again; "and is he the best of mortals?" 5. "There is no one 'the best' among human beings; but there are many bad, who--even as the sick need physicians--require the care of those chosen for that mission, in which must be used the means given by the sacred law of our Heavenly Father; 6. "Mercy and justice are the high prerogatives of Cæsar, and his name will be illustrious if he exercises them. 7. "But he who acts otherwise, who transcends the limits of power he has over those under his rule, and even goes so far as to put their lives in danger, offends the great Judge and derogates from his own dignity in the eyes of men." 8. Upon this, an old woman who had approached the group, to better hear Issa, was pushed aside by one of the disguised men, who placed himself before her. 9. Then said Issa: "It is not good for a son to push away his mother, that he may occupy the place which belongs to her. Whoso doth not respect his mother--the most sacred being after his God--is unworthy of the name of son. 10. "Hearken to what I say to you: Respect woman; for in her we see the mother of the universe, and all the truth of divine creation is to come through her. 11. "She is the fount of everything good and beautiful, as she is also the germ of life and death. Upon her man depends in all his existence, for she is his moral and natural support in his labors. 12. "In pain and suffering she brings you forth; in the sweat of her brow she watches over your growth, and until her death you cause her greatest anxieties. Bless her and adore her, for she is your only friend and support on earth. 13. "Respect her; defend her. In so doing you will gain for yourself her love; you will find favor before God, and for her sake many sins will be remitted to you. 14. "Love your wives and respect them, for they will be the mothers of tomorrow and later the grandmothers of a whole nation. 15. "Be submissive to the wife; her love ennobles man, softens his hardened heart, tames the wild beast in him and changes it to a lamb. 16. "Wife and mother are the priceless treasures which God has given to you. They are the most beautiful ornaments of the universe, and from them will be born all who will inhabit the world. 17. "Even as the Lord of Hosts separated the light from the darkness, and the dry land from the waters, so does woman possess the divine gift of calling forth out of man's evil nature all the good that is in him. 18. "Therefore I say unto you, after God, to woman must belong your best thoughts, for she is the divine temple where you will most easily obtain perfect happiness. 19. "Draw from this temple your moral force. There you will forget your sorrows and your failures, and recover the love necessary to aid your fellow men. 20. "Suffer her not to be humiliated, for by humiliating her you humiliate yourselves, and lose the sentiment of love, without which nothing can exist here on earth. 21. "Protect your wife, that she may protect you--you and all your household. All that you do for your mothers, your wives, for a widow, or for any other woman in distress, you will do for your God." XIII. 1. Thus Saint Issa taught the people of Israel for three years, in every city and every village, on the highways and in the fields, and all he said came to pass. 2. All this time the disguised spies of the governor Pilate observed him closely, but heard nothing to sustain the accusations formerly made against Issa by the chiefs of the cities. 3. But Saint Issa's growing popularity did not allow Pilate to rest. He feared that Issa would be instrumental in bringing about a revolution culminating in his elevation to the sovereignty, and, therefore, ordered the spies to make charges against him. 4. Then soldiers were sent to arrest him, and they cast him into a subterranean dungeon, where he was subjected to all kinds of tortures, to compel him to accuse himself, so that he might be put to death. 5. The Saint, thinking only of the perfect bliss of his brethren, endured all those torments with resignation to the will of the Creator. 6. The servants of Pilate continued to torture him, and he was reduced to a state of extreme weakness; but God was with him and did not permit him to die at their hands. 7. When the principal priests and wise elders learned of the sufferings which their Saint endured, they went to Pilate, begging him to liberate Issa, so that he might attend the great festival which was near at hand. 8. But this the governor refused. Then they asked him that Issa should be brought before the elders' council, so that he might be condemned, or acquitted, before the festival, and to this Pilate agreed. 9. On the following day the governor assembled the principal chiefs, priests, elders and judges, for the purpose of judging Issa. 10. The Saint was brought from his prison. They made him sit before the governor, between two robbers, who were to be judged at the same time with Issa, so as to show the people he was not the only one to be condemned. 11. And Pilate, addressing himself to Issa, said, "Is it true, Oh! Man; that thou incitest the populace against the authorities, with the purpose of thyself becoming King of Israel?" 12. Issa replied, "One does not become king by one's own purpose thereto. They have told you an untruth when you were informed that I was inciting the people to revolution. I have only preached of the King of Heaven, and it was Him whom I told the people to worship. 13. "For the sons of Israel have lost their original innocence and unless they return to worship the true God they will be sacrificed and their temple will fall in ruins. 14. "The worldly power upholds order in the land; I told them not to forget this. I said to them, 'Live in conformity with your situation and refrain from disturbing public order;' and, at the same time, I exhorted them to remember that disorder reigned in their own hearts and spirits. 15. "Therefore, the King of Heaven has punished them, and has destroyed their nationality and taken from them their national kings, 'but,' I added, 'if you will be resigned to your fate, as a reward the Kingdom of Heaven will be yours.'" 16. At this moment the witnesses were introduced; one of whom deposed thus: "Thou hast said to the people that in comparison with the power of the king who would soon liberate the Israelites from the yoke of the heathen, the worldly authorities amounted to nothing." 17. "Blessings upon thee!" said Issa. "For thou hast spoken the truth! The King of Heaven is greater and more powerful than the laws of man and His kingdom surpasses the kingdoms of this earth. 18. "And the time is not far off, when Israel, obedient to the will of God, will throw off its yoke of sin; for it has been written that a forerunner would appear to announce the deliverance of the people, and that he would reunite them in one family." 19. Thereupon the governor said to the judges: "Have you heard this? The Israelite Issa acknowledges the crime of which he is accused. Judge him, then, according to your laws and pass upon him condemnation to death." 20. "We cannot condemn him," replied the priests and the ancients. "As thou hast heard, he spoke of the King of Heaven, and he has preached nothing which constitutes insubordination against the law." 21. Thereupon the governor called a witness who had been bribed by his master, Pilate, to betray Issa, and this man said to Issa: "Is it not true that thou hast represented thyself as a King of Israel, when thou didst say that He who reigns in Heaven sent thee to prepare His people?" 22. But Issa blessed the man and answered: "Thou wilt find mercy, for what thou hast said did not come out from thine own heart." Then, turning to the governor he said: "Why dost thou lower thy dignity and teach thy inferiors to tell falsehood, when, without doing so, it is in thy power to condemn an innocent man?" 23. When Pilate heard his words, he became greatly enraged and ordered that Issa be condemned to death, and that the two robbers should be declared guiltless. 24. The judges, after consulting among themselves, said to Pilate: "We cannot consent to take this great sin upon us,--to condemn an innocent man and liberate malefactors. It would be against our laws. 25. "Act thyself, then, as thou seest fit." Thereupon the priests and elders walked out, and washed their hands in a sacred vessel, and said: "We are innocent of the blood of this righteous man." XIV. 1. By order of the governor, the soldiers seized Issa and the two robbers, and led them to the place of execution, where they were nailed upon the crosses erected for them. 2. All day long the bodies of Issa and the two robbers hung upon the crosses, bleeding, guarded by the soldiers. The people stood all around and the relatives of the executed prayed and wept. 3. When the sun went down, Issa's tortures ended. He lost consciousness and his soul disengaged itself from the body, to reunite with God. 4. Thus ended the terrestrial existence of the reflection of the eternal Spirit under the form of a man who had saved hardened sinners and comforted the afflicted. 5. Meanwhile, Pilate was afraid for what he had done, and ordered the body of the Saint to be given to his relatives, who put it in a tomb near to the place of execution. Great numbers of persons came to visit the tomb, and the air was filled with their wailings and lamentations. 6. Three days later, the governor sent his soldiers to remove Issa's body and bury it in some other place, for he feared a rebellion among the people. 7. The next day, when the people came to the tomb, they found it open and empty, the body of Issa being gone. Thereupon, the rumor spread that the Supreme Judge had sent His angels from Heaven, to remove the mortal remains of the saint in whom part of the divine Spirit had lived on earth. 8. When Pilate learned of this rumor, he grew angry and prohibited, under penalty of death, the naming of Issa, or praying for him to the Lord. 9. But the people, nevertheless, continued to weep over Issa's death and to glorify their master; wherefore, many were carried into captivity, subjected to torture and put to death. 10. And the disciples of Saint Issa departed from the land of Israel and went in all directions, to the heathen, preaching that they should abandon their gross errors, think of the salvation of their souls and earn the perfect bliss which awaits human beings in the immaterial world, full of glory, where the great Creator abides in all his immaculate and perfect majesty. 11. The heathen, their kings, and their warriors, listened to the preachers, abandoned their erroneous beliefs and forsook their priests and their idols, to celebrate the praises of the most wise Creator of the Universe, the King of Kings, whose heart is filled with infinite mercy. _Resumé_ In reading the account of the life of Issa (Jesus Christ), one is struck, on the one hand by the resemblance of certain principal passages to accounts in the Old and New Testaments; and, on the other, by the not less remarkable contradictions which occasionally occur between the Buddhistic version and Hebraic and Christian records. To explain this, it is necessary to remember the epochs when the facts were consigned to writing. We have been taught, from our childhood, that the Pentateuch was written by Moses himself, but the careful researches of modern scholars have demonstrated conclusively, that at the time of Moses, and even much later, there existed in the country bathed by the Mediterranean, no other writing than the hieroglyphics in Egypt and the cuniform inscriptions, found nowadays in the excavations of Babylon. We know, however, that the alphabet and parchment were known in China and India long before Moses. Let me cite a few proofs of this statement. We learn from the sacred books of "the religion of the wise" that the alphabet was invented in China in 2800 by Fou-si, who was the first emperor of China to embrace this religion, the ritual and exterior forms of which he himself arranged. Yao, the fourth of the Chinese emperors, who is said to have belonged to this faith, published moral and civil laws, and, in 2228, compiled a penal code. The fifth emperor, Soune, proclaimed in the year of his accession to the throne that "the religion of the wise" should thenceforth be the recognized religion of the State, and, in 2282, compiled new penal laws. His laws, modified by the Emperor Vou-vange,--founder of the dynasty of the Tcheou in 1122,--are those in existence today, and known under the name of "Changements." We also know that the doctrine of the Buddha Fô, whose true name was Sakya-Muni was written upon parchment. Fôism began to spread in China about 260 years before Jesus Christ. In 206, an emperor of the Tsine dynasty, who was anxious to learn Buddhism, sent to India for a Buddhist by the name of Silifan, and the Emperor Ming-Ti, of the Hagne dynasty, sent, a year before Christ's birth, to India for the sacred books written by the Buddha Sakya-Muni--the founder of the Buddhistic doctrine, who lived about 1200 before Christ. The doctrine of the Buddha Gauthama or Gothama, who lived 600 years before Jesus Christ, was written in the Pali language upon parchment. At that epoch there existed already in India about 84,000 Buddhistic manuscripts, the compilation of which required a considerable number of years. At the time when the Chinese and the Hindus possessed already a very rich written literature, the less fortunate or more ignorant peoples who had no alphabet, transmitted their histories from mouth to mouth, and from generation to generation. Owing to the unreliability of human memory, historical facts, embellished by Oriental imagination, soon degenerated into fabulous legends, which, in the course of time, were collected, and by the unknown compilers entitled "The Five Books of Moses." As these legends ascribe to the Hebrew legislator extraordinary divine powers which enabled him to perform miracles in the presence of Pharaoh, the claim that he was an Israelite may as well have been legendary rather than historical. The Hindu chroniclers, on the contrary, owing to their knowledge of an alphabet, were enabled to commit carefully to writing, not mere legends, but the recitals of recently occurred facts within their own knowledge, or the accounts brought to them by merchants who came from foreign countries. It must be remembered, in this connection, that--in antiquity as in our own days--the whole public life of the Orient was concentrated in the bazaars. There the news of foreign events was brought by the merchant-caravans and sought by the dervishes, who found, in their recitals in the temples and public places, a means of subsistence. When the merchants returned home from a journey, they generally related fully during the first days after their arrival, all they had seen or heard abroad. Such have been the customs of the Orient, from time immemorial, and are today. The commerce of India with Egypt and, later, with Europe, was carried on by way of Jerusalem, where, as far back as the time of King Solomon, the Hindu caravans brought precious metals and other materials for the construction of the temple. From Europe, merchandise was brought to Jerusalem by sea, and there unloaded in a port, which is now occupied by the city of Jaffa. The chronicles in question were compiled before, during and after the time of Jesus Christ. During his sojourn in India, in the quality of a simple student come to learn the Brahminical and Buddhistic laws, no special attention whatever was paid to his life. When, however, a little later, the first accounts of the events in Israel reached India, the chroniclers, after committing to writing that which they were told about the prophet, Issa,--_viz._, that he had for his following a whole people, weary of the yoke of their masters, and that he was crucified by order of Pilate, remembered that this same Issa had only recently sojourned in their midst, and that, an Israelite by birth, he had come to study among them, after which he had returned to his country. They conceived a lively interest for the man who had grown so rapidly under their eyes, and began to investigate his birth, his past and all the details concerning his existence. The two manuscripts, from which the lama of the convent Himis read to me all that had a bearing upon Jesus, are compilations from divers copies written in the Thibetan language, translations of scrolls belonging to the library of Lhassa and brought, about two hundred years after Christ, from India, Nepaul and Maghada, to a convent on Mount Marbour, near the city of Lhassa, now the residence of the Dalai-Lama. These scrolls were written in Pali, which certain lamas study even now, so as to be able to translate it into the Thibetan. The chroniclers were Buddhists belonging to the sect of the Buddha Gothama. The details concerning Jesus, given in the chronicles, are disconnected and mingled with accounts of other contemporaneous events to which they bear no relation. The manuscripts relate to us, first of all,--according to the accounts given by merchants arriving from Judea in the same year when the death of Jesus occurred--that a just man by the name of Issa, an Israelite, in spite of his being acquitted twice by the judges as being a man of God, was nevertheless put to death by the order of the Pagan governor, Pilate, who feared that he might take advantage of his great popularity to reestablish the kingdom of Israel and expel from the country its conquerors. Then follow rather incoherent communications regarding the preachings of Jesus among the Guebers and other heathens. They seem to have been written during the first years following the death of Jesus, in whose career a lively and growing interest is shown. One of these accounts, communicated by a merchant, refers to the origin of Jesus and his family; another tells of the expulsion of his partisans and the persecutions they had to suffer. Only at the end of the second volume is found the first categorical affirmation of the chronicler. He says there that Issa was a man blessed by God and the best of all; that it was he in whom the great Brahma had elected to incarnate when, at a period fixed by destiny, his spirit was required to, for a time, separate from the Supreme Being. After telling that Issa descended from poor Israelite parents, the chronicler makes a little digression, for the purpose of explaining, according to ancient accounts, who were those sons of Israel. I have arranged all the fragments concerning the life of Issa in chronological order and have taken pains to impress upon them the character of unity, in which they were absolutely lacking. I leave it to the _savans_, the philosophers and the theologians to search into the causes for the contradictions which may be found between the "Life of Issa" which I lay before the public and the accounts of the Gospels. But I trust that everybody will agree with me in assuming that the version which I present to the public, one compiled three or four years after the death of Jesus, from the accounts of eyewitnesses and contemporaries, has much more probability of being in conformity with truth than the accounts of the Gospels, the composition of which was effected at different epochs and at periods much posterior to the occurrence of the events. Before speaking of the life of Jesus, I must say a few words on the history of Moses, who, according to the so-far most accredited legend, was an Israelite. In this respect the legend is contradicted by the Buddhists. We learn from the outset that Moses was an Egyptian prince, the son of a Pharaoh, and that he only was taught by learned Israelites. I believe that if this important point is carefully examined, it must be admitted that the Buddhist author may be right. It is not my intent to argue against the Biblical legend concerning the origin of Moses, but I think everyone reading it must share my conviction that Moses could not have been a simple Israelite. His education was rather that of a king's son, and it is difficult to believe that a child introduced by chance into the palace should have been made an equal with the son of the sovereign. The rigor with which the Egyptians treated their slaves by no means attests the mildness of their character. A foundling certainly would not have been made the companion of the sons of a Pharaoh, but would be placed among his servants. Add to this the caste spirit so strictly observed in ancient Egypt, a most salient point, which is certainly calculated to raise doubts as to the truth of the Scriptural story. And it is difficult to suppose that Moses had not received a complete education. How otherwise could his great legislative work, his broad views, his high administrative qualities be satisfactorily explained? And now comes another question: Why should he, a prince, have attached himself to the Israelites? The answer seems to me very simple. It is known that in ancient, as well as in modern times, discussions were often raised as to which of two brothers should succeed to the father's throne. Why not admit this hypothesis, _viz._, that Mossa, or Moses, having an elder brother whose existence forbade him to think of occupying the throne of Egypt, contemplated founding a distinct kingdom. It might very well be that, in view of this end, he tried to attach himself to the Israelites, whose firmness of faith as well as physical strength he had occasion to admire. We know, indeed, that the Israelites of Egypt had no resemblance whatever to their descendants as regards physical constitution. The granite blocks which were handled by them in building the palaces and pyramids are still in place to testify to this fact. In the same way I explain to myself the history of the miracles which he is said to have performed before Pharaoh. Although there are no definite arguments for denying the miracles which Moses might have performed in the name of God before Pharaoh, I think it is not difficult to realize that the Buddhistic statement sounds more probable than the Scriptural gloss. The pestilence, the smallpox or the cholera must, indeed, have caused enormous ravages among the dense population of Egypt, at an epoch when there existed yet but very rudimentary ideas about hygiene and where, consequently, such diseases must have rapidly assumed frightful virulence. In view of Pharaoh's fright at the disasters which befell Egypt, Moses' keen wit might well have suggested to him to explain the strange and terrifying occurrences, to his father, by the intervention of the God of Israel in behalf of his chosen people. Moses was here afforded an excellent opportunity to deliver the Israelites from their slavery and have them pass under his own domination. In obedience to Pharaoh's will--according to the Buddhistic version--Moses led the Israelites outside the walls of the city; but, instead of building a new city within reach of the capital, as he was ordered, he left with them the Egyptian territory. Pharaoh's indignation on learning of this infringement of his commands by Moses, can easily be imagined. And so he gave the order to his soldiers to pursue the fugitives. The geographical disposition of the region suggests at once that Moses during his flight must have moved by the side of the mountains and entered Arabia by the way over the Isthmus which is now cut by the Suez Canal. Pharaoh, on the contrary, pursued, with his troops, a straight line to the Red Sea; then, in order to overtake the Israelites, who had already gained the opposite shore, he sought to take advantage of the ebb of the sea in the Gulf, which is formed by the coast and the Isthmus, and caused his soldiers to wade through the ford. But the length of the passage proved much greater than he had expected; so that the flood tide set in when the Egyptian host was halfway across, and, of the army thus overwhelmed by the returning waves, none escaped death. This fact, so simple in itself, has in the course of the centuries been transformed by the Israelites into a religious legend, they seeing in it a divine intervention in their behalf and a punishment which their God inflicted on their persecutors. There is, moreover, reason to believe that Moses himself saw the occurrence in this light. This, however, is a thesis which I shall try to develop in a forthcoming work. The Buddhistic chronicle then describes the grandeur and the downfall of the kingdom of Israel, and its conquest by the foreign nations who reduced the inhabitants to slavery. The calamities which befell the Israelites, and the afflictions that thenceforth embittered their days were, according to the chronicler, more than sufficient reasons that God, pitying his people and desirous of coming to their aid, should descend on earth in the person of a prophet, in order to lead them back to the path of righteousness. Thus the state of things in that epoch justified the belief that the coming of Jesus was signalized, imminent, necessary. This explains why the Buddhistic traditions could maintain that the eternal Spirit separated from the eternal Being and incarnated in the child of a pious and once illustrious family. Doubtless the Buddhists, in common with the Evangelists, meant to convey by this that the child belonged to the royal house of David; but the text in the Gospels, according to which "the child was born from the Holy Spirit," admits of two interpretations, while according to Buddha's doctrine, which is more in conformity with the laws of nature, the spirit has but incarnated in a child already born, whom God blessed and chose for the accomplishment of His mission on earth. The birth of Jesus is followed by a long gap in the traditions of the Evangelists, who either from ignorance or neglect, fail to tell us anything definite about his childhood, youth or education. They commence the history of Jesus with his first sermon, _i.e._, at the epoch, when thirty years of age, he returns to his country. All the Evangelists tell us concerning the infancy of Jesus is marked by the lack of precision: "And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon him," says one of the sacred authors (Luke 2, 40), and another: "And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his shewing unto Israel." (Luke 1, 80.) As the Evangelists compiled their writings a long time after the death of Jesus, it is presumable that they committed to writing only those accounts of the principal events in the life of Jesus which happened to come to their knowledge. The Buddhists, on the contrary, who compiled their chronicles soon after the Passion occurred, and were able to collect the surest information about everything that interested them, give us a complete and very detailed description of the life of Jesus. In those unhappy times, when the struggle for existence seems to have destroyed all thought of God, the people of Israel suffered the double oppression of the ambitious Herod and the despotic and avaricious Romans. Then, as now, the Hebrews put all their hopes in Providence, whom they expected, would send them an inspired man, who should deliver them from all their physical and moral afflictions. The time passed, however, and no one took the initiative in a revolt against the tyranny of the rulers. In that era of hope and despair, the people of Israel completely forgot that there lived among them a poor Israelite who was a direct descendant from their King David. This poor man married a young girl who gave birth to a miraculous child. The Hebrews, true to their traditions of devotion and respect for the race of their kings, upon learning of this event went in great numbers to congratulate the happy father and see the child. It is evident that Herod was informed of this occurrence. He feared that this infant, once grown to manhood, might avail himself of his prospective popularity to reconquer the throne of his ancestors. He sent out his men to seize the child, which the Israelites endeavored to hide from the wrath of the king, who then ordered the abominable massacre of the children, hoping that Jesus would perish in this vast human hecatomb. But Joseph's family had warning of the impending danger, and took refuge in Egypt. A short time afterward, they returned to their native country. The child had grown during those journeyings, in which his life was more than once exposed to danger. Formerly, as now, the Oriental Israelites commenced the instruction of their children at the age of five or six years. Compelled to constantly hide him from the murderous King Herod, the parents of Jesus could not allow their son to go out, and he, no doubt, spent all his time in studying the sacred Scriptures, so that his knowledge was sufficiently beyond what would naturally have been expected of a boy of his age to greatly astonish the elders of Israel. He had in his thirteenth year attained an age when, according to Jewish law, the boy becomes an adult, has the right to marry, and incurs obligations for the discharge of the religious duties of a man. There exists still, in our times, among the Israelites, an ancient religious custom that fixes the majority of a youth at the accomplished thirteenth year. From this epoch the youth becomes a member of the congregation and enjoys all the rights of an adult. Hence, his marriage at this age is regarded as having legal force, and is even required in the tropical countries. In Europe, however, owing to the influence of local laws and to nature, which does not contribute here so powerfully as in warm climates to the physical development, this custom is no more in force and has lost all its former importance. The royal lineage of Jesus, his rare intelligence and his learning, caused him to be looked upon as an excellent match, and the wealthiest and most respected Hebrews would fain have had him for a son-in-law, just as even nowadays the Israelites are very desirous of the honor of marrying their daughters to the sons of Rabbis or scholars. But the meditative youth, whose mind was far above anything corporeal, and possessed by the thirst for knowledge, stealthily left his home and joined the caravans going to India. It stands to reason that Jesus Christ should have thought, primarily, of going to India, first, because at that epoch Egypt formed part of the Roman possessions; secondly, and principally, because a very active commercial exchange with India had made common report in Judea of the majestic character and unsurpassed richness of the arts and sciences in this marvellous country, to which even now the aspirations of all civilized peoples are directed. Here the Evangelists once more lose the thread of the terrestrial life of Jesus. Luke says he "was in the deserts till the day of his shewing unto Israel" (Luke 1, 80), which clearly demonstrates that nobody knew where the holy youth was until his sudden reappearance sixteen years later. Arrived in India, this land of marvels, Jesus began to frequent the temples of the Djainites. There exists until today, on the peninsula of Hindustan, a sectarian cult under the name of Djainism. It forms a kind of connecting link between Buddhism and Brahminism, and preaches the destruction of all other beliefs, which, it declares, are corroded by falsehood. It dates from the seventh century before Jesus Christ and its name is derived from the word "djain" (conqueror), which was assumed by its founders as expressive of its destined triumph over its rivals. In sympathetic admiration for the spirit of the young man, the Djainites asked him to stay with them; but Jesus left them to settle in Djagguernat, where he devoted himself to the study of treatises on religion, philosophy, etc. Djagguernat is one of the chief sacred cities of Brahmins, and, at the time of Christ, was of great religious importance. According to tradition, the ashes of the illustrious Brahmin, Krishna, who lived in 1580 B.C., are preserved there, in the hollow of a tree, near a magnificent temple, to which thousands make pilgrimage every year. Krishna collected and put in order the Vedas, which he divided into four books--Richt, Jagour, Saman and Artafan;--in commemoration of which great work he received the name of Vyasa (he who collected and divided the Vedas), and he also compiled the Vedanta and eighteen Puranas, which contain 400,000 stanzas. In Djagguernat is also found a very precious library of Sanscrit books and religious manuscripts. Jesus spent there six years in studying the language of the country and the Sanscrit, which enabled him to absorb the religious doctrines, philosophy, medicine and mathematics. He found much to blame in Brahminical laws and usages, and publicly joined issue with the Brahmins, who in vain endeavored to convince him of the sacred character of their established customs. Jesus, among other things, deemed it extremely unjust that the laborer should be oppressed and despised, and that he should not only be robbed of hope of future happiness, but also be denied the right to hear the religious services. He, therefore, began preaching to the Sudras, the lowest caste of slaves, telling them that, according to their own laws, God is the Father of all men; that all which exists, exists only through Him; that, before Him, all men are equal, and that the Brahmins had obscured the great principle of monotheism by misinterpreting Brahma's own words, and laying excessive stress upon observance of the exterior ceremonials of the cult. Here are the words in which, according to the doctrine of the Brahmins, God Himself speaks to the angels: "I have been from eternity, and shall continue to be eternally. I am the first cause of everything that exists in the East and in the West, in the North and in the South, above and below, in heaven and in hell. I am older than all things. I am the Spirit and the Creation of the universe and also its Creator. I am all-powerful; I am the God of the Gods, the King of the Kings; I am Para-Brahma, the great soul of the universe." After the world appeared by the will of Para-Brahma, God created human beings, whom he divided into four classes, according to their colors: white (Brahmins), red (Kshatriyas), yellow (Vaisyas), and black (Sudras). Brahma drew the first from his own mouth, and gave them for their _appanage_ the government of the world, the care of teaching men the laws, of curing and judging them. Therefore do the Brahmins occupy only the offices of priests and preachers, are expounders of the Vedas, and must practice celibacy. The second caste of Kshatriyas issued from the hand of Brahma. He made of them warriors, entrusting them with the care of defending society. All the kings, princes, captains, governors and military men belong to this caste, which lives on the best terms with the Brahmins, since they cannot subsist without each other, and the peace of the country depends on the alliance of the lights and the sword, of Brahma's temple and the royal throne. The Vaisyas, who constitute the third caste, issued from Brahma's belly. They are destined to cultivate the ground, raise cattle, carry on commerce and practice all kinds of trades in order to feed the Brahmins and the Kshatriyas. Only on holidays are they authorized to enter the temple and listen to the recital of the Vedas; at all other times they must attend to their business. The lowest caste, that of the black ones, or Sudras, issued from the feet of Brahma to be the humble servants and slaves of the three preceding castes. They are interdicted from attending the reading of the Vedas at any time; their touch contaminates a Brahmin, Kshatriya, or even a Vaisya who comes in contact with them. They are wretched creatures, deprived of all human rights; they cannot even look at the members of the other castes, nor defend themselves, nor, when sick, receive the attendance of a physician. Death alone can deliver the Sudra from a life of servitude; and even then, freedom can only be attained under the condition that, during his whole life, he shall have served diligently and without complaint some member of the privileged classes. Then only it is promised that the soul of the Sudra shall, after death, be raised to a superior caste. If a Sudra has been lacking in obedience to a member of the privileged classes, or has in any way brought their disfavor upon himself, he sinks to the rank of a pariah, who is banished from all cities and villages and is the object of general contempt, as an abject being who can only perform the lowest kind of work. The same punishment may also fall upon members of another caste; these, however, may, through repentance, fasting and other trials, rehabilitate themselves in their former caste; while the unfortunate Sudra, once expelled from his, has lost it forever. From what has been said above, it is easy to explain why the Vaisyas and Sudras were animated with adoration for Jesus, who, in spite of the threats of the Brahmins and Kshatriyas, never forsook those poor people. In his sermons Jesus not only censured the system by which man was robbed of his right to be considered as a human being, while an ape or a piece of marble or metal was paid divine worship, but he attacked the very life of Brahminism, its system of gods, its doctrine and its "trimurti" (trinity), the angular stone of this religion. Para-Brahma is represented with three faces on a single head. This is the "trimurti" (trinity), composed of Brahma (creator), Vishnu (conservator), and Siva (destroyer). Here is the origin of the trimurti:-- In the beginning, Para-Brahma created the waters and threw into them the seed of procreation, which transformed itself into a brilliant egg, wherein Brahma's image was reflected. Millions of years had passed when Brahma split the egg in two halves, of which the upper one became the heaven, the lower one, the earth. Then Brahma descended to the earth under the shape of a child, established himself upon a lotus flower, absorbed himself in his own contemplation and put to himself the question: "Who will attend to the conservation of what I have created?" "I," came the answer from his mouth under the appearance of a flame. And Brahma gave to this word the name, "Vishnu," that is to say, "he who preserves." Then Brahma divided his being into two halves, the one male, the other female, the active and the passive principles, the union of which produced Siva, "the destroyer." These are the attributes of the trimurti; Brahma, creative principle; Vishnu, preservative wisdom; Siva, destructive wrath of justice. Brahma is the substance from which everything was made; Vishnu, space wherein everything lives; and Siva, time that annihilates all things. Brahma is the face which vivifies all; Vishnu, the water which sustains the forces of the creatures; Siva, the fire which breaks the bond that unites all objects. Brahma is the past; Vishnu, the present; Siva, the future. Each part of the trimurti possesses, moreover, a wife. The wife of Brahma is Sarasvati, goddess of wisdom; that of Vishnu, Lakshmi, goddess of virtue, and Siva's spouse is Kali, goddess of death, the universal destroyer. Of this last union were born, Ganesa, the elephant-headed god of wisdom, and Indra, the god of the firmament, both chiefs of inferior divinities, the number of which, if all the objects of adoration of the Hindus be included, amounts to three hundred millions. Vishnu has descended eight times upon the earth, incarnating in a fish in order to save the Vedas from the deluge, in a tortoise, a dwarf, a wild boar, a lion, in Rama, a king's son, in Krishna and in Buddha. He will come a ninth time under the form of a rider mounted on a white horse in order to destroy death and sin. Jesus denied the existence of all these hierarchic absurdities of gods, which darken the great principle of monotheism. When the Brahmins saw that Jesus, who, instead of becoming one of their party, as they had hoped, turned out to be their adversary, and that the people began to embrace his doctrine, they resolved to kill him; but his servants, who were greatly attached to him, forewarned him of the threatening danger, and he took refuge in the mountains of Nepaul. At this epoch, Buddhism had taken deep root in this country. It was a kind of schism, remarkable by its moral principles and ideas on the nature of the divinity--ideas which brought men closer to nature and to one another. Sakya-Muni, the founder of this sect, was born fifteen hundred years before Jesus Christ, at Kapila, the capital of his father's kingdom, near Nepaul, in the Himalayas. He belonged to the race of the Gotamides, and to the ancient family of the Sakyas. From his infancy he evinced a lively interest in religion, and, contrary to his father's wishes, leaving his palace with all its luxury, began at once to preach against the Brahmins, for the purification of their doctrines. He died at Kouçinagara, surrounded by many faithful disciples. His body was burned, and his ashes, divided into several parts, were distributed between the cities, which, on account of his new doctrine, had renounced Brahminism. According to the Buddhistic doctrine, the Creator reposes normally in a state of perfect inaction, which is disturbed by nothing and which he only leaves at certain destiny-determined epochs, in order to create terrestrial buddhas. To this end the Spirit disengages itself from the sovereign Creator, incarnates in a buddha and stays for some time on the earth, where he creates Bodhisattvas (masters),[3] whose mission it is to preach the divine word and to found new churches of believers to whom they will give laws, and for whom they will institute a new religious order according to the traditions of Buddhism. A terrestrial buddha is, in a certain way, a reflection of the sovereign creative Buddha, with whom he unites after the termination of his terrestrial existence. In like manner do the Bodhisattvas, as a reward for their labors and the privations they undergo, receive eternal bliss and enjoy a rest which nothing can disturb. Jesus sojourned six years among the Buddhists, where he found the principle of monotheism still pure. Arrived at the age of twenty-six years, he remembered his fatherland, which was then oppressed by a foreign yoke. On his way homeward, he preached against idol worship, human sacrifice, and other errors of faith, admonishing the people to recognize and adore God, the Father of all beings, to whom all are alike dear, the master as well as the slave; for they all are his children, to whom he has given this beautiful universe for a common heritage. The sermons of Jesus often made a profound impression upon the peoples among whom he came, and he was exposed to all sorts of dangers provoked by the clergy, but was saved by the very idolators who, only the preceding day, had offered their children as sacrifices to their idols. While passing through Persia, Jesus almost caused a revolution among the adorers of Zoroaster's doctrine. Nevertheless, the priests refrained from killing him, out of fear of the people's vengeance. They resorted to artifice, and led him out of town at night, with the hope that he might be devoured by wild beasts. Jesus escaped this peril and arrived safe and sound in the country of Israel. It must be remarked here that the Orientals, amidst their sometimes so picturesque misery, and in the ocean of depravation in which they slumber, always have, under the influence of their priests and teachers, a pronounced inclination for learning and understand easily good common sense explications. It happened to me more than once that, by using simple words of truth, I appealed to the conscience of a thief or some otherwise intractable person. These people, moved by a sentiment of innate honesty,--which the clergy for personal reasons of their own, tried by all means to stifle--soon became again very honest and had only contempt for those who had abused their confidence. By the virtue of a mere word of truth, the whole of India, with its 300,000,000 of idols, could be made a vast Christian country; but ... this beautiful project would, no doubt, be antagonized by certain Christians who, similar to those priests of whom I have spoken before, speculate upon the ignorance of the people to make themselves rich. According to St. Luke, Jesus was about thirty years of age when he began preaching to the Israelites. According to the Buddhistic chroniclers, Jesus's teachings in Judea began in his twenty-ninth year. All his sermons which are not mentioned by the Evangelists, but have been preserved by the Buddhists, are remarkable for their character of divine grandeur. The fame of the new prophet spread rapidly in the country, and Jerusalem awaited with impatience his arrival. When he came near the holy city, its inhabitants went out to meet him, and led him in triumph to the temple; all of which is in agreement with Christian tradition. The chiefs and elders who heard him were filled with admiration for his sermons, and were happy to see the beneficent impression which his words exercised upon the populace. All these remarkable sermons of Jesus are full of sublime sentiments. Pilate, the governor of the country, however, did not look upon the matter in the same light. Eager agents notified him that Jesus announced the near coming of a new kingdom, the reestablishment of the throne of Israel, and that he suffered himself to be called the Son of God, sent to bring back courage in Israel, for he, the King of Judea, would soon ascend the throne of his ancestors. I do not purpose attributing to Jesus the _rôle_ of a revolutionary, but it seems to me very probable that Jesus wrought up the people with a view to reestablish the throne to which he had a just claim. Divinely inspired, and, at the same time, convinced of the legitimacy of his pretentions, Jesus preached the spiritual union of the people in order that a political union might result. Pilate, who felt alarmed over these rumors, called together the priests and the elders of the people and ordered them to interdict Jesus from preaching in public, and even to condemn him in the temple under the charge of apostasy. This was the best means for Pilate to rid himself of a dangerous man, whose royal origin he knew and whose popularity was constantly increasing. It must be said in this connection that the Israelites, far from persecuting Jesus, recognized in him the descendant of the illustrious dynasty of David, and made him the object of their secret hopes, a fact which is evident from the very Gospels which tell that Jesus preached freely in the temple, in the presence of the elders, who could have interdicted him not only the entrance to the temple, but also his preachings. Upon the order of Pilate the Sanhedrim met and cited Jesus to appear before its tribunal. As the result of the inquiry, the members of the Sanhedrim informed Pilate that his suspicions were without any foundation whatever; that Jesus preached a religious, and not a political, propaganda; that he was expounding the Divine word, and that he claimed to have come not to overthrow, but to reestablish the laws of Moses. The Buddhistic record does but confirm this sympathy, which unquestionably existed between the young preacher, Jesus, and the elders of the people of Israel; hence their answer: "We do not judge a just one." Pilate felt not at all assured, and continued seeking an occasion to hale Jesus before a new tribunal, as regular as the former. To this end he caused him to be followed by spies, and finally ordered his arrest. If we may believe the Evangelists, it was the Pharisees who sought the life of Jesus, while the Buddhistic record most positively declares that Pilate alone can be held responsible for his execution. This version is evidently much more probable than the account of the Evangelists. The conquerors of Judea could not long tolerate the presence of a man who announced to the people a speedy deliverance from their yoke. The popularity of Jesus having commenced to disturb Pilate's mind, it is to be supposed that he sent after the young preacher spies, with the order to take note of all his words and acts. Moreover, the servants of the Roman governor, as true "agents provocateurs," endeavored by means of artful questions put to Jesus, to draw from him some imprudent words under color of which Pilate might proceed against him. If the preachings of Jesus had been offensive to the Hebrew priests and scribes, all they needed to do was simply to command the people not to hear and follow him, and to forbid him entrance into the temple. But the Evangelists tell us that Jesus enjoyed great popularity among the Israelites and full liberty in the temples, where Pharisees and scribes discussed with him. In order to find a valid excuse for condemning him, Pilate had him tortured so as to extort from him a confession of high treason. But, contrary to the rule that the innocent, overcome by their pain, will confess anything to escape the unendurable agonies inflicted upon them, Jesus made no admission of guilt. Pilate, seeing that the usual tortures were powerless to accomplish the desired result, commanded the executioners to proceed to the last extreme of their diabolic cruelties, meaning to compass the death of Jesus by the complete exhaustion of his forces. Jesus, however, fortifying his endurance by the power of his will and zeal for his righteous cause--which was also that of his people and of God--was unconquerable by all the refinements of cruelty inflicted upon him by his executioners. The infliction of "the question" upon Jesus evoked much feeling among the elders, and they resolved to interfere in his behalf; formally demanding of Pilate that he should be liberated before the Passover. When their request was denied by Pilate they resolved to petition that Jesus should be brought to trial before the Sanhedrim, by whom they did not doubt his acquittal--which was ardently desired by the people--would be ordained. In the eyes of the priests, Jesus was a saint, belonging to the family of David; and his unjust detention, or--what was still more to be dreaded--his condemnation, would have saddened the celebration of the great national festival of the Israelites. They therefore prayed Pilate that the trial of Jesus should take place before the Passover, and to this he acceded. But he ordered that two thieves should be tried at the same time with Jesus, thinking to, in this way, minimize in the eyes of the people, the importance of the fact that the life of an innocent man was being put in jeopardy before the tribunal; and, by not allowing Jesus to be condemned alone, blind the populace to the unjust prearrangement of his condemnation. The accusation against Jesus was founded upon the depositions of the bribed witnesses. During the trial, Pilate availed himself of perversions of Jesus' words concerning the heavenly kingdom, to sustain the charges made against him. He counted, it seems, upon the effect produced by the answers of Jesus, as well as upon his own authority, to influence the members of the tribunal against examining too minutely the details of the case, and to procure from them the sentence of death for which he intimated his desire. Upon hearing the perfectly natural answer of the judges, that the meaning of the words of Jesus was diametrically opposed to the accusation, and that there was nothing in them to warrant his condemnation, Pilate employed his final resource for prejudicing the trial, viz., the deposition of a purchased traitorous informer. This miserable wretch--who was, no doubt, Judas--accused Jesus formally, of having incited the people to rebellion. Then followed a scene of unsurpassed sublimity. When Judas gave his testimony, Jesus, turning toward him, and giving him his blessing, says: "Thou wilt find mercy, for what thou has said did not come out from thine own heart!" Then, addressing himself to the governor: "Why dost thou lower thy dignity, and teach thy inferiors to tell falsehood, when without doing so it is in thy power to condemn an innocent man?" Words touching as sublime! Jesus Christ here manifests all the grandeur of his soul by pardoning his betrayer, and he reproaches Pilate with having resorted to such means, unworthy of his dignity, to attain his end. This keen reproach enraged the governor, and caused him to completely forget his position, and the prudent policy with which he had meant to evade personal responsibility for the crime he contemplated. He now imperiously demanded the conviction of Jesus, and, as though he intended to make a display of his power, to overawe the judges, ordered the acquittal of the two thieves. The judges, seeing the injustice of Pilate's demand, that they should acquit the malefactors and condemn the innocent Jesus, refused to commit this double crime against their consciences and their laws. But as they could not cope with one who possessed the authority of final judgment, and saw that he was firmly decided to rid himself, by whatever means, of a man who had fallen under the suspicions of the Roman authorities, they left him to himself pronounce the verdict for which he was so anxious. In order, however, that the people might not suspect them of sharing the responsibility for such unjust judgment, which would not readily have been forgiven, they, in leaving the court, performed the ceremony of washing their hands, symbolizing the affirmation that they were clean of the blood of the innocent Jesus, the beloved of the people. About ten years ago, I read in a German journal, the _Fremdenblatt_, an article on Judas, wherein the author endeavored to demonstrate that the informer had been the best friend of Jesus. According to him, it was out of love for his master that Judas betrayed him, for he put blind faith in the words of the Saviour, who said that his kingdom would arrive after his execution. But after seeing him on the cross, and having waited in vain for the resurrection of Jesus, which he expected to immediately take place, Judas, not able to bear the pain by which his heart was torn, committed suicide by hanging himself. It would be profitless to dwell upon this ingenious product of a fertile imagination. To take up again the accounts of the Gospels and the Buddhistic chronicle, it is very possible that the bribed informer was really Judas, although the Buddhistic version is silent on this point. As to the pangs of conscience which are said to have impelled the informer to suicide, I must say that I give no credence to them. A man capable of committing so vile and cowardly an action as that of making an infamously false accusation against his friend, and this, not out of a spirit of jealousy, or for revenge, but to gain a handful of shekels! such a man is, from the psychic point of view, of very little worth. He ignores honesty and conscience, and pangs of remorse are unknown to him. It is presumable that the governor treated him as is sometimes done in our days, when it is deemed desirable to effectually conceal state secrets known to men of his kind and presumably unsafe in their keeping. Judas probably was simply hanged, by Pilate's order, to prevent the possibility of his some day revealing that the plot of which Jesus was a victim had been inspired by the authorities. On the day of the execution, a numerous detachment of Roman soldiers was placed around the cross to guard against any attempt by the populace for the delivery of him who was the object of their veneration. In this occurrence Pilate gave proof of his extraordinary firmness and resolution. But though, owing to the precautions taken by the governor, the anticipated revolt did not occur, he could not prevent the people, after the execution, mourning the ruin of their hopes, which were destroyed, together with the last scion of the race of David. All the people went to worship at Jesus' grave. Although we have no precise information concerning the occurrences of the first few days following the Passion, we could, by some probable conjectures, reconstruct the scenes which must have taken place. It stands to reason that the Roman Cæsar's clever lieutenant, when he saw that Christ's grave became the centre of universal lamentations and the subject of national grief, and feared that the memory of the righteous victim might excite the discontent of the people and raise the whole country against the foreigners' rule, should have employed any effective means for the removal of this rallying-point, the mortal remains of Jesus. Pilate began by having the body buried. For three days the soldiers who were stationed on guard at the grave, were exposed to all kinds of insults and injuries on the part of the people who, defying the danger, came in multitudes to mourn the great martyr. Then Pilate ordered his soldiers to remove the body at night, and to bury it clandestinely in some other place, leaving the first grave open and the guard withdrawn from it, so that the people could see that Jesus had disappeared. But Pilate missed his end; for when, on the following morning, the Hebrews did not find the corpse of their master in the sepulchre, the superstitious and miracle-accepting among them thought that he had been resurrected. How did this legend take root? We cannot say. Possibly it existed for a long time in a latent state and, at the beginning, spread only among the common people; perhaps the ecclesiastic authorities of the Hebrews looked with indulgence upon this innocent belief, which gave to the oppressed a shadow of revenge on their oppressors. However it be, the day when the legend of the resurrection finally became known to all, there was no one to be found strong enough to demonstrate the impossibility of such an occurrence. Concerning this resurrection, it must be remarked that, according to the Buddhists, the soul of the just Issa was united with the eternal Being, while the Evangelists insist upon the ascension of the body. It seems to me, however, that the Evangelists and the Apostles have done very well to give the description of the resurrection which they have agreed upon, for if they had not done so, _i.e._, if the miracle had been given a less material character, their preaching would not have had, in the eyes of the nations to whom it was presented, that divine authority, that avowedly supernatural character, which has clothed Christianity, until our time, as the only religion capable of elevating the human race to a state of sublime enthusiasm, suppressing its savage instincts, and bringing it nearer to the grand and simple nature which God has bestowed, they say, upon that feeble dwarf called man. _Explanatory Notes_ _Chapter III._ _§§ 3, 4, 5, 7_ The histories of all peoples show that when a nation has reached the apogee of its military glory and its wealth, it begins at once to sink more or less rapidly on the declivity of moral degeneration and decay. The Israelites having, among the first, experienced this law of the evolution of nations, the neighboring peoples profited by the decadence of the then effeminate and debauched descendants of Jacob, to despoil them. _§ 8_ The country of Romeles, _i.e._, the fatherland of Romulus; in our days, Rome. _§§ 11, 12_ It must be admitted that the Israelites, in spite of their incontestable wit and intelligence, seem to have only had regard for the present. Like all other Oriental peoples, they only in their misfortunes remembered the faults of their past, which they each time had to expiate by centuries of slavery. _Chapter IV_ _§ 6_ As it is easy to divine, this verse refers to Joseph, who was a lineal descendant from King David. Side by side with this somewhat vague indication may be placed the following passages from the Gospels: --"The angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife" ... (Matt. i, 20.) --"And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the son of David" (Matt. xxi, 9.) --"To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David;" ... (Luke i, 27.) --"And the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David;" ... (Luke i, 32.) --"And Jesus himself began to be about thirty years of age, being (as was supposed) the son of Joseph, which was the son of Heli ... which was the son of Nathan, which was the son of David" (Luke iii, 23-31.) _§ 7_ Both the Old and the New Testaments teach that God promised David the rehabilitation of his throne and the elevation to it of one of his descendants. _§§ 8, 9_ --"And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him." --"And it came to pass, that after three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions." --"And all that heard him were astonished at his understanding and answers." --"And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" --"And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man" (Luke ii, 40, 46, 47, 49, 52.) _Chapter V_ _§ 1_ "Sind," a Sanscrit word, which has been modified by the Persians into Ind. "Arya," the name given in antiquity to the inhabitants of India; signified first "man who cultivates the ground" or "cultivator." Anciently it had a purely ethnographical signification; this appellation assumed later on a religious sense, notably that of "man who believes." _§ 2_ Luke says (i, 80): "And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his shewing unto Israel." The Evangelists say that Jesus was in the desert, the Buddhists explain this version of the Gospels by indicating where Jesus was during his absence from Judea. According to them he crossed the Sind, a name which, properly spoken, signifies "the river" (Indus). In connection with this word it is not amiss to note that many Sanscrit words in passing into the Persian language underwent the same transformation by changing the "s" into "h"; per example: _Sapta_ (in Sanscrit), signifying seven--_hafta_ (in Persian); _Sam_ (Sanscrit), signifying equal--_ham_ (Persian); _Mas_ (Sanscrit), meaning mouth--_mah_ (Persian); _Sur_ (Sanscrit), meaning sun--_hur_ (Persian); _Das_ (Sanscrit), meaning ten--_Dah_ (Persian); _Loco citato_--and those who believed in the god Djain. There exists, even yet, on the peninsula of Hindustan, a cult under the name of Djainism, which forms, as it were, a link of union between Buddhism and Brahminism, and its devotees teach the destruction of all other beliefs, which they declare contaminated with falsehood. It dates as far back as the seventh century, B.C. Its name is derived from Djain (conqueror), which it assumed as the symbol of its triumph over its rivals. _§ 4_ Each of the eighteen Puranas is divided into five parts, which, besides the canonical laws, the rites and the commentaries upon the creation, destruction and resurrection of the universe, deal with theogony, medicine, and even the trades and professions. _Chapter VI_ _§ 12_ Owing to the intervention of the British, the human sacrifices, which were principally offered to Kali, the goddess of death, have now entirely ceased. The goddess Kali is represented erect, with one foot upon the dead body of a man, whose head she holds in one of her innumerable hands, while with the other hand she brandishes a bloody dagger. Her eyes and mouth, which are wide open, express passion and cruelty. _Chapter VIII_ _§§ 3, 4_ Zoroaster lived 550 years before Jesus. He founded the doctrine of the struggle between light and darkness, a doctrine which is fully expounded in the Zend-Avesta (Word of God), which is written in the Zend language, and, according to tradition, was given to him by an angel from Paradise. According to Zoroaster we must worship Mithra (the sun), from whom descend Ormuzd, the god of good, and Ahriman, the god of evil. The world will end when Ormuzd has triumphed over his rival, Ahriman, who will then return to his original source, Mithra. _Chapter X_ _§ 16_ According to the Evangelists, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, which the Buddhistic version confirms, for only from Bethlehem, situated at a distance of about seven kilometres from Jerusalem, could the walls of this latter city be seen. _Chapter XI_ _§ 15_ The doctrine of the Redemptor is, almost in its entirety, contained in the Gospels. As to the transformation of men into children, it is especially known from the conversation that took place between Jesus and Nicodemus. _Chapter XII_ _§ 1_ --"Tell us therefore, What thinkest thou? Is it lawful to give tribute unto Cæsar, or not?" (Matt. xxii, 17.) _§ 3_ --"Then saith he unto them, Render therefore unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's; and unto God the things that are God's." (Matt. xxii, 21; _et al._) _Chapter XIV_ _§ 3_ According to the Buddhistic belief, the terrestrial buddhas after death, lose consciousness of their independent existence and unite with the eternal Spirit. _§§ 10, 11_ Here, no doubt, reference is made to the activity of the Apostles among the neighboring peoples; an activity which could not have passed unnoticed at that epoch, because of the great results which followed the preaching of the new religious doctrine of love among nations whose religions were based upon the cruelty of their gods. * * * * * Without permitting myself indulgence in great dissertations, or too minute analysis upon each verse, I have thought it useful to accompany my work with these few little explanatory notes, leaving it to the reader to take like trouble with the rest. --_Finis_ [1] The Vaisyas and Sudras castes. [2] Brahmins and Kshatriyas. [3] _Sanscrit_:--"He whose essence (sattva) has become intelligence (bhodi)," those who need but one more incarnation to become perfect buddhas, _i.e._, to be entitled to Nirvâna. 
52414	----	THE CHRISTIAN MYTHOLOGY. BY BRIGHAM LEATHERBEE "Knowledge is power, but ignorance is the mother of devotion." New York: THE TRUTH SEEKER COMPANY, 62 Vesey Street. CONTENTS. I. The Virgin Birth. II. Pagan Miracles. III. Spurious Relics. IV. Trial and Execution Myths. V. Distorted Prophecies. VI. The Resurrection. VII. Miracles. VIII. Atonement and Salvation by Faith. IX. The Trinity--Mariolatry. X. Saints--Good and Evil Spirits. XI. Religious Holidays and Rites. XII. The Eucharist. XIII. Spread of Christianity. THE CHRISTIAN MYTHOLOGY. That Christianity, as to-day presented by the orthodox, is far different from the Christianity promulgated by the early fathers, few are so blinded as to doubt. Christianity, like all other religions, came not into the world full-grown, but from the simple conceptions of its early followers became gradually elaborated by the introduction of pagan forms and customs until it supplanted its early rivals and gave its adherents a compact and solid theology not very different from that of its predecessors. However, before considering the genealogy of Christianity, or its heirlooms from paganism, let us turn our attention to what were presumably the beginnings of the religious views of mankind. Probably the true source of that human characteristic which is defined as the religious instinct and which is supposed to be an elevating and moral agent, is to be found in the superstition which originated in fear of the unknown. The first ages of human life were so devoted to the animal needs that little attention was given to anything else, but later the craving for protection and help from some power greater than himself led primitive man to look about him for something to sustain and aid him in his struggle for existence. Surrounded by natural phenomena of which he could give no explanation satisfactory to his experience, he came to the conclusion that he was in an environment permeated with bodiless intelligences who governed these matters by supernatural power. Awed to fear by the inexplicable workings of nature, he sought to propitiate the spiritual agencies by bribes, and he did all things for them which he thought would be agreeable to them to keep them in good-natured interest or indifference toward him. And, naturally, he considered that what would be pleasing to himself would be pleasing to them. Therefore, his offerings and his conduct towards these spirits were such as he would have desired shown toward himself. Death and its imitation, sleep, being the greatest mysteries confronting him, he naturally began to consider the spirits of the dead, with whom he seemed to have intercourse in his dreams, as being influential factors in his career; and thus originated ancestor-worship with its highly-developed rites and sacrifices, which in a modified form still exists in the Roman church in the practice of reading masses for the souls of the dead. At the same time, noticing the great benefits derived from the warmth of the sun, to whose rays he owed his subsistence and whose glorious and awful presence was constantly before him, man began to feel grateful to that mighty power which was the source of all his welfare, and, appreciating that all terrestrial life depended upon it, he came to recognize it as the great creative power. From such superstitious fear and weakness of primitive man arose all those religious feelings which the pious call instinctive and which have, through progress, evolution, and elaboration, controlled certain races, and from whose union have arisen all the religious systems that have ever flourished. Owing to the varied influences of climate, environment, and racial character, the various forms of worship predominating in different geographical situations have naturally assumed different characteristics, but, when stripped of their surrounding, and often enveloping rites, ceremonies, and superficialities they may all be traced to the above-mentioned fundamental sources. It is my intention to show, as briefly as possible, that in the Christianity of to-day we have nothing new nor of vital difference from what has always been taught and believed in the many epochs of the past. In common with all religious systems, Christianity has a hero--the personified sun-god of all time--who is of obscure origin, who passes through various episodes common to all, who is finally executed, and who rises once more to renewed power. In our perusal of the subject, we shall first consider the life of Jesus as taught by the Christian church; secondly, the dogmas affecting the source of his power and the results of his influence; and, thirdly, the rites and ceremonies with which his worship is performed. I--THE VIRGIN BIRTH. Some two thousand years ago there is said to have appeared in the notoriously rebellious province of Galilee, the headquarters of Hebrew radicalism, a wandering teacher called Jesus, who passed from village to village expounding certain ethical and socialistic ideas, which were condemned by the Roman government and which resulted in this man's arrest and subsequent execution. After his death, his various pupils continued to preach his theories, and, separating, spread these ideas over various parts of the then civilized world. These pupils, naturally, having a firm belief in their former leader, and desiring to strengthen in every possible manner their faith as well as to increase the number of their proselytes, and, also, being themselves more or less affected by the ancient messianic idea, did not deny Jesus more than mortal powers, and allowed certain pagan theories of deity to creep into their faith. Later, when the vicious and crafty Constantine found it advisable for political reasons to adopt Christianity as the state religion, the great mass of Roman worshipers merely transferred the attributes of their ancient deities to the objects venerated by the new sect. There was nothing new in bestowing a divine origin on Jesus. All the lesser gods of antiquity were the sons of Zeus, and, in later times, monarchs were accorded the same origin. It was a common myth of all ancient peoples that numerous beings derived their birth from other than natural causes. Virgins gave birth to sons without aid of men. Zeus produced offspring without female assistance. Almost all the extraordinary men that lived under the old heathen mythology were reputed to have been the sons of some of the gods. The doctrine of the virgin birth is perhaps one of the oldest of religious ideas; it is so universal that its origin is impossible to trace. Therefore, no wonder is excited when we find that most of the religious leaders have been of celestial origin. Krishna, the Indian savior, was born of a chaste virgin called Devaki, who, on account of her purity, was selected to become the mother of God. Gautama Buddha was born of the virgin Maya and "mercifully left Paradise and came down to earth because he was filled with compassion for the sins and miseries of mankind. He sought to lead them into better paths, and took their sufferings upon himself that he might expiate their crimes and mitigate the punishment they must otherwise inevitably undergo." The great father of gods and men sent a messenger from heaven to the Mexican virgin, Sochiquetzal, to inform her that it was the will of the gods that she should immaculately conceive a son. As a result she bore Quetzalcoatl, the Mexican savior, who "set his face against all forms of violence and bloodshed, and encouraged the arts of peace." The Mexican god Huitzilopochtli was likewise immaculately conceived by a woman who, while walking in a temple, beheld a ball of feathers descending in the air. She grasped this and placed it in her bosom. It gradually disappeared and her pregnancy resulted. The Mexican Montezumas were later supposed to have been immaculately conceived by a drop of dew falling on the exposed breast of the mother as she lay asleep. The Siamese have a virgin-born god and savior whom they call Codom; the Chinese have several virgin-born gods, one being the result of his mother's having become impregnated by merely treading on the toe-print of God; while the Egyptians bowed in worship before the shrine of Horus, son of the virgin Isis. Setting aside the mythological interpretation of the miraculous conception of Jesus and the theory that his history is entirely fictitious, and viewing his birth from a natural human standpoint, even admitting that he may have been a "divinely inspired man," a little better than any other human being, there seems to be only one explanation for his peculiar conception as recorded in Luke i. Some critics of the rational school have not failed to notice a solution of the problem in the appearance of the angel Gabriel and his private interview with Mary (Luke i, 28-38). Say they very pertinently, why may not some libidinous young man, having become enamoured of the youthful wife of the aged Joseph, and, knowing the prophecy of the messiah, have visited the object of his desire in angelic guise and, having won her confidence in this rôle, gained those favors that produced the miraculous birth? And such an explanation is not improbable when we consider that it is an historical fact that young and confiding women often resorted to the pagan temples at the instigation of the unscrupulous, where they enjoyed the embraces of ardent but previously unsuccessful lovers, under the impression that they were being favored by deities. So those Christians whose reasoning powers will not allow them to believe in the absurdity of an unnatural conception, and whose superstitious adoration will not permit of their believing Mary guilty of an intentional faux pas, try in this manner to reconcile the two, and declare Joseph the guilty man. According to the Gospels, Joseph, the husband, knowing Mary to be with child, married her (Matt. i, 18); but that is no reason for believing that he regarded the Holy Ghost's responsibility for his wife's condition with faith. He told of a dream in which he had been informed that such was the case (Matt. i, 20-23). He may have believed the dream, and he may not. The most sensible view is that he, "being a just man," took this method of preserving her reputation, and that he himself was the actual parent. Having betrayed the girl, he honestly married her, but, to defend her and himself from the accusation of a serious misdemeanor among the Jews (Deut. xxii), he invented the dream story to account for her unfortunate condition. Girls have ever told improbable stories to explain like misfortunes. Danæ concocted the shower of gold yarn; Leda preferred to accuse herself of bestiality with a swan to acknowledging a lover, and Europa blamed a bull. Modern damsels have invented more modern but just as innocent agents. It would seem from the subsequent actions and words of Mary that she must have forgotten that her son was miraculously conceived of God, for we find her reproaching him for remaining in the temple of Jerusalem to argue with the rabbis with, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? Behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing" (Luke ii, 48). Again, when Simeon and Anna proclaimed the messiahship of Jesus (Luke ii, 25-32; 36-38), we are told that "Joseph and his mother marveled at those things which were spoken of him" (Luke ii, 33). This would hardly have been the case had they already known him as "the Son of the Highest, who shall reign over the house of Jacob forever" (Luke i, 32-33). Neither would Mary, had she realized that she was the mother of God, have considered it necessary to resort to the temple (Luke ii, 22-24) to be purified from the stains of her childbirth. Women, having borne natural children, were considered to have become defiled in the act of parturition, through the contact of the perpetually active agency of original sin, whereof they must be purified. The mere fact of her submitting to such a churching is evidence that Mary did not know that she had done anything remarkable in bearing Jesus, and was ignorant of an unusual conception. Their neighbors, despite the dream, always recognized Jesus as Joseph's son (Matt. xii, 55; Luke iv, 22; John ii, 45; vi, 42; Nicodemus i, 2). The orthodox explain this on the supposition that Joseph and Mary kept all these things in their hearts, and did not tell the actual facts of the case, which seems unlikely. Joseph would want to explain the early birth of Jesus, and Mary would be desirous of saving her reputation, and both would naturally boast of the honor conferred by the Holy Ghost, had they known of it, for in such case Joseph's relation to his god was the same as that of the peasant to his seigneur in the days of the jus primæ noctis. The liaison was an honor, and would have been related to save Jesus from the disagreeable allusions made by his neighbors regarding his birth (John viii, 41). Conforming to the narrations of the miraculous conception in Luke, Mary, and the Protevangelion, is an old miracle play called "Joseph's Jealousy," in which we find a very natural picture of the good old husband discovering a condition in his wife for which he is not responsible and accusing her in plain old English of adorning his brow with antlers. The following is the dialogue as given in Hone's "Ancient Mysteries Described": Jos. Say me, Mary, this childys fadyr who is? I pry the telle me, and that anon? Mry. The Fadyr of hevyn, & se, it is, Other fadyr hath he non. To which Joseph very naturally replies in a burst of anger: Jos. Goddys childe! thou lyist, in fay! God dede nevyr rape so with may. But yit I say, Mary whoos childe is this? Mry. Goddys and your, I sey, I wys. Then in wrath at her obstinacy he breaks forth: Jos. Ya, ya! all olde men, to me take tent, & weddyth no wyff, in no kynnys wyse. Alas! Alas! my name is shent; All men may me now dyspyse, & seyn olde cokwold. Mary tries to explain and says that her child is from God alone and that she was so informed by an angel. The suspicious Joseph will not be deceived, and gives way to some words that have since been accepted as a true explanation of the miraculous conception: Jos. An A'gel! alas, alas! fy for schame! Ye syn now, in that ye to say; To puttyn an A'ngel in so gret blame. Alas, alas! let be do way; It was s'n boy began this game, That closhyd was clene and gay, & ye geve hym now an A'ngel name. The old prophecy in Isaiah (vii, 14) that a virgin shall bear a son loses its utility when we recognize that this was the sign given Ahaz that God would preserve his kingdom, although he was then threatened by a coalition of the kings of Ephraim and Syria. If the prophecy referred to the Christ, how could it have any influence on Ahaz? How could he be calmed and made to preserve his courage in the face of danger by a sign which would not be given until centuries after he slept with his fathers? But such was not the case. Isaiah made his sign appear as he had promised (vii, 16), "Before the child shall know to refuse evil, and choose the good, the land that thou abhorrest shall be forsaken of both her kings" (the rulers of Israel and Syria). Now, this prophecy was fulfilled, either by the trickery of the prophet or the compliance of a virgin, for we find in the next chapter (Isaiah viii, 3), "And I went unto the prophetess; and she conceived and bare a son." And that is the whole story. To apply it to the mythical birth of Jesus is puerile. No one can doubt that so good a Jew as Josephus believed in the prospect of a messiah, yet so little did Isaiah's prophecy impress him that he did not even mention the virgin episode. Probably, on the whole, he thought it a rather contemptible bit of trickery and rather detrimental to the memory of Isaiah. James Orr, in his treatise written expressly to prove the historical fact of the virgin birth, denies that the prophecy of Isaiah could be applied to Jesus. Here we have an orthodox writer who firmly believes in the miraculous conception, shattering the great cornerstone of the church's foundation for this belief. He says that the word "almah" was not Hebrew for virgin at all, but meant only a marriageable young woman. He says it can have no connection with Jesus, and thus he agrees with Thomas Paine, but for opposite reasons. While Orr evidently considers that all pagan tales of divine paternity are legends, he affirms that the case of Jesus is genuine. Just why God became Deus Genetrix only once, he does not explain. If God approved of this method of creation, he would surely have performed it more than once. That he should have chosen a woman at all seems strange, when he could have produced Jesus without female assistance. Why should he have given his son, coexistent with the father, and, as such, undoubtedly of a fully developed intelligence, all the discomfort and danger of infantile life? If Jesus were but another phase of the godhead, one of the divine eternal trinity, it was degrading and ridiculous to have inflicted him with the processes of foetal life, with all the embryonic phases of development from ovule, through vertebrate and lower form to human guise; to have given him the dangers of human gestation and parturition, the inconvenience of childhood, with teething and other infantile discomforts, and the slow years of growth. Why did he inflict all these things on a part, a third, of himself, in many years of preparation for but a few years of preaching, when he could have produced the Christ in a wonderful manner, full grown in all the beauty and dignity and strength of perfect and sublime manhood? Probably some will answer that then Jesus would have been regarded as an impostor. But no more doubt could be cast on such an appearance than has been thrown on the doubtful story of the purity of Mary. Orr, in his haste to prove his belief, gives a very good argument against it (page 82) in the words, "The idea of a Virgin birth ... was one entirely foreign to Jewish habits of thought, which honored marriage, and set no premium on virginity." Therefore, it could not have been of Jewish origin. The Jews never accepted it, and it grew up only under the influence of Gentile converts. It was an idea of classic paganism, an adoption of universal phallism, this conception of a divine impregnation. The doctrine that by conjunction with a woman, God begat the Christ is merely another phase of the phallic idea of the procreative principles of the deity--it is another form of the deus genetrix, the generative principle of male procreation. II.--PAGAN PARALLELS. The orthodox church denies that the Christ had any brothers and declares that Jesus was the only child of Mary, in spite of gospel testimony to the contrary. Matthew i, 25, referring to Joseph, says, "And he knew her not till she had brought forth her first-born son," which implies that after his birth marital relations began between Joseph and Mary, from which other children were born, for how, otherwise, could Jesus have been the "first-born"? That Jesus had both brothers and sisters is declared in Matthew xii, 46; xiii, 55, 56; Mark iii, 31; vi, 3; Luke viii, 19-20; John ii, 12; vii, 3, 5, 10, and Acts i, 14, while Paul in Galatians i, 19, expressly names "James, the Lord's brother." As the veneration for Mary increased under the influence of the pagan conceptions of an immaculate mother-queen of heaven, these simple and natural consequences of her marriage could not be tolerated, even allowing for the exceptional conception of Jesus, and the orthodox began to assert that Mary was not only an uncontaminated virgin at the birth of Jesus, but that by miracle she did not lose her virginity by that event. They attempted to explain the above references, first, by asserting that these children were of Joseph by a previous marriage, and later, when they felt it necessary to endow the consort of their pure mother with perfect celibacy, they named them as cousins only. Jerome was so strong a champion for Joseph's virginity that he considered Epiphanius guilty of impious invention for supporting the earlier belief regarding Jesus' brethren. The Buddhists were far wiser than the Christians and eluded all such difficulties by causing Maya to die seven days after the birth of Sakyamuni, and by asserting such to have been the case with all the mothers of the Buddhas. At the time of Jesus' birth a brilliant star is believed to have heralded the event, and has passed into tradition as "the star of Bethlehem." There is nothing novel in this idea, as all ancient peoples were very superstitious about the celestial bodies, firmly believing in astronomical influences on human affairs, and it seems to have been a common idea that the births of great men were announced by the presence of peculiar stars. In China, a new star appeared at the birth of Yu, founder of the first dynasty, as was also the case when the sage Laoutze was born, while in Mexico the "morning star" was the symbol of the national savior Quetzalcoatl. The primitive Christians, however, did not have to look so far for such an idea, but easily found a parallel in the unusual star reported by the friends of Terah to have appeared on the night of Abraham's birth, which they said shone so brightly in the east. Not only was the birth of the messiah announced by the brilliant star, but it was also celebrated by the singing of the heavenly host. Similar phenomena occurred at the birth of Krishna, when "the clouds emitted low pleasing sounds and poured down a rain of flowers." On the eve of the birth of Confucius "celestial music sounded in the ears of his mother"; at Buddha's a "marvelous light illumined the earth"; and at the birth of Osiris a voice was heard proclaiming that the ruler of the earth was born. The savior having been born, he must necessarily be recognized, so the myth of the wise men and their gifts follows--in a fashion very similar to that told of the other saviors. The marvelous infant Buddha was visited at the time of his birth by wise men who immediately recognized in him all the characteristics of divinity. At the time of Confucius' birth "five celestial sages entered the house whilst vocal and instrumental music filled the air." Mithras, the Persian savior, was visited by wise men called magi at the time of his birth, and was presented by them with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh; and the same story is told by Plato in relation to the birth of Socrates. While it is claimed for all the world's saviors that they were borne by virgins and begotten by God, genealogies of royal descent are traced for them through the husbands of their mothers in a most illogical manner. As may be seen in the New Testament, the pedigree of Jesus is most elaborately set forth in both Matthew and Luke, who claim that through Joseph (whose parentage is denied) the Christ was a direct descendant of King David, though, strange to relate, the connecting generations are different in one inspired gospel from what they are in the other. Krishna, in the male line, was of royal descent, being of the house of Yadava, the oldest and noblest of India; and Buddha was descended from Maha Sammata, the first monarch of the world. Therefore, it is not surprising to find a royal pedigree for the god Christ, especially when the religious position occupied by the king in rude societies is considered. The Kaffres acknowledge no other gods than their monarch, and to him they address those prayers which other nations are wont to prefer to the supreme deity. Every schoolboy knows of the apotheosis of the Roman emperors, and the monarchs of Mexico and Peru were regarded as divinities. Every king of Egypt was added to the list of gods and declared to be the son of Ra, and even, in some cases, was made the third person of a trinity. Each denied that he owed his birth to the father from whom he inherited the crown, and claimed to have been miraculously begotten. Special temples were erected for the worship of the kings, which was conducted by special priests. The Parthian rulers of the Arsacid house, likewise, claimed divinity and styled themselves brothers of the sun and moon. The fable of the slaughter of the innocents, which was merely a new form of the ancient myth of the dangerous child whose life is a constant menace to some tyrant, was copied from several ancient religions, and the flight of the holy family into Egypt has its counterpart in other tales. King Kansa sought the life of Krishna and sent messengers to kill all infants in the neighboring places, but a heavenly voice warned his foster-father to fly with him across the river Jumna, which was immediately done. Salivahana, a virgin-born savior anciently worshiped in southern India, had a similar experience; and fable tells that at Abraham's birth Nimrod sought his life, fearing a prophecy that a child was born who should overthrow his power, and, as a result, he murdered 70,000 newly-born male children. At the time of Moses' birth, Pharaoh is said to have dreamed that a new-born child would cause Egypt's ruin, and he ordered that all the new-born sons of Israel should be cast into the Nile. Similar stories, familiar to all readers of the classics, are told of Perseus, Herakles, Paris, Jason, Bacchus, Romulus and Remus. All these tales of the birth and early life of Jesus are similar to those of the other and more ancient saviors, and so is the story of the temptation and the forty days' fast. Moses fasted "forty days and forty nights" on the mount where he received the law (Ex. xxiv, 18; xxxiv, 28; Deut. ix, 9, 11). Elijah fasted "forty days and forty, nights" on Mt. Horeb (I Kings xix, 8). Joachim, in shame at being childless, retired to the wilderness for a fast of "forty days and forty nights" (Protevangelion i, 6, 7). Buddha fasted and held his breath until he became extremely weak, when Mara, Prince of Evil, appeared and tempted him to break his fast by offering to make him emperor of the world. Quetzalcoatl was also tempted by the devil during a forty days' fast; and the temptation of Zoroaster forms the subject of many legends. All these myths readily implanted themselves in the Christian mythology, but the execution of its hero gave a great opportunity for mythical expansion and elaboration. It is taught that Jesus was crucified; whether he was or not nobody knows, although there are more pieces of the "true cross" extant than could ever have flourished as trees on Mount Calvary. If such a person as Jesus of Nazareth ever lived and was ever executed by the Romans, it is very probable that he was hanged, and the gallows may, very likely, have been of a form similar to that of a rude cross. The term crucifixion does not necessarily imply that one must be nailed outspread upon a symmetrical cross. It was the ancient custom to use trees as gibbets for execution, or a rude cruciform gallows, often called a "tree" (Deut. xxi, 22, 23; Nicodemus ix, 10). To be hung on such a cross was anciently called hanging on a tree, and to be hung on a tree was crucifixion. This rough method of execution was later modified by the Christians to the present theory of the crucifixion, as they very naturally desired to appropriate the cross for their own especial emblem, owing to the fact that its great antiquity as a universal religious symbol would aid in the propagation of their faith, and since its earliest inception, Christianity has been ever prone to aid its proselyting by the adoption of pagan dogmas, symbols and practices from the so-called heathen theologies. Of all religious symbols, the cross is the most ancient and sacred. It has from the earliest antiquity been the mystic emblem for reverence and awe, and appears to have been in the aboriginal possession of every ancient people. Populations of essentially different culture, tastes, and pursuits have vied with one another in their superstitious adoration of it. Greek crosses of equal arms adorned the tomb of Midas of Phrygia; and long before the time of the Eutruscans, the inhabitants of northern Italy erected crosses over the graves of their dead. The cross was common to Mexico; white marble crosses were found on the island of Saint Ulloa by its discoverers; and it was greatly revered in Paraguay and Peru. While the origin of the cross, shrouded as it is in the mists of the remotest antiquity, has been the subject of much speculation which has resulted in numerous theories, it is, undoubtedly, a conventionalized result of primitive phallic ideas. Sexual motives underlie and permeate all known religious systems. The idea of a creative god naturally gave rise to characteristic symbolical expression of the male and female principles, which were gradually modified and reduced to the tau (a Gothic T), representing the male principle, and the ring, representing the female principle. As a complete expression of the creative power, these two symbols were often placed in conjunction; and the most ancient form of the conjunction was, probably, that of the crux ansata, known to the Egyptians as "the emblem of life," which was very simply formed by placing the ring above the T. This emblem is sometimes called the "cross with the handle," because in ancient sculpture it is often represented as being carried by the ring. (See Doane, "Bible Myths"; Inman, "Ancient Faiths," etc.). This handled cross was also sacred to the Babylonians and occurs repeatedly on their cylinders, bricks and gems. In ancient Scandinavian mythology the great warrior god Thor was always closely associated with a cruciform hammer, this being the instrument with which he killed the great Mitgard serpent, with which he destroyed the giants, and performed other acts of heroism. Cruciform hammers, with a hole at the intersection of the arms for the insertion of the haft, have been discovered in Denmark, and were used in consecrating victims at Thor's altars. The cross, or hammer, of Thor is still used in Iceland as a magical sign in connection with wind and rain, just as the corresponding sign of the cross is now used among the German peasantry to dispel a thunderstorm; both being expressions of the same idea that the cross is sacred to the god of thunder. As Christians blessed the full goblet with the sign of the cross, so the ancient Vikings made the sign of the hammer over theirs; and the signs were identical. The practice of making the sign of the cross before eating, which has, in Protestant sects, degenerated to the saying of grace, which again has assumed the form of a prayer of thanks to God for bestowing the sustenance, was originally merely a method of prevention against demonical possession. It was thought that demons abounded everywhere and that one was very likely to imbibe one of these spirits unless he took the precaution of making the sign of the cross, which they could not endure and from which they fled. This belief in the efficacy of a talisman, universal among all peoples from the most barbarous to so-called civilized communities, was not only countenanced but encouraged by Christianity, and even today we find orthodox Christians who--although they cannot be called educated in the highest sense, yet are not to be classed as illiterate--who are still practicing it. Every good Catholic wears a scapular, and many a one carries a little image of some saint to ward off disaster. The sign of the cross is still used in time of danger and is considered a weapon of miraculous power. Sword hilts are still constructed in the form of the cross to give fortune in battle, and the masts of ships with yards were once considered the symbol of the cross. The burial of the dead about churches is another modern form of the ancient superstition that within the shadow of the cross demons dare not disturb the body, which was necessary for resurrection and immortality. This idea is a descendant of the ancient savage notion that bodies in the vicinity of the idol were protected. Even in our modern Protestant cemeteries we constantly find crosses erected over the graves in the same superstitious manner, although in most cases it has become merely a surviving custom, the origin of which the performers do not know. III.--SPURIOUS RELICS. Accompanying the worship of the cross, we find among orthodox Christians the adoration of the three nails of the passion which are nothing more than a union of the two Egyptian forms of architecture--the obelisk, expressing the male idea, and the inverted pyramid, expressing the female. Two of these nails are supposed to have been found in the time of Constantine, who adorned his helmet and horse's bridle with them. Rome, Milan and Treves each boast of possessing one of them, while still another may be seen at the church of the Holy Cross of Jerusalem, where it is annually exposed to the veneration of the people. In 1353 Pope Innocent VI. appointed a festival for these holy nails. Despite these facts, a legend arose in the latter part of the sixteenth century that these three nails were fashioned into an iron ring three-eighths of an inch broad and three-tenths thick and presented by the Empress Helena to Constantine to protect him in battle, and that this ring was later used to support the golden plates of the celebrated Iron Crown of Lombardy. In reference to the practice of relic worship in the Christian church, it is interesting to note that numerous objects of worship seem endowed with remarkable powers of multiplication. The Church of Coulombs, Diocese of Chârtres; the Cathedral of Pry, the Collegiate Church of Antwerp, the Abbey of Our Savior at Charroux, and the Church of St. John Lateran at Rome, all boast themselves the sole possessors of the only authentic "holy prepuce," which was circumcised from Jesus on the eighth day after his birth (Luke ii, 21), and preserved by the midwife in oil of spikenard, which was later poured upon his head and feet by Mary Magdalene (Infancy ii, 1-4). Likewise, there are numerous "holy shrouds." That at Besancon, which was brought from Palestine by crusaders about the beginning of the twelfth century, won fame by delivering the city from a destructive plague in 1544, while that at Turin had a festival instituted for it by Pope Julius II. in 1506. Other authentic shrouds may be found at the Church of St. Cornelius at Compeigne, in Rome, Milan, Lisbon, and Aix la Chapelle. Another much multiplied relic is the Virgin's ring, supposed to have been the marriage ring used at the nuptials of Joseph and Mary. This sacred souvenir was discovered in 996 by a jeweler of Jerusalem and was readily recognized by its remarkable powers of healing and self-multiplication. Many European churches claim to possess this ring and profess to expose it to the devout for veneration, but, undoubtedly, the most celebrated is that held by the Cathedral of Perouse. Relic worship and belief in the miraculous powers residing in the bones of departed saints, which continues, despite the more general education of the laity, is by no means of Christian origin. In ancient Greece the bones of heroes were superstitiously regarded and those of Hector of Troy were sacredly preserved at Thebes; the tools used in the construction of the Trojan horse were kept at Metapontum; the sceptre of Pelops was held at Chæroneia; the spear of Achilles at Phaselis; and the sword of Memnon at Nicomedia. Miraculous statues of Minerva that brandished spears, abounded, and paintings that could blush and images that could sweat also existed. In India there are numerous teeth of Buddha which his worshipers believe capable of performing miracles; and his coat, which as Prince Siddhatto he laid aside on entering the priesthood, has been miraculously preserved, and is still shown. Jerome, in defending the worship of relics which had been attacked by Vigilantus of Barcelona, did not deny that it was adopted from paganism, but commended it and explained that as this reverence had been previously "only given to idols, and was then to be detested, was now given to martyrs, and therefore to be received." IV.--TRIAL AND EXECUTION MYTHS. That Jesus should have been executed, either as an historical fact or as a mythological theory, is not remarkable; and even when considered in the light of his being one of the godhead, there is nothing new in the relation of his death. The idea of a dying god is very old. The grave of Zeus was shown at Crete, and the body of Dionyseus was buried at Delphi. Osiris and Buddha both died, and numerous deities were crucified. Krishna, the Indian god, suffered such execution, as did also the Mexican savior Quetzalcoatl. Representations of Krishna abound wherein he is depicted as nailed to a cross and having a round hole in his side. Prometheus was nailed by hands and feet to Mount Caucasus, with arms extended in the form of a cross. So immeasurably voluminous have been the writings of the orthodox upon the trial, execution, and resurrection of Jesus that it seems advisable to consider these matters, from a rational point of view, upon the hypothesis that such a man really lived and suffered experiences similar to those narrated in the Gospels. With that premise the following views are offered: The attitude of Jesus before Pilate shows him to have been a willing martyr, yea, desirous of martyrdom. In all probability his fanatical mind believed that when the supreme moment should come, when his execution should take place, and when his death seemed instantly imminent, some great natural phenomenon would occur to save him. He undoubtedly believed that he would not die, but that God would miraculously interpose to rescue him and that at that time he would not only be saved, but that the kingdom of heaven would be established under his control. That this was his belief seems to be shown by his cry of disappointment when he realized that nothing supernatural was to prevent his death. When that moment of realization came, his surprise was evident and, unlike many of his courageous followers who died in calmness and bravery, he cried aloud in mental and physical anguish, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Matt. xxvii, 46; Mark xv, 34.) His indifferent bearing before Pilate showed this faith in his redemption, for when the Roman procurator courteously asked him if he were the king of the Jews, he replied ambiguously, as had always been his practice, "Thou sayest it" (Matt. xxvii, 11; Mark xv, 2; Luke xxiii, 3; John xviii, 37; Nicodemus iii, 10). But such ambiguity, which had served very well among the lower classes who had flocked to hear and question him, was of no avail before the matter-of-fact Roman, who, as an imperial officer, desired straightforward answers, and was little impressed by Jesus' silence, except that he was rightfully astonished that when given the chance the prisoner should not have availed himself of it to explain his position. Therefore, seeing Jesus had no will to answer his questions except in an exasperating manner, after he had shown a willingness to save him, Pilate delivered Jesus over to the Jews according to the custom of the Romans in regard to the theological disputes of a subject people--but not until he had requested them to spare the preacher. Had Jesus given the Roman a frank explanation of his position as an itinerant preacher, Pilate would probably have saved him, but the chimerical idea of the interposition of God by a miracle, which would glorify him above all else that could occur, led Jesus to make a willing sacrifice of himself and throw away the opportunity offered him by Pilate. There is nothing noble nor grand in this impudent conduct toward the Roman officer, but there is a good deal of justice and consideration in the conduct of Pilate. There is nothing noble in Jesus' willingness to die nor in his courting death at this trial, for it was entirely unnecessary and was desired on his part only because he expected a miraculous salvation. According to his belief, he was to be the gainer, and he staked his life for a heavenly glory and lost, although he was probably keen enough to see that in any case his death would increase his fame, for the execution of a fanatic always lends a little glory to a cause, no matter how base, as witness the desire of anarchists for martyrdom and the attitude with which they view those who die for their horrible ideas. The only question with the Roman was as to whether Jesus had proclaimed himself the king of the Jews, and as he declined to answer this question, Pilate could do nothing to save him. The blind hatred of orthodox Christianity toward Pilate is absurd. Aside from the argument above, there is another reason why his memory should be leniently treated. According to the Christian dogma, Jesus was the son of God, and it was only by his sacrifice, by his actual death, that he could save man. By dying he took the sins of mankind upon himself, and thus became the Savior. As the eternal Son, knowing all things, as a part of the godhead, he knew his death must occur--that was his mission on earth. Therefore, as instruments in the accomplishment of this grand plan, by which mankind was saved, and Jesus became the Savior, Caiaphas and Pontius Pilate should be regarded as divine agents worthy of glory and praise. Any other conclusion is entirely illogical. But then, who will look for logic in the dogmas of Christianity? When one makes a logical investigation of this faith, he abandons its unreasonable teachings, which cannot be accepted by a logical mind. The person who allows his reason to govern his belief cannot in any way accept the teachings of the absurd and ridiculous Christian cult. While suffering his execution, Jesus, according to the Gospel writers, lost both his moral and physical courage, and cried aloud in agony, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" In view of this fact, it seems impossible for reasonable creatures to accept the Christian dogmas of the atonement and the trinity, for, if Jesus were one of the godhead and had left his heavenly abode to descend to earth for the especial purpose of saving mankind by shedding his blood for them, he must necessarily have been aware of what was in store for him and have known all the details attendant upon his execution. Looking at this fable rationally, Jesus was inferior in courage to many of his followers. When we recall the innumerable martyrs who went to meet death with smiling lips, in perfect confidence, the wailing savior, with his doubting cry to God, presents anything but an impressive figure. Surely, to burn at the stake, to lie under the axe, to endure the awful tortures of the Inquisition, were fully as agonizing as a crucifixion; and yet men--and delicate women--who have never pretended to divinity, have borne these things silently. To be sure, the whole story of the Christ is largely legendary and very uncertain, but, according to the gospels of Matthew and Mark, Jesus was weak in his convictions, afraid to die for his own teachings, and on the whole, his conduct at the supreme moment reminds one of the weak French peasants of revolutionary times rather than the brave nobility. His peasant blood rose to the surface and in his fear he cried, "Why hast thou forsaken me?" although but a few moments before he had assured one of the malefactors who suffered beside him that on this day he should be in paradise (Luke xxiii, 43). Everything considered, it is not strange that the Jews would not accept Jesus as the awaited messiah who should free them from the yoke of Rome. They desired a strong and powerful leader, not a socialistic wandering teacher, and the prophecies promised a ruler surpassing the wisdom and power of the gorgeous Solomon. There is not one prophetic passage in the Old Testament that can properly be applied to Jesus, although many have been distorted for such purpose. The Jews looked upon him as an impostor and a revolutionist who not only pretended to be what he was not, but who disregarded their ancient laws and preached a doctrine contrary to that held by their rabbis. It was not until long after his death that he was regarded as a prophet, and it was not until every proof of his very existence had vanished that divine honors were paid him. To the Jews he was a vagrant revolutionist worthy of death, and the Jews knew him personally; to a large majority of twentieth century Christians, he is a god, and they know absolutely nothing about him, save a collection of puerile myths which tax their credulity as children, but which as adults they accept. However, regarding the execution of Jesus, there is always the legitimate doubt that it ever occurred. Aside from the fact that the usual mode of death for criminals was by hanging, there is much internal evidence in the gospels themselves which points to the conclusion that the whole story of the execution and resurrection is mythical and was composed from various Hebrew and pagan legends. The dying cry was copied verbatim from Psalms xxii, 1, wherein David "complaineth in great discouragement" over his diseased condition. V.--DISTORTED "PROPHECIES." The Jews, desirous that the spectacle of the execution should not pollute the sanctity of their Sabbath, requested that the death of the victim might be hastened (John xix, 31). Therefore, according to custom, the Roman soldiers broke the legs of the thieves, but, finding Jesus already dead, they did not break his legs (John xix, 33). In this the writer of John sees the fulfillment of a prophecy (John xix, 36). In Exodus xii, 46, occur the words "neither shall ye break a bone thereof," which were nothing more than a command of "the ordinance of the passover" (Ex. xii, 43), and applied to the sacrificial animals to be eaten then. But the gospel writers, delving for prophecies, saw with their queerly distorted eyes a prophecy in this and Numbers ix, 12, regardless of the fact that for centuries, in celebrating the passover, the Jews had conformed to this practice of not breaking the bones of the animals eaten. But the biographers saw Jesus as the paschal lamb, and associated him with the meat of the passover. The tendency to regard his body as the solid of the Eucharist has likewise aided in this construction of the passages in Exodus and Numbers into a prophecy. In David's apostrophe to the righteous he says that though their afflictions are many, "the Lord delivereth him out of them all" and preserves him. "He keepeth all his bones; not one of them is broken" (Psalm xxxiv, 19-20). This has no reference to the Christ, but the distorted vision of the apostolic writer saw in it such an intent. He says (John xix, 36), "For these things were done, that the scripture should be fulfilled, A bone of him shall not be broken." In order, however, to be sure that Jesus was actually dead and, in case he was not, to hasten that event, one of the soldiers pierced his heart with a lance. Here John sees another prophecy fulfilled (John xix, 37), "They shall look on him whom they pierced." This refers to Zechariah xii, 10, where we find the words, "And I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace and supplications; and they shall look upon me whom they have pierced." This was the language of a prophet in a diatribe against the enemies of Juda. How could the writer of John have seen a prophecy in this, when the context reads "in that day I will seek to destroy all the nations that come against Jerusalem" (Zech. xii, 9), and when at the time of the crucifixion, Jerusalem was in the hands of the Romans? Likewise, the writers of Matthew and John saw in the drawing of lots by the soldiers at the foot of the cross for the garments of Jesus--the usual custom regarding the minor possessions of executed criminals, which were always considered the spoil of the military guard--"the fulfillment of a prophecy" (Matt. xxvii, 35 John xix, 23, 24) found in Psalms xxii, 18, "They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture," which really was a metaphorical expression of David concerning the treatment accorded him by his enemies. In the preceding verse 16, in the same relation and rhetorical figure, he says "they pierced my hands and my feet." On the whole, Psalm xxii was a particularly happy composition for the Christian adepts at misconstruction. Neither Mark nor Luke refers to the fulfillment of a prophecy regarding the vestments, but content themselves with narrating the event (Mark xv, 24; Luke xxiii, 34). It was customary to give the condemned a drink of wine and myrrh to stupefy him and thus decrease the sufferings of execution. When this was offered to Jesus he refused it (Mark xv, 23), probably because he wished to be perfectly conscious at the time when God should miraculously reprieve him. Matthew, xxvii, 34, intentionally falsifies the episode and calls the drink vinegar and gall, so bound is he to see a messianic prophecy in Psalms xix, 21, "They gave me also gall for my meat; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink," which words were really applied by David to his own personal enemies. VI.--THE RESURRECTION. Regarding the resurrection, it is interesting to note that, whereas most crucified men lived a number of hours and even a day in this torture, the wounds in the hands not being mortal and the position only affecting the circulation, causing death by exhaustion or starvation, Jesus lived only three hours. Therefore, it may have been that he was not actually dead, but merely in a state of coma, or perhaps a cataleptic condition. The custom he had of using his subjective mind in telepathic cures, as told in the gospels, seems to point to this conclusion, that, being strongly subjective, his condition here was cataleptic. Many cases are known of men having been restored after crucifixion, and, as the embalming given Jesus in the Jewish custom consisted in nothing more than a wrapping in a shroud with myrrh and aloes, there is nothing to oppose this hypothesis. After resting for a while in the tomb, he may have revived and gone out and been seen by others, after which he wandered away again to die in solitude from exhaustion and lack of food. It is more probable, however, that this legend was copied from those of other religious heroes, who likewise rose from the dead, as there seems to be much variance between the different versions of the visit of Mary Magdalene to the sepulchre and her meeting with Christ. Matthew says (xxviii, 1) that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary visited the sepulchre (3), where they saw a male angel descend from heaven during an earthquake and roll back the stone from the door and sit upon it (7). And he told them to "go quickly, and tell his disciples" that he had risen, which they did. But as they were going (9) "Jesus met them ... and they came ... and worshiped him." Mark tells a similar story with some variations as to the angel, but he relates that Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene "early the first day of the week" (xvi, 9), and not on her visit with Mary, the mother of James, and Salome at the tomb. According to Luke, the women went to the tomb, where they were informed by (xxiv, 4) "two men in shining garments" that Jesus had risen, and they left and told the apostles. No mention is made here of the encounter of Mary Magdalene. John, however, gives a more elaborate version. He narrates (xx) that Mary, going early and alone to the tomb, which she found entirely empty, ran and informed Peter, who verified her story and departed. After she was left alone she looked into the sepulchre again, where she beheld two angels, and on turning away saw Jesus standing by her. Setting aside the idea of a mythical plagiarism in these tales, and also the cataleptic theory already mentioned, and considering them from yet another point of view, we can still find a rational explanation. The meeting of Jesus with Mary may have been the hallucination of a hysterical woman. According to Mark xvi, 9, and Luke viii, 2, Jesus had cast seven devils out of her, which is surely sufficient proof that she was of neurotic temperament and had been subject to delusions and hysteria. Undoubtedly after the shock of witnessing the crucifixion and death of her master, for three gospels agree in stating that she was present (Matt. xxvii, 56; Mark xv, 40; John xix, 25), this fond woman's mind, which seemed more normal in his presence, again gave way and she returned to her hysterical condition. On visiting the tomb, she found it empty because "his disciples came by night and stole him away," that they might declare he had risen from the dead, "as is commonly reported among the Jews until this day" (Matt. xxviii, 11-15). As she was leaving, she heard his voice (a common delusion of hysterical subjects) and saw his form (another hallucination), but when she went to touch him, she could not do so. The relation has all the marks of simple neurosis, and yet many modern Christians base their whole faith upon the words of Paul in 1 Corinthians xv, 14, "If Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain." As noted in various parts of this work, unless Christians believe in the possibility of miracles, the power of a personal devil, and the physical resurrection of the body, there is no foundation for their faith, and it is a mockery. Not satisfied with having executed their god according to the most approved methods of antiquity, Christians felt the necessity of the presence of some remarkable natural phenomena at the time of his death, for among all ancient peoples it was customary to attribute some remarkable natural convulsions to the death of a great man. When Prometheus was crucified on Mount Caucasus "the earth quaked, thunder roared, lightning flashed, wild winds rent the air and boisterous billows rose." On the death of Romulus, there was "darkness over the face of the earth for six hours," and when Quetzalcoatl died the sun became black! Even in historical times, we find narrations of similar phenomena accompanying the deaths of royalty; and we read in many authenticated histories of the frightful thunderstorms that were coincident with the deaths of Isabella of Castile, Charles the Fifth, Napoleon the Great, and Oliver Cromwell. Therefore, it is not surprising to find mention of such occurrences at the time of the execution of the Christian god, although we are not prepared for such astonishing and unprecedented phenomena as related by the ever exaggerating author of the "Gospel according to St. Matthew," who states very seriously that "the vail of the temple was rent in twain from top to bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent; and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many." But the execution, while it completes the mortal life of the incarnate Christian deity, by no means finishes the legend. Like the gods of antiquity, the Christ must also descend into hell and perform wonders similar to those of the ancient heroes. All the saviors of mankind had done so--Zoroaster, the Persian; Osiris, the Egyptian; Baldur, the Scandinavian; Quetzalcoatl, the Mexican; and Krishna, the Hindu; while Ishtar voluntarily descended into the Assyrian inferno. Having descended into hell, resurrection was necessary, for it was unreasonable that the savior of mankind, the son of the supreme god, should remain perpetually in the place of punishment; and, as his life on earth was over, he could no longer abide there, and so the only plausible sequence was an ascension to heaven. Krishna, the crucified Hindu savior, rose from the dead and ascended bodily into the celestial regions, as did Rama, another avatar of Vishnu. Buddha also ascended bodily into heaven when his mission on earth was fulfilled, and marks on the rocks of a high mountain are shown as the last impressions of his footsteps on earth. Zoroaster and Æsculapius also had similar experiences, as did Elijah and Adonis. Osiris rose from the dead and bore the title of "The Resurrected One," his ascension being celebrated in Egypt at the vernal equinox, as is the Christ's and as was Adonis'. Other saviors who rose from the dead were Dionysius, Herakles, Memnon, Baldur and Quetzalcoatl. Modern Catholics are still taught the fables of the bodily ascension of Jesus, Mary the Virgin, and Mary the Magdalene and many other holy persons, as actual miraculous truths, not to be questioned nor denied. Very good, but how can educated Catholics of today reconcile such truths with their actual scientific knowledge? They know that the earth is spherical, that the stars and planets are members of solar systems, that outside the terrestrial atmosphere is nothing but vast space. There is no such place as a heaven anywhere in these celestial regions, and the zenith of any geographical situation changes every moment. Clouds are mere masses of vapor, not furniture for the repose of the glorified dead. Then whither did these adored beings ascend? Certainly, God in his love for them never flung them far into space to whirl about for eternity. These Catholics also know the law of gravitation, which would not allow of such a method of transportation. But why ask these questions? No religious person is capable of thinking sensibly on the teachings of his faith, no matter how ridiculous. He accepts, as an adult, what he questions as a child. While the idea of bodily ascension of the Christ was probably copied into his biography from that of Enoch (Gen. v, 24) and Elijah (2 Kings ii, 11), such stories form a large part of the annals of classical mythology, almost every hero of antiquity having been translated to the heavens when his earthly life was spent. The custom of converting the tombs of prominent Christians into shrines likewise aided this belief, as, it being impossible to discover the burial places of the most conspicuous, the idea arose that they had been physically removed to heaven. The principal weakness of all the great theological systems now in practice is that they are terrestrial in their conception of God and man. Their foundations were laid at a period when mankind knew little, and cared less, about the planets; at a period when it was presumed that the sun, moon, and stars were either beneficent deities or natural objects placed in the firmament to light the world and please the eye of man by their beauty. Therefore God, as recognized in these systems, takes heed of naught else than this particular world. He totally ignores the other innumerable spheres of matter floating in space, many of which may support life. All his interests center on this infinitesimal portion of his creation. It is with the doings of the inhabitants of this planet that he is engaged. For this earth alone he creates man, animals and vegetables; to this alone, he sends his only son, or Savior; and it is here, in the purified state, that the souls of men shall eternally dwell after the great judgment. Since science has proved that our solar system is but one of the many, and that in this system the earth is not the largest nor most important body, should not such absurd theological ideas be abandoned and a grander and vaster conception of the Deity be inaugurated? Should not organized theology turn to nobler thoughts and say with Paul, "When I was a child ... I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things" (1 Cor. xiii, 11)? All such doctrines as predestination, which are based upon the sin of Adam, are now anachronistic. The acceptance of the theory of evolution, which entirely destroys the reality of the mythical Adam, sweeps away his biography and leaves no foundation for such dogmas. If the Christian church desires to remain, she must cast aside these worthless doctrines, founded upon false hypotheses, when the minds of men were in darkness regarding the origin of species, and when they saw in these the only solution of their problem. Having accomplished his ascension and entered on his eternal kingdom, one of the Christ's attributes is that of judging the dead. This idea undoubtedly came from the Alexandrian school of theology, where so many of the Christian theories were promulgated, for one of the best-known attributes of Osiris was that of the judge, and he was generally represented as seated on his throne of judgment, bearing a staff (the crozier of the modern bishop) and holding the crux ansata. Buddha is also supposed to be the judge of the dead. In connection with the idea of the Christ as the divine judge of men, certain sects of Christians have advocated that of his return to earth at some future period, which will terminate all terrestrial life as it is known to-day, basing this belief upon Jesus' own proclamation of his second advent, although in his prophecy he declared the coming of the kingdom of heaven to be soon after his death. He even told his disciples that they could not visit all the cities of Israel before he should come again (Matt. x, 23); that their own generation should see these things (Matt. xxiv, 34; Mark xiii, 30); that some of those then listening to him should live to see his kingdom (Matt. xvi, 28; xxiii, 36; xxiv, 34; Mark viii, 38; Luke ix, 1-27; xxi, 32). Such were his words, and it seems strange that people, believing these words, can still regard him as a very part of God. Such improbabilities did Jesus gradually grow to preach, and so wild did he become in his exhortations that even his disciples at times appear to have believed him mad (Mark iii, 21), an opinion in which his enemies agreed (Mark iii, 22; John vii, 5-20; viii, 48-52; x, 20). They certainly had good cause for their suspicion. Was not his conduct in cursing the fig tree for not bearing fruit out of season an act of lunacy (Matt. xxi, 19-20; Mark xi, 13-14), and likewise his arrogant assertion of the power of faith (Matt. xvii, 20; xxi, 21; Mark xi, 23; Luke xvii, 6)? It is, however, quite probable that this idea of a second advent was copied from the Persian theology, it being one of the tenets of the Zoroastrian religion that in the end Ormuzd, God of Light, should conquer Ahriman, God of Darkness, and that he should then summon the good from their graves, remove all evil from the face of nature, and permanently establish the kingdom of righteousness and virtue upon the earth. But such ideas are not unique to Christians and Persians. The Hindus believe that Vishnu will have another avatar; the Siamese live in constant expectation of the second coming of Codom; the Buddhists are looking forward to the return of Buddha; the Jews are awaiting the messiah; and the disciples of Quetzalcoatl expected that deity's second advent--and most unfortunately thought their dream realized on the arrival of the Spaniards, who took advantage of their consequent submissiveness to exterminate them. VII.--MIRACLES. It is customary among orthodox Christians to assert that the godhead of their Christ was fully proven by the many miracles attributed to him in the New Testament. But one must not forget that the performance of miracles is one of the most common attributes of founders of new sects, and one which all religious charlatans claim. Krishna lulled tempests, cured lepers, and restored the dead; Buddha, Zoroaster (who walked on water on his way to Mount Iran to receive the law), Horus, Æsculapius, and innumerable others did likewise. Mohammed, not content with miracles of the omnipotent physician type, juggled the moon through his sleeve. Even to-day faith in miracles is not dead, and miracle-working attributes have been claimed for Mrs. Eddy, founder of Christian Science, Dowie, founder of Zion City, and Sandford, leader of the Holy Ghost and Us. There can be no doubt in the mind of a student of comparative theology that Moncure D. Conway was correct when he stated in his essay on Christianity that "among all the miracles of the New Testament not one is original. Bacchus changed water into wine.... Moses and Elias also fasted forty days.... Pythagoras had power to still waves and tempests at sea. Elijah made the widow's meal and oil increase; Elisha fed a hundred men with twenty loaves.... As for opening blind eyes, healing diseases, walking on water, casting out demons, raising the dead, resurrection, ascension, all these have been common myths--logic currency of every race." "One of the best attested miracles of all profane history is that which Tacitus reports of Vespasian, who cured a blind man in Alexandria by means of his spittle, and a lame man by the mere touch of his foot, in obedience to a vision of the god Serapis," says Hume in his "Essay on Miracles," and we might here mention the numerous attested cures resulting from the laying on of royal hands by divinely appointed sovereigns. The rulers of France, Aragon, and England touched for scrofula, this practice being continued by the latter from the period of its origin with Edward the Confessor until the accession of William the Third, whose good sense put an end to it. James the Second, the last practitioner of this art, had so great a belief in his curative powers that he set aside certain days on which he touched the afflicted from his throne at Whitehall, while the sufferers came in throngs to kneel at his feet. The princes of the house of Austria likewise held divine power and were supposed to be capable of casting out devils and curing stammering by the touch of their aristocratic fingers. Numerous cases are narrated in which Jesus, by simply touching the person of the afflicted, effected instantaneous cures. Such were those of the leper (Matt. viii, 2-3; Mark i, 40-42; Luke v, 12-13); the curing of Peter's mother-in-law of a fever (Matt. viii, 14-15; Mark i, 30-31; Luke iv, 38-39), although in the Luke version he "rebuked" the fever; and the opening of the eyes of two blind men (Matt. ix, 27-30). Another method seems to have been by allowing the ill to touch him or his garments (Matt. ix, 20-22; xiv, 36; Mark iii, 10; v, 25-34; Luke vi, 19; viii, 43-48). At other times he simply told the patient, or the agent of the patient, that faith had effected the cure, as with the centurion's servant (Matt. viii, 5-13; Luke vii, 2-10) and the daughter of the Canaanite (Matt. xv, 22-28; Mark vii, 25-30); or told the stricken to hold forth a withered arm or pick up his bed and walk, by which command the cure was completed (Matt. ix, 2-7; xii, 10-13; Mark ii, 3-12; Luke v, 18-25). Among all primitive peoples, the principal cause of disease was supposed to lie in the displeasure of some deity toward the afflicted person, who was punished by this deity for some offense or neglect (Psalms xxxviii, 3). One of the favorite methods of the gods in afflicting was sending evil and tormenting spirits into the body of the victim. After more was learned of disease, this theory gradually diminished in strength as regarded some troubles, but for centuries it was the universal theory that mental derangements and nervous afflictions were solely due to demoniacal possession, and all priests and medicine-men resorted to various exorcisms, from the primitive banging of gongs and tooting of trumpets to scare away the spirit, to the prayers and sprinkling of holy water of the mediæval church to rid the patient of the unwelcome inhabitant of his body. That Jesus believed in this demoniacal possession is undoubted, and he effected his cures by ordering or calling out the devil from the body of the possessed. For example, there is a story of Jesus driving devils into an innocent herd of swine (Matt. viii, 28-33; Mark v, 2-14; Luke viii, 26-34). We also find him casting out and rebuking devils in various instances (Matt. ix, 32-34; xii, 22-24; xvii, 14-18; Mark i, 23-24, 34; iii, 11; Luke iv, 33-36, 41; ix, 37-42). In all probability, these medical miracles of Jesus were copied from older legends by his biographers. But, even if they actually occurred, they were not miracles at all, for a miracle must be, in the very meaning of the word, performed by the suspension of a natural law, and from all gospel accounts the mental therapeutics of the Christ were performed, if at all, in perfect accordance with well-established psychological laws. They had been performed years before his birth, and they have continued to be performed years after his death, even to the present time. Through the force of faith, the patients were placed in passivity (hypnosis) and treated by suggestions being impressed upon their subjective minds, when present; at a distance, they were cured by the telepathic suggestions conveyed from the healer to their subjective mentalities. There is no miracle here; it is merely a demonstration of telepathic and hypnotic phenomena, governed by psychic laws, and does not place the Christ on a higher intellectual plane than modern hypnotists and mental healers, who consciously and knowingly work within the dispensation of these laws. They are anything but proofs of the godhead of Jesus. It would seem that the Pharisees had some such idea in mind when they demanded an astronomical miracle and requested "a sign from heaven." But, unable to comply, he evaded this performance by calling them hypocrites and "an evil and adulterous generation," and saying, "There shall no sign be given unto this generation" (Matt. xii, 38-39; xvi, 1-4; Mark viii, 11-13; Luke xi, 16, 29; John ii, 18, 24; vi, 30). One of the commonest miracles ascribed to religious leaders of all sects and times, and one which never fails to convince witnesses and hearers of the authenticity of such a leader's claims, is that of restoring the dead to life. Such miracles have been so well attested that there seems little reason to suppose them entirely fictitious. Everyone has heard of cases of catalepsy, and medical history teems with cases of "suspended animation"; in fact, the only actual proof of death is the entire decomposition of the vital organs; therefore, the cruelty and crime of embalming corpses before such a condition is apparent. Some undertakers actually insist upon embalming before such conditions, because the dead can then be made to "present a better appearance"! There are numerous well-proven cases of people lying for days in cataleptic conditions, even with slight signs of decomposition due to restricted circulation, and then returning to renewed lives and perfectly healthy states. All Eastern travelers are familiar with the practices of Hindu fakirs who allow themselves to be buried alive for weeks, and are "resurrected" without having suffered. Therefore, it does not seem improbable that some such acts on the parts of various religious leaders may have occurred which have excited wonder with the ignorant, and interest among the educated. The early Christians proclaimed many such wonderful works, albeit when challenged by a wealthy pagan to produce even one such case, in payment for which he would become a convert, a failure was the result. Orthodox Christians proclaim that Jesus raised from death Jairus' daughter, in entire forgetfulness of the actual words accredited to their leader, which were, "The maid is not dead, but sleepeth" (Matt. ix, 24; Mark v, 39; Luke viii, 52), showing his opinion that she was in a cataleptic condition. While neither of the first three gospels says aught of the raising of Lazarus, we find it in John, who seems to have substituted it for the story of Jairus' daughter, which does not appear in his gospel. According to this hyperbolical and probably demented authority, Jesus raised Lazarus to life after he had been dead four days (John xi, 17), although Jesus maintained that Lazarus was not dead (John xi, 11). He declared that "this sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified there-by" (John xi, 4), or, in other words, Jesus believed that the unfortunate Lazarus was obliged to undergo this frightful experience that his seeming resurrection might cause gaping among the vulgar, and add to the prestige of the miracle worker. For this reason, he purposely postponed going to the dying man, whom he might have saved, that he might later have the glory of bringing him to life! Excellent ethics! Finally, however, when he did depart, he said positively, "Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep" (John xi, 11). Having arrived at the sepulchre, he approached it, groaning and weeping, in a most theatrical manner, such as would appeal to a highly strung audience, and cried in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come forth!" whereupon the dead man arose and came out (John xi, 33, 35, 43). Now, this may have been catalepsy, and it may have been the strong voice and will of the Christ which caused the awakening, but, in all probability, if the affair ever occurred, it was a preconceived dramatic incident. All the actors were partisans of the professed messiah, and the whole story reads like a play, and undoubtedly the words "come forth" were the cue for the waiting man to appear. It is by such contemptible methods that religions are established. If the tale were due to the imagination of the author of John, it is most discreditable to him, and places his hero in a very bad light. If it actually occurred, it shows Jesus as a vain-glorious boaster, anxious to show his power to the vulgar, and desirous of gaining a following by charlatanry, either by raising a hypnotized man or by creating a cheap melodrama. It had been prophesied (2 Esdras xiii, 50) that the messiah should be a miracle worker, which probably caused Jesus to affect this rôle when he accepted the part of the messiah, and to condescend to soil his mission by charlatanism, even to the raising of the dead in imitation of the former prophets, Elijah and Elisha (I Kings xvii, 16-24; II Kings iv, 18-37). It is rather amusing to hear Theodore Christlieb, that well-named, sturdy old German supporter of orthodoxy, boldly assert in irrevocable simplicity and straightforwardness, in his "Modern Doubt and Christian Belief": "However much in other respects our opponents may differ, they all agree in the denial of miracles, and unitedly storm this bulwark of the Christian faith; and in its defense we have to combat them all at once. But whence this unanimity? Because with the truth of miracles the entire citadel of Christianity stands or falls. [The italics are his own.] For its beginning is a miracle, its author is a miracle, its progress depends upon miracles, and they will hereafter be its consummation. If the principle of miracles be set aside, then all the heights of Christianity will be leveled with one stroke, and naught will remain but a heap of ruins. If we banish the supernatural from the Bible, there is nothing left us but the covers" (pages 285-6). VIII.--ATONEMENT AND SALVATION BY FAITH. The dogma of the atonement which very naturally resulted from the theological interpretation of the crucifixion, was readily accepted by the Christian church. The idea of averting disasters by sacrifice and thus causing one devoted victim to bear the load of the sins of others, in payment of which his death was acceptable, is one of the greatest antiquity, and we find sacrifices of various kinds offered to propitiate the deities, from the simple offerings of primitive man to the more elaborate sacrifices of a more complicated society. Finally came the idea of human sacrifice and then the culminating theory of the sacrifice of a divine being whose suffering should atone for all the sins of mankind. The belief of redemption from sin by the sufferings of a divine incarnation was general and popular centuries before the time of Jesus. In the temple of the moon the Albanians of the eastern Caucasus kept a number of sacred slaves. When one exhibited more than usual symptoms of inspiration, the high priest maintained him in the utmost luxury for a year, after which he was anointed and led forth to be sacrificed. After his death, the people stood upon the body as a purificationary ceremony, it being believed that the dead man was possessed of a divine spirit. The ancient Greeks were also familiar with the use of the human scapegoat, and it was customary at Marsailles, one of the busiest and most brilliant of the Greek colonies, to sacrifice an inspired man when the city was ravaged by the plague. All are familiar with the old Jewish practice of using the scapegoat as the vehicle for the expiation of sins, and the whole theory of the atonement is little more than a modernized expression of the old idea that the sins of the community may be delegated to one agent to be sacrificed for the purification of the rest. The prophecy, as it is called by John, made by Caiaphas, the high priest, "it is expedient for us that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not" (John xi, 50; xviii, 14), which has been seized upon by the Christians as a reference to the vicarious atonement, is nothing more than the opinion of an ardent orthodox Jew that if Jesus were permitted to live and preach he would destroy the ancient faith and his converts would abandon the old religion. The words "it is expedient for us" qualify the whole statement. They signified that the priesthood would be without a following were he allowed to continue. The idea of a vicarious atonement for all the people would have been of no expediency whatever to Caiaphas and his class. They felt that if orthodoxy fell by Jesus' preaching, the Romans could easily crush them, for it was only by their union and the support of their ancient rites that they could form any front to the imperial government; it was by these alone that they had any political significance. Once dismembered, the Jews would be scattered to the corners of the earth (John xi, 52). This was the meaning of Caiaphas' words, and he was correct, for such was the actual case. When orthodoxy was undermined, the Jewish nation was ruined. The doctrine that God was angry with humanity because of its ancestors' transgressions, and would forgive its sins only on its acceptance of belief in the godhead of Jesus, is so entirely at variance with the Jewish teachings, which held that God freely forgave penitents on the confession of their sins (Ex. xxxiv, 6-7; Neh. ix, 17; Ps. ciii, 3; cxxx, 4; Is. xxxiii, 24; Dan. ix, 9) that it was never accepted by them. Some old Christian writers believed that it was to the devil that the Christ was sacrificed. Their belief in the justice of the Supreme would not allow them to think that he demanded the sacrifice of an innocent for the sins of the guilty. Proclus of Constantinople, in the age of Austin, wrote that "the devil held us in a state of servitude, boasting that he had bought us. It was necessary, therefore, that all being condemned, either they should be dragged to death, or a sufficient price be paid; and because no angel had the wherewithal to pay it, it remained that God should die for us." While such an idea is certainly of a higher moral nature than that which states that God sacrificed his own innocent son for man, it has the unfortunate result of attributing to the devil greater power than to God; for if the devil could demand and receive a part of the god-head as ransom, then God himself was weaker than the arch fiend. Hislop, in his "Two Babylons," commenting upon the Chaldean doctrine that it was "by the works and merits of men themselves that they must be justified and accepted of God," utterly condemns it, and glories in the dogma of the atonement with great and illogical pleasure. Having reviewed the Egyptian belief that Anubis weighed the merits and defects of departed souls, so that Osiris, in accordance with the result, might judge and sentence them; and the Parsee belief that the Angel of Justice sat on the bridge of Chinevad, which connected heaven and earth, weighing souls to decide whether or not they should enter paradise, he condemns such theories as "utterly demoralizing," and asserts that no believer can ever have "any solid feeling of comfort, or assurance as to his prospects in the eternal world," which very fact would seem conducive to clean lives and good deeds. Then he continues in ecstasy to exalt the immoral Christian doctrine of "justification by faith alone," which he declares alone "can produce a life of loving, filial, hearty obedience to the law and commands of God," and by which man may reach salvation "absolutely irrespective of human merits, simply and solely through the righteousness of Christ." This is one of the most absurd and immoral doctrines of all the absurd and immoral doctrines of Christianity, and one which leads to all varieties of crime and misery. A man who believes that simple faith alone is a perfect and acceptable passport to eternal bliss will take no pains to lead either a decent or useful life. He is at liberty to commit all the crimes known to his nature; he may murder, steal, rape, and lie with impunity, for his faith in Christ will save him from his well-deserved punishment; while a man of high ethical standards and immaculate moral principles, who spends his whole life in self-sacrifice for the progress of humanity is doomed to damnation, unless he believe! What a horrible doctrine! What a blasphemous conception of the justice of God! Every student of comparative theology knows that such views of atonement were centuries old at the date of the supposed birth of the Christ, and that all sorts of sacrifices were made at the altars of different gods with the same idea of atonement; but, aside from this, is there not something cowardly and mean in trying to shirk the responsibilities of one's actions upon either an animal, a man, or a god? Is it not contemptible to suppose that the death and suffering of another will allow one to go unpunished, or that such suffering is a license for humanity to sin? All that is ridiculous, blasphemous, and illogical appears in this stupid dogma. IX.--THE TRINITY--MARIOLATRY. The dogma of the trinity, which was introduced, strongly advocated, and finally successfully lobbied through the famous Council of Nicaæ in 315, by that astute theological politician Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, split the Christian church in twain and threw Europe into turmoil and bloodshed. Athanasius was the leader of the Alexandrian school of Christian theology which drew its inspirations and ideas largely--one might almost say, exclusively--from ancient Egyptian sources. The Egyptians were an essentially religious people whose deistic ideas were surrounded by ceremony, priestcraft, and mysticism, all of which made such a deep impression upon the pliant minds of the Alexandrian Christians that they molded their new faith in the form of their old. The Egyptians highly revered the number three, which they generally represented under the form of a triangle. To the Egyptians nothing could be perfect or complete unless it was of three component parts. Therefore, their gods were generally grouped in sets of three, many cities having their own especial trinities. Horus was divided into three persons, and Osiris, Isis and Horus were worshiped under the sign of the triangle. But Egypt was not alone in her trinitarian ideas. The theory of sex worship had a strong hold on all the peoples of antiquity, and it is not surprising to find similar religious expressions in India. One of the most prominent features of Indian theology is the doctrine of the divine triad governing all things. This triad is called the Tri-murti and consists of Brahma, the creator, Vishnu, the preserver, and Siva, the destroyer. It is an inseparable unity though three in form. The inhabitants of China and Japan, most of whom are Buddhists, worship God in the form of a trinity. The Persians have a similar triad composed of Ormuzd, the creator, Mithras, the son, and Ahriman, the destroyer. The ancient Scandinavians likewise worshiped a triple deity who was yet one god, and consisted of Odin, Thor, and Frey. One of the many weak points in the doctrine of the trinity, and one that must be noticeable even to Christians, is that, according to the New Testament, the apostles themselves never seem to have recognized the divinity of Jesus, but always treated him as a human Jew like themselves. This attitude of the early Christian disciples is noted by Priestley, who remarks in his "Corruptions of Christianity" (page 136): "It can never be thought that Peter and the others would have made so free with our Lord, as they sometimes did, if they had considered him as their maker, and the being who supported the whole universe; and therefore must have been present in every part of creation, giving his attention to everything, and exerting his power upon everything, at the same time that he was familiarly conversing with them. Moreover, the history of the temptation must be altogether improbable in such a supposition. For what could be the offer of the kingdoms of this world to him who made the world, and was already in possession of it?" Numerous texts which tend to affirm the humanity of Jesus have been stumbling blocks in the paths of the trinitarians, and they have taken great pains to explain away these embarrassing texts, even at the cost of much ingenuity and absurdity. Paul, the real founder of the faith, in his first epistle to Timothy, says: "For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus" (1 Tim. ii, 5); and again in his first epistle to John he remarks: "No man hath seen God" (1 John iv, 12). Such phrases as "Why callest thou me good? There is none good but one, that is God" (Matt. xix, 17), and "But now ye seek to kill me, a man that hath told you the truth, which I have heard of God" (John viii, 40), do not appear to be fitting remarks for the second person of the trinity. Again, the words, "My Father is greater than I" (John xiv, 28), were likewise difficult of explanation by those who held that every member of the trinity is coequal, but Austin got around this by declaring that "Christ having emptied himself of his former glory, and being in form of a servant, was then less, not only than his Father, but even than himself"! The same writer asserts that the words, "that the Son knew not the time of the day of judgment, but only the Father" (Mark xiii, 32), means that while Jesus did know something of the trinity, he would not make it known to others--thus making a downright liar of his God. The whole of trinitarianism is epitomized in the phrase of Peter Lombard, who, having made the impossible arithmetical assertion that no one person of the trinity is less than the other two, says: "He that can receive this, let him receive it; but he that cannot, let him, however, believe it; and let him pray that what he believes he may understand." Jesus having been ordained one of the godhead, the only begotten son of the most high god, the worship of his mother naturally followed; for who could reasonably refuse to bend the knee to the one virgin of all humanity, considered worthy of the honor of bearing the incarnate deity? It was all the easier for the Christian church to adopt this practice, that it had been one of the principal features of the ancient theologies. All nations have worshiped a pure, chaste queen of heaven, a personification of that beautiful celestial body that smiles so benignly down on earth every month. In every land the moon was worshiped as a mother goddess, pure, beautiful, and loving; for there is not the slightest doubt that the virgin queen of heaven, so commonly worshiped by all nations, was merely a personification of the moon. Isis, mother of the Egyptian savior Horus, was worshiped as a virgin and was styled "Our Lady," "Queen of Heaven," "Mother of God," "Intercessor," and "Immaculate Virgin." She was commonly represented with the divine infant seated on her lap, or standing on a crescent moon, and having a glory of twelve stars about her head. With the adoption of the worship of Isis to Christianity, the crescent moon became a sacred symbol of Mary, who was often portrayed standing upon one. It was held peculiarly sacred by the Greek church and a large crescent moon of gold adorned the dome of St. Sophia at Constantinople. When the city fell in 1453 before the Turkish arms, the Sultan adopted the crescent as a symbol of his victorious power and as a humiliation to his Christian enemies, and thus again the religious significance of the crescent changed, and as an emblem of a Mohammedan power soon came to be regarded by the forgetful Christians with horror and a deadly hatred. The ancient Chaldees believed in a celestial virgin-mother to whom the erring sinner might appeal, and Shin-moo, the mother goddess, occupies a conspicuous place in Chinese worship. The Babylonians and Assyrians worshiped a goddess called Mylitta, whose son Tammuz is said to have arisen from the dead. In India they have worshiped for ages Devaki, the mother of Krishna, and Maya, the mother of Buddha, both of whom are represented with the infant saviors in their arms. Their statues, similar to the Christian madonnas, are found in Hindu temples, and their portraits are always accompanied by halos. Sochiquetzal, mother of Quetzalcoatl, was worshiped in Mexico as the mother of their crucified savior. As queen of heaven and the chaste and immaculate protectress of women, the Greek Hera and her Roman prototype, Juno, were worshiped by the ancient classical world, while the virtuous Diana of Ephesus held a similar place in Phoenician mythology. All the ancient beliefs in the virgin queen of heaven and her miraculous child probably had more or less effect on the growth of virgin worship in the Christian church; but it was undoubtedly Egyptian influence which was most powerful in the adoption of it, just as it was in regard to the trinitarian dogma. The worship of Isis and Horus was introduced into Rome during the early days of the empire and was readily accepted. And with its introduction came those basalt images of the goddess and her child which have since been adopted by the Christians as ancient representations of Mary and Jesus, albeit they are as black as Ethiopians. Many centuries before, the worship of the Greek goddess Hera had been instituted at Rome under the name of Juno, and she was especially regarded as the chaste and immaculate protectress of women. And it was the combination of the worship offered to these two deities that the Christian church condensed into the worship of the mother of Jesus, to which it added the attributes of Diana, making Mary the patroness of chastity as well as fruitfulness! In Dante's day it was customary to invoke the Virgin Mary at childbirth just as Juno Lucina was invoked by the pagan ancestors of the Italians. The worship of the virgin as theotokos, the mother of god, was promulgated at the general council of Ephesus, which was called by the Emperor Theodosius II in 431, and, after that date, and up to the present time, we find this lowly Jewish peasant girl delineated in all the insignia of royalty and portrayed in the most beautiful and patrician type of classical beauty. With the adoration of Mary rose the legend that she, too, had ascended bodily into heaven and was there crowned by her son and bidden to sit eternally upon his right hand that she might plead with him to mitigate the punishments of sinners, thus allowing that the judgment of this second member of the holy trinity might be fallible, or at least open to influence. Having raised the virgin to this immense height, the natural sequence was to go a step farther and grant to her also immaculate origin. This idea was first noticed in the eleventh century and steadily grew until in 1494 Sextus the Fourth officially recognized it and gave it the solemn sanction of the church, and in July, 1615, Paul the Fifth instituted the office commemorating her immaculate conception. Virgin worship has continued to grow and flourish, and even so late as 1854, Pius the Ninth issued a bull officially declaring Mary the "Mediatrix" between Christ and the faithful. Mary is not, however, the only intercessor that stands between man and his God. There is an immense horde of saints who also occupy positions of honor about the heavenly throne. These immortal semi-human beings are created by a decree of the Roman pontiff and their canonization has often been due to whimsical reasoning. That all the apostles, martyrs, and early Christian fathers should have been raised to this holy peerage is not so remarkable; but that such honor should have been conferred on the wicked, unscrupulous, and vicious Constantine, and his almost unknown mother Helena; on the powerful and warlike Charlemagne; and on the ambitious and ungrateful Thomas à Becket, seems strange to say the least. X.--THE SAINTS--GOOD AND EVIL SPIRITS. That this army of saints was originally created to replace the body of heroes and demi-gods of antiquity cannot be doubted. The compliance with which the church converted pagan deities into Christian heroes is perfectly well known, and it is shown in many ways. Ancient statues were declared to represent newly canonized saints to whom pagan attributes were unhesitatingly given--often most ridiculously. At the temple of Sebona, in Nubia, the Christians replaced the figure of the old god of the temple, which appeared in a fresco, by that of St. Peter, thus depicting King Rameses the Second as presenting his offering to the Christian saint! The statue of Jupiter in St. Peter's at Rome has been declared that of the erstwhile fisherman, and its original thunderbolts have been replaced by the keys, which the Christian mythologists have filched from the god Janus to bestow on their revered patron in accordance with the promise of Matthew xvi, 19. Rome is full of proofs of this conversion of heathen to Christian deities. The temple formerly sacred to the Bona Dea was dedicated to the Virgin Mary; the church of Saint Apollinaris stands on the spot formerly dedicated to Apollo; and the temple of Mars was given to St. Martina. The very names of some of the saints have an old familiar sound--as St. Baccho, St. Quirinus, St. Romula, St. Redempta, St. Concordia, St. Nympha, and St. Mercurius. The Christian symbolism of its heroes has also a decidedly pagan flavor. The ancient winged lion of the Egyptian mythology is made to portray St. Mark; the sacred bull denotes St. Luke; while St. John is generously supplied with both the eagle of Jove and the hawk's head of Horus. The idea of intercession, which is the principal attribute of all the saints, is also a very ancient religious theory and probably came with the other dogmas already mentioned from Alexandria, as we find that the Egyptians believed that some of their gods--and particularly the four gods of the dead--acted as mediators with the stern judge Osiris and attempted to turn aside his wrath and the punishment of sins. Much akin to the saints, though differing from them in form and in never having been mortal, are the angels. These beings combine the wings of the Roman victories with the sweet voices of the Teutonic elves and the classical sirens, and are in many ways similar to the famous northern valkyries who wore shirts of swan plumage and hovered over Scandinavian battlefields to receive the souls of falling heroes. The Hindu apsaras and Moslem houris belong to the same family. A few years ago a bitter controversy arose in New York Episcopal circles as to the sex of these unearthly creatures, some strenuously advocating their masculinity, while others gallantly asserted that they were essentially feminine, but the earlier idea was that they were entirely sexless, combining the characteristic virtues of both sexes. Apart from both saints and angels stands another figure in the Christian mythology--one, however, that has no actual counterpart in the ancient faiths. This is Satan. The classical religious systems had no such conception, their king of the dead being a gloomy and austere deity without any of the malicious or mischievous propensities of the more modern devil, and having no designs upon the welfare of mankind. The medieval conception of the devil was a grotesque compound of elements derived from all the pagan mythologies which Christianity superseded. From the sylvan deity Pan he gets his goat-like body, his horns and cloven hoofs; his lameness was due to his fall from heaven, in imitation of the fall of the Roman Vulcan; and his red beard was taken from the lightning god Thor, as was also his power over the thunderbolts; while his pitchfork is the converted trident of Neptune. That much of the absurd fabric of Christianity is built upon a belief in Satan cannot be denied, for the whole theology is based upon the necessity of a savior whose death atones for the sins of mankind, which were consequent upon man's fall from grace through the machinations of the devil. Had man never fallen, there were no need of a savior. Had man never been tempted, he would never have fallen, and in no words was the necessity of a belief in the devil more plainly set forth than by that most orthodox writer, des Mousseaux, in his "Moeurs et Pratiques des Demons," published in 1852. He says: "The Devil is the chief pillar of Faith. He is one of the grand personages whose life is closely allied to that of the church, and without his speech, which issued out so triumphantly from the mouth of the serpent, the fall of man could never have taken place. Thus, if it were not for him, the Savior, the Crucified, the Redeemer, would be but the most ridiculous of supernumeraries and the cross an insult to good sense!" In his preface to "Les Hauts Phenomènes de la Magie," des Mousseaux repeats this theory: "If magic and spiritualism were both but chimeras, we would have to bid an eternal farewell to all the rebellious angels now troubling the world; for thus we would have no more demons down here.... And if we lost our demons, we would lose our Savior likewise; for, from whom did that Savior save us? And then there would be no more Redeemer; for, from whom or what could that Redeemer redeem us? Hence, there would be no more Christianity." He evidently regards Satan as "the prince of this world" (John xii, 31; xvi, 11); "the god of this world" (Cor. iv, 4); and "the prince of the power of the air" (Eph. ii, 2). The universally accepted belief of Christendom in the almost absolute power of the devil was the cause of the most awful persecution of innocence that the world has ever seen. While the tortures of the heretics by the Inquisition had some cause of a political as well as ecclesiastical nature, the houndings of those accused of witchcraft and sorcery had no foundation save in superstition and gross ignorance. During the Christian era millions of persons have been destroyed for this crime in conformity to the command, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" (Ex. xxii, 18). The Roman church recognized and punished the crime; Luther approved of the burning of witches; the Scotch reformers did likewise, and the Puritans of New England delighted in the persecution. While all religiously orthodox people accept the narrative of scriptural miracles with unquestioning faith and never cast a doubt on the greatest improbabilities so long as they are told of biblical heroes, these very people assign all the seeming supernatural affairs of post-scriptural times to the devil. Psychical phenomena which, if performed two thousand years ago by Jesus (such as the resurrection of Lazarus and the materialization to the Magdalene), they accept without hesitation, they brand as trickery or a delusion or Satan, when placed before them by a professed Spiritualist. Witches and wizards were condemned to horrible deaths by the medieval church for performing the very identical acts for which the same church canonized departed saints and instituted offices for their adoration and worship; and modern Christians smile and sneer derisively at fortune tellers, but condemn in holy horror as heretics those who refuse to believe in the foreseeing powers of the ancient Hebrew prophets. This Christian devil-worship, for it can be called little else, crept into Judaism during the Babylonian captivity, and was originally a recognition of the dual powers of good and evil, seemingly coequal. By placing Satan in opposition to God, in giving him eternal life, and endowing him with miraculous powers, and even allowing him to upset and vanquish the plans of God, Christians have made Satan equal, if not superior, to the Deity. A Puritan bigot hanging witches in New England was admitting in the plainest manner his faith in Satan's power, though it never occurred to him for an instant that these curious happenings might be attributed to God. The power of God to perform miracles was then, as now, a matter of the past. With the Protestant Reformation came the idea that no longer did God interfere for the benefit of man. In the seventeenth century God had ceased to work by other than natural agencies. His miraculous powers, if not lost, were at least suspended. But not so Satan--that archfiend was as powerful as ever, if not more so. He could inflict magical tortures on God's divinely elect and make them writhe in agony. Pious Cotton Mather had ceased to believe in divine miracles, but he had no doubt of devilish ones, and it appears to all students of that dark and shameful period of our history that the belief was rampant among the majority that God was vanquished and Satan ruled. Never was belief in the dual principles of good and evil more surely set forth in ancient Persia than it was in New England by such harsh, cruel, and bigoted priests as Mather and Parrish. Today, while all churchmen have grown more liberal, we still find both in pulpit and pew innumerable believers in the power of Satan to tempt and force erring humanity into wrong and sinful paths in miraculous salvation from which by God they have no faith. Today, instead of earthly and present salvation by the Deity from the clutches of Satan, the belief seems prevalent that a post-mortem salvation is more efficacious, and that all that is required for eternal bliss is belief in the vicarious atonement of the Christ. To hear our orthodox friends declaim on the powers of Satan almost makes one ready to believe that God is dead and Satan rules supreme. Such is the blasphemy of demonic faith. While Satan, as the arch-enemy, is somewhat similar to the Persian Ahriman, he is not alone in his wickedness. When Christianity came into power and supplanted paganism as the Roman state religion, it immediately debased all of the pagan gods, whom it did not appropriate to itself as saints, to devils and assigned them subordinate positions in hell, under command of the great Satan. And thus, all the beautiful water sprites, sylvan nymphs, spirits of the air, and other lesser deities, became the associates of wickedness, and, as such, continued, until a very recent date, to hold sway over the superstitious imaginations of the majority of Europeans. The mediæval church likewise invented the famous succubæ and incubi, the former demons impersonating the beautiful nymphs of the old mythology and attacking the virtue of youths with their seductive arts, while the latter, in imitation of the ancient satyrs, sought the virginity of unsuspecting maidens; all of which may readily be learned of in accounts of the many trials held by "the Holy Inquisition," in which such were condemned as had held intercourse with these demons. In many cases, women swearing to have had intercourse with incubi were merely suffering from erotic and nymphomaniac hallucinations, while others may have found it a convenient excuse for explaining illicit impregnations. Men, falling under the charms of women, found it a convenient method for disposing of their loves, after the infatuation had passed, by declaring them succubæ; and monks, who had contracted venereal diseases, laid their sufferings to these same fair demons. In the case of the monks, however, the succubæ were often of purely hallucinary origin, due to excessive asceticism together with the suppression of natural desires and a too faithful conformity to the ordinance of celibacy. Nymphomania is also prevalent in convents, owing to the unnatural sexual lives led by the nuns, who either remain truly chaste or abandon themselves to all sorts of debauchery and perverted lubricities. In former times these rages of demented women were supposed to have been caused by possession of demons, which tormented them at the orders of magicians, and advantage was often taken by the unscrupulous to accuse their enemies of the crime of sorcery, and thus cause their execution. One of the most famous of these horrible affairs was that of Loudin in Poitiers, where the nuns of the Ursuline convent, becoming hysterical and demented, swore themselves afflicted by Urbain Grandier, a priest of the local church, and despite the attempts of the rational bailiff and sensible civil lieutenants, some enemies of the curé among the exorcists managed to secure the arrest, torture, and final burning of the unfortunate man in 1632. Later, it was discovered that, being personally attractive, handsome and gallant, Grandier, who never denied his numerous amours, had incurred the enmity of the Loudin nuns by entirely ignoring their advances; and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! These libidinous women, constantly brooding over disappointment to their fond hopes, gave such a character of demonic possession to their neurosis that advantage could be taken of it by rival priests to rid themselves of an envied enemy. The writhings, gesticulations, convulsions, etc., of these unfortunate women, combined with the indecency of their actions on the approach of the exorcists (caused merely by the approach of a male), were believed by the vulgar to be demonstrations of demonic possession. Other nuns, seeing the attention and notoriety thus gained by these sisters, although themselves free from dementia, could not resist the temptation to simulate its forms and thus acquire renown for themselves. Thus arose those horrible demonical scenes which occupied the attention of all Europe during the seventeenth century and seemed to point to the possession of all convents by devils. And not convents alone, for other hysterical women, without the walls, possessed of the same rage for notoriety, took up the character of demonic possessed and spread the vulgar superstition until it seems that every woman in Europe who was so unfortunate as to be in any way afflicted with tendencies to hysteria, neurosis, idiocy, or dementia of any character whatever, came to be regarded as in the power of a demon, which in turn was the slave of some magician. And thus, through the influence of an ignorant and unscrupulous priesthood, a powerful engine was placed at its disposal for the removal of enemies. Executions for sorcery continued until their very number and barbarity palled, and the wearied people were ready for their abolition, when the Reformation opened and with the accession of power, Protestantism, in this matter, at least, swayed the masses to reason once more. Dr. Figuier, in his "Histoire du Merveilleux," explains these demonical possessions as entirely due to hypnotism, and, ignoring the nymphomaniac theory, asserts that the exorcists themselves hypnotized the nuns for their own glory and for purposes of vengeance. One page 234 of volume I he says: "L'appareil deployé par les exorcistes, leurs adjurations, leurs gestes imposants et forcenés, tenaient lieu des manipulations que nos magnetiseurs emploient pour endormir leurs sujets. Operant sur des jeunes filles nerveuses, malades, melancoliques, les exorcistes produisaient chez elles une partie des phenomènes auxquels donné lieu le somnambulisme artificiel." The universal belief in evil spirits became a powerful engine for the advancement of the church. By its use all those who were inimical to the church could be put out of the way as comrades of devils, and, furthermore, the theory was advanced that only by the exorcisms of the church could man be protected from malevolent powers. Holy water, signs of the cross, repetitions of the name of Mary had full power to annul all the machinations of the demons, but only in the hands of the true believers was this efficacious. To preserve one from the dangers of demonic spite, absolute orthodoxy was essential, and thus a great premium was imposed upon strict adherence to the church. Thus was gross superstition a most powerful factor in the growth and spread of Christianity. According to Lecky: "There was scarcely a village or a church that had not, at some time, been the scene of supernatural interposition. The powers of light and the powers of darkness were regarded as visibly struggling for the mastery. Saintly miracles, supernatural cures, startling judgments, visions, prophecies, and prodigies of every order, attested the activity of the one, while witchcraft and magic, with all their attendant horrors, were the visible manifestations of the other.... Tens of thousands of victims perished by the most agonizing and protracted torments, without exciting the slightest compassion.... Nations that were separated by position, by interests, and by character, on this question were united." And the germ of all this evil lay in the very foundation of Christianity--the faith held in supernatural agencies. The belief in the supernatural agency in the temptation of Eve, the temptations of Jesus, the possibility of the miraculous conception, and the miracles of Christ, were but stepping-stones to faith in innumerable invisible but potent powers. One who can conscientiously believe in the supernatural as found between the covers of the Bible can, by but a slight stretch of the imagination, believe any preposterous tale that is woven about a supernatural agency. If one can believe a woman can conceive without contact with semen, one can believe some old woman can dry up his cow. If one can believe that Jesus actually raised Lazarus from the dead, one can believe that a man can kill him by sticking pins in a wax effigy. If one can believe that Elijah ascended to heaven in a fiery chariot, one can believe that Goody Jones rode a broomstick through the air. If one can believe that the Christ was actually tempted by the devil, one can believe in succubæ and incubi. It is all a matter of logical reasoning. As soon as a Christian's intellectual powers develop to a point where he can find no place for the miraculous in the world about him, he begins to doubt that which was in the world before him; but, regarding theological tales, he either places them in another category or ignores them, unless faced with them, when he crawls and calls them "sacred mysteries." That an old woman can sour his milk or kill his child by the evil eye he does not believe, for reason has taught him otherwise. And for the same reason he would not believe his daughter if she told him she was pregnant with a miraculous child. He did not believe Josephine Woodbury when she made a similar statement in Boston a few years ago. But he does believe it of Mary, because it is a "holy mystery," and is in another category. He has inherited his faith from a long line of orthodox ancestors, and he has never stopped to consider it by the light of pure reason. It is fortunate for the dogma of the virgin birth that it took root when people believed such things, otherwise Mary would have been adorned with the scarlet letter. Feasts, fasts and elaborate ceremonials were important features of the most ancient worships, and it is not, therefore, strange to find somewhat modified adaptations of them in the Christian church. For, wherever Christianity wandered and found firmly implanted religious theories and customs, it immediately gave them new significations and accepted them, until finally the greater part of paganism was gathered from all parts of the civilized world and amalgamated into one strong theological organization. Finding in almost every nation a festival at the winter solstice, in commemoration of the accouchement of the celestial, virgin queen of heaven, and the birth of the sun-god, the Christian fathers decided to adopt the 25th of December as the natal day of their Christ. Mithras, Osiris, Horus, Bacchus, Adonis and Buddha were all said to have been born on this day, and it is the date of one of the greatest religious festivals of India, during which the people decorate their houses with garlands and make presents to relatives and friends; a custom adopted by the Christians in much the same manner as was that of the ancient German yule-log, burned in honor of the sun-god. XI.--RELIGIOUS HOLIDAYS AND RITES. The winter solstice was also the time of the great Scandinavian festival in honor of Frey, son of Odin and Frigga, who was supposed to have been born at this time. The Jews, likewise, have a feast beginning on the 25th of December, which lasts eight days, and is in memory of the victory of the Maccabees over the Greeks. It is called the feast of Hanuca. A great annual festival, called the "feast of lamps," was held by the Egyptians in the early part of the year in honor of the goddess Neith, during which lamps of oil were burned all night before the houses. This festival was renamed Candlemas or the "purification of the virgin," and was adopted by the Christian church. The ancient pagan inhabitants of Europe annually celebrated a spring festival which began with a week's indulgence in all kinds of sports and was called the carne-vale, or taking farewell of meat, because a fast of forty days immediately followed. In Germany this was held in honor of the Saxon goddess Hertha, or Ostara, or Eostre--as you may prefer to call her--whose name was adopted as Easter by the Christians as the name to be applied to the end of their lenten period. Among the Syrians it was the custom to celebrate an elaborate festival at the time of the spring equinox in honor of the glorious Adonis, beloved of the great goddess Astarte. This worship was later introduced into Greece, whence it traveled to Rome with the majority of Grecian mythological theories. It was later introduced into Egypt, where it was annually celebrated at Alexandria, the cradle of Christianity, until the latter part of the fourth century, when a Christian significance was given it. The myth of Adonis is too well known to need repetition here, and its parallel to that of the Christ is readily seen. The ceremonies now held in Rome at Easter are but slightly different from those held there at the same time of year centuries ago. This similarity was explained away by the assertion of the Christian fathers "that a long time before there were Christians in existence, the devil had taken pleasure to have their future mysteries and ceremonies copied by his worshipers"--a very simple and satisfactory explanation! That Easter is in reality an astronomical festival in honor of the sun-god seems conclusive from the fact that it occurs on no settled date, but takes place on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the passing of the vernal equinox, which, for convenience, is fixed at March 21. Among the many Christian fasts of pagan origin none is more familiar to all than the weekly Friday abstinence from meat. Under the old mythology, Friday, the dies veneris, was sacred to Venus, and on that day the devout worshipers of this charming goddess ate nothing but fish, as all the "finny tribe" were sacred to her, and considered proper diet for those that worshiped at her shrine. When the Bishop of Rome assumed the power and dignity of head of the western church, he also assumed all the prerogatives of the ancient pontifex maximus (who was supposed to be the direct physical communication between the people and the deities), and many of the attributes of the emperors. He adopted the gorgeous vestments of the ancient high priest and even stretched forth a foot to be kissed, as Heliogabalus had done. He considered himself capable of raising such as he saw fit to semi-divine honors by canonization, just as the emperors had raised altars to their favorites, and he claimed precedence over every monarch of the earth, just as they also had done. But the Roman pontiff is not unique in his position of viceroy of the deity. The grand lama of Thibet is considered as the representative of Buddha and has the power of dispensing divine blessings on whomsoever he will. Taoism also has a pope who resides on the Lung-hû mountain, in the department of Kwang-hsi, who bears the surname Chang and is called "Heavenly Master." The best known rites of the Christian church are probably those of baptism, confession and communion, with which are associated the ideas of purification, prayer and transubstantiation. The rite of baptism, like all ideas which refer to the purification of sin by water, is a most ancient one. Rivers, as sources of purification, were at an early date invested with a sacred character, and every great river was supposed to be permeated with a divine essence and its waters were believed to cleanse from all mortal guilt and contamination. The Ganges and the Jordan are well known examples of this faith, and vases of Ganges water are to be found in almost every dwelling in India for religious purposes. In Mongolia and Thibet children are named by the priests, who immerse them in holy water while reading a prescribed prayer, after which the name is bestowed. Baptism preceded initiation into the mysteries of both the Egyptian Isis and the Persian Mithras, and was held to be the means of regeneration and of remission of sins. Tertullian, noticing the great similarity between the Christian and pagan baptisms, naïvely remarked that the devil "baptizes some, of course, such as believe in him and are faithful to him; he promises expiation of sins from the bath, and, if my memory of Mithras serves me still, in this rite he signs his soldiers on their foreheads." Much akin to baptism is the general use by the Christian church of so-called holy water, which is ascribed to Pope Alexander the First, who ruled during the first century. This pontiff probably did little more than officially to condone, by his papal sanction, the very general use of lustral water, which the Romans had inherited from their pagan ancestors; for lustral water was always kept in vases at the entrance of the Roman temples, that those passing in and out might sprinkle themselves with it; and the priests used a sprinkling brush called the aspersorium with which they threw the purifying water over their congregations, in the same manner as modern priests use the hyssop. The druids gave, or sprinkled upon, the worshipers water in which mistletoe had been immersed or steeped. Similar to the idea of purification by baptism is that of purification by confession and prayer. The idea involved in confession is that the declaration of the crime relieves the conscience of its criminality. In Iceland and among the Scandinavian and Teutonic peoples in general, murder ceased to be a crime when the slayer had declared himself guilty. Among the Jews confession was practiced, the purpose of its institution being that the priest might judge of the sacrifice required for the expiation of the sin committed, and, also, that every crime might be rehearsed over the scapegoat. The Peruvians confessed their sins to their priests with the exception of the Incas, who confessed to the sun. At the famous Samothracian mysteries a priest was especially charged with hearing the confessions of great criminals and with granting them absolution. Among Protestant Christians confession is often made directly to the supreme deity in the form of prayer, which, like most other religious practices, is an eminently pagan custom. The Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks, Romans, Persians, and most other ancient peoples offered sacrifices on the altars of their gods to propitiate them, and accompanied these offerings with prayers. Today, instead of presenting wines and viands to his god, the devout Christian offers verbal expressions of a contrite spirit or, more often, asks a favor. He demands, begs, or advises through this method, according to his own nature and disposition. The expression used in modern orthodox Protestant prayers, "through our Lord, Jesus Christ," is merely the concrete expression of the idea of mediation. The great supreme God was looked upon by most nations of antiquity as being too great, too sublime, too holy, to be addressed directly; and, in this lofty conception of the deity, they prayed for favors to mediators whom they created to request boons from the real ruler of heaven and earth. Among the Hindus, supplications were addressed to the various apotheosized incarnations of Vishnu, rather than to the great Brahma; the Greeks made supplication to numerous lesser gods, rather than to Zeus; Persians addressed Mithras instead of Ormuzd; and the modern Romanist kneels to saints and martyrs, or Jesus or his mother, at whose shrines they place offerings which are bribes for favors; but almost never do they immediately supplicate the supreme God. In this they are certainly less blasphemous than their Protestant fellows, who do not hesitate to talk familiarly to God of the most trivial affairs. Belief in the efficacy of prayer is an absurdity which owes its origin to a hereditary trait of humanity, descended through a long line of superstitious ancestors. Primitive man prayed to his dead fathers for their good will, believing them more powerful in their post mortem state than during life. The ancients offered prayers at the shrines of their various gods and, among all nations, from time immemorial, deities have been supplicated to bestow gifts and avert misfortunes. The overcharged mind of the superstitious has ever found relief in expressing its troubles to the imaginary beings on whom it has bestowed superhuman attributes. All over the world, in all languages, have arisen various petitions to the deities, and still do they continue to arise. Savages pray to their idols, Moslems crouch facing Mecca to pray to Allah, Hindus pray to the avatars of Vishnu, and all Christendom besieges the throne of God in constant supplication. Can any rational mind believe that these numerous, varied and even antagonistic petitions will be answered? Some are praying for rain, some for a cessation of it, some for health, some for happiness, some for material blessings, and some for spiritual welfare. Vain repetitions! The material universe is governed by immutable laws which all the breath in creation wasted in prayer cannot in any way affect; while such spiritual benefits as morality, character and virtue "are equally dependent on the invariable laws of cause and effect." Prayers for forgiveness of sins are perhaps the most common, as well as the most absurd, that are daily offered. Sin is the breaking of a material or moral law, and no law can be broken without the transgressor's incurring the penalty. Is it not absurd of the church to preach the immutable justice of God, and at the same time declare that sinners may escape punishment by prayer? Communion, or union with the deity, is an idea of great antiquity and has been common to all religions; although the methods practiced are numerous and varied. The more common mode, however, is by the consumption of consecrated foods and drinks, with the idea that these have acquired (by the act of consecration) a divine character of which the communicant becomes a partaker through their reception. The dogma of the eucharist was instituted many centuries before the Christian era and was believed in by the ancient Egyptians (from whom the Christians probably received it through the Alexandrian school), who, at the time of the celebration of the resurrection of Osiris, ate a sacred wafer, which, after consecration by a priest, was declared the flesh of the god. In ancient Greece, bread was worshiped as Ceres and wine as Bacchus; and, when the devout ate the bread and drank the wine, they claimed they were eating the flesh and drinking the blood of their deities. The ancient Mexicans used bread of corn meal mixed with blood, which, after, having been consecrated by the priests, was given to the people to eat as the flesh of Quetzalcoatl, much to the surprise and horror of the first Spanish missionaries, who ascribed it to mockery of their holy eucharist due to Satan. XII--THE EUCHARIST. The primal origin of the eucharist probably occurred far back in the period of universal anthropophagy. Most savage and semi-savage peoples have practiced cannibalism because they believed that by eating the flesh of the dead they gained the qualities of the deceased. Just as some Africans eat tiger to become brave, savages ate their courageous foes to attain their virtues. Following this same idea further, the belief was established that by consuming the flesh of a god, supernatural powers might be acquired. Thus the early Christian missionaries to the New World found such customs in Peru and Mexico. Father Acosta described one of these festivals which occurred annually each May in Mexico, wherein the statue of a god was made of dough, and "killed" by an arrow in the hand of a priest. The god was then broken in pieces which by means of "certain ceremonies ... were blessed and consecrated for the flesh and bones of this idoll." These pieces the priest gave "to the people in manner of a communion who received it with such feare, and reverence, as it was an admirable thing, saying that they did eate the flesh and bones of God." Likewise came the idea that sacrifices to the gods in some way attained godlike characteristics, and so the Guatemalan priests ate the bodies of the sacrificed. The words of the modern Roman priest, "hoc est corpus meum," which are supposed, by some magical influence, to cause the actual transubstantiation in the celebration of the eucharist, remind one forcibly of the dotting of the memorial Chinese tablet by a mandarin, by which official act the spirit of the departed, to whom it is dedicated, is presumed to take up residence in the new abode. As a logical deduction from a given hypothesis, any Roman priest is greater than the virgin. She conceived God but once, while the priest may through his mass create the body of the Christ whenever he so desires. Every time a priest performs this function he is the father of God. However, in spite of the absurdity of the practice, to deprive the communion of the real presence is to make it a senseless and useless ceremony. While the communicants believe in the efficacy of the wafer as the actual body, there is reason for absorbing it, as they thus unite themselves with the actual spirit of the Christ. But the moment this dogma is rejected, the rite becomes futile, and nothing is more ridiculous than its perpetuation in the Protestant churches. The quibble that it is performed in memory of Jesus is a fallacy. In Unitarian churches it is an arrant absurdity (one that is retained in many cases simply because the old historical churches of that denomination have inherited fine old communion plate which is proudly displayed), and one can only respect and admire Ralph Waldo Emerson's stand in the matter, when he preferred to relinquish his remunerative and honorable pastorate in the Second Church of Boston (the only pulpit he ever filled) rather than celebrate this anachronistic and indefensible rite. Jerome carried his reverence for the Eucharistic bread [1] so far that he considered that the table on which it was consecrated, together with the cloth in which it was wrapped, and the other utensils connected with its service, were to be worshiped with equal respect as that given the body and blood of the Savior. This theory led to the consecration of altars, which by a decree of the Council of Epaone, in 517, in imitation of the Jewish and pagan sacrificial altars, were ordered to be of stone, which material had been originally chosen as the most suitable material for the execution of the sacrifices, whose blood should flow over it, without danger of absorption. Another of the ancient pagan ideas which took a strong hold upon Christianity and rose to an abnormal power during the middle ages was that of monasticism with its accompanying asceticism. There is scarcely a religion of ancient and modern times that does not recognize asceticism as an element of its system. Buddha taught his disciples a religion of abstinence, and, among the Buddhists, there are ordained and tonsured priests, living in monasteries under vows of celibacy, while there are similar asylums for women. Brahmanism also has its orders of ascetics and Hinduism has its fakirs. Fasting and self-denial were observances required by the Greeks of those who desired initiation into the mysteries; the Jews observed many fasts; and the Egyptian priests passed their novitiate in the deserts engaged in prayer and living in caves. Like many other Christian customs, the monastic habit probably came from Egypt, and it was considered by Gibbon to have had a potent influence on the fall of the western empire, in that it removed from active and useful life so many able-bodied men and women. XIII.--SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY. Having now shown that there is nothing new in Christianity; nothing in which it differs essentially from the older faiths; having shown that it brought no new ideas in its dogmas, practices, or morality, but a few words are necessary to explain its marvelous growth and rapid acceptance. Christianity grew so rapidly, and was adopted so readily in many parts of the world simply because it was so cosmopolitan and elastic. It went forth to proselyte in a very conciliatory manner, embracing and absorbing every deeply rooted theological idea and custom which obstructed its path, and, in every way, exerting itself to propitiate its converts. And it was not until it became strong and powerful and was well supported by fanatical adherents that it dared to assume the rôle of conqueror. Then, when the period of its strength was full, its tone changed and, strong in self-confidence, Christianity became militant and strode forth in armor to vanquish with the sword and fill the world with blood. One of the reasons for the rapid acceptance of Christianity among the Romans and its remarkable growth in their dependencies was that for centuries the people had ceased to take their religion seriously. The vulgar masses, undoubtedly then as now, and at all times, unthinkingly swallowed all that was taught them of their deities, but the writings of cultivated men show clearly that for centuries the worship and reverence of their ancestral gods had but slight influence upon their ethical ideas. Lucretius (95-52 B. C.), the exponent of the Epicurean doctrines, regarded the gods as the creations of human fear. Ennius (239-169 B. C.) translated and expounded the writings of Euhemerus (316 B. C.), wherein it was claimed that all the ancient myths were historical events, that the gods were originally kings who were accorded post mortem worship by their grateful subjects. The Stoics regarded the gods as personifications of the different attributes of nature. Cicero adopted the Platonic conception of the deity as mind freed from all taint of matter, while Ovid made the gods ridiculous in his mocking "Metamorphoses," and, in his lascivious descriptions of their amours, degraded them forever as ethical models. Horace likewise mocked them. The glorious military conquests of the Roman arms in Asia and Africa brought the soldiers into contact with alien religions, and the germs instilled in the minds of the armies spread among all the peoples of Rome's domains, upon their return. Likewise the ever-increasing influx of foreigners, bringing with them their native gods and theological systems, had more or less influence, while the apotheoses of the emperors gave a powerful impetus to the degradation of the ancient faith. The vulgar clung to their ancient shrines and the cultured sneered at them for so doing. They bent the knee in public and they laughed mockingly in private. In such a state was the religion of Rome when the first Christians began to proselyte; and on such fertile ground, amid the ruins of an ancient faith, the seed readily took root and rapidly spread out. Any other faith, supported by sturdy, conscientious and indomitable missionaries, would have done the same. The old faith was dead and the time was ripe for something new and vigorous. As the civilized world was then under one powerful government, which allowed no political discord within its borders and which granted absolute religious freedom, the Christian missionaries could travel in safety from one province to another and, without fear of molestation, could propagate their doctrines among the people through the media of the Greek and Latin tongues, which were universal throughout the empire. Early Christianity was merely a sect of Judaism, and as the Jews were scattered all through the Roman provinces, every Jewish settlement having its synagogue which the Christian missionaries visited in order to preach their message, "the new religion, which was undertaken in the name of the God of Abraham, and Moses, found a sphere already prepared for itself." The new sect was naturally welcomed by the Roman Jews, as it was a purely national religion, founded upon the teachings of a Jewish peasant for the Jewish people. There is nothing in the gospels which portrays Jesus as anything other than a prophet to his own nation. While his moral doctrines, like all ethical principles, are applicable to all races, he was ignorant of all peoples save his own, and it was to them alone that he preached, proclaiming his messiahship for them only. He was content to remain within the boundaries of his own country and expressed no wish nor desire to visit other lands. Had it remained as Jesus desired, Christianity would never have been separated from Judaism. It was owing to the direct disobedience of Peter and Paul in this particular, that Christianity spread among the gentiles (Acts xiv, 46). In sending forth his apostles to preach his mission, Jesus commanded, "Go not into the way of the gentiles, and into any city of the Samaritans enter ye not: But go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Matt. x, 5-6). When appealed to by the Canaanite woman, he said, "I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Matt. xv, 24). It was to the Jews that he spoke when he said, "Ye are the salt of the earth" (Matt. v. 13). "Ye are the light of the world" (Matt. v, 14). It was in reference to the twelve tribes of Israel that he so numbered his apostles (Matt. xix, 28). And it was of his compatriots that he thought when prophesying his resurrection, "Ye shall not have gone over the cities of Israel, till the Son of Man be come" (Matt. x, 23). There is no thought of a universal mission in all this. His mission and sacrifice were for his own nation, and, as Paul writes to Titus, he "gave himself that he might purify unto himself a peculiar people" (Tit. ii, 14). Thinking probably of the political strife which his messiahship would cause, Jesus said, "I came not to bring peace, but a sword" (Matt. x, 34), in which remark he was a truer prophet than the heavenly host that sang at his birth "on earth peace, good will toward men" (Luke ii, 14). "The Church of Rome has shed more innocent blood than any other institution that ever existed among mankind," says Lecky in his "Rationalism in Europe" (vol. ii, p. 40). The Holy Office in Spain burned over 31,000 persons and condemned to punishment hardly less severe 290,000. During the reign of Charles the Fifth 50,000 heretics were executed in the Netherlands and on February 16, 1508, the Holy Office condemned all the inhabitants, numbering 3,000,000 of people, to death as heretics, and Philip the Second confirmed the decree and ordered its instant execution. The whole history of Christianity, in all its forms, reeks with blood and smells to heaven with carrion. In the first centuries Christians persecuted pagans or, divided among themselves, persecuted each other as heretics. Later arose the feuds of orthodox and Arian, then came a united Christendom against Islam, followed by Protestant wars. In these Catholics murdered, pillaged, and devastated Protestants and burned and tortured them as heretics by ecclesiastical tribunals; Protestants persecuted and executed Catholics and, divided among themselves, persecuted one another. In the sixteenth century Anglican Episcopalians persecuted Catholics and Nonconformists. In the seventeenth century Puritans persecuted Catholics, Episcopalians, and Quakers, and so on. The whole history of this religion is a long narration of blasphemous and degrading theories propagated by violence, hypocrisy and crime. Christian charity is a delusion which is found only among the persecuted, who, the instant the scale turns, become the ruling faction, forget its meaning, and hasten to avenge their sufferings in persecutions. No other religion has so bloody a history as Christianity. The old heathen religions went calmly on their way, indifferent to one another and showing the most perfect toleration. Rival gods of rival nations were worshiped in temples side by side, without conflict or ill feeling. Buddhists and Brahmins mildly flourish in proximity. But Christians who believe that the Christ was sacrificed for love of humanity, that their gospel is one of love, peace, and good will, vie with one another to outstrip the ferocity of wild beasts. While many students believe that Jesus was a purely mythical being, without actual existence save in the brains of religious Christians, I see no reason to doubt that a certain Jewish rabbi may have come out of the rebellious province of Galilee about the time of Herod. Such messiahs had come before him and such have succeeded him. Some of the messiahs subsequent to Jesus were: one who appeared in Persia in 1138, another in Arabia in 1167, and one in Moravia at the close of the twelfth century. Eldavid proclaimed himself messiah in Persia in 1199, Sabathai Tzevi assumed the title of "King of Kings" in 1666 and was executed at Constantinople by the Sultan. So late as 1829 there appeared in India the eight-year-old son of a peasant who was a wonderful serpent charmer and was called Marayum Powar. It was an ancient belief that the ability to handle serpents unharmed was a proof that one had become perfectly holy--absorbed in God! Therefore, numerous people came to believe Powar a god and in ten months ten thousand followers were about him, baptizing and performing miraculous cures--and his cult seemed well on the road to establishment when, over-confident of his power, he was bitten by a serpent and died. His followers, after vainly awaiting his resurrection, dispersed. That Jesus' whole career is lost in encircling myth is no proof that the original figure never existed. There is plenty of historical evidence to show that the central portion of Europe was once ruled by a king named Karl, and we do not doubt this simply because a great cloud of myths has been gathered about the name of St. Charlemagne, any more than we feel bound to believe that because he once lived he must now necessarily exist, sleeping in a mountain, until it shall be necessary for him to spring forth and save the German fatherland. One set of students assert that the Christ was merely the personification of vegetable life, claiming that his death and resurrection typify the death and revivification of vegetation. Others hold that he is the modern phase of the eternal sun-god. To sustain this hypothesis the following allegorical interpretation of his supposed career is offered as an explanation. He was born on the early dawn of the twenty-fifth day of December, the day on which commences the sun's apparent revolution around the earth; his birth was announced by the brilliant morning star; his virgin mother was the pure and beautiful dawn; his temptation was his struggle with the adverse clouds which he dispersed; his trial, execution, and death were emblematic of the solar decline and crucifixion at the beginning of winter; his descent into hell was typical of the three days of the winter solstice; and his resurrection and ascension refer to the return of the sun after its seeming extinction. I have now shown that among the great majority of the nations of antiquity, no matter as to how they may have differed in the details, all held one general idea of faith in a savior-mediator between man and the supreme deity. Some such medium seemed necessary to them, for they had not reached that intellectual plane on which one feels able to hold direct communication with the creator. Modern Christianity, in all its forms, still panders to this ancient superstition that man must needs have an agent between himself and his God. He must have an intercessor between his weakness and God's power--and vengeance. But when the human mind is freed from superstition and men learn that right living and a clean ethical code is all that is required, then they will cease to bow, either physically or mentally, to any humanly invented mediator, and their enlarged ideas of the justice of the supreme deity will prohibit any belief in impossible demi-gods. However, for the majority, that happy time of emancipation is still in the distant future, and, until its dawn lightens the general intelligence, men will continue to adore and supplicate the mediator whom inheritance and environment have taught them to revere, as Krishna, Buddha, Mithras, or the Christ, as the case may be. BIBLIOGRAPHY. Apocryphal New Testament, Being All the Gospels, Epistles and Other Pieces Now Extant, Attributed in the First Four Centuries to Jesus Christ, His Apostles, and their Companions, and not Included in the New Testament by its Compilers. London. Printed for William Hone, 1821. Baring-Gould, S.--Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. London. 1877. Legends of the Patriarchs and Prophets, and other Old Testament Characters. New York. 1872. The Origin and Development of Religious Beliefs. New York. 1870. 2 vols. Blavatsky, H. P.--Isis Unveiled: A Master-key to the Mysteries of Ancient and Modern Science and Mythology. New York. 1891. 2 vols. Bourke, John G.--Scatalogic Rites of All Nations. Washington. 1891. Bunsen, Christian Charles Josias.--Christianity and Mankind; Their Beginnings and Prospects. London. 1854. 7 vols. God in History; or, The Progress of Man's Faith in the Moral Order of the World. London. 1868. 3 vols. Castan, L'Abee Em.--Les Origines du Christianisme d'apres la tradition catholique. Paris. 1869. 2 vols. Les Origines du Christianisme d'apres la critique rationaliste contemporaine. Paris. 1868. Chantepepie de la Saussaye, P. D.--The Religion of the Teutons. Boston. 1902. Cheetham, S.--The Mysteries--Pagan and Christian. London. 1897. Christlieb, Theodore.--Modern Doubt and Christian Belief. New York. 1874. Clodd, Edward.--Myths and Dreams. London. 1885. Colenso, John William.--Lectures on the Pentateuch and Moabite Stone. London. 1873. Conway, Moncure Daniel.--Idols and Ideals, with an essay on Christianity. New York. 1877. Doane, T. W.--Bible Myths and Their Parallels in Other Religions. New York. Dorman, Rushton M.--The Origin of Primitive Superstitions, etc. Philadelphia. 1881. Draper, John William.--History of the Conflict between Religion and Science. New York. 1881. History of the Intellectual Development of Europe. New York. 1878. 2 vols. Farrar, J. A.--Paganism and Christianity. London. 1891. Primitive Manners and Customs. New York. 1879. Figuier, Louis.--Histoire du Merveilleux dans les temps modernes. Paris. 1880. 4 vols. Fiske, John.--Myths and Myth-Makers. Boston. 1901. Frazer, J. C.--The Golden Bough. London. 1890. 2 vols. Frothingham, Octavius Brooks.--The Cradle of the Christ. New York. 1877. Gibbon, Edward.--The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Philadelphia. 1876. 6 vols. De Gubernatis, Angelo.--Zoological Mythology; or, The Legends of Animals. London. 1872. 2 vols. Hardwick, Charles.--Christ and Other Masters. London. 1874. Hargraves, Jennings.--The Rosicrucians. Their Rites and Mysteries. London. 1870. 2 vols. Harnack, Adolph.--The Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries. Translated by James Moffatt. New York. 1904. 2 vols. Herodotus.--Translation of G. C. Macauley. London. 1890. 2 vols. Hislop, Alexander.--The Two Babylons; or, The Papal Worship, etc. Edinburgh. 1862. Hone, William.--Ancient Mysteries Described, etc. London. 1823. Hudson, Thompson Jay.--The Law of Psychic Phenomena. Chicago. 1896. Inman, Thomas.--Ancient Faiths and Modern. London. 1876. Ancient Pagan and Modern Christian Symbolism. London. 1869. Jameson, Mrs.--Legends of the Madonna. London. 1852. Jevons, Frank Byron.--An Introduction to the History of Religion. London. 1896. Lang, Andrew.--Custom and Myth. London. 1884. Myth, Ritual, and Religion. London. 1887. 2 vols. Lecky, William Edward Hartpole.--History of European Morals from Augustus to Charlemagne. London. 1877. 2 vols. History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism in Europe. New York. 1866. 2 vols. Kundy, J. P.--Monumental Christianity. London. 1889. Macdonald, James.--Religion and Myth. London. 1893. Middleton, Conyers.--A Letter from Rome. London. 1847. Des Mousseaux.--Les Haunts Phenomenes de la Magie Moeurs et Pratiques des Demons. 1852. Muller, Max.--Chips from a German Workshop. London. 1867. 2 vols. Orr, James.--The Virgin Birth of Christ. New York. 1907. Picart, Bernard.--The Ceremonies and Religious Customs of the Various Nations of the Known World, etc. London. 1733. 7 vols. Priestley, Joseph.--An History of the Corruptions of Christianity. Birmingham. 1793. 2 vols. Renan, Ernest.--The Life of Jesus. Translated by C. E. Wilboir. New York. 1865. Sharpe, Samuel.--Egyptian Mythology and Egyptian Christianity. London. 1863. Smith, W. Robertson.--Lectures on the Religion of the Semites. Edinburgh. 1889. Strauss, David Friedrich.--The Life of Jesus. Translated by George Eliot. London. 1892. Tuttle, Hudson.--The Career of the Christ-Idea in History. Boston. The Career of the God-Idea in History. Boston. NOTE [1] The use of unleavened bread by the Greek church caused great disputes between it and the Latin in the eleventh century, but the latter finally accepted it on the argument that as the Christ instituted the supper during the passover, he must have used it, as there was no leaven procurable at that time. 
14294	----	NEW IDEAS IN INDIA DURING THE NINETEENTH CENTURY _A Study of Social, Political, and Religious Developments_ BY THE REV. JOHN MORRISON, M.A., D.D. LATE PRINCIPAL, THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY'S INSTITUTION, CHURCH OF SCOTLAND MISSION, CALCUTTA, AND MEMBER OF SENATE OF CALCUTTA UNIVERSITY LONDON MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1907 PREFACE The substance of the following volume was delivered in the form of lectures in the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh during Session 1904-5. As "Alexander Robertson" lecturer in the University of Glasgow, the writer dealt with the new religious ideas that have been impressing themselves upon India during the British period of her history. As "Gunning" lecturer in the University of Edinburgh, the writer dwelt more upon the new social and political ideas. The popular belief of Hindu India is, that there are no new ideas in India, that nought in India suffers change, and that as things are, so they have always been. Even educated Indians are reluctant to admit that things have changed and that their community has had to submit to education and improvement--that suttee, for example, was ever an honoured institution in the province now most advanced. But to the observant student of the Indian people, the _evolution_ of India is almost as noteworthy as the more apparent rigidity. There is a flowering plant common in Northern India, and chiefly notable for the marvel of bearing flowers of different colours upon the same root. The Hindus call it "the sport of Krishna"; Mahomedans, "the flower of Abbas"; for the plant is now incorporate with both the great religions of India, and even with their far-back beginnings. Yet it is a comparatively recent importation into India; it is only the flower known in Britain as "the marvel of Peru," and cannot have been introduced into India more than three hundred years ago. It was then that the Portuguese of India and the Spaniards of Peru were first in touch within the home lands in Europe. In our own day may be seen the potato and the cauliflower from Europe establishing themselves upon the dietary of Hindus in defiance of the punctiliously orthodox. _À fortiori_--strange that we should reason thus from the trifling to the fundamental, yet not strange to the Anglo-Indian and the Indian,--_à fortiori_, we shall not be surprised to find novel and alien ideas taking root in Indian soil. Seeds, we are told, may be transported to a new soil, either wind-borne or water-borne, carried in the stomachs of birds, or clinging by their burs to the fur of animals. In the cocoa-nut, botanists point out, the cocoa-nut palms possess a most serviceable ark wherein the seed may be floated in safety over the sea to other shores. It is thus that the cocoa-nut palm is one of the first of the larger plants to show themselves upon a new coral reef or a bare volcano-born island. Into India itself, it is declared, the cocoa-nut tree has thus come over-sea, nor is yet found growing freely much farther than seventy miles from the shore. One of the chief interests of the subject before us is that the seeds of the new ideas in India during the past century are so clearly water-borne. They are the outcome of British influence, direct or indirect. Here are true test and evidence of the character of British influence and effort, if we can distil from modern India some of the new ideas prevailing, particularly in the new middle class. Where shall we find evidence reliable of what British influence has been? Government Reports, largely statistical, of "The Moral and Material Progress of India," are so far serviceable, but only as _crude_ material from which the answer is to be distilled. Members of the Indian Civil Service, and others belonging to the British Government of India, may volunteer as expert witnesses regarding British influence, but they are interested parties; they really stand with others at the bar. The testimony of the missionary is not infrequently heard, less exactly informed, perhaps, than the Civil Servant's, but more sympathetic, and affording better testimony where personal acquaintance with the life of the people is needed. But of him too, like the Civil Servant, there is some suspicion that in one sphere he holds a brief. This, indeed, may be said in favour of the missionary's testimony, that while the Anglo-Indian identifies the missionary's standpoint with that of the native, the native identifies him with the Anglo-Indian, so that probably enough he occupies the mean of impartiality and truth. The British merchant in India may also offer as evidence, and indeed is "on the spot," and apparently qualified by reason of his independence. But the interest of his class is professedly limited to India's material progress; and of his general views, we recall what Chaucer said of the politics of his "merchant," "Sowninge alway th' encrees of his winning." And finally, in increasing numbers, natives of India themselves are claiming to pronounce upon the effect of the British connection upon India; and yet again we feel that the proferred evidence must be regarded with suspicion. That Indian is exceptional indeed whose generalisations about India are based on observations and historical knowledge. If the Civil Servant's honour is bound up with a favourable verdict upon the question at issue, the educated native is as resolved upon the other side. Nay, truth requires one to say that at this time the educated Indian is virtually pledged against acknowledging any indebtedness to Britain. For the reason why, we need not anticipate, but it is foolish to shut one's eyes to the unpleasant fact, or to hide it from the British public. Where, then, is the testimony that is reliable? Is there nothing else than the disputing, loud and long, of the six blind men of Indostan who went to _see_ the Indian elephant and returned, "Each in his own opinion Exceeding stiff and strong, Though each was partly in the right, And all were in the wrong!" From preferred testimony of all kinds, from all affidavits, however honestly sworn, we turn again to the ideas now prevailing as they _betray_ themselves in the lives of the people and the words that fall from their lips. Carefully studying earlier history, we ask ourselves wherein the new ideas differ from the ideas current in India a century ago. Then as progress appears, or is absent, the forces at work stand approved or condemned. The exact historical comparison we may claim to be a special feature of this book. The writer is not ignorant of the delicacy of the historical task he has set himself. He claims that during the twenty years he spent in India he was eager to know India and her sons, read the pamphlets and articles they wrote, enjoyed constant intercourse with Indians of all classes and religions, reckoned, as he still reckons, many Indians among his friends. He claims that during these years it was his pleasure, as well as a part of his professional duty, to study the past history of India. Ignorance of Indian history vitiates much of the writing and oratory on Indian subjects. As a member of the staff of an Indian college, with six hundred University students, the writer claims to have had exceptional opportunities of entering into the thoughts of the new middle class, and of cross-questioning upon Indian problems. In India, students "sit at the feet" of their professors, but let it not be assumed that the Oriental phrase implies a stand-off superior and crouching inferior. Nay, rather it implies the closest touch between teacher and taught. All seated tailor-fashion on the ground, the Indian teacher of former days and his disciples around him were literally as well as metaphorically in touch. The modern professor, successor of the pandit or guru, enjoys intercourse with his students, as full and free, limited in truth only by his time and his temperament. Judging by the test of the new ideas in India, the writer has no hesitation in declaring that the British regime has been a great blessing to India. Likewise, whether directly inculcated or indirectly, some of the best features of Christian civilisation and of the Christian religion are taking hold in India and becoming naturalised. Called upon as "Alexander Robertson" lecturer in the University of Glasgow to deliver a course of lectures "in defence of the Christian faith," the writer felt that no more effective defence could be offered than this historical survey of the naturalising in India of certain distinctive features of the Christian religion and of the civilisation of western Christian lands. Of this also the writer is sure, whether he possess the qualifications for the delicate task or lack them--there is a call for some one to interpret Britain and India to each other. In their helpless ignorance, what wonder that Britons' views are often incomplete and distorted? On the Indian side, on the other hand, the terrible anti-British feeling now prevailing in India must surely be based on ignorance and misunderstanding, and in part at least removable. * * * * * The Rev. Alexander Robertson, a probationer of the Free Church of Scotland, although never in office, died at Glasgow in 1879, leaving the residue of his estate for the endowment of a lectureship as aforesaid. As trustees he nominated two personal friends--the Rev. J.B. Dalgety, of the Abbey Church, Paisley, and James Lymburn, Esq., the librarian of Glasgow University. These two gentlemen made over the trust to the Glasgow University Court, and the writer had the honour of being appointed the first lecturer. The Gunning Victoria Jubilee Lectureship in the University of Edinburgh was founded by the late Dr. R.H. Gunning of Edinburgh and Rio de Janeiro, in the year 1889. The object of the lectureship was "to promote among candidates for the ministry, and to bring out among ministers the fruits of study in Science, Philosophy, Languages, Antiquity, and Sociology." CONTENTS I. THE NEW ERA--SOME LEADING WITNESSES 1 II. INDIAN CONSERVATISM 11 III. NEW SOCIAL IDEAS 21 IV. THE CHIEF SOLVENT OF THE OLD IDEAS 39 V. WOMAN'S PLACE 50 VI. THE TERMS WE EMPLOY 65 VII. NEW POLITICAL IDEAS--A UNITING INDIA 72 VIII. NEW POLITICAL IDEAS--FALSE PATRIOTISM 88 IX. NEW RELIGIOUS IDEAS--ARE THERE ANY? 103 X. THE NEW RELIGIOUS ORGANISATIONS OF INDIA IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY--INDIAN CHRISTIANS AND BRAHMAS 120 XI. NEW RELIGIOUS ORGANISATIONS--[=A]RYAS AND THEOSOPHISTS 132 XII. THE NEW MAHOMEDANS 144 XIII. HINDU DOCTRINES--HOW THEY CHANGE 148 XIV. THE NEW THEISM 166 XV. JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF 184 XVI. JESUS CHRIST THE LODESTONE 194 XVII. INDIAN PESSIMISM--ITS BEARING ON BELIEF IN THE HERE AND HEREAFTER 213 XVIII. INDIAN TRANSMIGRATION AND THE CHRISTIAN HERE AND HEREAFTER 223 XIX. THE IDEAS OF SIN AND SALVATION 239 XX. THE IDEA OF SALVATION 254 XXI. CONCLUSION 269 NEW IDEAS IN INDIA CHAPTER I THE NEW ERA--SOME LEADING WITNESSES "The epoch ends, the world is still, The age has talked and worked its fill; The famous men of war have fought, The famous speculators thought. See on the cumbered plain, Clearing a stage, Scattering the past about, Comes the New Age. Bards make new poems; Thinkers, new schools; Statesmen, new systems; Critics, new rules." MATTHEW ARNOLD. India is a land of manifold interest. For the visitors who crowd thither every cold season, and for the still larger number who will never see India, but have felt the glamour of the ancient land whose destiny is now so strangely linked to that of our far-off and latter-day islands, India has not one but many interests. There is the interest of the architectural glories of the Moghul emperors, in whose grand halls of audience, now deserted and merely places of show, a solitary British soldier stands sentry over a visitors' book. For the great capitals of India have moved from Delhi and Agra, the old strategic points in the centre of the great northern plain, to Calcutta, Bombay, Madras, and Rangoon, new cities on the sea, to suit the later over-sea rulers of India. There is the interest of the grand organisation of the British Government, holding in its strong paternal grasp that vast continent of three hundred million souls. Sometimes the sight of the letters V.R.I, or E.R.I. (Edwardus Rex Imperator) makes one think of the imperial S.P.Q.R.[1] once not unfamiliar in Britain. But this interest rather I would emphasise--the penetration into the remotest jungle of the great organisation of the British Government is a wonderful thing. By the coinage, the post-office, the railways, the administration of justice, the encouragement of education, the relief of famine,--by such ways the great organisation has penetrated everywhere,--in spite of faults, the greatest blessing that has come to India in her long history. Travelling by rail from Calcutta to Benares, the metropolis of Hinduism, situated upon the north bank of the sacred Ganges, we see the British rule, in symbol, in the great railway bridge spanning the river. By it old India, self-centred, exclusive, introspective, was brought into the modern world; compelled, one might say, by these great spans to admit the modern world and its conveniences, in spite of protest that the railway bridge would pollute the sacred stream. Crossing the bridge, our eyes are fixed on the outstanding feature of Benares--city of hundreds of Hindu temples. What is it? Not a Hindu temple, but a splendid Mahomedan mosque whose minarets overlook the Hindu city, calling the city of Hindus to the worship of Allah. For the site of that mosque, the Moghul emperor Aurangzeb ruthlessly cleared away a magnificent temple most sacred to the Hindus. Concerning another famous Hindu temple in the same city, listen to the Autobiography of another earlier Moghul emperor, Jahangir. "It was the belief of these people of hell [the Hindus] that a dead Hindu laid before the idol would be restored to life, if in his life he had been a worshipper there.... I employed a confidential person to ascertain the truth, and as I justly supposed, the whole was detected to be an impudent imposture.... Throwing down the temple which was the scene of this imposture, with the very same materials I erected on the spot the great mosque, because the very name of Islam was proscribed at Benares, and with God's blessing it is my desire ... to fill it full of true believers." These things I write, not to hold up to condemnation these Moghul rulers, but to point out by contrast the voluntary character of the influence during the British and Christian period. For there is in India a grander interest still than that of the British political organisation, namely, the peaceful gradual transformation of the thoughts and feelings, the hopes and fears, of each individual of the millions of India. [Sidenote: The nineteenth century in India--a conflict of ideas] The real history of the past century in India has been the conflict and commingling of ideas, a Homeric struggle, renewed in the nineteenth century, between the gods of Asia and Europe. Sometimes the shock of collision has been heard, as when by Act of Legislature, in 1829, Suttee or widow-burning was put down, and, in 1891, the marriage of girls under twelve; or when by order of the Executive, the sacred privacy of Indian houses was violated in well-meant endeavours to stay the plague [1895-], great riots ensuing; or when an Indian of social standing has joined the Christian Church. At other times, like the tumbling in, unnoticed, of slice upon slice of the bank of a great Indian river flowing through an alluvial plain, opinion has silently altered, and only later observers discover that the old idea has changed. Not a hundred years ago, students of Kayasth (clerk) caste were excluded from the Sanscrit College in Calcutta. Now, without any new ordinance, they are admitted, as among the privileged castes, and the idea of the brotherhood of man has thus made way. The silent invasion is strikingly illustrated in the official _Report on Female Education in India_, 1892 to 1897. On a map of India within the _Report_, the places where female education was most advanced were coloured greener according to the degree of advance--surely most inappropriate colouring, though that is not our business. The map showed a strip of the greenest green all round the sea-coast. There the unobserved new influence came in. The _Census Report_ for 1901 showed the same silently obtruding influence from over the sea in the case of the education of males. Many such silent changes might be noted. And yet again, the most diverse ideas may be observed side by side in a strange chequer. In the closing years of the nineteenth century, the University of Calcutta accepted an endowment of a lectureship "to promote Sanscrit learning and Vedantic studies," any Hindus without distinction of caste being eligible as lecturers; and then, shortly after, agreed to the request of the first lecturer that none but Hindus be admitted to the exposition of the sacred texts, thus excluding the European heads of the university from a university lecture. Perhaps the lecturer thought himself liberal, for to men like him at the beginning of the century it would have been an offence to read the sacred texts with Sudras or Hindus of humble castes. According to strict Hindu rule, only brahmans can read the sacred books.[2] [Sidenote: Indian ideas.] For in all three spheres, social, political, and religious, the advent of the new age implied more or less of a conflict. India has still of her own a social system, political ideas, and religious ideas and ideals. In the Indian social system, caste and the social inferiority of women stand opposed to the freedom of the individual and the equality of the sexes that prevail in Great Britain, at least in greater degree. In the sphere of politics, the absolutism, long familiar to the Indian mind, is the antithesis of the life of a citizen under a limited monarchy, with party government and unfettered political criticism. In the sphere of religion, the hereditary priesthood of India stands over against the British ideal of a clergy trained for their duties and proved in character. The Hindu conception of a religious life as a life of sacrificial offerings and penances, or of ecstasies, or of asceticism, or of sacred study, stands over against the British ideal of religion in daily life and in practical philanthropies. To the Hindu, the religious mood is that of ecstatic whole-hearted devotion; the Briton reverences as the religious mood a quiet staying intensity in noble endurance or effort. [Sidenote: Testimony to the change in ideas] The nineteenth century has witnessed a great transition in ideas and a great alteration in the social and political and religious standpoints. It is easy to find manifold witness to the fact from all parts of India. The biographer of the modern in ideas. Indian reformer, Malabari, a Parsee[3] writing of a Parsee, and representing Western India, is impressed by the singular fate that has destined the far-away British to affect India and her ideals so profoundly. Crossing to the east side of India, we seek a trustworthy witness. The well-known reformer, Keshub Chunder Sen, a Bengali, and representative therefore of Eastern India, declares in a lecture published in 1883: "Ever since the introduction of British power into India there has been going on a constant upheaval and development of the native mind,... whether we look at the mighty political changes which have been wrought by that ... wonderful administrative machinery which the British Government has set in motion, or whether we analyse those deep national movements of _social_ and _moral_ reform which are being carried on by native reformers and patriots." All Indian current opinion is unanimous with the Parsee and the Bengali that a great movement is in progress. The drift from the old moorings is a constant theme of discourse. Let Sir Alfred Lyall, once head of the United Provinces, speak for the most competent European observers. "There may be grounds for anticipating," he says, "that a solid universal peace and the impetus given by Europe must together cause such rapid intellectual expansion that India will now be carried swiftly through phases which have occupied long stages in the lifetime of other nations."[4] In another essay, in a more positive mood, he writes of British responsibility for "great non-Christian populations [in India] whose religious ideas and institutions are being rapidly transformed by English law and morality."[5] In a third passage he even prophesies rashly: "The end of simple paganism is not far distant in India." Sir George Bird wood has also had a long Indian career, and no one suspects him of pro-British bias--rather the reverse. Yet we find him writing to the _Times_ in 1895 about one of the Indian provinces, as follows: "The new Bengali language and literature," he says, "are the direct products of our Law Courts, particularly the High Court at Calcutta, of Mission schools and newspaper presses and Education Departments, the agents which are everywhere, not in Bengal only, giving if not absolute unity yet community in diversity to the peoples of British India." The modern literature of Bengal, he goes on to say, is Christian in its teaching; if not the Christianity of creed and dogma, yet of the mind of Christ. It is that transition in ideas, that alteration in social, political, and religious standpoint which we are going to trace and illustrate. CHAPTER II INDIAN CONSERVATISM "By the well where the bullocks go, Silent and blind and slow." RUDYARD KIPLING. [Sidenote: Indian conservatism.] [Sidenote: Is mere inertia.] But while acknowledging the potent influences at work, and accepting these representative utterances, it may yet be asked by the incredulous--What of the inherent conservatism, the proverbial tenacity of India? Is there really any perceptible and significant change to record as the outcome of the influences of the nineteenth century? Well, the expression "Indian conservatism" is misleading. There is no Indian conservatism in the sense of a philosophy of politics, of society, or of religion. Indian conservatism--what is it? To some extent an idealising of the past, the golden age of great law-givers and philosophers and saints. But very much more--mere inertia and torpidity in mind and body, a reluctance to take stock of things, and an instinctive treading in the old paths. "Via trita, via tuta." In the path from one Indian village to another may often be observed an inexplicable deviation from the beeline, and then a return to the line again. It is where in some past year some dead animal or some offensive thing has fallen in the path and lain there. Year after year, long after the cause has disappeared, the feet of the villagers continue in that same deviating track. That is in perfect keeping with India. Or--to permit ourselves to follow up another natural sequence--things may quickly begin to fit in with the deviation. Perhaps the first rainy season after the feet of the villagers had been made to step aside, some plant was found in possession of the avoided spot. India-like, its right of possession was unconsciously deferred to. And then the year following, may be, one or other of the sacred fig trees appeared behind the plant, and in a few years starved it out. Ten years will make a banyan sapling, or a pipal, into a sturdy trunk, and lo, by that time, in some visitation of drought or cholera or smallpox, or because some housewife was childless, coloured threads are being tied upon the tree or some rude symbolic painting put upon it. Then an ascetic comes along and seats himself in its shade, and now, already, a sacred institution has been established that it would raise a riot to try to remove. Visitors to Allahabad go to see the great fort erected upon the bank of the River Jumna by the Mahomedan emperor, Akbar. One of the sights of the fort, strange to tell, is the underground Hindu temple of "The Undying Banyan Tree," to which we descend by a long flight of steps. Such a sacred banyan tree as we have imagined, Akbar found growing there upon the slope of the river bank when he was requiring the ground for his fort. The undying banyan tree is now a stump or log, but it or a predecessor was visited by a Chinese pilgrim to Allahabad in the seventh century A.D. Being very tolerant, instead of cutting down the tree, Akbar built a roof over it and filled up the ground all round to the level he required. And still through the gateway of the fort and down underground, the train of pilgrims passes as of old to where the banyan tree is still declared to grow. Such is Indian conservatism, undeterred by any thought of incongruity. Benares is crowded with examples of the same unconscious tenacity. I have spoken of the ruthless levelling of Hindu temples in Benares in former days to make way for Mahomedan mosques. Near the gate of Aurangzeb's mosque a strange scene meets the eye. Where the road leads to the mosque, and with no Hindu temple nowadays in sight, are seated a number of Hindu ashes-clad ascetics. What are they doing at the entrance to a Mahomedan mosque? That is where their predecessors used to sit two hundred years ago, before Aurangzeb tore down the holy Hindu temple of Siva and erected the mosque in its stead. [Sidenote: Yields before a persistent obtruding influence.] [Sidenote: _E.g._ British influence.] But Indian conservatism is more than an indisposition to effort and change; for the same reason, it is also an easy adaptation to things as they are found. When a new disturbing influence obtrudes from without, and persistently, it may be easier to give way than to resist. British influence is such a persistent obtrusion. In English literature as taught and read, in Christian standards of conduct, in the English language, and in the modern ideas of government and society, ever presented to the school-going section of the people of India within their own land, there is such a continuous influence from without. The impression of works like Tennyson's _In Memoriam_ or _Idylls of the King_, common text-books in colleges, the steady pressure of Acts of the British Government in India, like that raising the marriage age of girls; the example of men in authority like Lord Curzon, during whose vice-regal tour in South India there were no nautch entertainments; the necessity of understanding expressions like "general election" and "public spirit," and of comprehending in some measure the working of local self-government--all such constant pressure must effect a change in the mental standpoint. The army of Britain in India, representative of the imperial sceptre, has now for many years been gathered into cantonments, and its work is no longer to quell hostilities within India, but only to repel invaders from without. Other British forces, however, penetrating far deeper, working silently and for the most part unobserved, are still in the field all over India, effecting a grander change than the change of outward sovereignty. "Ideas rule the world," and he who impresses his ideas is the real ruler of men. [Sidenote: Indian conservatism overpowered otherwise.] Telling against Indian conservatism or inertia are other things also besides persistent Western influences. Many things Western appeal to the natural desire for advancement and comfort, and the adoption of these has often as corollary a change of idea. To take examples without further explanation. The desire for education, the key to advancement in life, has quietly ignored the old orthodox idea that education in Sanscrit and the Sacred Scriptures, _i.e._ higher education as formerly understood, is the exclusive privilege of certain castes. The very expression "higher education" has come to mean a modern English education, not as formerly an education in Sanscrit lore. Had the British Government allowed things to take their course, the still surviving institutions of the old kind for Oriental learning would have been transformed, one and all, into modern schools and colleges. Even in 1824, when Government, then under "Orientalist" influence, founded the Sanscrit College in Calcutta for the encouragement of Sanscrit learning, a numerous body of native gentlemen, with the famous Raja Rammohan Roy at their head, petitioned that a college for the study of Western learning might be established instead. For a number of years now, the Sanscrit College, then founded, has actually had fewer pupils on its rolls than it is permitted to admit at a greatly reduced fee.[6] Again, the idea of _public questions_, the idea of the common welfare, has come into being with the nineteenth century, and is quietly repudiating caste and giving to the community a solidarity and a feeling of solidarity unknown hitherto. Upon one platform now meet, as a matter of course, the native gentlemen of all the castes, when any general grievance is felt or any great occasion falls to be celebrated. The Western custom of public meetings for the discussion of public questions is now an established Indian institution, and daily gives the lie to the idea that there is pollution in bodily contact with a person of lower caste. That a special seat should be reserved for a man because he is a brahman would be scouted. The convenience of travelling by rail or in tram-cars has been even more widely effective in dissolving the idea. And if the advantage or convenience of the new ways can overcome the force of custom, so can the unprofitableness of the old. For illustrations, I pass from the gentlemen who attend public meetings where the speeches are in English, to the less educated and more superstitious and more blindly conservative people. In the Mahratta districts of the Central Provinces, says the _Census Report_ for 1901, in recent years an unavoidable scepticism as to his efficiency has tended to reduce the earnings of the Garpagari or averter of hail from the crops. In Calcutta the same influence has extinguished the trade of supplier of Ganges water. The water taps in the house or on the street are too convenient, and the quality of the water is too manifestly superior for the desecration from the iron pipes to outweigh the advantages. A few years ago, in Darjeeling, north of Bengal, the brahman names upon the signs of the liquor shops were distinctly in the majority. The sacerdotal caste, new style, had appreciated the chances of big profits and shut their eyes to the regulations of caste, which have relegated drink-sellers to a very low place in the scale. Brahmans are even said to figure among the contractors who supply beef, flesh of the sacred animal, to the British army in India. "A curious sign of the changing time," says Mr. Lockwood Kipling (_Beast and Man in India_), "is the fact that Hindus of good caste, seeing the profit that may be made from leather, are quietly creeping into a business from which they are levitically barred. Money prevails against caste more potently than missionary preaching." In this region, where convenience or comfort or personal advancement are concerned, it may safely be asserted that the so-called Indian conservatism has not much resisting power. There, at least, it is found that where there is a will there is a way.[7] [Sidenote: The Indian mind awakened.] And there is a higher influence at work dissolving and reconstituting the whole framework of ideas. Upon the Indian mind, long lain fallow, modern civilisation and modern thought and the fellowship with the world are acting as the quickening rain and sunshine upon the fertile Indian soil. That these and similar obtruding influences have had a transforming effect has already been alleged. But far beyond, in promise at least, is the revived activity of the Indian mind itself. If the age of Elizabeth be the outcome of the stirring of the minds of Englishmen through the discovery of a new world, the multiplication of books, the revival of learning, and the reformation of religion, how shall we measure the effect upon the acute Indian mind of the far more stimulating influences of this Indian Renaissance! What comparison, for example, can be made between the stimulus of the new learning of the sixteenth century and the stimulus of the first introduction to a modern library? It would be an exaggeration to say that the Indian mind is now showing all its power in response to the stimulus. But it is everywhere active, and in some spheres, as in Religion and Philanthropy, in History, in Archæology, in Law, in certain Natural Sciences, individuals have already done service to India and contributed to knowledge. Glimpses of great regions, unexplored, in these domains are rousing students to secure for themselves a province. "More copies of books of poetry, philosophy, law, and religion now issue every year from the press of British India than during any century of native rule."[8] Of course it would be misleading to ignore the fact that reaction as well as progress has its apostles among the awakened minds of India. Much of the awakened mental activity, also, is spent--much wasted--on political writing and discussion, which is often uninformed by knowledge of present facts and of Indian history. The general poverty also, and the so-called Western desire to "get on," prevent many from becoming in any real sense students or thinkers or men of public spirit. Indian conservatism, therefore, we contend, is not the insurmountable obstacle to new ideas that many superficially deem it to be. CHAPTER III NEW SOCIAL IDEAS [_Purusha, the One Spirit, embodied,_] "Whom gods and holy men made their oblation. With Purusha as victim, they performed A sacrifice. When they divided him, How did they cut him up? What was his mouth? What were his arms? And what, his thighs and feet? The Brahman was his mouth; the kingly soldier Was made his arms; the husbandman, his thighs; The servile Sudra issued from his feet." From the _Rigveda_, Mandala x. 90, translated by Sir M. MONIER WILLIAMS. [Sidenote: Caste represses individuality.] New ideas in the social sphere first claim our attention. The individual and the community, each have rights, says a writer on the philosophy of history, and it is hurtful when the balance is not preserved. If the community be not securely established, the individuals will have no opportunity to develop; if the individual be not free, the community can have no real greatness. Speaking broadly, when Western social ideas meet Indian, the conflict is between the rights of the individual as in Western civilisation, and the rights of the community or society as in the Indian. India stands for the statical _social_ forces, modern Europe for the dynamical and _individualistic_. In India, as in France before the Revolution, certain established usages are prejudicially affecting the progress of the individual, fettering him in many ways. I refer to caste, the denial of the brotherhood of mankind, the artificial barricading of class from class, the sacrifice of the individual to his class--condemned by native reformers like Ramananda, Kabir, Nanak, and Chaitanya long before the advent of European ideas. Whatever the origin or original advantages of the caste system, it has long operated to repress individuality.[9] It is a vast boycotting agency ready to hand to crush social non-conformity.[10] One can easily understand that if society is rigidly organised for certain social necessities (marriage for example) into a number of mutually exclusive sets or circles, admission to all of which is by birth only, an individual cast out from any set must perish. No one will eat with him, no one will intermarry with him or his sons and daughters. It is into such a society that modern social ideas have been sown, the ideas let us say of John Stuart Mill's book, _On Liberty_--the _individual's_ liberty, that is to say--which used to be a common university text-book in India. [Sidenote: Caste suggests an imperfect idea of the community.] [Sidenote: Nevertheless, a practical solidarity in Hinduism.] Besides setting the community too much above the individual, the caste system is faulty in presenting to the Indian mind an imperfect idea of the community. The caste is the natural limit to one's interest and consciousness of fellowship, to the exclusion of the larger community. According to Raja Rammohan Roy, writing in 1824, the caste divisions are "_as_ destructive of national union as of social enjoyment." In _Modern India_, Sir Monier Williams expresses himself similarly. Caste "tends to split up the social fabric into numerous independent communities, and to prevent all national and patriotic combinations." Too much, however, may be made of this, for the practical solidarity of Hinduism, in spite of caste divisions, is one of the most striking of social phenomena in India. Whatever may have brought it about, the solidarity of Hinduism is an undeniable fact. The supremacy of the priestly caste over all may have been a bond of union, as likewise the necessity of all castes to employ the priests, for the Jewish ritual and the tribe of Levi were the bonds of union among the twelve tribes of Israel. Sir Alfred Lyall virtually defines Hinduism as _the employment of brahman priests_, and it is the adoption of brahmans as celebrants in social and religious ceremonies that marks the passing over of a non-Hindu community into Hinduism. It is thus it becomes a new Hindu caste.[11] Then, uniting further the mutually exclusive castes, many are the common heritages, actual or adopted, of traditions and sacred books, and the common national epics of the Ramayan and the Mahabharat. The cause of the solidarity is not a common creed, as we shall see when we reach the consideration of new religious ideas, ideas. [Sidenote: New ideas opposed to caste, namely, individual liberty and nationality.] If Hinduism as a social system is to be moved by the modern spirit, we may look for movement in the direction of freedom of individual action, that is, the loosening of caste; we may look for larger ideas of nationality and citizenship, superseding to some extent the idea of caste. As is not infrequent in India, Government pointed out the way for public opinion. In 1831 the Governor-General, Lord William Bentinck, issued his fiat that no native be debarred from office on account of caste, creed, or race, and that a son who had left his father's religion did not thereby forfeit his inheritance. [Sidenote: Loosening of caste.] To any observer it is now plain that while caste is still a very powerful force, and even while new castes, new social rings, are being formed through the working of the spirit of exclusiveness, the general ideas of caste are undergoing change. In these latter days one can hardly credit the account given of the consternation in Calcutta in 1775, when the equality of men before the law was asserted, and the _brahman_, Nanda-kumar, was hanged for forgery. Many of the orthodox brahmans shook off the dust of the polluted city from their feet and quitted Calcutta for a new residence across the Hooghly. In 1904, we find conservative Hindus only writing to the newspapers to complain that even in the Hindu College at Benares, the metropolis of Hinduism, some of the members of the College Committee were openly violating the rules of caste. In the same year a Calcutta Hindu newspaper, the _Amrita B[=a]z[=a]r Patrik[=a]_, declared, "Caste is losing its hold on the Hindu mind."[12] The recent denunciation of caste by an enlightened Hindu ruler, the Gaekwar of Baroda, is a further significant sign of the times. [Sidenote: Offences against caste.] What does caste forbid and punish? Freedom of thought, if not translated into social act, has not been an offence against caste at any time in the period under review, neither has caste taken cognisance of sins against morality as such. The sins that caste has punished have been chiefly five, as follows: Eating forbidden food, eating with persons of lower caste, crossing the sea, desertion of Hinduism for another religion, marrying with a person of a lower caste, and, in many communities also, marrying a widow. The Hindustani proverb, "Eight brahmans, nine cooking-places," hits off with a spice of _proverbial_ exaggeration the old punctiliousness about food. The sin of eating forbidden food is thus described by Raja Rammohan Roy in 1816: "The chief part of the theory and practice of Hinduism, I am sorry to say," writes the Raja, "is made to consist in the adoption of a peculiar mode of diet; the least aberration from which (even though the conduct of the offender may in other respects be pure and blameless) is not only visited with the severest censure, but actually punished by exclusion from the society of his family and friends. In a word, he is doomed to undergo what is commonly called loss of caste."[13] Now, in respect of the first three of these offences, in all large centres of population the general attitude is rapidly changing. In the light of modern ideas, these prohibitions of certain food and of certain company at food, and of sea voyages, are fading like ghosts at dawn. An actual incident of a few years ago reveals the prevailing conflict of opinion, especially with regard to the serfdom which ties down Indians to India. [Sidenote: An actual case.] Two scions of a leading family in a certain provincial town of Bengal, brave heretics, made a voyage to Britain and the Continent, and while away from home, it was believed, flung caste restrictions to the winds. On their return, the head of the family gave a feast to all of the caste in the district, and no one objected to the presence of the two voyagers at the feast. This was virtually their re-admission into caste. But shortly after, a document was circulated among the caste complaining, without naming names, of the readmission of such offenders. The tactics employed by the family of the offenders are noteworthy. The demon of caste had raised his head, and they dared not openly defy him. So the defence set up was the marvellous one that, while on board ship and in Europe, the young men had never eaten any forbidden or polluted food. They had lived upon fruit, it was said, which no hand except their own had cut. The old caste sentiment was so strong that the family of the voyagers felt compelled to bring an action for libel against the publishers of the circular. They lost their case, as no offender had been mentioned by name, and the tyranny of caste thus indirectly received the support of the courts. Of course it would still be easier to discover instances of the tyranny of caste than the assertion of liberty, even among highly educated men. In this matter of emancipation also, North India is far ahead of the South. While minister at the court of Indore, 1872-75, the late Sir T. Madhava Rao, a native of South India, was invited to go to England to give evidence on Indian Finance before a Committee of the House of Commons. _On religious grounds_ he was not able to accept the invitation.[14] Nor is it generally known that the Bengali nobleman who represented his country at the King's coronation in London belongs to a family that is out of caste. If the newspapers are to be believed, an orthodox Bengali Hindu was first invited to attend the coronation, and was "unable to accept." Had that gentleman accepted and gone, his example might at once have emancipated his countrymen. But he did not know his hour. "There is a venial as well as a damning sin," we may note, in regard to this crossing of the sea. "A man may cross the Indian Ocean to Africa and still remain an orthodox Hindu. The sanctity of caste is not affected. But let him go to Europe, and his caste as well as his creed is lost in the sea."[15] An orthodox Hindu has never been seen in Britain. It is worth noting also, that in earlier times it involved loss of caste to go away South, even within India itself, among the Dravidean peoples beyond the known Aryan pale in the North. Thus, slowly the cords of serfdom lengthen. Towards the fourth of the offences against caste, namely, the adoption of a new religion, the general attitude has likewise changed, although to a less degree. In large towns, at least, the convert to Christianity is not so rigidly or so instantaneously excluded from society as he used to be, and the Indian Christian community, although small, is now in many places one of the recognised sections of the community. This certainly may be asserted, that the modern Hindus are being familiarised as never before with non-brahman leaders, religious and social. Neither of the recent Br[=a]hma (Theistic) leaders, the late Keshub Chunder Sen and the late Protap Chunder Mozumdar, was brahman by caste. The great Bombay reformer, the Parsee, Malabari, is not even a Hindu. The founder of the Arya sect, the late Dyanand Saraswati, was out of caste altogether, being the son of a brahman father and a low-caste mother. The late Swami Vivekananda (Narendranath _Dutt_, B.A.), who represented Hinduism at the Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893, was not a brahman, as his real surname plainly declares. While, most wonderful of all, the accepted leaders of the pro-Hindu Theosophists, champions of Hinduism more Hindu than the Hindus, after whom the educated Hindus flock, are not even Indians; alas, they belong, the most prominent of them, to the inferior female sex! I mean the Russian lady, the late Madame Blavatsky, the English ladies Mrs. Annie Besant and Miss Noble [Sister Nivedita], and the American, Colonel Olcott. Which side of that glaring incongruity is to give way--brahman and caste ideas, or the buttressing of caste ideas by outcastes, Feringees, like Mrs. Besant? It would be interesting to hear an orthodox brahman upon Mrs. Besant's claim to have had a previous Hindu existence as a Sanscrit pandit. What sin did the pandit commit, would be his natural reflection, that he was born again a Feringee, and a woman? [Sidenote: Unpardonable offences.] But the offence of the fifth sin, marrying below one's caste, or the marriage of widows, seems as rank as ever. Upon these points, rather, the force of caste seems concentrating. The marriage of widows will be considered when we come to discuss the social inferiority of woman in India. To marry within one's caste promises to be the most persistent of all the caste ideas. The official observation is that "whatever may have been the origin and the earlier developments of caste, this prohibition of mixed marriages stands forth now as its essential and most prominent characteristic. The feeling against such unions is deeply engrained." And again, a second pronouncement on caste: "The regulations regarding food and drink are comparatively fluid and transitory, while those relating to marriage are remarkably stable and absolute."[16] The pro-Hindu lady, already referred to, also agrees. "Of hereditary caste," she says, "the essential characteristic is the refusal of intermarriage."[17] Even Indian Christians are reluctant to marry below their old caste, and value a matrimonial alliance with a higher. To that residuum of caste, when it becomes the residuum, one could not object. The Aryan purity of the stock may be a fiction, as authorities declare it to be in the great majority of castes and in by far the greater part of India; but given the belief in the purity of blood, the desire to preserve it is a natural desire. If one may prophesy, then, regarding the fate of the caste system under the prevailing modern influences, castes will survive longest simply as a number of in-marrying social groups. To that hard core the caste idea is being visibly worn down. [Sidenote: Support of caste by British authorities.] With strange obliviousness surely, the British officials are lending support to caste ideas in various ways, while many of the best minds in India are groaning under the tyranny. The compilers of the _Report of the Census of India for_ 1901, gentlemen to whom every student of India is deeply indebted, in their enumeration of castes, give the imprimatur of government to such Cimmerian notions as that the touch of certain low castes is defiling to the higher. The writer and condoner of the following paragraph surely need a lengthy furlough to Britain or the States. We read that "the table of social precedence attached to the _Cochin Report_ shows that while a Nayar can pollute a man of a higher caste only by touching him, people of the Kammalan group, including masons, blacksmiths, carpenters, and workers in leather, pollute at a distance of 24 feet, toddy drawers at 36 feet, Palayan or Cheruman cultivators at 48 feet; while in the case of the Paraiyan (Pariahs) who eat beef, the range of pollution is stated to be no less than 64 feet." Some consolation let us even here take from the fact that in an earlier publication the extreme range of the polluting X-rays of the pariah is stated to be 72 feet. So there has been 8 feet of progress for the pariah. But our point is, that interesting as all that table of precedence no doubt is, it is out of place in a Government report, which may be quoted against a poor low-caste man as authoritative pronouncement regarding his social position. Justice and humanity, good grounds in the eyes of the Indian Government ere now for legislating contrary to caste ideas, ought to have enjoined the ignoring of caste ideas here. It is no mere fancy that after an accident one of these low-caste masons in South India might be brought to the door of a Government hospital and be refused admission by a native medical officer because his presence polluted at a distance of 24 feet--has not the Government Report declared it so? It is no fancy, for a year or two ago the Post Office reported that in one village the Post Office was found located where low castes were not allowed to approach. In some provinces, also, teachers will object to the admission of low-caste children in their schools; or "if they admit them make them sit outside in the verandah."[18] What now of the dignity of manual labour which many a high official has expounded to native youth? Or to take another instance of un-British countenancing of the caste idea. The Shahas of _Bengal_ are a humble caste, and the members of higher castes will not, as a rule, take water at their hands, so the Government Report tells us. On the other hand, the Shahas of _Assam_, immigrants from Bengal, have managed to raise themselves high in the social scale. Why, when an Assam Shaha takes up his residence again in his motherland, Bengal, should this Blue-book be casting up to him his humble origin? Why this un-British weighting of those who are behind in the race? Again, at the very time of the Census, the Maratha caste was in conflict with the brahman in two Native States of Western India, Kohlapur and Baroda, over a matter of religious privileges. The brahman contention is that the Mahratta pretensions to high-caste blood [kshatriya] are groundless, and now we have the very same statement in the _Census Report_, backing "the king of the castle" against "the dirty rascal." Not a century ago, students of kayasth [clerk] caste were excluded from the Sanscrit College in Calcutta; they are now within the privileged circle, but their claim might not yet have been made good had a Government Blue-book of these earlier days been allowed to brand them as debarred from the College by their caste. At a public meeting the writer heard one of the most learned and respected Hindus of Calcutta respectfully protest to the Lieutenant-Governor against the public recognition in the _Census Report_ of such irrational social grading.[19] Similarly in the provision by Government of Caste Hostels for students. According to the first rule of the Hindu Hostel in connection with the Government College in Calcutta, "none but respectable Hindu students ... shall be admitted,... and such inmates shall observe the rules and usages of Hindu Society." In that rule, "respectable" simply means _other than low caste_. Now for the _reductio ad absurdum_. A certain Bengali gentleman of low caste was some years ago entitled to be addressed as "Honourable," from the high public office he held, yet by departmental orders the Principal of the Government College would shut the door of the College Hostel in the face of the Honourable's son. [Sidenote: New religious organisations repudiate caste.] Of the new religious organisations of educated India, three repudiate caste, namely, the Protestant Christian community, the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j or Theistic Association, chiefly found in Bengal, and the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j or Vedic Association of the United Provinces and the Punjab. These forces of new religious feeling are marshalled against caste as a social anomaly and a bar to progress. Mahomedanism in its day was a powerful force arrayed against caste, but its regenerating power has long ago evaporated, for in many districts of India caste ideas are found flourishing among the Mahomedan converts from Hinduism. They have carried over the caste ideas from their old to their new religion.[20] The Sikhs in the Punjab also repudiate caste, but they too have forgotten their old reforming mission. Notwithstanding, we repeat, Northern India owes an immense debt to these two religions, particularly to Mahomedanism. Let any one who doubts it observe the caste thraldom of Southern India, where Mahomedan rule never established itself. Irrational as caste is in Northern India, it is tenfold more so in the South, as we have already seen. A noteworthy assertion of "the rights of men," or more literally of the rights of women, against caste may be noted in that same caste-bound South India. In the Native State of Travancore, caste custom had prohibited the women of the lower castes from wearing clothing above the waist. But about the year 1827, the women who became Christians began to don a loose jacket as the women of higher caste had been in the habit of doing. Bitter persecution of the Christian women followed, but in 1859 the right of these lower-caste women to wear an upper cloth was legally acknowledged.[21] But the outstanding evidence of new ideas in regard to caste is furnished by the Hindu revivalists who, under the leading of Mrs. Annie Besant and the Theosophists, have established the Hindu College, Benares, as a buttress of Hinduism. From the _Text-book of Hindu Religion_ prepared for the College, we learn that these representatives and champions of orthodoxy defend caste only to the extent of the ancient fourfold division of society into brahmans, rulers, merchants and agriculturists (one caste), and servants. What, we may ask, is to become of the 1886 sub-divisions of the brahman caste alone, all mutually exclusive with regard to inter-marriage? The text-book actually quotes sacred texts to show that caste depends on conduct, not on birth, and refers to bygone cases of promotion of heroes to a higher caste without rebirth. Its final pronouncement on caste is that "unless the abuses that are interwoven with it can be eliminated, its doom is certain." So far has the opinion of orthodox conservative Hinduism progressed with reference to its fundamental social feature, caste. CHAPTER IV THE CHIEF SOLVENT OF THE OLD IDEAS "Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul according well, May make one music as before." TENNYSON, _In Memoriam_. [Sidenote: English education the chief solvent.] English education is the chief solvent of old ideas in India and the chief source from which the new are supplied. English is the language of the freest peoples in the world. It is only to be expected, therefore, that with the spread of English education in India the idea of individual freedom and the feeling of nationality should grow and the caste idea decline. The beginning of the process is often witnessed among the boys in Secondary Schools in India. You lay your hand upon the arm of a boy, a new-comer to the school, and you ask him in English, "What class?" He answers "Brahman," giving you his caste instead of his class in school. The boy will not be long in the English school before he will classify himself differently. In a dozen ways each day he is made to feel that the school and the modern world have another standard for boys and men than the caste. Or take another example of the educative effect of a study of English--I can vouch for its genuineness. In your house in India you get into friendly conversation with a half-educated shopkeeper or native tradesman. You ask in English how many children he has, and his reply is, "I have not any children, I have three daughters." Just a little more reading in English literature would have taught him that elsewhere the daughter is a child of the family equally with the son. There, in these two examples, the great social problems of India present themselves--caste and the social inferiority of women, and in the English language we see India confronted with ideas different from her own. Take a third illustration from the socio-religious sphere. Few Hindus think of Hinduism as a system of religious practices and doctrines to be justified by reason or by spiritual intuition, or by the spiritual satisfaction it can afford to mankind. No, Hinduism is a thing for Indians, and belongs to the Indian soil. The converse of the idea is that Christianity is a foreign thing, the religion of the intruding ruling race. It is not for Indians. A vigorous patriotic pamphlet, published in 1903, entitled _The Future of India_, assumes plainly that _Hindus_ and _Indians_ mean the same thing. The pamphlet speaks of the relations of Indians to "other races, such as Mahomedans, Parsees, and Christians," as if these were less truly Indians than the Hindus. To the writer, manifestly, Hinduism is a racial thing. To him, however, or to the next generation after him, further study of modern history will make clear that only in a slight degree and a few instances is religion a racial thing, and that there are laws and a science of spiritual as of bodily health. Once more, how ill-fitting are, say, the Indian word _mukti_ (deliverance from further lives, the end of transmigrations) and the English word _salvation_, although _mukti_ and _salvation_ are often regarded as equivalents. To the man instructed in English, such contrasts are always being presented, tacitly inviting him to compare and to modify. We can put ourselves in the place of many a youth of sixteen or seventeen, hope of the village school, going up to enter a college in one of the larger towns of India. He is entering the new world. Should he be of brahman caste, it may profit him a little, for he will still meet with many non-brahman householders ready to find him in food and lodging simply because he is a poor brahman student. Of course he is looking forward to one of the new professions, Law, or Medicine, or Engineering, or Teaching, or Government Service. In _these_ it is patent to him that caste is of no account. High caste or low, he and all his fellow-students are aware they must prove themselves and fight their way up. The leading place at the bar is no more a high-caste man's privilege than it is his privilege to be exempted from standing in the dock or suffering the extreme penalty of the law. We have already referred to the effect of the assertion of the equality of men before the law in 1775 in the hanging of the brahman, Nandakumar, for forgery. Now, looking back at the dissolving of the old ideas of artificial rank and privileges, we may reckon also the equality of men in the great modern professions, foremost in India being Law, as among the chief dissolving agencies. [Sidenote: Extent of English education.] [Sidenote: English words naturalised.] It is easy to give _figures_ at least for the vast agency now at work in the spread of English education in India. Higher English education for natives began with the founding of the Hindu College in Calcutta in 1817; in the year 1902 there were in India five Universities, the examinations of which are conducted in English; and affiliated to these examining Universities were 188 teaching colleges containing 23,009 undergraduates; and preparing for the Matriculation Examination (in the year 1896-97) were 5267 Secondary Schools, containing 535,155 pupils. From these Secondary Schools in the year 1901, 21,750 candidates appeared at the Matriculation Examinations of the Universities professing to be able to write their answers in English, and of these nearly 8000 passed. That figure is a measure of the process of leavening India with modern ideas through English education--8000 fresh recruits a year. That is the measure of the confusion introduced into the old social organism. A small number, no doubt, compared with the ten million of unleavened youth born in the same year, and yet they are the pick of the middle classes and must become the leaders of the masses. The masses in China, it is alleged, would not be anti-foreign were it not for the influence of their literati, and the thoughts of these Indian literati must also become the thoughts of the Indian masses. It is the mind of these literati, mainly, which we are trying to gauge. According to the census of 1901 their total number approached one million, being those who could read and write English. Descending below the English-reading literati, I have noted about three hundred English words naturalised in two of the chief vernaculars of India, an indication, if not a measure, of the new influence among the masses. [Sidenote: Too sanguine prophecies of progress.] Yet having tabulated figures, once more, ere we proceed, we enjoin upon ourselves and our readers a cautious estimate of the progress of ideas. The European hood and gown of the Indian student may merely _drape_ an _unchanged_ being. Writing in 1823 about the encouragement of education and the teaching of English and the translation of English books, the Governor of Bombay, Mountstuart Elphinstone, declared too confidently that "the conversion of the natives _must_ result from the diffusion of knowledge among them." Macaulay, similarly, writing from India in 1836 to his father, the well-known philanthropist, declares: "It is my firm belief that if our plans of[English] education are followed up, there will not be a single idolater among the respectable classes in Bengal thirty years hence." Omar Khayyam's words suggest themselves as the other extreme of opinion regarding English education in India, inside of which the truth will be found: "Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and saint, and heard great argument About it and about, but evermore Came out by that same door wherein I went." The lines express the view of many Anglo-Indians. We may reply that anywhere only a few individuals are positively liberalised by a liberal education. We must patiently wait while their standpoint becomes the lore and tradition of the community. [Sidenote: Reformers are English-speaking; reactionaries are ignorant of English.] The part played by English education in the introduction of new ideas is apparent whenever we enumerate the leading reformers of the nineteenth century. One and all have received a modern English education, and several of them have made some name by addresses and publications in English. Of Indian reformers, distinguished also as English scholars, may be named with all honour: 1. Rammohan Roy, a great opponent of Suttee and Idolatry, who also dared to make the voyage to England. He died at Bristol in 1833. 2. Iswar Chunder Vidyasagar, a great upholder of the right of widows to remarry and an advocate of education, both elementary and higher. He died at Calcutta in 1891. 3. K.M. Banerjea, D.L., C.I.E., an opponent of the caste system, the greatest scholar among Indian Christians. He died at Calcutta in 1885. 4. Keshub Chunder Sen, religious reformer, an advocate of a higher marriage age for girls. He died at Calcutta in 1884. 5. Mr. Behramji Malabari, an advocate of a higher marriage age for girls--of the Bombay side of India. 6. The late Mr. Justice M.G. Ranade, a social reformer of Bombay. 7. The late Mr. Justice K.T. Telang, C.I.E., an opponent of child marriages and a social reformer of Bombay. 8. The late Raja Sir T. Madhava Rao, K.C.S.I., a social reformer, of the Madras Presidency--died in 1891. Pandita Ramabhai, it may be noted, had entered upon her career as a champion of female education before she began the study of English. [Sidenote: Sanguine estimate of progress.] In striking contrast with all these in this respect are the men who represent the extreme conservative or reactionary spirit, who as a rule are as ignorant of English as the great reformers are the reverse. We may cite, in illustration: 1. Dyanand Saraswati, founder of the new sect of [=A]ryas in the United Provinces and Punjab. Their chief doctrine, the infallibility of the Vedas or earliest Hindu scriptures, is reactionary, although a number of reforms are inculcated in the name of a return to the Vedas. 2. The late Ramkrishna Paramhansa, a famous Bengali ascetic of high spiritual tone, but of the old type. 3. The gentleman already referred to, who as University lecturer on Hindu Philosophy in Calcutta insisted that none but Hindus be admitted to the exposition of the sacred texts, shutting out the Chancellor, the Vice-Chancellor, and many Fellows of the University. 4. Sanscrit pundits, very conservative as a class, and generally unfamiliar with English. New Hinduism in contact with the modern educational influences was most interestingly manifest in the person of Swami Vivekananda (_Reverend Rational-bliss_ we may render his adopted name), representative of Hinduism at the Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893. The representative Hindu was not even a member of the priestly caste, as we have already told. It were tedious to analyse his Hinduism, as set forth at Chicago and elsewhere, into what was Christianity or modern thought, and what, on the other hand, was Hinduism. Suffice it to say that as Narendra Nath Dutt, B.A., he figures on the roll of graduates of the Church of Scotland's College in Calcutta. While a student there, he sat at the feet of two teachers representing the new and the old, the West and the East. In the College classroom he received religious instruction from Dr. Hastie, the distinguished theologian who afterwards taught Scottish students of theology in the University of Glasgow. At the same time he was in the habit of visiting the famous Bengali ascetic, Ramkrishna Paramhansa, already mentioned, and of communing with him. Returning from Chicago crowned with the honour which his earnestness, his eloquence, his power of reasoning, his attractive manner, and his striking physique and dress called forth, Young India lionised him; Old India met in Calcutta and resolved that Mr. Dutt of kayasth caste must drop the brahman title _Swami_, which he had assumed, before _they_ could recognise him. In 1895, having gone to Dakhineswar, the old residence of his Hindu master, Ramkrishna, Swami Vivekananda was actually expelled from the temple where his master had been wont to worship. The Chicago representative of Hinduism had been guilty of the sins of crossing the sea and of living like a European, and so he must be disowned and the temple purged of his presence. After a few years, Swami Vivekananda bravely settled down to unobtrusive, philanthropic work, one had almost said _Christian philanthropic work_, in a suburb of Calcutta, denouncing caste and idolatry and the outcasting of those who had crossed the sea, and recommending the Hindus to take to flesh-eating. There, and while so engaged, in 1902 he died. How shall we ticket that strange personage? Kayasth caste as he was born, or new brahman? Swami or B.A. of a Mission College of the modern Calcutta University? A conservative or a reformer? Hindu ascetic or Christian philanthropist? He stands for India in transition, old and new ideas commingling. He is a typical product of the English and Christian education given to multitudes in India to-day. CHAPTER V WOMAN'S PLACE "To lift the woman's fallen divinity Upon an equal pedestal with man's." "The woman's cause is man's; they rise or sink Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free." TENNYSON, _The Princess_. [Sidenote: Social inferiority of women.] Next to caste, the chief social feature of India is the position of women in the community. Hindus and Mahomedans alike assign to the female sex an inferior position. In Mahomedan mosques, for example, no woman is ever seen at prayer; she would not be permitted to take part. Only by the neglect of female children in India, and the special disadvantages from which women suffer there, can it be explained why in India in 1901 there were only 963 females to every 1000 males. In India, as in Europe and all the world over, more boys than girls are born, but in the course of life the balance is soon redressed, and in the whole population in every country in Europe, except Italy[22] and Bulgaria, the females actually outnumber the males. Why are the Indian figures so different? Pro-Hindu enthusiasts may glorify the Hindu social system, and wish to deny the social inferiority of the female sex; average Anglo-Indians may be suspected of being unsympathetic in their statements; but the Census figures stand, and demand an explanation. Where are these 37 girls and women out of every 1000--over five million altogether? Common humanity demands an answer of India, for we seem to hear a bitter cry of India's womanhood. As infants, less cared for; as girls, less educated; married too early; ignorantly tended in their hour; as married ladies, shut out of the world; always more victimised by ignorance and superstition--in life's race, India's women carry a heavy handicap, and 37 out of every 1000 actually succumb. In the matter of the social elevation of their sex, it appears to the writer that Anglo-Indian ladies fall far short of what they might do. A fair number do interest themselves in their Indian sisters through the lady missionaries and lady doctors, but first-hand knowledge of the lives of Indian women is very rare indeed. Our late revered Queen's interest in India and in the womanhood of India is well known, but her feeling about the duty of Anglo-Indian ladies I have never seen recorded. Speaking at Balmoral to an Indian Christian lady, a member of one of the royal families of India--the only lady perhaps who ever conversed in Hindustani with Queen Victoria--she expressed her regret that more Anglo-Indian ladies did not get up the native language, sufficiently at least to let them visit their Indian sisters. Than Christian sisterly sympathy thus expressed, what better link also could there be between two communities which many things seem to be forcing apart? [Sidenote: Suttee and female infanticide.] It would be unjust to depreciate the influence of mother and wife among Hindus, and we freely acknowledge that, after custom, the mainstay of the zenana system is concern for the purity of the female members of the household. Saying that, we must now also note that modern ideas of the just rights of the female sex have made little progress in India. Some progress there has been, judging by the standard already applied; for although in 1901 there were only 963 females to every 1000 males, in the year 1891 there were only 958, and in the year 1881 still fewer, namely, 954. But it seems as if in India we had justification of the law of social progress that woman's rights will not be recognised until man's have been. The brotherhood of man must be established before men recognise that sister women too have rights. Translating into Indian terms, and without professing to have given positive proof--caste feeling must still further decay before the position of women becomes much improved. At all events, judging by the past, it almost seems to have been necessary for the Legislature to intervene to secure any progress for the sex and give a foothold to the new ideas, glaringly unfair to the sex as the old ideas were. Thus in 1870 female infanticide, earlier prohibited in single provinces, was put down by law throughout India; although there are localities still in which the small proportion of female children justifies the belief that female infanticide is not extinct.[23] Nevertheless, let the progress of the new ideas regarding women be noted; we compare the hesitating _inference_ of the practice of female infanticide in the _Indian Census Report_ of 1901 with the voluminous evidence in the two volumes of Parliamentary Papers on Infanticide in India published in 1824 and 1828. Kathiawar and Cutch, Baroda and Rajputana, round Benares and parts of Oude and Madras were the localities particularly infected with the barbarous custom in the first quarter of the century. But to return to the recognition of the rights of women in legislative enactments. In 1829 an Act of the Supreme Government in Bengal made Suttee or the burning of a widow upon the dead husband's pyre an offence for all concerned. In 1830 similar Acts were passed by the Governments of Madras and Bombay, and the abolition of Suttee is now universally approved.[24] Such is the educative influence of a good law. Perhaps a would-be patriot may yet occasionally be heard so belauding the devotion of the widows who burned themselves that his praise is tantamount to a lament over the abolition of Suttee. But the general sentiment has been completely changed since the first quarter of the nineteenth century, when the Missionaries and some outstanding Indians like the Bengali reformer Rammohan Roy agitated for the abolition of Suttee, and the Government, convinced, still hesitated to put down a custom so generally approved. In these changed times it will hardly be believed that Rammohan Roy only ventured to argue against any form of compulsion being put upon the widow, and that the orthodox champions of the practice appealed against the abolition not only to the Governor-General, but also to the King in Council,--the petition having been heard in the House of Lords in 1832. But once more to return to the emancipation of women by Acts of the Legislature. By another Act, in 1856, the Indian Government abolished the legal restrictions to widow marriage. Still another Act, in 1891, forbade cohabitation before the age of twelve; and although fiercely opposed in the native press and in mass meetings, the Act, which expressed the views of many educated Hindus, is now apparently acquiesced in by all, and must be educating the community into a new idea of marriage. In five aspects the social inferiority of the female sex is still apparent--namely, in the illiteracy of females, in marriage before womanhood, in polygamy, in the seclusion of women, and in the prohibition of the marriage of widows. Excepting the last, no one of these customs is imposed by caste, nor is the last even in every caste. [Sidenote: Their lack of education.] The inferior position still assigned to women in Indian society can best be shown in figures. The indifference to their education is manifest when for all India, rich and poor, European and native, in 1901, there were fourteen times as many men as women who could read and write. Only one female in 144 was educated to that extent, and the movement for female education has practically been at a stand-still for some years, in spite of the increase of native Christians, Brahmas, and [=A]ryas, who all advocate the education of girls, and in spite of fostering by Governments and missionaries. Taking _British_ India by itself, there was a higher proportion of educated females, as we should of course expect, although that only makes the proportion less elsewhere. In British India, about 1 in 100 [9 per 1000] could read and write; but even there, less than 1 per cent. The quickening of ideas in cities is apparent. In the cities there are proportionally more than twice as many educated females as in the whole country. [Sidenote: Premature marriage.] The injustice done to the sex by marriage before womanhood is apparent from another paragraph of the same Report, showing that out of every 1000 girls of the age of 10 or under, 58 are already married, as against 22 boys. Taking Hindus alone, the number of married girls of 10 years of age or under is 70 per 1000 as against 28 married boys. Even allowing for those provinces where cohabitation is delayed, these figures mean in other provinces a cruel wrong to the children of the weaker sex, a doubly cruel wrong when to premature marriage may be added girl widowhood. The _Census Report_ declares that in the lower strata of Hindu society there has been a rapid extension of child marriage and prohibition of the marriage of widows within the last two or three generations, although at the low age of 10, fewer girls are reported married than in 1881.[25] That is to say, the bad example of the higher castes is lowering the marriage age in the humble castes, while modern influences are diminishing the number of marriages of mere children,--we can see both forces in operation. Here again Indian Christians, Br[=a]hmas, and [=A]ryas are at one in setting a better example and advocating reform. The educative Act of 1891 for British India has also been noted above. Native States too are following up. In Rajputana, through the influence of the Agent of the Governor-General, Colonel Walter, an association was formed in 1888 which fixed the marriage age for two of the chief castes at eighteen for the bridegroom and fourteen for the bride. In the Native State of Baroda, in the extreme West of India, a new Marriage Act has just been passed by the enlightened ruler [1904]. In Baroda, except in special cases, the minimum marriage age of girls is henceforward to be twelve, and of the bridegrooms sixteen. Exceptional cases had to be provided for, because of the custom in certain communities within the state of Baroda to celebrate marriages only once every twelve years, female infants and girls of ten and twelve being then "happily despatched" together. With that custom and with the new Act together, it would necessarily happen that girls of eleven at the general marrying time would have to wait twelve years more, or until their twenty-third year. Since in some parts of India there is a saying about women "Old at twenty," that delay would not do. All educated young men may be said to hold the new ideas in these marriage matters. Students now regard it with regret and some sense of a grievance when their guardians have married them in their school or college years. The only alleviation to their minds is when the dowry which they bring into the family at their marriage helps to endow a sister who has reached the marriage age, or to educate a brother or pay off the family debts. Among educated people too, the idea that the other world is closed to bachelors and childless men has died, although a daughter unmarried after the age of puberty is still a stigma on the family. Do British readers realise that in an Indian novel of the middle and upper classes there can hardly be a bride older than twelve; there can be no love story of the long wooing and waiting of the lovers? [Sidenote: Polygamy.] As regards polygamy, the Census shows 1011 married women for every 1000 married men, so that apparently not more than 11 married men in every 1000 are polygamists. But polygamy is still an Indian institution, in the sense that it is at the option of any man to have more than one wife; in the matter of marriage, the rights of man alone are regarded. All over India, however, among the educated classes, Mahomedans excepted, public opinion is now requiring a justification for a second marriage, as, for example, the barrenness, insanity, infirmity, or misconduct of the first spouse. The temptation of a second dowry is still, however, operative with men of certain high castes in which bridegrooms require to be paid for. The writer well remembers the pitiful comic tale of a struggling brahman student of Bengal, whose home had been made unhappy by the advent of two stepmothers in succession alongside of his own mother. The young man did not blame his father, for his father disapproved of polygamy, and was a polygamist only because he could not help himself. It had come about in an evil hour when he was desperate for a dowry for his eldest daughter, now come of marriageable age. He had listened to the village money-lender's advice that he might take a second wife himself and transfer to the daughter the dowry that the second wife would bring. Then in like manner the lapse of time had brought a second daughter to the marriage age, the necessity for another dowry, and a third mother into the student's home. The poor fellow himself was married too, and one could not resist the conjecture that _his_ marriage was another sacrifice for the family, and that his marriage had saved his father from bringing home yet another stepmother. The redeeming feature of the story--the strength of Indian family ties--let us not be blind to. Polygamy in India is certainly now hiding itself. A couple of generations ago it was practised wholesale by the kulin brahmans of Bengal. Several middle-aged kulins are known to have had more than 100 wives, and to have spent their lives in a round of visits to their numerous fathers-in-law. For each wife they had received a handsome bridegroom-price. So declares the last _Census Report_. Except among Indian Mahomedans, who have the sanction of the Koran and the example of the Prophet himself, there are now few upholders of polygamy in India. In a meeting of educated gentlemen in Calcutta a Mahomedan lately protested against some passing condemnatory reference to polygamy, on the ground that in a general meeting he expected that his religion would be free from attack. A learned Mahomedan judge, on the other hand, writes that among Indian Mahomedans "the feeling against polygamy is becoming a strong social if not a moral conviction." "Ninety-five out of every 100 are either by conviction or necessity monogamists." "It has become customary," he tells us, "to insert in the marriage deed a clause by which the intending husband formally renounces his supposed right to contract a second union."[26] [Sidenote: Seclusion of women.] With regard to the seclusion of women, at some points the custom seems to be slowly yielding to Western ideas, although it is still practically true that Indian ladies are never seen in society and in the streets of Indian cities.[27] A different evolution, however, is still more manifest at this present time. It almost seems as if at first modern life were to bend to the custom of the seclusion of women rather than bend the custom to itself. The Lady Dufferin Association for Medical Aid to Indian Women is bringing trained medical women _into_ the zenanas and harems, and every year is also seeing a larger number of Indian Christian and Br[=a]hma ladies set up as independent practitioners, able to treat patients _within_ the women's quarters. In the year 1905 a lady lawyer, Miss Cornelia Sorabjee, a Parsee Christian lady, was appointed by the Government of Bengal to be a legal adviser to the Bengal Court of _Wards_, or landowning minors. Zenana or harem ladies, e.g. the widowed mothers of the minors, would thus be able to consult a trained lawyer at first hand _within_ the zenana or harem. Missionaries are discussing the propriety of authorising certain Christian women to baptize women converts _within_ the zenanas.[28] Long ago missions organised zenana schools, and now native associations have begun to follow in their steps. In all Indian Christian churches, women of course are present at public worship, but they always sit _apart_ from the men, a segregation even more strictly followed by the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j or Indian Theistic Association. For the sake of zenana women, the Indian Museum in Calcutta is closed one day each week to the male sex, and in some native theatres there is a ladies gallery in which ladies may see and not be seen behind a curtain of thin lawn. Movement even towards a compromise, it is good to observe. [Sidenote: Prohibition of the marriage of widows.] The prohibition of the marriage of widows has already been referred to as bound up with caste ideas of marriage and with social standing, and as the most deeply rooted part of the social inferiority of women. By some at least the injustice has been acknowledged since many years. At Calcutta, between 1840 and 1850, Babu Mati Lal Seal promised Rs10,000 to any Hindu, poor or rich, who would marry a widow of his own faith, but no one came forward.[29] The late Pandit Iswar Chander Vidyasagar of Calcutta has also already been mentioned as a champion of the widow's rights. But though legalised in 1856, the cases of re-marriage among the higher castes of Hindus in any year can still be counted on the fingers of one hand. The _Report of the Census of India_, 1901, takes a gloomy view regarding the province of Bengal, the most forward in many respects, but the most backward in respect of child-marriage and prohibition of the marriage of widows. The latter custom, we are told, "shows signs of extending itself far beyond its present limits, and finally of suppressing widow marriage throughout the entire Hindu community of Bengal."[30] The actual number of widows in all India in 1901 was 25,891,936, or about 2 out of every 11 of the female population, more than twice the proportion [1 in 13] in Great Britain. As in the matters of the repudiation of caste and the raising of the marriage age, the three new religious bodies, namely, the Indian Christians, the Brahmas, and the [=A]ryas, stand side by side for the right of the widow. CHAPTER VI THE TERMS WE EMPLOY "Precise ideas and precisely defined words are the wealth and the currency of the mind." --Introduction to _The Pilgrim's Progress,_ Macmillan's Edition. [Sidenote: No _Indian_ race or religion.] Experience teaches the necessity of explaining to Western readers certain terms which even long residence in India often fails to make clear to Anglo-Indians. Let it be remembered then that the terms _India, Indian_, have only a geographical reference: they do not signify any particular race or religion. India is the great triangular continent bounded on the south-west and south-east by the sea, and shut in on the north by the Himalayan Mountains. Self-contained though it be, and easily thought of as a geographical unit, we must not think of India as a racial, linguistic, or religious unit. We may much more correctly speak of _the_ European race, language, or religion, than of _the_ Indian. [Sidenote: A Hindu religion.] The term _Hindu_ refers to one of the Indian religions, the religion of the great majority no doubt. It is not now a national or geographical term. Practically every Hindu is an Indian, and almost necessarily must be so, but every Indian is not a Hindu. There are Indian Mahomedans, sixty-two million of them; Indian Buddhists, a few--the great majority of the Buddhists in the "Indian Empire" being in Burmah, not in India proper; there are Indian Christians, about three million in number; and there are Indian Parsees. A Hindu is the man who professes Hinduism.[31] [Sidenote: Where is Hindustan?] _Hindustan_, or the land of the Hindus, is a term that never had any geographical definiteness. In the mouths of Indians it meant the central portion of the plain of North India; in English writers of half a century ago it was often used when all India was meant. In exact writing of the present time, the term is practically obsolete. [Sidenote: Who speak Hindustani?] Unfortunately for clearness, the term _Hindustani_ not only survives, but survives in a variety of significations. The word is an adjective, _pertaining to Hindustan_, and in English it has become the name either of the people of Hindustan or of their language. It is in the latter sense that the name is particularly confusing. The way out of the difficulty lies in first associating _Hindustani_ clearly with the central region of Hindustan, the country to the north-east of Agra and Delhi. These were the old imperial capitals, be it remembered. Then from that centre, the Hindustani language spread--a central, imperial, Persianised language not necessarily superseding the other vernaculars--wherever the authority of the empire went. Thus throughout India, Hindustani became a _lingua franca_, the imperial language. In the Moghul Empire of Northern India it was exactly what "King's English" was in the Anglo-Norman kingdom in England in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. French was the language of the Anglo-Norman court of London, as Persian of the court of Delhi or Agra; the Frenchified King's English was the court form of the vernacular in England, as the Persianised Hindustani in North India. It was this _lingua franca_ that Europeans in India set themselves to acquire. [Sidenote: Urdu literature] Continuing the English parallel--the Hindustani of Delhi, the capital, Persianised as the English of London was Frenchified, became the recognised literary medium for North India. The special name _Urdu_, however, has now superseded the term _Hindustani_, when we think of the language as a literary medium. _Urdu_ is the name for literary Hindustani; in the Calcutta University Calendar, for example, the name _Hindustani_ never occurs. [Sidenote: Hindi language and literature] About the beginning of the nineteenth century another dialect of Hindustani, called _Hindi_, also gained a literary standing. It contains much less of Persian than Urdu does, leaning rather to Sanscrit; it is written in the deva-nagari or Sanscrit character; is associated with Hindus and with the eastern half of Hindustan; whereas Urdu is written in the Persian character, and is associated with Mahomedans and the western half of Hindustan.[32] [Sidenote: The Brahmans] Another series of terms are likewise a puzzle to the uninitiated. To Westerns, the _brahmans_[33] are best known as the priests of the Hindus; more correctly, however, the name _brahman_ signifies not the performer of priestly duties, but the caste that possesses a monopoly of the performance. The brahman caste is the Hindu _Tribe of Levi_. Every accepted Hindu priest is a brahman, although it is far from being the case that every brahman is a priest. As a matter of fact, at the Census of 1901 it was found that the great majority of brahmans have turned aside from their traditional calling. In Bengal proper, only about 16 per cent. of the brahmans were following priestly pursuits; in the Madras Presidency, 11.4 per cent.; and in the Bombay Presidency, 22 per cent. [Sidenote: Brahmanism.] _Brahmanism_ is being employed by a number of recent writers in place of the older _Hinduism_. Sir Alfred Lyall uses _Brahmanism_ in that sense; likewise Professor Menzies in his recent book, _Brahmanism and Buddhism_. Sir Alfred Lyall's employment of the term _Brahmanism_ rather than _Hinduism_, is in keeping with his description of Hinduism, which he defines as the congeries of diverse local beliefs and practices that are held together by the employment of brahmans as priests. The description is a true one; the term Brahmanism represents what is common to the Hindu castes and sects; it is their greatest common measure, as it were. But yet the fact remains that _Hindus_ speak of themselves as such, not as _Brahmanists_, and it is hopeless to try to supersede a current name. Sir M. Monier Williams employs the term _Brahmanism_ in a more limited and more legitimate sense. Dividing the history of the Hindu religion into three periods, he calls them the stages of Vedism, Brahmanism, and Hinduism respectively. The first is the period of the Vedas, or earliest sacred books; the second, of the Brahman philosophy, fundamentally pantheistic; the third is the period of "a confused tangle of divine personalities and incarnations." Sir M. Monier Williams' standard work on the religion of the Hindus is "_Brahmanism and Hinduism."_ "Hinduism," he tells us, "is Brahmanism modified by the creeds and superstitions of Buddhists and non-Aryans of all kinds." [Sidenote: Brahm[=a], Brahma.] [Sidenote: Br[=a]hmas] We are not done with this confusing set of terms. _Brahm[=a]_ is the first person of the Hindu divine triad--the Creator--who along with the other two persons of the triad, has proceeded from a divine essence, _Brahma_ or _Brahm_. Brahma is Godhead or Deity: Brahm[=a], is _a_ Deity, a divine _person_ who has emanated from the Godhead, Brahma. _Br[=a]hmas_ or theists, believers in Brahma, are a religious body that originated in Bengal in the nineteenth century. Repudiating caste, idolatry, and transmigration, they are necessarily cut off from Hinduism. The body is called the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, that is, the Theistic Association. Enough for the present; in their respective places these distinctions can be more fully gone into. CHAPTER VII NEW POLITICAL IDEAS I. A UNITING INDIA "There are many nations of the Indians, and they do not speak the same language." --HERODOTUS.[34] [Sidenote: The ideas of citizenship and public questions.] With modern education and the awakening of the Indian mind have come entirely new political ideas. That there are public questions has in fact been discovered; for in India the idea of citizenship, the consciousness of being a political unit, was itself a new idea. We may say that it was made possible in 1835, when an Act of Legislature was passed declaring the press free. In 1823 an English editor had been deported from Calcutta for free criticism of the authorities, but after 1835 it was legal not merely to think but to speak on public questions. Before we pass on, we note the strange inverted sequence of events which may attend on fostered liberty. The right to criticise was bestowed before any right to be represented in the Legislature or Executive was enjoyed. In this freedom to criticise the acts of Government, the India of to-day is far ahead of countries like Germany and Russia. [Sidenote: Government exists for the good of the governed.] The new idea of citizenship, thus made possible by a free press, is largely the outcome of three great influences. Christian philanthropic ideas, disseminated both by precept and example, could not but be producing some sense of brotherhood, and what Burke calls a "civil society." Then again, the free and often democratic spirit of English literature was being imbibed by thousands; and in the third place, through the newspapers, English and vernacular, the people were being brought into actual contact with the political life of Great Britain. Due particularly to the first of these influences, the noblest of the new Indian political ideas is that tacitly assumed in many of the native criticisms of the British Government in India--high tribute as well as criticism--that Government exists for the good of the governed, and indeed responsible for the welfare of the masses. The British Government is indeed an amazing network covering the whole continent, ministering life, like the network of the blood-vessels in our frame. At least, its apologists declare it _to be doing so_, and its native critics declare that it _ought to_. The native press, for example, is prompt to direct the attention of the Government to famine and to summon the Government to its duty. In India a noble idea of the Commonwealth and its proper government has thus come into being. Likewise, it ought to be added, except in times of political excitement, and in the case of professional politicians, it is generally acknowledged that the conception of the British Government in India is noble, and that many officers of Government are truly the servants of the people. It is not suggested that the policy or the methods should be radically altered. The politician's theme is that the Government is more expensive and less sympathetic than it might be, because of the employment of alien Europeans where natives might be employed. [Sidenote: The new national consciousness.] [Sidenote: English rule, a chief cause.] [Sidenote: The very name _Indian_ is English.] Other new political ideas follow the lines of social change. We have seen how in the modern school, the idea of caste gives way before the idea of rank in the school, to be followed in College by the idea of intellectual distinction, and still later in life by the idea of success in some modern career. In the political sphere, modern life is also busy dissolving the older and narrower conceptions of life. Atop of the sectarian consciousness of being a Hindu or the provincial consciousness of belonging to Bengal or Bombay, is coming the consciousness of being an Indian. This consciousness of a national unity is one of the outstanding features of the time in India, all the more striking because hitherto India has been so unwieldily large, and her people incoherent, like dry sand. "The Indian never knew the feeling of nationality," says Max Müller. "The very name of India is a synonym for caste, as opposed to nationality," says Sister Nivedita, the pro-Hindu lady already referred to, who likewise notes the emergence of the national idea.[35] "Public spirit or patriotism, as we understand it, never existed among the Hindus," writes Mr. Bose, himself an Indian, author of a recent work on _Hindu Civilisation under British Rule_.[36] And Raja Rammohan Roy, the famous Bengali reformer of the beginning of the nineteenth century, we have already heard denouncing the caste system as "destructive of national union." From what then, during the nineteenth century, has the national consciousness come forth? Many causes may be cited. The actual unification effected by the postal, the telegraph, and the railway organisation, has done much. The omnipresence of the foreign government, all-controlling, has also done much. The current coins and the postage stamps with King Edward's head upon them--the same all over India, a few native states excepted--bring home the union of India to the most ignorant. The constant criticism of the Government in the native press, the meetings of the All-India political association called the Congress, and the fact that modern interests, stimulated by daily telegrams from all over the world, are international, not provincial or sectarian--all these things combine to give to the modern educated Indian a new Indian national consciousness in place of the old provincial and sectarian one. In short, the British rule has united India, and the awakened mind of India is rejoicing in the consciousness of the larger existence, and is identifying the ancient glories of certain centres in North India with this new India created by Britain. Never before was there a united India in the modern political sense; never, indeed, could there be until modern inventions brought distant places near each other. Two great Indian empires there certainly were in the third century B.C. and the fourth and fifth centuries A.D., and the paternal benevolence of Asoka, the great Buddhist emperor of the third century B.C., deserves record and all honour. Let Indians know definitely who deserves to be called an ancient Indian emperor, when they wish to lament a lost past; and descending to historical fact and detail, let them compare that period with the present. The later empire referred to was an empire only in the old sense of a collection of vassal states. Turning back to the hoary past, in which many Indians, even of education, imagine there was a golden Indian empire, we can trace underneath the ancient epic, the Ramayan, a conquering progress southward to Ceylon itself of a great Aryan hero, Ram. But of any Indian empire founded by him, we know nothing. "One who has carefully studied the Ramayan will be impressed with the idea that the Aryan conquest had spread over parts of Northern India only, at the time of the great events which form its subjects."[37] Coming down to the period of the greatest extent of the Moghul empire in India in the end of the seventeenth century, we find the Emperor Aurangzeb with as extensive a military empire as that of Asoka, but with the Mahrattas rising behind him even while he was extending his empire southwards. That decadent military despotism cannot be thought of as a union of India. In truth, the old Aryan conquest of India was not a political conquest, and never has been; it was a conquest, very complete in the greater part of India, of new social usages and certain new religious ideas. The first complete political conquest of India by Aryans was the British conquest, and the ideas which have come in or been awakened thereby, we are now engaged in tracing. As regards the new idea of nationality, we have noted that the new national name _Indian_ now heard upon political platforms, is not a native term, but an importation from Britain along with the English language. How, indeed, could the educated Indian employ any other term with the desired comprehensiveness? If he speak of _Hindus_, he excludes Mahomedans and followers of other religions; if he use a Sanscrit term for _Indians_, he still fails to touch the hearts of Mahomedans and others who identify Sanscrit with Hindus. There is no course left but to use the English language, even while criticising the British rulers. The English language has been a prime factor in evoking the new national consciousness, and in the English language the Indian must speak to his new found fellow Indians.[38] Even a considerable portion of the literature of the attempted Revival of Hinduism is in English, strange as the conjunction sounds. How the thought of Indian unity over against the sovereignty of Britain may reach down even to the humblest, the writer once observed in a humble street in Calcutta. A working man was receiving his farthing's worth of entertainment from a peep-show. His eyes were glued to the peepholes, to secure his money's worth, for the farthing was no small sum to him; and the showman was standing by describing the successive scenes in a loud voice, with intent both to serve his customer and to stimulate the bystanders' curiosity. Three of the scenes were: "This is the house of the great Queen near London city," "This is one of the great Queen's lords writing an order to the Viceroy of Calcutta," "This is the great committee that sits in London city." He actually used the English word _committee_, the picture probably showing the House of Commons or the House of Lords. Thus the political constitution of India and its unity under Britain are inculcated among the humblest. In the minds of the educated, one need not then be surprised at the growth of a sense of Indian unity over against British supremacy. [Sidenote: The Indian National Congress.] [Sidenote: English, the _lingua franca_ of the Congress.] The Indian National Congress, or All-India political association, is the embodiment of this new national consciousness of educated Indians, the only embodiment possible while India is so divided in social and religious matters. Were there only ten or twelve million Mahomedans in India instead of sixty, the new national consciousness would undoubtedly have been a Hindu or religious, instead of a political, consciousness. But in matters religious, Hindu looks across a gulf at Mahomedan, and Mahomedan at Hindu, neither expecting the other to cross over. Christianity, third in numbers in India proper, proclaims the Christian Gospel to both Hindus and Mahomedans, but is regarded by both as an alien.[39] Nor is any All-India _social_ movement possible while social differences are so sacred as they are. But politically, all India _is_ already _one_; her educated men have drunk at _one_ well of political ideas; citizenship and its rights are attractive and destroy no cherished customs; and in the English language there is a new _lingua franca_ in unison with the new ideas. The Indian National Congress is the natural outcome. There, representatives of races which a hundred years ago made war on one another, of castes that never either eat together or intermarry, now fraternise in one peaceful assembly, inspired by the novel idea that they are citizens. The Congress meets annually in December in one or other of the cities of India. The first meeting at Bombay in 1885 has been described as follows[40]: "There were men from Madras, the blackness of whose complexions seemed to be made blacker by spotless white turbans which some of them wore. A few others hailing from the same Presidency were in simplest native fashion, bareheaded and barefooted and otherwise lightly clad, their bodies from the waist upwards being only partially protected by muslin shawls. They had preferred to retain their national dress and manners; and in this respect they presented a marked contrast to the delegates from Bengal. Some of these appeared in entirely European costume, while others could easily be recognised as Bengalis by the peculiar cap with a flap behind which they had donned. None of them wore the gold rings or diamond pendants which adorned the ears of some of the Madrassees; nor had they their foreheads painted like their more orthodox and more conservative brethren from the Southern presidency. There were Hindustanis from Delhi, Agra, and Lucknow, some of whom wore muslin skull-caps and dresses chiefly made of the same fine cloth. There were delegates from the North-West--bearded, bulky, and large-limbed men--in their coats and flowing robes of different hues, and in turbans like those worn by Sikh soldiers. There were stalwart Sindhees from Karachee wearing their own tall hat surmounted by a broad brim at top instead of bottom. In the strange assemblage were to be observed the familiar figures of Banyas from Gujarat, of Mahrattas in their cart-wheel turbans, and of Parsees in their not very elegant head-dress, likened to a slanting roof. Assembled in the same hall, they presented a variety of costumes and complexions scarcely to be witnessed except at a fancy ball." Now and again, we may add, a speaker expresses himself in a vernacular, and with the inborn Indian courtesy and patience the assembly will listen; but the language of the motley gathering is English; the address of the president and his rulings are in English; the protests, claims, and resolutions of the Congress are in English. For in the sphere of politics, the new national feeling _confessedly_ looks to Britain for ideals. Apologies for India's social customs and for her religious ideas and ideals are not wanting in India at the present time, for in matters social and religious, as we shall see, the political reformers are often ardently conservative, or pro-Indian at least. But in the sphere of politics it is the complete democratic constitution of Britain that looms before India's leaders. Britons can view with sympathy the rise of the national feeling as the natural and inevitable fruit of contact with Britain and of education in the language of freedom, and even although the new problems of Indian statesmanship may call forth all the powers of British statesmen. Like a young man conscious of noble lineage and of great intellectual power, New India, brought up under Britain's care, is loudly asserting that she can now take over the management of the continent which Britain has unified and made what it is. Where the "National Congress" and the Congress ideas have sprung from is manifest when she first presents herself upon the Indian stage. As her first president she has a distinguished barrister of Calcutta, Mr. W.C. Bonnerjee, of brahman caste by birth, but out of caste altogether because of frequent visits to Britain. Patriot though he is--nay, rather, as a true patriot, he has broken and cast away the shackles of caste. His English education is manifest when he opens his lips, for in India there is no more complete master of the English language, and very few greater masters will be found even in Britain. Further, as her first General Secretary and general moving spirit, the first Congress has a Scotchman, Mr. A.O. Hume, commonly known as the "Father of the Congress." His leading of the Congress we can understand when we know that he is the son of the celebrated reformer and member of Parliament, the late Dr. Joseph Hume. [Sidenote: Representative Government.] Several of the claims of the Congress have been conceded in whole or in part. Since the first meeting in 1885, elected members have been added to the Legislative Councils in the three chief provinces, Bengal, Madras, and Bombay, and new Legislative Councils set up in the United Provinces and the Punjab. To the Council for all India, the Viceroy's Council, also have been added five virtually elected members, out of a council now numbering about twenty-two members in all. Four of the new members represent the chief provinces, and the fifth the Chamber of Commerce, Calcutta. Other five the Viceroy nominates to represent other provinces or other interests. Looking at the representation of Indians, it is noteworthy that in 1880 only two Indians had seats in the Viceroy's Council, whereas in 1905 there were no fewer than six. The Provincial Legislative Council of Bombay will suffice as illustration of the stage which Representative Government has now reached. Eight of the twenty-two members are virtually elected. That is to say, certain bodies nominate representatives, and only in most exceptional circumstances would the Governor refuse to accept the nominees. And who make the nominations? Who are the electors enjoying the new political citizenship of India? We shall not expect that the electors are "the people" in the British or American sense: no Congress yet asks for political rights for them. The idea regarding citizenship still is that it is a royal concession, as it were to royal burghs, not that it is one of the rights of men. The University elects a member to the Governor's Council, for it has intelligence and can make its voice heard; the Corporation of Bombay elects a representative, for in the capital are concentrated the enlightenment and the wealth of the province; the importance of the British merchants must be recognised, and so the Chambers of Commerce of Bombay and Karachi send each a representative. Other groups of municipalities elect one; the boards of certain country districts elect one; and finally two groups of landlords elect one representative each. It comes to this, that the men of learning, the burgesses of the chief towns, the British traders, and the landowners and country gentlemen, have now a measure of citizenship in the modern sense of the word. The same feeling of citizenship has been given recognition to in 759 towns, whose municipalities are now partly elected, the right of election having been greatly extended by the Local Self-Government Acts of 1882-84. In these Municipalities even more than in the higher Councils the new educated Indian comes to the front. According to the roll of voters, it is property that enjoys the municipal franchise; emphatically so, for a wealthy citizen of Calcutta might conceivably cast three hundred votes for his Municipality throughout the twenty-five wards of the city; but they are English-speaking Indians in all cases who are returned as members. Politically, this is the day of the English-educated Indians. Such is the stage of the recognition of this new idea of citizenship in India. The idea represents a great advance during the British period, although, broadly speaking, it has not yet reached the stage of British opinion prior to 1832. Nevertheless one feels justified in saying that in present circumstances the desire of the educated class for a measure of citizenship has been reasonably met. Of course at the examination for the Indian Civil Service, held annually in London, the Indian competes on a complete equality with all the youth of the Empire. CHAPTER VIII NEW POLITICAL IDEAS II. FALSE PATRIOTISM "Now do I know that love is blind." ALFRED AUSTIN. [Sidenote: Cleavage of opinion--European _v._ Native.] An unpleasant aspect of the new idea is much in evidence at the present time. On almost every public question, the cleavage of the public opinion is Europeans _versus_ Natives. Far be it from me to assert that the natives only are carried away by the community feeling. A case in point is the violence of the European agitation over the "Ilbert Bill" of 1883, to permit trial of Europeans by native judges in rural criminal courts. Our question merely is: How has the new regime affected native ideas? Given then, say, a charge of assault upon a native by a European or Eurasian, or the reverse--a case by no means unknown--the native press and the class they represent are ranged at once, as a matter of course, upon the native's side. Given a great public matter, like Lord Curzon's Bill of 1903 for the necessary reform of the Indian Universities, immediately educated Indians and the native press perceive in it a veiled attempt to limit the higher education in order to diminish the political weight of the educated class. The 1904 expedition into Thibet was unanimously approved by the Anglo-Indian, and as unanimously disapproved by the native press. Educated India no doubt joined with the rest of the Empire in wishing success to Japan in the 1904-5 war with Russia, but the war presented itself primarily to the Indian mind as a great struggle between Asia and Europe. Other lines of cleavage may temporarily show themselves,--among natives the division into Hindus and Mahomedans, or into officials and non-officials; but on the first occasion when a European and a Native are opposed, or when the Government takes any step, the minor fissures close, and the new consciousness of nationality unites the Indians. European lines of cleavage like the division between capital and labour or between commerce and land have not yet risen above the Indian horizon. The Indian Christian community occupies the peculiar position of sharing in the new-born national consciousness as strongly as any, and yet of being identified with the British side in the eyes of the Hindu and Mahomedan communities. [Sidenote: Anti-British bias.] [Sidenote: India ruled by Indians.] Thus, almost inevitably, an anti-British bias has been generated, one of the noteworthy and regrettable changes in the Indian mind within the last half-century. Probably many would declare that the unifying national consciousness of which I have spoken is nothing more than a racial anti-British bias. At all events, hear an independent Indian witness regarding the bias.[41] "There is a strong and strange ferment working in certain ranks of Indian society.... Instead of looking upon the English rulers as their real benefactors, they are beginning to view their actions suspiciously, seizing every opportunity of criticising and censuring their rulers.... The race feeling between rulers and ruled, instead of diminishing, has increased with the increase, and spread with the spread, of literary education. That all this is more or less true at present cannot be denied by an impartial political observer." An up-to-date illustration of the bias appears in the address of the Chairman of the National Congress of 1906. "The educated classes," he says, "... now see clearly that the [British] bureaucracy is growing frankly selfish and openly opposed to their political aspirations." While regretting that feeling and the prejudice that often mingles with it, let those interested in India at least understand the feeling. It is the natural outcome of the new national consciousness. Even educated natives are in general too ignorant of India, past and present, to appreciate the debt of India to Britain, and how great a share of the administration of India they themselves--the educated Indians--actually enjoy. For every subordinate executive position in the vast imperial organisation is held by a native of India, and "almost the entire original jurisdiction of Civil Justice has passed out of the hands of Europeans into those of Indians."[42] But the anti-British bias, let us on our part understand. The attitude of educated Indians to the British Government of India, and to Anglo-Indians as a body, is that of a political opposition, ignorant of many pertinent facts, divided from the party in power by racial and religious differences, and with no visible prospect of succeeding to office. The National Congress is the permanent Opposition in India. A permanent Opposition cannot but be biassed, and its press will seize at everything that will justify the feeling of hostility. [Sidenote: Illustrations of the bias: Famines.] An outstanding illustration of the anti-British spirit is the frequently expressed opinion that the Indian famines are a result of British rule, or at all events have been aggravated thereby. The reasoning is that India is being financially drained to the amount of between thirty and forty millions sterling a year, and that the people of India have thus no staying fund to keep them going when famine comes. Having said this, we ought perhaps to quote the opinion (1903), on the other side, of Mr. A.P. Sinnett, ex-editor of one of the leading Indian newspapers, and, as a theosophist, very unlikely to be prejudiced in favour of Britain. He insists "that loss of life in famine time is infinitesimal compared with what it used to be." "As for impoverishment," he goes on to say, "we have poured European capital into the country by scores of millions for public works and the establishment of factories, and we have enriched India instead of impoverishing it to an extent that makes the Home Charges--of which such agitators as Digby always exaggerate the importance--a mere trifle in the balance." Lord Curzon's statement of three or four years back was that there were eight hundred and twenty-five crores of rupees (five hundred and fifty millions sterling) of buried capital in India; and he might have added the easily ascertainable fact that the sum is yearly being added to. The anti-British idea was put forward in 1885 by the late Mr. William Digby, an ardent supporter of the Congress; the Congress adopted it in one of its resolutions in 1896, and the idea has lamentably caught on. In 1897 a Conference of Indians resident in London did not mince their language. In their opinion, "of all the evils and terrible misery that India has been suffering for a century and a half, and of which the latest developments are the most deplorable famine and plague arising from ever-increasing poverty,... the main cause is the unrighteous and un-British system of Government, which produces an unceasing and ever increasing bleeding of the country," etc. etc.[43] Such language, such ideas, do not call for refutation, here at least; they are symptoms only of a state of mind now prevailing, out of which educated India must surely grow. Nor need it be forgotten that the rise of the anti-British feeling was foreseen and political danger apprehended when the question of English education for natives of India was under discussion. A former Governor-General, Lord Ellenborough, declared to a committee of the House of Commons in 1852, that England must not expect to retain her hold on India if English ideas were imparted to the people. "No _intelligent_ people would submit to our Government," were his words--a sentiment repudiated with indignation by the learned Bengali, the late Rev. Dr. K.M. Banerjea. In the same spirit, apparently, Sir Alfred Lyall still contemplates with some fear the rapid reformation of religious beliefs under modern influences. He sees that the old deities and ideas are being dethroned, and that the responsibility for famines, formerly imputed to the gods, is being cast upon the British Government. "The British Government," he says, "having thrown aside these lightning conductors [the old theocratic system], is much more exposed than a native ruler would be to shocks from famines or other wide-spread misfortunes." "Where no other authority is recognised, the visible ruler becomes responsible for everything."[44] Fortunately, "policy" of that sort has not prevailed with Indian statesmen in the past, and Britain can still retain self-respect as enlightener and ruler of India. [Sidenote: Championing of things Indian.] The championing of all things Indian is another recent phase of the same national consciousness. As the work of Britain is depreciated, the heroes, the beliefs, and the practices of India are exalted and defended as such. Idolatry and caste have their apologists. At almost every public meeting, according to the late Mr. Monomohun Ghose of Calcutta, he heard the remark made "that the ancient civilisation of India was far superior to that which Europe ever had."[45] In the political lament over a golden past, there is glorification by Hindus of the Mahomedan emperor Akbar, praise of the Native States and their rule as opposed to the condition of British India, and there are apologies for leaders in the Mutiny of 1857. Much of that is natural and proper patriotism, no doubt, and no one would deny the ancient glories of India or the many admirable characteristics of the people of India to-day. It is the self-deceiving patriotism, the blind ancestor-worship, of which we are speaking as a phase of modern opinion. As an instance when Indians certainly did themselves injustice by this spirit, we may single out the celebrated trial in 1897 of the Hon. Mr. Tilak, member of the Legislative Council of the Governor of Bombay. The Mahrattas of Western India look back to Sivaji as the founder of their political power, which lasted down to 1817, and have lately instituted an annual celebration of Sivaji as the hero of the Mahratta race. One great blot rests on Sivaji's career. In one campaign he invited the Mahomedan general opposing him to a personal conference, and stabbed him while in the act of embracing him. It was at one of these Sivaji celebrations in 1897 that Mr. Tilak abandoned himself to the pro-Indian and anti-British feeling, glorifying Sivaji's use of the knife upon foreigners. "Great men are above common principles of law," ... he said. "In killing Afzal Khan did Sivaji sin?" ... "In the Bhagabat Gita," he replied to himself, "Krishna has counselled the assassination of even one's preceptors and blood relations.... If thieves enter one's house, and one's wrists have no strength to drive them out, one may without compunction shut them in and burn them. God Almighty did not give a charter ... to the foreigners to rule India, Sivaji strove to drive them out of his fatherland, and there is no sin of covetousness in that." Practical application of Mr. Tilak's language was soon forthcoming in the assassination of two British officers in the same city of Poona. Mr. Tilak, victim of his own eloquence and of the spirit of the day, was necessarily prosecuted for his inflammatory speech, and was sent to prison for eighteen months. But it is not too much to say that the _unanimous_ feeling of educated India went with Mr. Tilak and regarded him as a martyr. [Sidenote: Boycott of British goods.] From the pro-Indian feeling to the anti-British Boycott feeling is only one step along the road that new-educated India is treading. The boycott of British goods in 1905 has been the next step. The provocation alleged by the politicians who organised the boycott was the division of the province of Bengal. Whether that was cause sufficient to justify the boycott or a mere pretext for another anti-British step is now of secondary importance. The plea of encouragement of native industries we may set aside as an afterthought. The boycott has been declared, and what concerns us is to see the national feeling now take the form of a declaration of commercial war upon Great Britain--none the less disconcerting because some of those concerned clearly have an eye, however foolishly, upon Boston in 1773 and the war thereafter. It gives pause to India's well-wishers. "India for the Indians," will that come next? There no friend of India dare wish her success, to be a possible prey to Russia or Germany, or even to Japan. But reasoning to the logical issue, we get light upon our premisses. _India for what Indians?_, we ask ourselves. For Hindus or Mahomedans; for the million, English-speaking, or the many-millioned masses? For many a day yet to come it will be Britain's duty to hold the balance, to instruct in self-government and to learn from her blunders. That the national feeling of Indians may become a main strand in a strong Imperial feeling, as is the national feeling of Scotland, must be the wish of all friends of India. But how is the Indian feeling to be transformed? [Sidenote: Remedies.] [Sidenote: Instruction in History and Political Economy.] [Sidenote: High-minded Anglo-Indians.] The new Social Ideas of India have asserted themselves in spite of opposing ideas, deep-rooted; on the other hand, the new Political Ideas are in accordance with the natural ambition of educated Indians, and have had no difficulty in expanding and spreading. In comparison with the new social ideas, in consequence, the new political ideas are a somewhat rank and artificial growth, forced by editors and politicians, and warped by ignorance and prejudice. The widely current idea that, owing to British rule, the poverty of the Indian people is now greater, and that the famines are more frequent and severe than in former dynasties, is the outstanding instance of the rank growth. Neither the allegation of greater poverty nor the causes of the acknowledged low standard of living have been studied except in the fashion of party politicians. Another of the ideas, as widely current, is that every ton of rice or wheat exported is an injury to the poor. A third is that the payments made in Britain by the Government of India are virtually tribute, meanly exacted, instead of honest payment for cash received and for services rendered. Again, what can be the remedy? In the early part of the nineteenth century, the Foreign Mission Committee of the Church of Scotland objected to Dr. Duff, their missionary, teaching Political Economy in the Church's Mission College, the General Assembly's Institution, Calcutta. They feared lest the East India Company would deem it an interference in politics.[46] In 1897, after the Tilak case already referred to, the writer on Indian affairs in _The Times_ complained of the teaching of historical half-truths and untruths in Indian schools and colleges, instancing the partisan writings of Burke and Macaulay, and many Indian text-books full of glaring historical perversions. The remedy for such erroneous ideas is certainly not to withhold the present dole of knowledge, but to teach the whole truth. The recent History of India and Political Economy with reference to India should be compulsory subjects for every student in an Indian University. It ought to be the policy of Government to select the ablest men for professors and teachers of such subjects. If, along with that remedy, more Anglo-Indians would take a high view of their mission to India, and of their residence in that country, much of that regrettable bias and bitterness on the part of Indians would surely pass away. If instead of adopting the attitude of exiles, thinking only of the termination of the exile and how to while away the interval, Anglo-Indians would take some interest in something Indian outside their business, much would be gained! The best Anglo-Indians are eager to promote intercourse between Europeans and Indians, but many Anglo-Indians, whatever the cause, seem incapable of friendly intercourse. On the matters that should interest both them and their fellow-citizens in India, they have in them nothing save unreasoned feelings. These form the numerous class, of whom Sir Henry Cotton spoke in an address in London in February 1904, to whom it is an offence to travel in the same railway-carriage with Indians. These are the corrupters of good feeling between Britons and Indians, as sympathetic men are the salt that preserves what good feeling may still exist. In every Indian sphere the men of the latter class are well known to the native community, and are always spoken of with cordiality. The writer remembers trying to have a talk with a British soldier about the generals of the army, and how the man seemed unable to do more than say, with enthusiasm, of Lord Roberts and General Wauchope and others, "Yon was a man!" and as depreciatorily of others again, "Yon was no man at all." Such sympathetic "men," instinctively discerned, India has much need of, if this anti-British feeling, so far as it is not inevitable, is to be checked. In such "men" the new Indian feelings of manhood and citizenship and nationality will find recognition and response, in spite of displeasing accompaniments, for such feelings we must look for under British rule and from English and Christian education. From such "men," also, the new Indians will accept frank condemnation of social irrationalities or political exaggerations, as _e.g._ the notion that those have right to claim full share in the British Empire's management who would outcaste a fellow-Indian for visiting Britain, even had he gone to state their case before the House of Commons. To speak of laymen only, there are no Anglo-Indians more trusted than those who make no secret of their desire for the advancement of India's welfare through a religious reformation, who hold that this purely pro-Indian national feeling is as yet imperfect because divorced from the idea of the unity of mankind and the concomitant idea of the progress of the whole race. CHAPTER IX NEW RELIGIOUS IDEAS--ARE THERE ANY? "From low to high doth dissolution climb. * * * * * Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear The longest date do melt like frosty rime, That in the morning whitened hill and plain And is no more; drop like the tower sublime Of yesterday, which royally did wear His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air, Or the unimaginable touch of Time." WORDSWORTH. [Sidenote: A Renaissance without a reformation.] It would be interesting to speculate what the Renaissance of the sixteenth century would have done for Europe had it been unaccompanied by a Reformation of religion. Without the Reformation, we may aver there would have been for the British nation no Bible of 1611, no Pilgrim Fathers to America, and no Revolution of 1688, along with all that these things imply of progress many-fold. What might have been, however, although interesting as a speculation, is too uncertain to be discussed further with profit. I only desire to give a general idea of the religious situation in India at the close of the nineteenth century. There has been a Renaissance without a Reformation. Into the new intellectual world the Hindu mind has willingly entered, but progress in religious ideas has been slow and reluctant. The new _political_ idea of the unity of India and the consciousness of citizenship were pleasing discoveries that met with no opposition; but that same new Indian national consciousness resented any departure from the old _social_ and _religious_ ideas. [Sidenote: Meaning of the term _religious_.] In speaking of the development of religious ideas in India, I use the term _religious_ in the modern sense. Under religion, in India is comprehended much that in Europe would be reckoned within the _social_ sphere. In India all questions of inter-marriage and of eating together, many questions regarding occupations and the relations of earning members of a family to idle members, are religious not social questions. The case was similar among the Jews, we may remember. As recorded in the fifteenth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, two of the three injunctions of the Jerusalem Church to the Gentile Church at Antioch deal with these same socio-religious matters. Blood and animals killed by strangling were to be prohibited as food, and certain marriages also were forbidden. Perhaps among Europeans the question of burial _v_. cremation may be instanced as a matter of social custom that has been made a religious question. But in no country more than in India have customs, _mores_, come also to mean morals. A halo of religious sanctity encircles the things that have been and are. Taking "religion," however, in the modern sense, we ask: Although there has not been any great Reformation of religion, have religious ideas undergone no noteworthy development? It is well to put the question definitely with regard to religion, although in the opening chapter abundant testimony to a general change in ideas has already been cited. There _is_ no lack of specific evidence as to religious changes, and the adoption of certain Christian ideas. Sir Alfred Lyall's observations let us first of all recall, for he possesses all the experience of an Indian Civil Servant and Governor of a Province--the United Provinces. He speaks both for officials and for Europeans conversant with India.[47] Speaking in the person of an orthodox brahman surveying the moral and material changes that English rule is producing in India, he says: "We are parting rapidly under ... this Public Instruction with our religious beliefs." The old brahman warns the British Government that the old deities are being dethroned, and that the responsibility for famines, formerly imputed to the gods, is being cast upon the British Government. Another official witness speaks still more plainly. _The Bengal Government Report_ upon the publications of the year 1899 asserts: "All this revolution in the religious belief of the educated Hindu has been brought about as much by the dissemination of Christian thought by missionaries as by the study of Hindu scriptures; for Christian influence is detectable in many of the Hindu publications of the year." The writer of the _Report_ is a Hindu gentleman. The _Report of the Census of India_, 1901, declares that "the influence of Christian teaching is ... far reaching, and that there are many whose acts and opinions have been greatly modified thereby." After these statements from secular and official writers, we may refrain from quoting from Mission authorities more than the statement of the Decennial Conference of representative missionaries from all India in 1902. The statement refers to South India. "Christianity," we are told, "is in the air. The higher classes are assimilating its ideas."[48] Thus from East and North and South, from officials and non-officials, from Europeans and natives, comes concurrent testimony. There is no declared Reformation, but Christian and Western religious ideas are leavening India. [Sidenote: Variety of religious ideas in India.] To the student of Comparative Religion, or of Christianity, or of the general progress of nations, that testimony from India is particularly interesting. To the student of Comparative Religion, India presents a particularly attractive field. Not hidden away in sacred classics or in the records of travellers, but as elements of existing religions, professed by men around, are illustrations of most of the types of religious thought and practice. There are the pantheism of certain Hindu ascetics, the polytheism of the masses, the animism of aboriginal races, and the varieties of theism of Christians, Mahomedans, and the new Hindus respectively. There are the curious phenomena of goddesses as well as gods, and of distinctive features in the character and worship of the female deities. There is the whole scale of worship up from bloody sacrifices and self-tortures and from worship where the priest is everything, to worship like that of Mahomedans and of Protestant Christians, where a mediatory priesthood is virtually repudiated. There is the stage, still farther beyond, at which the worshipper is supposed to be able to say of himself "I am God." Of the first and last stages, India may be called the special fields, for probably nowhere else in the world are so many animals killed in sacrifice as at the temple of Kalighat in Calcutta; and the last stage, as an observable religious phenomenon, is peculiar to India. In India there is presented to us salvation in the attainment of an eternal existence along with God, as among Christians and Mahomedans and many of the less educated Hindus; and there is salvation in deliverance from further lives, as among those Hindus who hold the doctrine of transmigration. In India all these varieties of religious thought and practice are actual, perceptible phenomena, ready for first-hand observation by the student of Comparative Religion. But still more interesting to him is that they are there in mutual contact, and telling upon each other. For in the sphere of human beliefs, the student is much more than an outside observer and classifier. He has his own conception of truth, and is interested in observing how far in each case there is a convergence towards truth or a divergence from it. In the sphere of human beliefs he holds further, that, given opportunity, the nearer to truth the greater certainty of survival. Given opportunity, as already postulated, the law of beliefs is the survival of the truest. Truth will prevail. [Sidenote: Dynamical elements of Christianity.] [Sidenote: Dynamical doctrines in other spheres] To the student of Christianity, again, that same concurrent testimony is profoundly interesting. Certain Christian ideas are being assimilated in India. Certain cardinal aspects of Christianity are proving themselves possessed of inherent force and attractiveness. They are showing that they possess force not from authority, or tradition, or as part of a system of doctrine, or as racially fitting, but when presented in new and often very unfavourable surroundings. Borrowing an expression from physical science, certain elements of Christianity are proving _themselves dynamical_. For in non-Christian India, ecclesiastical authority or tradition and the system of Christian doctrine as such, possess no force. By illustrations from other spheres, let us make clear what is meant by such dynamical elements of Christianity. The doctrine of the Origin of Species by means of Natural Selection was put before the world by Darwin in 1859, and within the half century has been accepted almost as an axiom by the whole civilised world. Undoubtedly that doctrine has proved itself dynamical. On the other hand, a few years earlier than the publication of _The Origin of Species_, another body of new doctrine was propounded to Britain and the world, and strongly urged by its upholders, namely, the doctrine of Free Trade--the advantage to the community of buying in the cheapest market. True or false, that body of doctrine has not proved dynamical among the nations, for the great majority of peoples still repudiate the doctrines of Free Trade. Similarly certain elements of Christianity are commending themselves to new India, and certain others are failing to do so at this time. [Sidenote: Illustrations from the history of Christianity.] From century to century these dynamical elements of Christianity may vary; and it is profoundly interesting to the student of the history of religious beliefs to observe the variation. In the early apostolic times, when the apostles and disciples were "scattered abroad," we see plainly in the Acts of the Apostles that the dynamical element of Christianity is the Resurrection of Our Lord. It is that which tells, and His coming reign--with Jewish audiences in particular. It was, _e.g._, the manifestation of Christ to St. Paul on his way to Damascus that completed the conversion of his life. And so, repeatedly throughout the record of the Acts of the Apostles, they are described as witness--bearers of the resurrection to the outside world. [Greek: Megalê dynamei], "_with great power_ gave the apostles their witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus; and great grace was upon them all."[49] And yet--dynamical elements vary--in the different atmosphere of Athens (we are twice told in so many words) this same resurrection of Christ dug a gulf between St. Paul and the Athenians.[50] Passing to a very different period, the latter half of the eighteenth century, the period of the rise of Methodism and the revival of religion in England, the period of new interest in the inmates of prisons, of agitation for the abolition of slavery, of the foundation of all the great missionary societies, the period of the French Revolution and the demand at home for extension of the franchise, all outcome of the same inspiration,--what was the strong epidemic thought? Reading the religious history of the time, we feel that the power that passed from soul to soul was a tremulously intense realisation of the family of God and the love of God for men, represented in Christ's voluntary death upon the cross, love for the neglected and the enslaved in their sins and their sorrows. And again in our own day, when we are tempted to say that the consciousness of God and the eternal, the primary religious instincts, are fading, what by common consent is really dynamical among educated men? Assuredly not the shibboleths of High or Low Church. It is the person of Jesus Christ that is dynamical; what He was on earth, what He has been ever since in the hearts of individuals and in the Church. In a real sense we are starting again from and with Himself. Anticipating, let us say that these two elements most recently dynamical in Britain have had force likewise in India. [Sidenote: India a new touch-stone of Christianity.] India in the nineteenth century has been indeed a new touchstone to the Christian religion; and, in brief, to make plain how far Christianity has proved its force and its fitness to survive will occupy the remaining chapters of this book. What has been the nature and extent of the impact of Christian and modern thought upon India, and particularly upon Hinduism? Of course I am thinking particularly of the educated native Hindu community that has sprung up during the century just closed. The dynamic of Christianity, which it is our task to test, implies a measure of conscious and intelligent approval. Japan is another such testing ground. Indeed the only large fields where Christianity is presented to bodies of non-Christian men able to yield approval or refuse it on intelligent grounds, of which they are conscious, are India and Japan. In China also there are no doubt large bodies of literati, but as a class they have not yet come into the modern world and into contact with Christianity. Even down to the Boxer rising of 1900, the wall of conservative patriotism shut off the literati in China from the outer civilisation and religions. [Sidenote: Indians themselves to be our witnesses.] Fortunately for students of India, her new literati are not merely in touch with the modern world, but express their minds readily in public meetings and in print. From themselves we shall chiefly quote in justifying the statements that will be made regarding the former or the modern religious opinions of India. To non-Christian or secular writers, also, we shall chiefly go, that the bias may rather be against than for the acknowledgment of change and progress. Our plan is to pronounce as little as possible upon either the Christian or the Hindu positions. We are observers of the religious ideas of modern India, and desire our readers to come into touch with modern Indians and to see for themselves. [Sidenote: Obstacles to changes in religion.] [Sidenote: Education strips new Indians of belief.] Truth is great and will prevail, but let us not under-estimate the difficulties in the way of new opinions in India, where these do not appeal to the natural desires for power or status or comfort. I have already referred to the deep-rooted notion that Hinduism is of the soil of India, and adherence to it bound up with the national honour. I refer to it here again only to glance at a kindred notion, common among Anglo-Indians, that the Indian religion is the outcome of Indian environment, and is "consequently" the best religion for India. That superficial fallacy, undoubtedly, alienates the sympathy of many Anglo-Indians from religious and social progress in India. Thrice at least did one of the most distinguished viceroys, when addressing native audiences, advise them to stick to their own beliefs, using these or very similar words. He was addressing Mahomedans at one place, Hindus at the second place, and Buddhists at the third, and we leave his advice at one place to contradict his advice at another. Certainly let us allow for variation in local usage, and in subjective opinion, while we are insisting on the universality and objectivity of truth. For in spite of new and strange environment, in spite of that prevailing notion that religion is a racial thing, of the natural disinclination to change, of modern agnosticism and materialism when the old ideas do give way--in spite of these things, some of the cardinal features of Christianity are commending themselves to educated India. Far from religion being racial, the recent religious evolution of India suggests that in respect of the religious instinct and the religious faculty, mankind are one, not divided. _A priori_, therefore, we might anticipate that the elements of Christianity which have proved dynamical with new India will be the same that have proved their dynamic with educated men at home. So far as the situation in India has been created by the destructive influence of modern education, and by what may be called the modern spirit, the same influences are telling both in Europe and in India; they have come from Europe to India. There is the same unwillingness to believe in the supernatural, and the same demand that religion shall satisfy ethical and utilitarian tests. One difference, however, we may note. The educated men of India may not be living so entirely in the modern atmosphere as the men of Europe and America; but in India the modern spirit finds usages and systems of thought more inconsistent with modern ideas. As a consequence, where in India the modern spirit _has_ come, it has stripped men barer of belief. Listen to the following curious conglomeration, showing the influences at work, constructive and destructive. It is a passage from the pamphlet already referred to, _The Future of India_; the author is arguing for what he calls "practical recognition of the Fatherhood of God"--one new positive idea. That idea he takes to mean that "God is the Father of all nations and religions," and that _therefore_ "it does not matter much to what religion a man belongs, so far as the future of his soul is concerned." Does not that signify that he himself is stripped bare of belief? From which modern notion, that religion does not matter much, he next argues that a man ought to deny himself the luxury and "satisfaction of breaking his religious fetters," _i.e._ of seceding from his own faith and joining another. He ought to stick to his community, says this writer, and "have the satisfaction of working for the elevation of his countrymen." There we have the new political consciousness. The writer, it should be added, says some plain things about the need of social reform. [Sidenote: Three dynamical elements of Christianity.] As proved by observation in India, the dynamical elements of Christianity may be briefly enumerated as follows. Monotheism, tending more and more to the distinctively Christian idea of God, Our Father, is commending itself, and being widely accepted. Secondly, in a remarkable degree, Jesus Christ Himself is being recognised and receiving general homage. In a less degree, and yet notably, the Christian conception of the Here and Hereafter is commending itself to the minds of the new-educated Hindus. In the new religious organisations also, the Christian manner of worship and of public worship commends itself almost as a matter of course. In none of these spheres am I describing the outcome of visible conflict or of any loud controversy. Rather, Christianity brought close to the religious instincts and the religious ideas of India has been like a great magnet introduced among a number of kindred but non-magnetised bodies lying loosely around. In the presence, simply, of these dynamical elements, or in contact with them, Indian religious thought is becoming polarised. Towards and away from the same great points, Indian religious thought is setting. These dynamical elements of Christianity, and the illustration of their power, will be considered in the following chapters. Of the elements of Christianity that have proved themselves dynamical, we may note the natural order in which they have come. The order in which I have stated them is the order in which they asserted themselves, first "God Our Father," then "Jesus Christ Himself." First, of this world in which we find ourselves, when our _minds_ awake, we must have some satisfying conception. The belief in one God, in Him for whom we can find no better name than "Our Father," approved itself to awakened India, to the _intellectually_ enlightened, and in the first place to small groups of enlightened men in the large towns, the centres of modern education and Christian influence. Then came an advance of a different nature altogether. To those spiritually minded and more intense men who needed a religious master, a hero, to whom their _hearts_ might go out, there came, after certain obstacles had been broken down, some knowledge of the actual historical Jesus Christ. The first stage satisfied the _mind_ of modern educated India; the second stage concerns the highest affections and the lives. We know the step, when in the Apostles' Creed we pass from "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth," to the words "and in Jesus Christ." Thereat we have brought theology down from heaven to earth; or rather, in these days we would say, in Jesus Christ we have obtained on earth, in actual history, in our affections, a foundation on which to rear our system of actual and motive-giving belief. CHAPTER X THE NEW RELIGIOUS ORGANISATIONS OF INDIA IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY THE INDIAN CHRISTIAN CHURCH AND THE BR[=A]HMAS Children of one family. [Sidenote: Two physical changes on the face of a country.] When we consider how the face of a country has been altered during the lapse of time, two great changes may be noticed, both of them due to the action of man. First we may observe that the whole general character of the country has undergone transformation. Gone are the ancient forests of Scotland, which of old in many districts clad the whole countryside, and with them have gone the wild animals which they sheltered. The forests destroyed, and the rainfall in consequence less abundant, the surface marshes and lakes have in many places vanished, taking the old agues and fevers in their train. Instead of the strongholds of chieftains in their fastnesses, surrounded by bands of their clansmen and retainers, has come the sober, peaceful, life of independent tenants, agricultural or artisan. And so on, down through the general changes wrought on the face of a land by modern conditions of life, we might watch the evolution of new features of the landscape. But we turn to the other kind of change, which is more noticeable at first sight, and is more directly due to the action of man. Great, laboriously cultivated, fields now stretch where formerly there was only waste or forest, or at best small sparsely scattered patches; and the very products of the soil in these new spacious fields are in many cases new. Where, for example, even in Britain before the close of the seventeenth century, were the great fields of potatoes and turnips and red clover, and even of wheat, which now meet the eye everywhere as the seasons return? Where in India before the British period were the vast areas now under tea and coffee, jute and cotton, although the two last have been grown and manufactured in India from time immemorial? "It might almost be said that, from Calcutta to Lahore, 50 per cent. of the prevalent vegetation, cultivated and wild, has been imported into India within historic times."[51] [Sidenote: Two similar changes in the religious thought of India.] All that, of course, is a parable. Likewise, in the new India we are studying, product of new modern influences direct and indirect, two kinds of religious changes impress us. There is, first, the gradual change coming over the whole thought of the people, a transformation like that wrought upon the face and climate of many lands. There is, further, the religious change, more immediately evident, in the new Indian religious organisations of the past century, analogous to the new, cultivated, products of the soil. [Sidenote: Four new religious organisations.] As change more definite and perceptible, we look first at the new Indian religious organisations. Within the British period, four organised religious movements attract our notice. They are: I. The new Indian Christian Church; II. The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j and the kindred Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes; III. The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j; and IV. The Theosophical Society, which in India now stands for the revival of Hinduism. I. To hear the native Indian Church reckoned among the products of the British period may be surprising to some. There are indeed Christian communities in India older than the Christianity of many districts in Britain, and even excluding the Syrian and Roman Christians of India we must acknowledge that the Protestant Christian community dates farther back than the British period. Yet in a real sense the Protestant Indian Church, and the progressive character of the whole Indian Church, belong to the century just closed. The Moravians and one English Missionary Society excepted, all the great Missionary Societies now at work have come into being since 1793. In 1901 the native _Protestant_ community in India, outcome of these Societies' labours, numbered close upon a million souls. [Sidenote: The Indian Church.] [Sidenote: The Indian Church and the national consciousness.] The Indian Christian Church is a living organisation, or congeries of organisations, over two and a half million souls all told, and growing rapidly. The exact figures in 1901 were 2,664,313, showing an increase during ten years of 30.8 per cent. The figures exclude Eurasians and Europeans; and in Anglo-Indian speech, we may remark, all Americans and Australians and South African whites and the like are Europeans. The attitude of the Indian Christian Church to the new ideas introduced by the British connection and by the modern world can readily be understood. Cut off, cast off, by their fellow-countrymen, and brought into closer contact than any others with Europeans in their missionaries and teachers, their minds have been open to all the new ideas. We know in fact that Indian Christians are often charged, by persons who do not appreciate the situation, with being over-Europeanised. It may be so in certain ways, but, irrespective of Christianity or Hinduism, the adoption of European ways results from contact with Europeans, and in certain respects is almost a condition of intercourse with Europeans. Let those, for example, who talk glibly about Indians sticking to their own dress, know that gentlemen in actual native dress are not allowed to walk on that side of the bandstand promenade in Calcutta where Europeans sit--a scandal crying for removal. With regard to the new national consciousness, it may be repeated that the Indian Christian community is almost as alive with the national feeling as the educated Hindu community. As the Indian Church becomes at once more indigenous and more thoroughly educated in Western learning, as it becomes less identified with European denominations, and less dependent upon stimulus from without, it will no doubt become still more national in every sense, be more recognised as one of India's institutions, and become a powerful educator in India. Once within the environment of the national feeling, the seed of Christian thought and modern ideas will spring up and spontaneously flourish. The future progress of the Indian Church may be said to depend upon the growth of that national consciousness within it. The sense of independence and the duty of self-support and union are, properly, being fostered in the native churches. But one of the dangers ahead undoubtedly is that, like one of the other religious movements of the past century, or like the Ethiopian Church in South Africa, the Indian Church may become infected with the political rather than the religious aspect of the idea. [Sidenote: The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j.] [Sidenote: Rammohan Roy.] II. _The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j_.--Next to the Christian Church in order of birth of the issue of the new age, comes the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j or Theistic Association. It was founded in Calcutta in 1828 by the famous reformer, Raja Rammohan Roy, first of modern Indians. The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j is confessedly the outcome of contact with Christian ideas. By the best known of the Br[=a]hma community, the late Keshub Chunder Sen, it was described as "the legitimate offspring of the wedlock of Christianity with the faith of the Hindu Aryans." "No other reformation" [in India], says the late Sir M. Monier Williams, "has resulted in the same way from the influence of European education and Christian ideas." The founder himself, Raja Rammohan Roy, was indeed more a Christian than anything else, although he wore his brahman thread to the day of his death in order to retain the succession to his property for his son. In London and in Bristol, where he died in 1833, he associated himself with Dr. Carpenter and the more orthodox section of the Unitarians, explicitly avowing his belief in the miracles of Christ generally, and particularly in the resurrection. In Calcutta, indeed, the origin of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j was acknowledged at its commencement. After attending the Scotch and other Churches in Calcutta, and then the Unitarian Church, Rammohan Roy and his native friends set up a Church of their own, and one name for it among educated natives was simply the Hindu Unitarian Church. It is a secondary matter that, to begin with, the reformer believed that he had found his monotheism in the Hindu Scriptures, now known to all students as the special Scriptures of pantheism. Raja Rammohan Roy, the brave man who made a voyage to Britain in defiance of caste, the champion of the widow who had often been virtually obliged to lay herself on her dead husband's pyre, the strenuous advocate of English education for Indians, the supporter of the claim of Indians to a larger employment in the public service, has not yet received from New India the recognition and honour which he deserves. To every girl, at least in Bengal, the province of widow-burning, he ought to be a hero as the first great Indian knight who rode out to deliver the widows from the torturing fire of Suttee. [Sidenote: Service of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j to India.] As its theistic name implies, the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j professedly represents a movement towards theism, _i.e._ a rise from the polytheism and idolatry of the masses and a rejection of the pantheism of Hindu philosophy. Of course, noteworthy though it be, the foundation of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j in 1828 was not the introduction of monotheism to India. In the Indian Christian Church and in Mahomedanism, the doctrine of one, personal, God had been set forth to India, and in one of the ancient Hindu philosophical systems, the Yoga Philosophy, the same doctrine is implied. But in India, Christianity and Mahomedanism were associated with hostile camps; the Yoga Philosophy was known only to a few Sanscrit scholars. In Br[=a]hmaism, the doctrine of one personal God became again natural naturalised in India. That has been its special service to India, to naturalise monotheism and many social and religious movements. For in India, things new and foreign lie under a peculiar suspicion. In the social sphere, the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j repudiates caste and gives to women a position in society. As Indian _theists_ also, when their first church was opened in 1830, they gave the Indian sanction to congregational worship and prayer, "before unknown to Hindus." For, the brahman interposing between God and the ignorant multitude, the Hindu multitude do not assemble themselves for united prayer, as Christians and Mahomedans do; and at the other end of the Hindu scale, the professed pantheist as such cannot pray. In proof of the latter statement, we recall the words of Swami Vivekananda, representative of Hinduism in the Parliament of Religions at Chicago in 1893, in a lecture "The Real and the Apparent Man," published in 1896. "It is the greatest of all lies," he writes somewhat baldly, although one is often grateful for a bald, definite statement, "that we are mere men; we are the God of the Universe.... The worst lie that you ever told yourself is that you were born a sinner.... The wicked see this universe as a hell, and the partially good see it as heaven, and the perfect beings realise it as God Himself.... By mistake we think that we are impure, that we are limited, that we are separate. The real man is the One Unit Existence." Prayer is therefore irrational for a pantheist, for no man is separate from God. [Sidenote: Its limited membership.] The influence of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j has been far greater than its numerical success. Reckoned by its small company of 4050 members,[52] some of them certainly men of the highest culture and of sincere devoutness, the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j is a limited and local movement, limited largely to the province of Bengal, and even to a few of the larger towns in the province. But if the taint of the intellectual origin of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j be still visible in the eclecticism that it professes, in its rejection of the supernatural, and in its poor numerical progress, it has nevertheless done great things for India. [Sidenote: The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j and the national feeling.] As yet the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j has remained unaffected by the political aspect of the new national feeling. Early in its history there was, indeed, a section of the Sam[=a]j resolved to limit the selection of scriptures to the scriptures of the Hindus, but the late Keshub Chunder Sen successfully asserted the freedom of the Sam[=a]j, and probably saved it from the narrow patriotic groove and from the political character of the third of the new religious organisations, the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j. [Sidenote: Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes or Prayer Associations of S.W. India.] _The Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes_ or Prayer Associations of South-Western India.--The history of India is pre-eminently the history of Northern India, that is of the great plains of the Ganges and the Punjab. One may test it by the simple academical test of reckoning what percentage of marks in an examination on Indian history is assigned to the events of the great northern plains. It is the same in the more recent religious history of India. The southern provinces of Bombay and Madras have contributed very little in respect of new religious life, organised or unorganised, compared with the northern provinces of Bengal, the United Provinces, and the Punjab. The Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes or Prayer Associations of Bombay and South-western India are monotheistic like the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, and have their halls for their own worship. But socially they have not severed themselves from their Hindu brethren, and do not figure in the Census as separate. Even compared with the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, they are few in number. The first Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]j was founded in Bombay in 1867. In Madras there is a small representation of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j. CHAPTER XI NEW RELIGIOUS ORGANISATIONS THE [=A]RYAS AND THE THEOSOPHISTS. "Let us receive not only the revelations of the past, but also welcome joyfully the revelations of the present day." --BISHOP COLENSO. [Sidenote: The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j.] III. _The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j_ or _Vedic Theistic Association_--In contrast to the Sam[=a]jes which are leavening the country but themselves are numerically unprogressive, are two other organisations--first, the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j of the United Provinces and the Punjab, and secondly, the Theosophists, who are now most active in Upper India, with Benares the metropolis of Hinduism, as their headquarters. These two have taken hold of educated India as no other movements yet have done. They appeal directly to patriotic pride and the new national feeling, or, more truly, are primarily shaped thereby. Founded in 1875, the [=A]ryas are the most rapidly increasing of the new Indian sects. In 1901 they numbered 92,419, an increase in the decade of 131 per cent. What ideas have such an attraction for the educated middle class, for to that class the [=A]ryas almost exclusively belong? In certain parts of the United Provinces and the Punjab, it seems as much a matter of course that one who has received a modern education should be an [=A]rya, as that in certain other provinces he should be a supporter of the Congress. [Sidenote: Foundation ideas of the [=A]ryas--two.] The prime motive ideas are two. One is the result of modern education and of Christian influence, namely, a consciousness that in certain grosser aspects, such as polytheism, idolatry, animal sacrifices, caste, and the seclusion of women, the present-day Hinduism cannot be defended. Those things the [=A]ryas repudiate,--all honour to them for their protest in behalf of reason, although in respect of caste and the seclusion of women, their theory is said to be considerably ahead of their practice. In the same modern spirit every [=A]rya member pledges himself to endeavour to diffuse knowledge; and a college and a number of schools are carried on by [=A]ryas in the Punjab. Repudiating all those current customs, of course the [=A]ryas have parted company with the orthodox Hindus. [=A]rya preachers denounce the corruptions of Hinduism, and in turn, what may be called a Great Council of orthodox Hindus has pronounced condemnation on the [=A]ryas. At an assembly of about four hundred Hindu pandits, held in 1881 in the Senate House of the University in Calcutta, the views of the founder of the [=A]ryas, Dyanand Saraswati, were condemned as heterodox.[53] The second motive idea is the new national consciousness, the new patriotic feeling of Indians. The patriotic feeling is manifest in the name; the [=A]ryas identify themselves with the [=A]ryans, the Indo-European invaders of India, from whom the higher castes of Hindus claim to be descended. Virtually, we may say, the [=A]ryas claim by their name to be the pure original Hindus. [Sidenote: Infallibility of the Vedas the leading tenet at first.] To the first influence we may assign one of the chief doctrines of the [=A]ryas, namely, their monotheism. Others of their doctrines belong to the theology and philosophy of Hinduism, _e.g._ the ancient doctrine of the transmigration of souls, and the doctrine of the three eternal entities, God, the Soul, and Matter, the doctrinal significance of which we shall have occasion to consider hereafter. These three uncreated existences constitute one of the doctrines of the Joga system of Hindu philosophy. To the second, or patriotic, influence, we may assign especially the fundamental tenet of the founder of the [=A]ryas, namely, the infallibility of the original Scriptures, the four Vedas, given, as he alleged, to Indian sages at the creation of the world. "Back to the Vedas!" we may say, is the cry of the [=A]ryas. In effect, the cry is tantamount to the plea that the errors of Hinduism are only later accretions; and be it acknowledged that no sanction can be drawn from the Vedas for the prohibition of widow marriages, for the general prevalence of child marriages, for the tyranny of caste, for idolatry and several other objectionable customs.[54] Among the [=A]ryas, therefore, we have the championship of things Indian in its crudest form. Ludicrous are the attempts to rationalise all the statements of the Vedas, and to find in them all modern science and modern ideas, pouring new wine into old wine-skins, in perfect innocence of "the higher criticism." Thus while animal sacrifices are proscribed by the [=A]ryas, they are everywhere assumed in the Vedas, and two of the hymns in the Rigveda are for use at the sacrifice of a horse (a[s']wamedha).[55] According to an [=A]rya commentator, however, a[s']wamedha is to be translated not "sacrifice of a horse," but destruction of ignorance,--sacrifice of an ass, as one may jestingly say.[56] Offerings for deceased parents, prescribed in detail in the Vedas, are similarly rationalised into kind treatment of parents in old age. The ancient and modern condemnation of eating beef was rationalised by the [=A]ryas as follows: To kill a cow is as bad as to kill many men. For suppose a cow to have a lifetime of fourteen or fifteen years. Her calves, let us say, would be six cow calves and six bull calves. The milk of the cow and her six cow calves during her natural lifetime would give food for a day to an army of 154,440 men, according to the calculation of the founder of the [=A]ryas, while the labour of the other six calves as oxen would give a full meal to an army of 256,000 men. Therefore to kill a cow, etc., Q.E.D. Modern democracy, the Copernican system of astronomy, a knowledge of the American continent, of steamships, and of the telegraph are all discovered by Dyanand in the Vedas, as no doubt wireless telegraphy and radium would have been, had death not cut short, in 1883, the discoveries of the founder of the [=A]ryas.[57] [Sidenote: The modern leaven still affecting the [=A]ryas.] These specimens of [=A]rya exposition of the Vedas I have given with no intention of scoffing, although we may be permitted a laugh. I desire to show the conflict of modern ideas and the new patriotic feeling, and how the latter has affected the religious and theological position of the [=A]ryas. It is the prominence of the patriotic feeling in many branches of the Sam[=a]j that has led some observers to describe it as less of a religious than a political organisation, anti-British and anti-Mahomedan and anti-Christian. But the opponents of the Sam[=a]j are always associated by [=A]ryas with rival religions; _keranis, kuranis,_ and _puranis_ is their echoing list of their opponents,--namely, Christians _(kerani_ being a corruption of _Christiani_), and believers in the Koran, and believers in the Purans, _i.e._ the later Hindu books. And that there is much more than political feeling is apparent in their latest developments. The leaven of modern ideas has now led to the rise of a party among the [=A]ryas which is prepared to stand by reason out and out, and repudiate the founder's bondage to the Vedas and his _à priori_ expositions. Popularly, the new party is known as the "flesh-eaters." At present the Sam[=a]j is about equally divided, but the more rationalistic section comprises most of the new-educated members. Should the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j retain, as their chief doctrinal positions, the perfection of pure original Hinduism and opposition to every other ism, no great foresight or historical knowledge is required to predict for the [=A]ryas, despite their vigour, a speedy lapse from their reforming zeal into the position simply of a new Hindu caste, reverting gradually to type. Their fate is still in the balance. [Sidenote: The Bombay [=A]rya Sam[=a]j.] The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j in Bombay does not repudiate caste. One of their principles is that no member is expected to violate any of his own special caste rules. Why, one cannot help asking, this invertebrate character of the new Indian religious associations in Western India? It is patent that what the Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes of Western India are to the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j of Bengal, the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j in Bombay is to that in the Punjab and the United Provinces--only feeble echoes. Bombay Indians lead their countrymen in commercial enterprise, and in political questions they take as keen an interest as any of the Indian races. With hesitation and with apologies to Parsee friends, we ask whether it is the numerous Parsees in Bombay who have made their fellow-westerns only worldly-wise. For to great commercial enterprise, the Parsees add a stubborn conservatism in religion. [Sidenote: The Theosophical Society and the national feeling.] IV. _The Theosophists_ are the only other new religious organisation whom we can notice.--Them too the new patriotic feeling has very largely shaped. Founded in America in 1875, the very year in which the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j was established in Bombay, the Theosophical Society professed to be "the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of Humanity," representing and excluding no religious creed and interfering with no man's caste. On the other hand, somewhat inconsistently, it professed to be a society to promote the study of [=A]ryan and other Eastern literature, religion, and sciences, and to vindicate their importance; and it appealed for support, amongst others, "to all who loved India and would see a revival of her ancient glories, intellectual and spiritual." At the same time the society professed "to investigate the hidden mysteries of nature and the psychical powers latent in man." The society naturally gravitated towards India, and by 1884 had 87 branches in India and Ceylon, against 12 in all the rest of the world. Its career might easily have been predicted. Inevitably, when transplanted to India, about the year 1878, such a society came under the spell of the new national consciousness already referred to. For a time Theosophy shared with the political Congress the first place in the interest of New India, and crowds of educated Indians still assemble whenever Mrs. Besant, now the leading Theosophist, is to speak. One of the rules of the society, however, saved it from the descent into politics that has overtaken the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j and tainted it as a religious movement. Rule XVI (1884) forbids members, as such, to interfere in politics, and declares expulsion to be the penalty for violation of the rule. [Sidenote: [=A]rya period of the Theosophical Society.] Consistently enough, when the society was transplanted to India, it entered into partnership with the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j; for two years, indeed, Madame Blavatsky, the first leader of the Theosophists, had been corresponding from America with the founder of the [=A]ryas. The [=A]rya tenet of the infallibility of the original Hindu Scriptures needed no reconciliation with the Theosophist declaration of the ancient spiritual glories of India. But the [=A]ryas are also religious reformers, while, as enlightened Hindus now complain, the Theosophists are more Hindu than the Hindus. After three years, in 1881, difference arose on the question of the personality of God. The [=A]ryas, we have seen, are monotheist; the Theosophical Society, we shall see, is identified with brahmanical pantheism.[58] [Sidenote: Buddhist period of the Theosophical Society.] [Sidenote: Pro-Hindu period of the Theosophical Society.] The Buddhist period of the Theosophical Society, which came next, is best known to general readers, but is only an episode in its history. In the early "eighties," we find the society pro-Buddhist, and apparently identifying _Buddhism_ with "the ancient glories of India, spiritual and intellectual," that the society was professedly desirous to revive. We associate the period with the publication of _Esoteric Buddhism_, by Mr. A.P. Sinnett, one of the society's leaders, and with Madame Blavatsky's claim to be in spiritual communication with Mahatmas [great spirits] in Thibet, the Buddhist land, now robbed of its mystery by the British expedition of 1904. Madame Blavatsky claimed to be receiving letters carried straight from Thibet by some air-borne Ariel. The discovery in 1884 of Madame Blavatsky's trickery ended the exhibition of "psychical powers," and also apparently the Buddhist period of the society. That the society itself survived the exposure is proof that it had a deeper root than any mere cult of Buddhism or Spiritualism could give. Its appeal, as we have said, was to the new patriotic feeling in the sphere of religion. To Madame Blavatsky succeeded Mrs. Besant as leading spirit, and to the cult of Buddhism again succeeded the glorification of ancient Hinduism and now also apologies of Hinduism as it is; and to Madras as chief centre of Theosophy succeeded Benares, metropolis of Hinduism. Mrs. Besant proclaimed herself the reincarnation of some ancient Hindu pandit, and called upon Hindus to devote themselves to the study of the Sacred Sanscrit. Supported by many well-to-do Hindus, in 1900 she founded a college at Benares in which Hinduism might be lived and inculcated as Christianity is inculcated in the Indian Missionary Colleges. In the beginning of 1904 a great figure of the goddess Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of Learning, was being erected in the grounds of the College. The subordination of the Indian Theosophical Society, at least in the person of Mrs. Besant, to the pro-Hindu national movement may be pronounced complete. In the sphere of religion, this new Indian consciousness which has enveloped the Theosophists is a force opposed to change and reform. The Theosophical Society, which at the outset professed to be the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood, is now fostering caste and Hindu exclusiveness, the antitheses of the idea of humanity. Yet, as we shall see, even in the text-books of Hindu Religion prepared for use in the Hindu College, Benares, Christian thought is not difficult to discover. And its meed of praise must not be withheld from the attempts of Theosophists and the Hindu College, Benares, to rationalise current Hindu customs and to reduce the chaos of Hindu beliefs to some system that will satisfy New India. Fain would the Theosophists propound, as we have already noted in the chapter, "New Social Ideas," that caste should be determined by character and occupation, not by birth. That being impossible, they would fain see the myriad of castes reduced to the original four named in Manu. To quote again the summing up regarding the caste system in the chief Hindu text-book referred to--"Unless the abuses which are interwoven with caste can be eliminated, its doom is certain." That is much from the leaders of the Hindu reaction. In Hinduism they may often see only what they wish to see, but they are not wholly blinded. The Theosophists, it should be noted, do not figure as such in the Census. Indian Christians, Brahmas, and [=A]ryas have all taken up a definite new position in respect of religion, and ticket themselves as such; the Theosophists are now at least mainly the apologists of things as they are, and require no name to differentiate themselves. CHAPTER XII THE NEW MAHOMEDANS [Sidenote: The national anti-British feeling not manifested among Mahomedans.] [Sidenote: Mahomedan religious movements.] The Mahomedans, the other great religious community of India,[59] have been far less stirred by the new era than the Hindus, whom hitherto we have been chiefly considering. Only a small number of Mahomedans belong to the professional class, so that modern education and the awakening have not reached Mahomedans in the same degree as Hindus. Quite outnumbered also by Hindus, they identify themselves politically with the British rather than with the Hindus, so that as a body they do not support the Congress, the great Indian Political Association, and have no anti-British consciousness. Mahomedan solidarity is strong enough, but it is religious not national, and so it is only in the religious sphere that we find the new era telling upon Mahomedans. Two small religious movements may be noted curiously parallel to the [=A]rya and Br[=a]hma movements among Hindus, and suggesting the operation of like influences. [Sidenote: The Wahabbi movement analogous to [=A]ryaism.] As the [=A]ryas preach a return to the pure original Hinduism of the Vedas, the first Mahomedan movement inculcates a return to the pure original Mahomedanism of the Koran. In particular, it urges a casting off of the Hindu customs and superstitions that the Indian converts to Mahomedanism have frequently retained,--the offerings to the dead, for example. In the first instance, the movement came from a seventeenth century Arabian sect, the Wahabbis, but the movement reached India only about the year 1820, and therefore is a feature of the period we are surveying. The movement belongs specially to Bengal and the United Provinces north-west of Bengal, and is known by a variety of local names, Wahabbi and other. Significant, as supporting what has been said regarding the absence of anti-British feeling among present-day Mahomedans, is the fact that in the first stages of the Wahabbi movement, both in Eastern and Western Bengal, the duty of war upon infidels--on the British and the Hindus in this case--was a prominent doctrine of the crusade. In Mahomedan language, India was _Daru-l-harb_ or a Mansion of War. In these later years, on the contrary, it is generally recognised by Mahomedans that India under the British rule is not _Daru-l-harb_, but _Daru-l-Islam_, or a Mansion of Islamism, in which war on infidels is not incumbent.[60] It may be noted that the decree, recently issued from Mecca, that British territory is Daru-l-Islam, can only refer to India. [Sidenote: The Aligarh movement analogous to Brahmaism.] Exactly like the Brahmas, the other new Mahomedan sect, in the modern rational spirit, have refined away their faith to a theism or deism purged of the supernatural. Mahomed's inspiration and miracles are rejected. These represent the modern rationalising spirit in religion; reason is their standard, and "reason alone is a sufficient guide." According to Sir Syed Ahmad, founder of the movement, "Islam is Nature, and Nature Islam." Hence the sect is sometimes called the Naturis,[61] or followers of _Natural_ Religion, the adoption of the English word identifying them again with the Br[=a]hmas, who are essentially the outcome of English education and Christian influence among Hindus. The Naturis, the modernised Mahomedans, have as their headquarters the Mahomedan Anglo-Oriental College at Aligarh in the United Provinces. It ought to be said that they also claim to be going back to pure original Mahomedanism before it was corrupted by the "Fathers" of Islam. CHAPTER XIII HINDU DOCTRINES--HOW THEY CHANGE "As men's minds receive new ideas, laying aside the old and effete, the world advances. Society rests upon them; mighty revolutions spring from them; institutions crumble before their onward march." --_Extract from Mr. Kiddle, an American writer, which occurs in a letter "received" by Madame Blavatsky from Koot Humi in Thibet_. [Sidenote: Will the new religious organisations survive?] The four new religious organisations described in the preceding chapters may or may not survive--who can tell? What would they become, or what would become of them, in the event, say, of the great nations of Europe issuing from some deadly conflict so balanced that India and the East had to be let alone, entirely cut off? The Indian Christian Church, hardly yet acclimatised so far as it is the creation of modern efforts, would she survive? The English sweet-pea, sown in India, produced its flowers, but not at first any vigorous self-propagating seed. The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, graft of West on East, and still sterile as an intellectual coterie, how would it fare, cut off from its Western nurture? The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j--what, in that event, would be her resistance to the centripetal force that we have noted in her blind patriotism? The reactionary Theosophists--after the provocative action had ceased--what of them? Would not the Indian jungle, which they are trying to reduce to a well-ordered garden of indigenous fruits, speedily lapse to jungle again? We shall not attempt to answer our own questions directly, but proceed to the second part of our programme sketched on p. 122. How far then have Christian and modern religious ideas been _naturalised_ in New India, whether within the new religious organisations or without? Whatever the fate of the organisations, these naturalised ideas might be expected to survive. [Sidenote: Modification of doctrines.] [Sidenote: Elements of Christianity being naturalised in India--three.] We recall the statements made on ample authority in an earlier chapter, that certain aspects of Christianity are attracting attention in India and proving themselves possessed of inherent force and attractiveness. These, the dynamical elements of Christianity, were specially the idea of God the Father, the person of Jesus Christ, and the Christian conception of the Here and Hereafter. For although Hinduism declares a social boycott against any Hindu who transports his person over the sea to Europe, within India itself the Hindu mind is in close contact with such modern religious ideas. The wall built round the garden will not shut out the crows. Indeed, like the ancient Athenian, the modern Hindu takes the keenest interest in new religious ideas. To comprehend the impression that such new religious ideas are making, we must realise in some measure the background upon which they are cast, both that part of it which the new ideas are superseding and the remainder which constitutes their new setting and gives them their significance. In brief, what is the present position of India in regard to religious belief; and in particular, what are the prevailing beliefs about God? [Sidenote: Indian beliefs about God--Polytheists; Theists; Pantheists.] A rough classification of the theological belief of the Hindus of the present day would be--the multitude are polytheists; the new-educated are monotheists; the brahmanically educated are professed pantheists. Rough as it is, we must keep the classification before us in trying to estimate the influence upon the Indian mind of the Christian idea of God. From that fundamental classification let us try to understand the Hindu position more fully. [Sidenote: No one doctrine is distinctive of Hinduism.] Let it be realised, in the first place, how _undefined_ is the Hindu's religious position. From the rudest polytheism up to pantheism, and even to an atheistic philosophy, all is within the Hindu pale, like fantastic cloud shapes and vague mist and empty ether, all within the same sky. To the student of Hinduism, then, the first fact that emerges is that there are no distinctive Hindu doctrines. No one doctrine is distinctive of Hinduism. There is no canonical book, nowhere any stated body of doctrine that might be called the Hindu creed. The only common measure of Hindus is that they employ brahmans in their religious ceremonies, and even that does not hold universally. A saying of their own is, "On two main points all sects agree--the sanctity of the cow and the depravity of women." In contrast to Hindus in this respect of the absence of a standard creed, Mahomedans call themselves _kitabi_ or possessing a book, since in the Koran they do possess such a canon. In the words of Mahomed, Christians and Jews likewise are "the peoples of the book," and have a defined theological position. But regarding Hindus, again, we note there is no doctrinal pale, no orthodoxy or heterodoxy. "We Europeans," writes Sir Alfred Lyall regarding Hinduism, "can scarcely comprehend an ancient religion, still alive and powerful, which is a mere troubled sea without shore or visible horizon."[62] In these days of opportunist denunciation of creeds, the amorphous state of creedless Hinduism may be noted. The experience of the late Dr. John Henry Barrows, President of the Parliament of Religions at Chicago in 1893, may be quoted in confirmation of the absence of a Hindu creed. After he had won the confidence of India's representatives as their host at Chicago, and had secured for them a unique audience there, being himself desirous to write on Hinduism, he wrote to over a hundred prominent Hindus requesting each to indicate what in his view were some of the leading tenets of Hinduism. He received only one reply. [Sidenote: Pantheism, Maya, and Transmigration may be called Hindu doctrines.] No one doctrine is distinctive of Hinduism. It is an extreme misleading statement, nevertheless, to say as some Western writers have done, and at least one Hindu writer,[63] that Hinduism is not a religion at all, but only a social system. There are several doctrines to which a great many Hindus would at once conventionally subscribe, and these I venture to call Hindu doctrines. In theological conversations with Hindus, three doctrines very frequently show themselves as a theological background. These are, first, Pantheism; secondly, Transmigration and Final Absorption into Deity; and, thirdly, Maya, i.e. Delusion, or the Unreality of the phenomena of Sense and Consciousness. I find a recent pro-Hindu writer making virtually the same selection. In the ninth century, she writes, Sankarachargya, the great upholder of Pantheism, "took up and defined the [now] current catch-words--maya, karma [the doctrine of works, or of re-birth according to desert], reincarnation, and left the terminology of Hinduism what it is to-day."... "But," she also adds, "they are nowhere and in no sense regarded as essential."[64] Naturally, then, the inquiry that we have set ourselves to will at the same time be an inquiry how far Christian thought has affected these three main Hindu doctrines of Pantheism, Transmigration, and Maya. [Sidenote: Commingling of contradictory beliefs--] [Sidenote: Polytheism with Monotheism.] Nor is it to be imagined that the Hindu polytheism, theism, and pantheism are distinguishable religious strata. "Uniformity and consistency of creeds are inventions of the European mind," says a cynical writer already quoted. "Hinduism bristles with contradictions, inconsistencies, and surprises," says Sir M. Monier Williams. The common people are indeed polytheists, at different seasons of the year and on different social occasions worshipping different deities, male or female, and setting out to this or that shrine, as the touts of the rival shrines have persuaded them. Nevertheless, an intelligent member of the humbler ranks is always ready to acknowledge that there is really only one God, of whom the so-called gods are only variations in name. Or his theory may be that there is one supreme God, under whom the popular deities are only departmental heads; for the presence of the great central British Government in India is a standing suggestion of monotheism. The officer who drew up the _Report of the Census of India_, 1901 (p. 363) gives an instance of this commingling of monotheism and polytheism. "An orderly," he writes, "into whose belief I was inquiring, described the relation between the supreme God and the Devata [minor Gods] as that between an official and his orderlies, and another popular simile often used is that of the Government and the district officer."[65] The polytheism of the masses may thus blend with the theism which is the ordinary intellectual standpoint of the educated classes. [Sidenote: Monotheism with Polytheism.] Rising to the next stage, namely, the theism of the educated class--the blending of their theism with the polytheism of the masses is illustrated in the July number of the magazine of the Hindu College, Benares, the headquarters of the late Hindu revival and of the pantheistic philosophy. In answer to an inquirer's question--"Is there only one God?" the reply is, "There is one supreme Lord or Ishvara of the universe, and there are minor deities or devas who intelligently guide the various processes of nature in their different departments in willing obedience to Ishvara." The Hindu College, Benares, be it remembered, is primarily one of the modern colleges whence the modern new-Indians come. [Sidenote: Monotheism with Pantheism.] Again, the modern theism of the educated, in like manner, very readily passes into the pantheism of the philosophers and of those educated in Sanscrit, which I have described as part of the accepted Hindu orthodoxy. For, whatever its origin, an observer finds the pantheistic idea emerge all over educated India. The late Sir M. Monier Williams speaks of pantheism as a main root of the original Indo-Aryan creed, which has "branched out into an endless variety of polytheistic superstitions." Whether that be so, or whether, as is now more generally believed, the polytheism is the aboriginal Indian plant into which the pantheistic idea has been grafted as communities have become brahmanised, the pantheistic idea very readily presents itself to the mind of the educated Hindu. In any discussion regarding human responsibility the idea crops up that _all_ is God, "There is One only, and no second." We can scarcely realise how readily it comes to the middle-class Hindu's lips that God is all, and that there can be no such thing as sin. The pantheists are thus no separate sect from the theists, any more than the theists are from the polytheists. The same man, if a member of the educated class, will be polytheist in his established domestic religion, theist in his personal standpoint and general profession, and probably a pantheist in a controversy regarding moral responsibility, or should he set himself to write about religion. [Sidenote: Illustration of polytheism, monotheism, and pantheism commingling.] Take a statement of the mingling of polytheism, monotheism, and pantheism from the extreme south of India, a thousand miles away from Benares. "Though those men all affirmed," we read, "that there is only one God, they admitted that they each worshipped several. They saw nothing inconsistent in this. Just as the air is in everything, so God is in everything, therefore in the various symbols. And as our king has diverse representative Viceroys and Governors to rule over his dominions in his name, so the Supreme has these subdeities, less in power and only existing by force of Himself, and He, being all pervasive, can be worshipped under their forms."[66] [Sidenote: Pure pantheism rare.] At the top of all is the pure pantheist, a believer in the illusion of the senses, and generally though not always an ascetic. For life is not worth living if it is merely an illusion, and the illusion must be dispelled, and the world of the senses renounced. If "father and brother, etc., have no actual entity," said the reformer Raja Rammohan Roy [1829] when combating pantheism, "they consequently deserve no real affection, and the sooner we escape from them and leave the world the better." So the pantheist is generally an ascetic cut off from the world to be consistent in his pantheism. Yet again, we repeat that such pure pantheists are very rare, and that "in India forms of pantheism, theism, and polytheism are ever interwoven with each other."[67] To one familiar with India, such a medley is neither inconceivable nor improbable; the debatable question only is, what sufficient account of the cause thereof can be given. Why is it that Hindu doctrine has never set? Why this incongruity between doctrine and domestic practice? Why this double-mindedness in the same educated individual? Much might be said in the endeavour to account for these characteristic features of India, the despair of the Christian missionary. I confine myself to the bearing of the question upon the influence of Christian ideas, and particularly of Christian theism. [Sidenote: Fluidity of Hindu thought; rigidity of Hindu practice.] For the student of this special aspect of Hinduism a second pertinent fact here emerges, namely, that Hindu practice is much more established than Hindu doctrine. The unchangeableness of Hindu ritual is not a new idea; it is its bearing on doctrine that has not been clearly considered. There _is_, then, a distinctly recognised Hindu orthodoxy in manners and worship, at least for each Hindu community, while there is no orthodoxy in doctrine. The broad distinctive marks of Hindu practice, we may repeat, are the social usage of caste, and the employment of brahmans in religious ritual. With ideas, then, thus fluid and practice thus rigid, it will be easily understood that Christian and modern ideas have made much greater headway in India than Christian customs and modes of worship. The mind of educated India has been Christianised to a much greater extent than the religious or domestic practices have been. Perhaps it might be said that all down the centuries of Christian Church history, opinion has often been in advance of worship and the social code, that social and religious conventionalities have lagged behind belief. If so, it is the marked conservatism in ceremonial that is noteworthy in India. While Hindu beliefs are dissolving or dropping out of the mind, Hindu practices are successfully resisting the solvent influences or only slowly being transformed. [Sidenote: More progress towards Christian thought than Christian practice.] It is not too much to say that the educated Hindu does not regard a fixed creed as a part of his Hinduism, but rather boasts of the doctrinal comprehensiveness of his religion. He joyfully lives in a ferment of religious thought, surrendering to the doctrine of a satisfying teacher, but the idea of creed subscription, or a doctrinal stockade, is utterly foreign to his nature. For him the standards are the fixed social usages and the brahmanical ritual. Hear a Hindu himself on the matter, the historian of _Hindu Civilisation during British Rule_ [i. 60]: "Hinduism has ever been and still is as liberal and tolerant in matters of religious belief as it is illiberal and intolerant in matters of social conduct." In a recent pamphlet[68] an Anglo-Indian civilian gives his evidence clearly, if too baldly, of the fixity of practice and the mobility of belief. "The educated Hindu," he writes, "has largely lost his belief in the old myths about the gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon, and has learned to smile at many of the superstitions of his uneducated countrymen. But Hinduism as a religion that tells a man not only what he shall eat, what he shall drink, and wherewithal he shall be clothed, but tells him how to perform innumerable acts that men of other nations never think have anything to do with religion at all, Hinduism as an intricate social code, stands largely unaffected by the flood of Western education that has been poured upon the country. He instances a brahman, one of his own subordinates, college-bred and English-speaking, who, when away from home with his superior officer, had to cook his food for himself, because the brahman servant he had with him was of a lower division than his own, and he could not afford to hire a man of his own status among brahmans." [Sidenote: Thought independent of act.] We ask again for the cause of this progress in thought and stagnation in practice. In India, creed and practice go their own way; thinking is independent of acting. Listen to the naive standpoint assumed in the Confession or Covenant of a Theistic Association established in Madras in 1864. We read in article 3 that the person being initiated makes this declaration: "In the meantime, I shall observe the ceremonies now in use, but only where indispensable. I shall go through such ceremonies, where they are not conformable to pure Theism, as mere matters of routine, destitute of all religious significance--as the lifeless remains of a superstition which has passed away." And again in article 4: "I shall never endeavour to deceive anyone as to my religious opinions." In the revision of 1871, both articles were dropped, but in the earlier form there was no attempt to disguise that thought was independent of act. The familiar figure of Buddha in meditation, seated cross-legged and motionless, with vacant introspective eyes, oblivious of the outer world, is a type of the separation of thought from act that seems natural to India or to the Indian mind, type also of the independence of each thinker. The thinker secludes himself; "the mind is its own place." To become a thinker signifies to become an ascetic recluse; even modern enlightenment often removes an Indian from fellow-feeling with his kind. [Sidenote: No Theological Faculties.] How is it so? I say nothing of the climate of tropical India as a contributory cause. The way in which Hindu learning was and is transmitted, is itself almost sufficient explanation of the independence and the fluidity of religious doctrine. Hinduism has no recognised Theological Faculties as training schools for the priesthood. _Buddhist_ monasteries of the early Christian centuries we do read of, institutions corresponding to our universities, to which crowds of students resorted, and where many subjects were taught; but the _Hindu_ lore is transmitted otherwise. Beside or in his humble dwelling, the learned Hindu pandit receives and teaches and shares his poverty with his four, five, or it may be twenty disciples, who are to be the depositaries of his lore, and in their turn its transmitters. Such an institution is a Sanscrit tol, where ten to twenty years of the formative period of a young pandit's life may be spent. Without printed books and libraries and intercourse with kindred minds, there may be as many schools of thought as there are teachers. And all this study, be it remembered, has no necessary connection with the priesthood. Tols have no necessary connection with temples, or temples with tols. Hereditary priests are independent of Theological Schools. Recently, indeed, in Bengal these tols have been taken up by the Education Department, and their studies are being directed to certain fixed subjects. [Sidenote: The twofold priesthood--religious teachers and celebrants.] [Sidenote: How doctrine moves independently of ritual.] Another feature of the organisation of Hinduism, hitherto insufficiently noticed, has a still closer connection with this freedom of thought and fixity of practice. The Indian mind is open to new religious ideas, while the religious customs of India remain almost unaffected, _because_ the priesthood of Hinduism is two-fold. One set of priests, called purohits, are merely the celebrants at worship and ceremonies; the second set, called gurus, theoretically more highly honoured, are or were the religious teachers of the people. Among Mahomedans there is a somewhat similar two-fold priesthood, although among them doctrine is not divorced from religious worship and ritual. But in Christianity we have not specialised so far. A Christian clergyman, as we know, holds both offices; he is both the religious teacher and the celebrant at sacraments, etc. In Hinduism, with these two sets of priests entirely separate, it is evident that a change may take place in the creed without the due performance of the Hindu ritual being affected. A striking instance of the divergence of guru from purohit is given by Sir Monier Williams in another connection. In India, he says, no temples are more common than those containing the symbol of the God Siva--there are said to be thirty million symbols of Siva scattered over India--yet among gurus there is scarcely one in a hundred whose vocation is to impart the mantra (the saving text) of Siva.[69] It has already been explained how the creed of Hinduism is dissolving while its practices remain; to restate the fact otherwise now--The hereditary purohits continue to be employed many times a year in a Hindu household, as worship, births, deaths, marriages, and social ceremonies recur, but the hereditary gurus as religious teachers have become practically defunct.[70] Literally, the _one_ duty of a guru has come to be to communicate once in a lifetime to each Hindu his saving mantra or Sanscrit text; periodically thereafter, the guru may visit his clients to collect what dues they may be pleased to give. The place of religious teacher in Hinduism is vacant, and Christianity and modern thought are taking the vacant place. The modern middle-class Hindu is in need of a guru. For mere purohits, as such, he has a small and a declining reverence; but holy men, as such, his instinct is to honour--one of the pleasing features of Hinduism. We can understand it all when we remember how in the Christian Church, in a crisis like that from which the Church is now emerging, many come to be married by the clergyman who have practically lapsed from the faith. CHAPTER XIV THE NEW THEISM "The idea of God is the productive and conservative principle of civilisation; as is the religion of a community, so will be in the main its morals, its laws, its general history." _Vico_ and _Michelet_ (Prof. Flint's _Philosophy of History_). [Sidenote: Polytheism receding before Monotheism.] In some measure, then, we understand how Hindu polytheism, theism, and pantheism are related to each other; we realise in some measure the openness of the Indian mind, and we now ask ourselves how far the Christian doctrine of God has impressed itself upon that open mind. Of the polytheistic masses it has already been pointed out that intelligent individuals will now readily acknowledge that there is truly one God only. Further, that the polytheistic idolatry which is now associated with the masses once extended far higher up the scale, is evident to anyone reading the observations made early in the nineteenth century. Early travellers in India, like the French traveller Tavernier of the seventeenth century, speak of the Indians without distinction as idolaters, contrasting them with the Mahomedans of India. In the _Calcutta Gazette_ of 1816, Raja Rammohan Roy, the learned opponent of Hindu idolatry, the Erasmus of the new era, is called the _discoverer_ of theism in the sacred books of the Hindus. Rammohan Roy himself disclaimed the title, but writing in 1817, he speaks of "the system of idolatry into which Hindus are now completely sunk."[71] Many learned brahmans, he says in the same pamphlet, are perfectly aware of the absurdity of idol worship, indicating that the knowledge belonged only to the scholars. His own object, he said, was to declare _the unity_ of God as the real thought of the Hindu Scriptures. Across India, on the Bombay side, we find clear evidence of the state of opinion among the middle class in 1830, from the report of a public debate on the Christian and Hindu religions. The antagonists were, on the one side, the Scottish missionary Dr. John Wilson and others, and on the other side two leading officials of the highest Government Appellate Court, men who would now rank as eminent representatives of the educated class. One of these demanded proof that there was only one God.[72] [Sidenote: The beginning of the nineteenth century.] [Sidenote: Monotheistic belief a broadening wedge between pantheism and polytheism.] Returning to Bengal, it would seem from Rammohan Roy's evidence that in 1820 the standpoint of the learned at that time was exactly what we have called the standpoint of an intelligent individual among the masses to-day, namely, a plea that the multitude of gods were agents of the one Supreme God. "Debased and despicable," he writes, "as is the belief of the Hindus in three hundred and thirty millions of gods, they (the learned) pretend to reconcile this persuasion with the doctrine of the unity of God, alleging that the three hundred and thirty millions of gods are subordinate agents assuming various offices and preserving the harmony of the universe under one Godhead, as innumerable rays issue from one sun."[73] Turning to testimony of a different kind, we find Macaulay speaking about the polytheistic idolatry he knew between 1834 and 1838. "The great majority of the population," he writes, "consists of idolaters." Macaulay's belief was that idolatry would not survive many years of English education, and we shall now take note how in the century the sphere of idolatry and polytheism has been limited. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, we may now say that Indian Hindu society consisted of a vast polytheistic mass with a very thin, an often invisible, film of pantheists on the top. The nineteenth century of enlightenment and contact with Christianity has seen the wide acceptance of the monotheistic conception by the new-educated India. The founding of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j or Theistic Association in 1828 by Rammohan Roy has already been called the commencement of an indigenous theistic church outside the transplanted theism of Indian Christianity and Indian Mahomedanism. Strictly rendered, the divine name _Brahm[=a]_, adopted by the Br[=a]hmas, expresses the pantheistic idea that God is the _One without a second_, not the theistic idea of one personal God; but what we are concerned with is, that it was in the monotheistic sense that Rammohan Roy adopted the term. To him Brahm[=a] was a personal God, with whom men spoke in prayer and praise. As a matter of fact the pantheistic formula, "One only, no second," occurs in the creeds of all three new monotheistic bodies, Br[=a]hmas, Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jists, and [=A]ryas, but in the same monotheistic sense. The original Sanscrit of the formula (Ekam eva advityam), three words from the Chh[=a]ndogya Upanishad, is regularly intoned (droned) in the public worship of Br[=a]hmas. Like a wedge between the polytheism of the masses below and the pantheism of the brahmanically educated above, there came in this naturalised theism, a body of opinion ever widening as modern education enlarges its domain. It is one of the _events_ of Indian history. Now, pantheistic in argument and polytheistic in domestic practices as educated Hindus still are, they never call themselves pantheists, and would resent being called polytheists; they call themselves theists. "Every intelligent man is now a monotheist," writes the late Dr. John Murdoch of Madras, an experienced observer.[74] "Many" (of the educated Hindus), says a Hindu writer, "--I may say most of them--are in reality monotheists, but monotheists of a different type from those who belong to the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j. They are, if we may so call them, passive monotheists.... The influence of the Hindu environment is as much perceptible in them as that of the Christian environment."[75] Professor Max Müller and Sir M. Monier Williams are of the same opinion. "The educated classes look with contempt upon idolatry.... A complete disintegration of ancient faiths is in progress in the upper strata of society. Most of the ablest thinkers become pure Theists or Unitarians."[76] That change took place within the nineteenth century, a testimony to the force of Christian theism in building up belief, and to the power of the modern Indian atmosphere to dissipate irrational and unpractical beliefs. For, in contact with the practical instincts of Europe, the pantheistic denial of one's own personality--a disbelief in one's own consciousness, the thought that there is no thinker--was bound to give way, as well as the irrational polytheism. Very unphilosophical may have been Lord Byron's attitude to the idealism of Berkeley: "When Bishop Berkeley said there was no matter, 'twas no matter what he said." But that represents the modern atmosphere which New India is breathing, and it is fatal to pantheism. [Sidenote: The spread of monotheism traced.] It is interesting to note how monotheism spread. The Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j of Madras was founded in 1864, theistic like the mother society, the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j of Bengal. Three years later the first of similar bodies on the west side of India was founded, the Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes or Prayer Associations of Bombay. Their very name, the _Prayer_ Associations, implies the dual conception of God and Man, for the pantheistic conception does not admit of the idea of prayer any more than it admits of the other dualistic conceptions of revelation, of worship, and of sin. These movements, again, were followed in the United Provinces and the North-West of India by the founding of the _[=A]rya Sam[=a]j_, or, as I have called it, the Vedic Theistic Association, also professedly theistic. Polytheism and pantheism alike, the [=A]ryas repudiate. For the gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon, the founder of the [=A]ryas declared there was no recognition in the Vedas. Demonstrable or not, that is the [=A]rya position. The rejection of pantheism by such a body is noteworthy, for pantheism is identified with India and the Vedanta, the most widely accepted of the six systems of Indian philosophy, and the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j is nothing if not patriotic. It is above all pro-Indian and pro-Vedic. Their direct repudiation of pantheism may not be apparent to Western minds. [=A]ryas predicate three eternal entities, God, the Soul, and Matter,[77] and this declaration of the reality of the soul and of matter is a direct denial of the pantheistic conception, its very antithesis. One pantheistic formula is: "Brahma is reality, the world unreality" (Brahma satyam, jagan mithy[=a]). The Pantheist must declare, and does declare in his doctrine of Maya or Delusion, that the soul and matter are illusions. [Sidenote: The progress of monotheism seen in the _Text-book of Hindu Religion_.] A very striking illustration of the present insufficiency of the pantheistic conception of God and of the movement of educated India towards theism is to be found where one would least expect it--in connection with the Hindu Revival. In 1903 an _Advanced Text-book of Hindu Religion and Ethics_ was published by the Board of Trustees of the Hindu College, Benares, a body representing the movement for a revival of Hinduism. It was a heroic undertaking to reconcile, in the one Text-book, Vedic, philosophic, and popular Hinduism, to harmonise all the six schools of philosophy, to embrace all the aspects of modern Hinduism, and lastly to satisfy the monotheistic opinions of modern enlightened Hindus. [Sidenote: What is Pantheism?] To appreciate the testimony of the Text-book, we must enter more fully into the orthodox Hindu theological position. Pantheism, or the doctrine that God is all and all is God--what does it imply? Pantheism is a theory of creation, that God is all, that there are in truth no creatures, but only unreal phantasies appearing to darkened human minds, because darkened and half-blind. As such, its nearest Christian analogue would be the thought that in every phenomenon we have God's fiat and God's reason, and that "in Him we live and move and have our being." Pantheism is a theory of spiritual culture, that our individuality is ours only to merge it in His, although on this line, the Christian soon parts company with the Indian pantheistic devotee, who seeks to _merge_ his consciousness in God, not to train himself into active sonship. Pantheism is a theory of God's omnipresence, and may be little more than enthusiastic feeling of God's omnipresence, such as we have in the 139th psalm, "Whither shall I go from Thy presence? and whither shall I flee from Thy spirit?" That Oriental mysticism and loyalty to an idea we can allow for. It is in that aspect that pantheism is in closest contact with the belief of the new educated Hindu. But in brahmanical philosophy, pantheism is nothing else than the inability to pass beyond the initial idea of infinite preexistent, unconditioned, Deity. To the pantheist, let us remember, there is Deity, but there are no real deities; there is a Godhead, but there are no real persons in the Godhead. In the view of the pantheist, when we see aught else divine or human than this all-embracing Deity or Godhead, it is only a self-created mist of the dim human eye, in which there play the flickering phantasms of deities and human individuals and things. "In the Absolute, there is no thou, nor I, nor God," said Ramkrishna, a great Hindu saint who died in 1886.[78] In Hindu phraseology, every conception other than this all-comprehending Deity is _Maya_ or delusion, and salvation is "saving knowledge" of the delusion, and therefore deliverance from it. The perception of _manifoldness_ is Maya or illusion, says a modern pro-Hindu writer. And again, "To India, all that exists is but a mighty curtain of appearances, tremulous now and again with breaths from the unseen that it conceals."[79] [Sidenote: Maya is implied in Pantheism.] [Sidenote: The outcome of Maya.] The doctrine of Maya is, of course, a postulate, a necessity of Pantheism. Brahma is the name of the impersonal pantheistic deity. First among the unrealities, the outcome of Maya or Illusion or Ignorance, is the idea of a supreme _personal_ God, Parameswar, from whom, or in whom, next come the three great personal deities, namely, the Hindu Triad, Brahm[=a] (not Brahma), Vishnu, and Siva,--Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer respectively. These and all the other deities are the product of Maya, and thus belong to the realm of unreality along with Parameswar.[80] Popular theology, on the other hand, begins with the three great personal deities. [Sidenote: The Hindu Text-book transforms Pantheism into Monotheism.] Now come we again to the Text-book. Rightly, as scholars would agree, it describes the predominant philosophy of Hinduism as pantheistic. The Text-book, however, goes farther, and declares all the six systems of Hindu philosophy to be parts of one pantheistic system.[81] The word pantheism, I ought to say, does not occur in the Text-book. But here is its teaching. "All six systems," we are told, "are designed to lead man to the One Science, the One Wisdom which saw One Self Real and all else as Unreal." And again, "Man learns to climb from the idea of himself as separate from Brahma to the thought that he is a part of Brahma that can unite with Him, and finally [to the thought] that he is and ever has been Brahma, veiled from himself by Avidy[=a]" (that is, Ignorance or Maya). Our point is that the _Text-book of Hindu Religion_ is professedly pantheistic, and the above is clearly pantheism and its postulate Maya. But in the final exposition of this pantheism, what do we find? To meet the modern thought of educated India, the pantheism is virtually given up.[82] Brahma, the One and the All, becomes simply _the Deity Unmanifested_; who shone forth to men as _the Deity Manifested_, Parameswar; of whom the Hindu Triad, Brahm[=a] and Vishnu and Siva, are only three _names_. Maya or Delusion, the foundation postulate of pantheism, by which things _seem_ to be,--by which the One seems to be many,--is identified with the creative will of Parameswar. In fact, Pantheism has been virtually transformed into Theism, Brahma into a Creator, and Maya into his creative and sustaining fiat. The _Text-book of the Hindu Religion_ is finally monotheistic, as the times will have it. [Sidenote: A Parsee claiming to be a monotheist.] As further confirmation of the change in the Indian mind, we may cite the paper read at the Congress on the History of Religions, Basel, 1904, by the Deputy High-priest of the Parsees, Bombay. The dualism of the Zoroastrian theology has hitherto been regarded as its distinctive feature, but the paper sought to show "that the religion of the Parsees was largely monotheistic, not dualistic." The theistic standpoint of the younger members of the educated class of to-day is easily discoverable. The word _God_ used in their English compositions or speeches, plainly implies a person. The commonplace of the anxious student is that the pass desired, the failure feared, is dependent upon the will of God--language manifestly not pantheistic. Religious expressions, we may remark, are natural to a Hindu. [Sidenote: The conception of the Deity as female has gone from the minds of the educated.] In the new theism of educated Indians we may note that the conception of the deity as female is practically gone. Not so among the masses, particularly of the provinces of Bengal and Gujerat, the provinces distinctively of goddesses. The sight of a man in Calcutta in the first hour of his sore bereavement calling upon Mother Kali has left a deep impression upon me.[83] Be it remembered, however, what his cry meant, and what the name _Mother_ in such cases means. It is a honorific form of address, not the symbol for devoted love. The _goddesses_ of India, not the gods, are the deities to be particularly feared and to be propitiated with blood. It is energy, often destructive energy, not woman's tenderness that they represent, even according to Hindu philosophy and modern rationalisers. We may nevertheless well believe that contact with Christian ideas will yet soften and sweeten this title of the goddesses. [Sidenote: The new theism is largely Christian theism--God is termed Father;] [Sidenote: Or Mother.] The new theism of educated India is more and more emphatically Christian theism. Anyone may observe that the name, other than "God," by which the Deity is almost universally named by educated Hindus is "The Father," or "Our Heavenly Father," or some such name. The new name is not a rendering of any of the vernacular names in use in modern India; it is due directly to its use in English literature and in Christian preaching and teaching. The late Keshub Chunder Sen's _Lectures in India_, addressed to Hindu audiences, abound in the use of the name. The fatherhood of God is in fact one of the articles of the Br[=a]hma creed. In his last years, the Brahma leader, Keshub Chunder Sen, frequently spoke of God as the divine _Mother_, but we are not to suppose that it expresses a radical change of thought about God. Keshub Chunder Sen's last recorded prayer begins: "I have come, O Mother, into thy sanctuary"; his last, almost inarticulate, cries were: "Father," "Mother." Where modern Indian religious teachers address God as _Mother_, it is a modernism, an echo of the thought of the Fatherhood of God. The name is altered because the name of Mother better suits the ecstasies of Indian devotion, where the ecstatic mood is cultivated. A case in point is the Hindu devotee, Ramkrishna Paramhansa, who died near Calcutta in 1886. "Why," Ramkrishna Paramhansa asks, "does the God-lover find such pleasure in addressing the Deity as Mother? Because," his answer is, "the child is more free with its mother, and consequently she is dearer to the child than anyone else.[84] Another instance we find in the appeal issued by a committee of Hindu gentlemen for subscriptions towards the rebuilding of the temple at Kangra, destroyed by the earthquake of 1905. The president of the committee, signing the appeal, was a Hindu judge of the High Court at Lahore, a graduate from a Mission College. "There are Hindus," thus runs the appeal, "who by the grace of the Divine Mother could give the [whole] amount ... and not feel the poorer for it."[85] [Sidenote: The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j and the name Father.] [Sidenote: The Hindu College, Benares, and the name _Father_.] The [=A]rya Sam[=a]j, on the other hand, seems set against speaking or thinking of God as the Father. Specially present to their minds and in their preaching is the thought of God's absolute justice; and they hold that His Justice and His Fatherhood are contradictory attributes. Virtue _will_ have its reward, they assert, and Sin its punishment, both in this and the following existences. We recognise the working of their doctrine of transmigration, perhaps also the effect of a feeble presentation of the Christian doctrine of the Father's forgiveness of sin. Nevertheless, we may note in a hymn-book published in London for the use of members of the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j resident there, such hymns as "My God and Father, while I stray," and "My God, my Father, blissful name," as if the name were not explicitly excluded. We also read that the very last parting words of the founder of the [=A]ryas himself were: "Let Thy will be done, O Father!"[86] The heart of man will not be denied the name and the feeling of "God who is our home." Turning again from the [=A]ryas to the new citadel of Benares, and Hinduism, the Hindu College, Benares, we find that along with the Text-book already mentioned, there was published a _Catechism in Hindu Religion and Morals_ for boys and girls. One question is, "Can we know that eternal Being (the "One only without a second," or "The All," _i.e._ pantheistic Deity)? The answer is, "Only when revealed as Ishwar, the Lord, the loving Father of all the worlds and of all the creatures who live in them." That idea of the loving Father, of divine Law and Love in one person, is new to Hinduism. The law of God may be only imperfectly apprehended, but the loving Fatherhood of God, the approachable one, has become manifest in India--one of Christianity's dynamic doctrines. Strangest confirmation of all, a Mahomedan preacher of Behar a few years ago was expounding from the Koran the Fatherhood of God. The name and thought of the divine Father established, we may leave name and thought to be invested with their full significance in the fulness of time. "It is with Pantheism, not Polytheism, that a rising morality will have to reckon," says Sir Alfred Lyall.[87] The result of all our observation has been different. Pantheism is melting out of the sky of the educated, and if nothing else take its place, it will be a selfish materialism or agnosticism, not avowed or formulated yet shaping every motive, that the new morality will have to reckon with. CHAPTER XV JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF "Tandem vicisti, Galilaee" --said to have been uttered by Julian, the Apostate emperor. [Sidenote: Pantheism does not lead to belief in "the Son of God."] Pantheism, it has been said, lends itself to the lead to belief idea of avatars or incarnations of deity, and Hinduism, therefore, is familiar with avatars. Observation contradicts this _à priori_ reasoning, nay, it justifies a statement almost contrary. To the philosopher who is thinking out a pantheistic system, or to the ascetic who is seeking after identity of consciousness with the One, the Hindu Avatars are only a part of the delusion, the Maya, in which men are steeped. To a pantheist, holding that his own consciousness of individuality is delusion, born of spiritual darkness and ignorance, the conception of an avatar or concrete presentation of deity as an individual is only still grosser delusion. "The name of God and the conventions of piety are as unreal as anything else in Maya," writes a modern British apostle of Hinduism, while advocating the realisation of Maya as our salvation.[88] It does not seem to me justifiable to say that through Pantheism the Indian mind can approach the thought of Christ the Son of Man and the Son of God. But pantheism, with its allied doctrine of transmigration, may encourage the thought that our Lord was a great jogi or religious devotee, the last climax of many upward transmigrations, and that Christ had attained to the goal of illumination of the jogi, namely, identity of consciousness with deity, when he felt "I and the Father are one." That statement about Our Lord is sometimes made in India. [Sidenote: The avatars of popular theology.] It is not through the pantheism of the brahmanically learned and of religious devotees that the Indian mind has come within Christ's sphere of influence, but rather through the beliefs of the multitude and the new education of the middle class. And how, we ask, has Christ been introduced to India by association with the popular beliefs--how, rather, has the attempt been made to do so? The theology of the people begins, as has been already stated, with the Hindu Triad, the three great personal deities, namely, Brahm[=a], Vishnu, and Siva,--Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer respectively. From these and other deities, but particularly from Vishnu, the Preserver, there descended to earth at various times and in various forms, human and animal, certain avatars.[89] Best known of these avatars of Vishnu, the Preserver, are Ram, the hero of the great epic called after him, the R[=a]m[=a]yan; and secondly, Krishna, one of the chief figures of the other great Indian epic, the Mah[=a]bh[=a]rat; and thirdly, Buddha, the great religious teacher of the sixth century B.C. Ram and Krishna have become deities of the multitude over the greater part of India. Buddha, latest in time of these three avatars, and unknown as an avatar to the multitude, has not yet been lost to history. Such is the genealogy of certain of the Hindu gods and their avatars, and the object of setting it forth is to enable us to see how Jesus Christ has presented Himself or been presented to the Hindu people. [Sidenote: Parallels in Christian and Hindu theology.] When Christian doctrine was presented to India in modern times, the Christian Trinity and the Hindu Triad at once suggested a correspondence, which seemed to be confirmed by the coincidence of a Creator and Preserver in the Triad with the Creator and the Son, Our Saviour, in the Trinity. The historical Christ and the avatars of Vishnu would thus present themselves as at least striking theological and religious parallels. "On the one hand, learned brahmans have been found quite willing to regard Christ himself as an incarnation of Vishnu for the benefit of the Western world."[90] On the other, Christian missionaries in India have often preached Christ as the one true avatar.[91] The idea and the word _avatar_ are always recurring in the hymns sung in Christian churches in India. Missionaries have also sought to graft the doctrine of Christ's atonement upon Hinduism, through one of the avatars. A common name of Vishnu, the second member of the Triad, as also of Krishna, his avatar, is _Hari_. Accepting the common etymology of _Hari_ as meaning _the taker away_, Christian preachers have found an idea analogous to that of Christ, the Redeemer of men. Then the similarity of the names, _Christ_ and _Krishna_, chief avatar of Vishnu, could not escape notice, especially since Krishna, Christ-like, is the object of the enthusiastic devotion of the Hindu multitude. In familiar speech, Krishna's name is still further approximated to that of Christ, being frequently pronounced _Krishta_ or _Kishta_. In the middle of the nineteenth century the common opinion was that there was some historical connection between Krishna and Christ, and the idea lingers in the minds of both Hindus and Christians. One is surprised to find it in a recent European writer, formerly a member of the Indian Civil Service. "Surely there is something more," he says, "than an analogy between Christianity and Krishna worship."[92] Much has been made by the late Dr. K.M. Banerjea, the most learned member of the Indian Christian Church of the nineteenth century, and something also by the late Sir M. Monier Williams, of a passage in the Rigveda (x. 90), which seems to point to Christ. The passage speaks of Purusha (the universal spirit), who is also "Lord of Immortality," and was "born in the beginning," as having been "sacrificed by the Gods, Sadyas and Rishis," and as becoming thereafter the origin of the various castes and of certain gods and animals. A similar passage in a later book, the _T[=a]ndya Br[=a]hmanas_, declares that "the Lord of creatures, Prajapati, offered himself a sacrifice for the devas" (emancipated mortals or gods). Of the parallelism between the self-sacrificing Prajapati, Lord of creatures, and the Second Person in the Christian Trinity, propitiator and agent in creation, we may hear Dr. Banerjea himself: "The self-sacrificing Prajapati [Lord of creatures] variously described as Purusha, begotten in the beginning, as Viswakarma, the creator of all, is, in the meaning of his name and in his offices, identical with Jesus.... Jesus of Nazareth is the only person who has ever appeared in the world claiming the character and position of Prajapati, at the same time both mortal and immortal."[93] [Sidenote: These parallels ineffective.] [Sidenote: Christ Himself attractive.] But it must be confessed that these parallels, real or supposed, between Christianity and Hinduism have not brought Christ home to the heart of India. In themselves, they only bring Christianity as near to Hinduism as they bring Hinduism to Christianity. Uneducated Hindus feel that the two religions are balanced when they have Krishna and Christians have Christ. Educated Hindus, as we shall see, are employing some of these very parallels to buttress Hinduism. Far be it from me, however, to depreciate the labours of scholars and earlier missionaries who have thus established links between Hindus and Christians, and have thus at least brought Christ into the Hindu's presence. To Indian Christians also such reasoning has often been a strength, furnishing as it were a new justification of their baptism into Christianity; for looking back they can perceive the finger of Hinduism itself pointing the way. But had no other influence been exerted on the Indian mind, one could not say what I now say, that Christ Himself is the feature of Christianity that has most powerfully moved men in India. The person of Christ Himself has been the great Christian dynamic. I am now speaking of educated India, the India that is not dependent solely upon the preacher for its religious ideas and feeling. [Sidenote: Christianity identified with Britain and therefore unpopular.] [Sidenote: The anti-foreigner instinct.] The grand new political idea in India is the idea of nationality, and one of its corollaries is the championing of things Indian and depreciation of things British. The strong anti-British bias among the educated is one of the noteworthy and regrettable changes in the Indian mind within the last half-century. It is not surprising then that all over India the influence of Christ and of Christianity is lessened from the identification of Christianity with the British. For a native of India to accept the British religion is to run counter to the prevailing anti-British and pro-Indian feeling; it is unpatriotic to become a convert to Christianity. "Need we go out of India in quest of the true knowledge of God?" wrote a distinguished Indian littérateur a few years ago.[94] All that feeling is of course in addition to the instinctive hostility to things foreign that has been nowhere stronger than in self-contained India--self-contained between the Himalayas and the seas. The exclusiveness of caste is based upon that feeling. The statement of the late Rev. M.N. Bose, B.A., B.L., a native of Eastern Bengal, regarding his youth [1860?] is: "I had a deep-rooted prejudice against Christianity from my boyhood.... At this time I hated Christianity and Christians, though I knew not why I did so."[95] We find the instinctive hostility more bluntly expressed in China in the cry that drops spontaneously from the opening lips of many Chinamen, as their greeting, when they unexpectedly behold a European. The involuntary ejaculation is: "Strike the foreign devil." [Sidenote: Christ reverenced; Christians disliked.] In the first part of the nineteenth century, along with the great development of modern missions, and of modern education, we may say that Christ came again to India. The national and anti-British feeling had not then arisen to interpose in His path, but, coming as an alien, His name evoked great hostility. The popular mood was _Christianos ad leones,_ as many incidents and witnesses testify. Now, in spite of the old anti-foreign hostility and the new currents of feeling, a remarkable attitude to Christianity--far short of conversion, no doubt--is almost everywhere manifest. There is a profound homage to its Founder, coupled with that strong resentment towards His Indian disciples. Christ Himself is acknowledged; His church is still foreign and British. Resentfully ruled by a Christian nation, but subdued by Christ Himself, is the state of educated India to-day. In spite of His alien birth and in spite of anti-British bias, Christ has passed within the pale of Indian recognition. Indian eyes, focused at last, are fastened upon Him, and men wonder at His gracious words. Again I direct attention to a significant event in Indian history--the incoming of an influence that will not stale, as mere ideas may. "Is there a single soul in this audience," said the Brahmo leader, the late Keshub Chunder Sen,[96] to the educated Indians of Calcutta, mostly Hindus, "who would scruple to ascribe extraordinary greatness and supernatural moral heroism to Jesus Christ and Him crucified?" "That incarnation of the Divine Love, the lowly Son of man," writes another, even while he is rejoicing over the revival of Hinduism.[97] CHAPTER XVI JESUS CHRIST THE LODESTONE "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto myself." --ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL, xii. 32. [Sidenote: Instances of Indian homage to Christ, and dislike of His Church.] [Sidenote: Bengal.] [Sidenote: Bombay.] [Sidenote: Madras.] Interesting phases of that divided mind--homage to Christ, resentment towards His disciples--may be found on opposite sides of the great continent of India. In Bengal, a not-infrequent standpoint of Br[=a]hmas in reference to Christ is that _they_ are the true exponents of Christ's spirit and His teaching. Western Christian teachers, they say, are hidebound by tradition; and the ready-made rigidity of the creeds of the Churches is no doubt a factor in the state of mind we are describing. Looking back as far as to 1820, we see in _The Precepts of Jesus_, published by the founder of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, that standpoint of homage to Christ and dissent from accepted views regarding Him. Illustrative of that Br[=a]hma standpoint, we have also the more recent book, _The Oriental Christ_, by the late Mr. P.C. Mozumdar, the successor of Keshub Chunder Sen. But the attitude is by no means limited to Brahmas. "Without Christian dogmas, cannot a man equally love and revere Christ?" was a representative question put by a senior Hindu student in Bengal to his missionary professor. In South India, Mahomedans sometimes actually describe themselves as better Christians than ourselves, holding as they do such faith in Jesus and His mother Mary and His Gospel. The case of Mahomedans is not, of course, on all fours with that of Hindus, since Mahomedans reckon Christ as one of the four prophets along with their own Mahomed. In Bombay province, on the other side of India from Bengal, we find Mr. Malabari, the famous Parsee, pupil of a Mission School, doubting if it is possible for the Englishman to be a Christian in the sense of _Christ's Christianity_, the implication being that an Indian may. What element of truth is there in the idea, we may well ask? From Indian Christians, be it said, we may indeed look for a fervency of loyalty to Christ that does not enter into our calculating moderate souls; and from India, equally, we may look for that mystically profound commentary on St. John's Gospel which Bishop Westcott declared he looked for from Japan. But to return. About Mr. Malabar! himself, his biographer writes: "If he could not accept the dogmas of Christianity, he had imbibed its true spirit," meaning the spirit of Christ Himself. "The cult of the Asiatic life" is the latest definition of Christianity given by a recent apologist of Hinduism, one of a small company of Europeans in India officering the Hindu revival. Crossing India again and going south, we find the late Dr. John Murdoch, of Madras, an eminent observer, adding his testimony regarding the homage paid to the Founder of Christianity. "The most hopeful sign," he writes, "is the increasing reverence for our Lord, although His divinity is not yet acknowledged."[98] And of new India generally, again, we may quote Mr. Bose, the Indian historian. "The Christianity [of North-western Europe] is no more like Christianity as preached by Christ than the Buddhism of the Thibetans is like Buddhism as preached by Gautama." Take finally the following sentences from a recent number of a moderate neo-Hindu organ, the _Hindustan Review (vol._ viii. 514): "Christ, the great exemplar of practical morality ...; the more one enters into the true spirit of Christ, the more will he reject Christianity as it prevails in the world to-day. The Indians have been gainers not losers by rejecting Christianity for the sake of Christ."[99] [Sidenote: Desire to discover Christian ideas in Hindu Scriptures.] [Sidenote: Christ and Krishna set alongside.] Another phase of that same divided mind, acknowledging Christ and resenting Indian discipleship, may be perceived in the willingness to discover Christian ideas in Hindu Scriptures, and Christ-like features in Hindu deities and religious heroes. To express it from the Indian standpoint,--they see Christ and Christianity bringing back much of their own "refined and modernised." In a sense, as a Bengali Christian gentleman put it, Christ and Christianity have become the accepted standards in religion.[100] Again we quote from the same page of the _Hindustan Review_: "A revival of Hinduism has taken place.... It [Christianity] has given us Christ, and given us noble moral and spiritual lessons, which we have discovered anew in our own Scriptures, and thereby satisfied our self-love and made our very own." We have mentioned how missionaries used to find the doctrine of the atonement in the name of the Indian God Hari; the argument has now in turn been annexed by Hindus, and employed as an argument in their favour. Within the last twenty years, there has been a great revival of the honouring of Krishna among the educated classes in Bengal and the United Provinces. Krishna has set up distinctly as the Indian Christ, or as the Indian figure to be set up over against Christ. A Krishna story has been disentangled from the gross mythology, and he has become a paragon of virtue,--the work of a distinguished Bengali novelist. I mean no sarcasm. From the sermon of a Hindu preacher in a garden in Calcutta in 1898, I quote: "The same God came into the world as the Krishna of India and the Krishna of Jerusalem." These are his words. From the catalogue of the Neo-Krishnaite literature in Bengal, given by Mr. J.N. Farquhar of the Y.M.C.A., Calcutta, it appears that since 1884 thirteen Lives of Krishna or works on Krishna have appeared in Bengal. Many essays have appeared comparing Krishna with Christ. There have been likewise many editions of the Bhagabat Gita, or Divine Song, the episode in the Mahabharat, in which Krishna figures as religious teacher. It may be called the New Testament of the Neo-Krishnaite. Perhaps the most striking of these Neo-Krishnaite publications is _The Imitation of Sri-Krishna_, a daily-text book containing extracts from the Bhagabat Gita and the Bhagabat Puran. The title is, of course, a manifest echo of "The Imitation of Christ," which is a favourite with religious-minded Hindus. The _Imitation of Buddha_, likewise we may observe, has been published. About "The Imitation of Christ" itself, we quote from a Hindu's advertisement appended to the life of a new Hindu saint, Ramkrishna Paramhansa. "The reader of 'The Imitation of Christ,'" it says, "will find echoed in it hundreds of sayings of our Lord Sri-Krishna in the Bhagabat Gita like the following: 'Give up all religious work and come to me as thy sole refuge, and I will deliver thee from all manner of sin.'" The notice goes on: "The book has found its way into the pockets of many orthodox Hindus." [Sidenote: Christ and Chaitanya of Bengal.] From Krishna we turn to Chaitanya, surname Gauranga, the fair, a religious teacher of Bengal in the fifteenth century, who is also being set up as the Christ of Bengal, in that he preached the equality of men before God and ecstatic devotion to the god Krishna. A Christ-like man, indeed, in many ways, Chaitanya was, and the increased acquaintance of educated Bengal with Jesus Christ naturally brought Chaitanya to the front. The new cult of Chaitanya and his enthronement over against Jesus Christ are manifest in the titles of two recent publications in Bengal, the first entitled, _Lord Gauranga, or Salvation for all_, and the other, _Chaitanya's Message of Love_. Chaitanya and his two chief followers, it should be said, were called the great _lords_ (prabhus) of the sect, but the title "Lord Gauranga" is quite new, an echo of the title of Jesus Christ. With regard to the new power of Christ's personality, it should be noted that the author of _Lord Gauranga_ strongly deprecates the idea that his desire is to demolish Christianity, or other than to extend the kingdom of Jesus Christ. He declares that Jesus Christ is as much a prophet as any avatar of the Hindus, and that Hindus can and ought to accept him as they do Krishna or Chaitanya. This is in accord with the spirit of Hinduism--namely, the fluidity of doctrine, and the free choice of guru or religious teacher, as set forth in a previous chapter--although it is still an advanced position for a Hindu to take up publicly. [Sidenote: Eccentric manifestations of the power of Christ's personality.] Could we observe the course of evolution down which a species of animals or plants has come from some remote ancestry to their present form, with what interest would we note the specific characteristics gathering strength, as from generation to generation they prove their "fitness to survive"! The whole onward career of the evolving species would seem to have been aimed at the latest form in which we find it. Yet quite as wonderful phenomena as the species that has survived are the many variations of the species that have presented themselves, but have not proved fit to survive. One species only survives for hundreds of would-be collaterals that are extinct. The religious evolution that we have been observing is the growing power of Christ's personality in New India; and now, as further testimony to its power, a number of collateral movements, similarly inspired yet eccentric and hardly likely to endure, attract our attention. In these eccentric movements the power of Christ's personality is manifest, and yet it appears amid circumstances so peculiar that the phenomena in themselves are grotesque. [Sidenote: The Punjab--two have set themselves up as Christ come again.] [Sidenote: Hakim Singh.] [Sidenote: Mirz[=a] Ghol[=a]m Ahmad.] Three of these strange movements let us look at as new evidence of the power of Christ's personality in India. All three occur in still another province than those named, the Punjab, a province _sui generis_ in many ways. Within a generation past, at least two men have arisen, either claiming to be Christ Himself come again, or a Messiah superior to Him. A third received a vision of "Jesus God," and proclaimed Him, wherever he went, as an object of worship. Of the first of the three leaders, Sir Alfred Lyall tells us, one Hakim Singh, "who listened to missionaries until he not only accepted the whole Christian dogma, but conceived himself to be the second embodiment [of Christ], and proclaimed himself as such and summoned the missionaries to acknowledge him." It sounds much like blasphemy, or mere lunacy; but in India one learns not to be shocked at what in Europe would be rankest blasphemy; the intention must decide the innocence or the offence. Hakim Singh "professed to work miracles, preached pure morality, but also venerated the cow,"--strange chequer of Hindu and Christian ideas.[101] The second case is the better known one of Mirz[=a] Ghol[=a]m Ahmad, of Q[=a]di[=a]n, who sets up a claim to be "the Similitude of the Messiah" and "the Messiah of the Twentieth Century." As his name shows, he is a Mahomedan, but the assumption of the name "Messiah" also shows that it is in Christ's place he declares himself to stand. At the same time, his appeal is to his fellow-Mahomedans; for he explains that as Jesus was the Messiah of Moses, he himself is the Messiah of Mahomed. His superiority to Christ, he expressly declares. "I shall be guilty of concealing the truth," he says in his English monthly, the _Review of Religions_, of May 1902, "if I do not assert that the prophecies which God Almighty has granted me are of a far better quality in clearness, force, and truth than the ambiguous predictions of Jesus.... But notwithstanding all this superiority, I cannot assert Divinity or Sonship of God." He claims "to have been sent by God to reform the true religion of God, now corrupted by Jews, Christians, and Mahomedans." Doubly blasphemous as his claims sound in the ears of orthodox Mahomedans, who reckon both Christ and Mahomed as prophets, his sect is now estimated to number at least 10,000, including many educated Mahomedans. Whatever its fate--a mere comet or a new planet in the Indian sky--it indicates the religious stirring of educated India in another province, and the prominence of Christ's personality therein. Mirz[=a] Ghol[=a]m Ahmad himself recommends the reading of the Gospels. As to Christ's death, Mirz[=a] Ghol[=a]m Ahmad has a theory of his own. The Koran declares, according to Mahomedan expositors, that it was not Christ who suffered on the cross, but another in His likeness. Mirz[=a] Ghol[=a]m Ahmad teaches that Jesus was crucified but did not die, that He was restored to life by His disciples and sent out of the country, whence He travelled East until He reached Thibet, eventually arriving at Cashmere, where He died, His tomb being located in the city of Srinagar.[102] According to the latest report of this reincarnation, he now claims to be at once Krishna come again for Hindus, Mahomed for Mahomedans, and Christ for Christians. [Sidenote: Chet Ram claimed to be an apostle.] The third movement is that of the Chet Ramis, or sect of Chet Ram, whose strange history may be found in _East and West_ for July 1905. Chet Ram was an illiterate Hindu, a water-carrier and then a steward in the Indian army that took part in the war with China in 1859-1860. Returning to his native district not far from Lahore, Chet Ram, the Hindu, came under the spell of a Mahomedan ascetic Mahbub Sh[=a]h, left all and followed him as his "familiar" disciple. How this relationship between Hindu and Mahomedanism is quite possible in India, we have already explained on pages 163-4; Mahbub Sh[=a]h's strange combination of religious asceticism with the consumption of opium and wine, it takes some years' residence in India to understand. Then Mahbub Sh[=a]h died, and the disciple succeeded the master. According to one account, Chet Ram made his bed on the grave in which his master lay; according to another, for three years his sleeping place was the vault within which his master was buried. It was at this time that he had the vision of "Jesus God," already referred to, between the years 1860 and 1865. Like Caedmon, he has described his vision in verse-- "Upon the grave of Master Mahbub Shah Slept Sain Chet Earn. A man came in a glorious form, Showing a face of mercy. Sweet was his speech and simple his face, Appearing entirely as the image of God. He called aloud, 'Who sleeps there? Awake, if thou art sleeping. Thou art distinctly fortunate, Thou art needed in the Master's presence.' 'Build a church on this very spot, Place the Bible therein.' Then said that luminous form, Jesus, the image of Mary: 'I shall do justice in earth and heaven, And reveal the hidden mysteries.' Astonished there alone I stood, As if a parrot had flown out of my hands. Then my soul realised That Jesus came to give salvation. I realised that it was Jesus God Who appeared in a bodily form."[103] [Sidenote: The Followers of Chet Ram.] [Sidenote: Their indefinite composite theology.] Whence came the Christian seed of Chet Ram's vision? His master Mahbub Shah was a Mahomedan, and Jesus Christ is reckoned one of the Mahomedan prophets. But it is the Christ of Christianity, not of Mahomedanism, that Chet Ram saw in his vision of the glorious form showing the face of mercy, at once the dispenser of justice, the revealer of mysteries, and the giver of salvation. Whatever the source of the vision, Chet Ram saw and believed and began to hold up Jesus Christ before other men's eyes, and Chet Ram himself thus became the guru or religious teacher of what may be called an indigenous Christian Church. A moderate estimate reckons the Chet Ramis at about five thousand souls, the religious force of the sect being represented by the Chet Rami ascetics, who go about making their gospel known and living on alms. Chet Ram himself died in 1894, and at the headquarters of the sect at Buchhoke, near Lahore, his ashes and the bones of his master Mahbub Shah are kept in two coffins, which the faithful visit, particularly on certain Chet Rami holy-days, on which fairs are held. In keeping with the command of the vision, several copies of the New Testament and one complete Bible were also on view when the writer of the article in _East and West_ visited the sanctuary in 1903. The _Census Report_ for 1901 sums the Chet Ramis up by saying that "the sect professes a worship of Christ," and that is our present point of view. But we cannot leave them without noticing also how Indian they are in their unwillingness to define their thought, and in their readiness to enthrone a holy man and his relics. Undefined thought we see expressed in symbol. There are _four_ doors to the sanctuary at Buchhoke,--the fakiri [Chet Rami ascetics'] door, the Hindu, Christian, and Mahomedan doors--expressing the openness of the Chet Rami sanctuary to all sects. Their theology is a corresponding conglomeration. It includes a Christian trinity of Jesus Son of Mary [the Mahomedan designation of Christ], the Holy Spirit, and God; and a Hindu triad of the world's three potencies, namely, Allah, Parameswar, and Khuda, a jumble of Hindu and Mahomedan names, but representing the Hindu triad of the Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer. [Sidenote: Parallel between the nineteenth century in India and the second, third, and fourth centuries in the History of the Church.] [Sidenote: The Theosophists and the Neo-Platonists.] [Sidenote: The Neo-Platonists and New India's homage to Christ.] [Sidenote: The Neo-Platonists and the Hindu Revivalists.] In respect of the phenomenon of the homage shown to Christ over against the hostility shown to His Church, the second, third, and fourth centuries in the history of the Church present a striking parallel to the nineteenth century in India. Steadily in these centuries Christianity was progressing in spite of contempt for its adherents, philosophic repudiation of the doctrines of the _superstitio prava_, and official persecution unknown in British India at least. Then also, as always, Christ stood out far above His followers, lifted up and drawing all men's eyes. Such in India also, in the nineteenth century, has been the course of Christianity; parts of the record of these centuries read like the record of the religious movements in India in these latter days. Describing the Neo-Platonists of these centuries, historians tell us that at the end of the second century A.D. Ammonius of Alexandria, founder of the sect, "undertook to bring all systems of philosophy and religion into harmony, by which all philosophers and men of all religions, Christianity included, might unite and hold fellowship." _There_ are the four doors of the Chet Rami sanctuary. There also we have the Theosophical Society of India, professing in its constitution to be "the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of Humanity, representing and excluding no religious creed." Ammonius, founder of the Neo-Platonists, was a pantheist like the present leader of the Theosophical Society, Mrs. Besant, and like her too, curiously, had begun as a Christian.[104] We recall that of Indian Theosophy in general, in 1891, the late Sir Monier Williams declared that it seemed little more than another name for the "Vedanta [or Pantheistic] philosophy." Exactly like the earlier theosophists also, Ammonius, the Neo-Platonist, held that the purified soul could perform physical wonders, by the power of Theurgy. In its constitution the Theosophical Society professed "to investigate the hidden mysteries of nature and the psychical powers latent in man." Many can remember how, in the eighties, Madame Blavatsky took advantage of our curiosity regarding such with air-borne letters from Mahatmas in Thibet. Again Ammonius, we read, "turned the whole history of the pagan gods into allegory." There we have the Neo-Krishnaites of to-day. "He acknowledged that Christ was an extraordinary man, the friend of God, and an admirable Theurgus." There we have the stand point of the educated Indians who have come under Christ's spell. For two centuries the successors of Ammonius followed in these lines. "Individual Neo-Platonists," Harnack tells us, "employed Christian sayings as oracles, and testified very highly of Christ. Porphyry of Syria, chief of the Neo-Platonists of the third century, wrote a work "against Christians"; but again, according to Harnack, the work is not directed against Christ, or what Porphyry regarded as the teaching of Christ. It was directed against the Christians of his day and against the sacred books, which according to Porphyry were written by impostors and ignorant people. There we have the double mind of educated India,--homage to Christ, opposition to His Church. There also we have the standpoint of Sahib Mirza Gholam Ahmad of Qadian. Some, we read, being taught by the Neo-Platonists that there was little difference between the ancient religion, rightly explained and restored to its purity, and the religion which Christ really taught, not that corrupted form of it which His disciples professed, concluded it best for them to remain among those who worshipped the gods. There is the present Indian willingness to discover Christian and modern ideas in the Hindu Scriptures, especially in the original Vedas that the new [=A]rya sect declare to be "the Scripture of true knowledge." The practical outcome of the Neo-Platonic movement was an attempt to revive the old Græco-Roman religion,--Julian the apostate emperor had many with him. There we have the revival of the worship of Krishna in India, and the apologies for idolatry and caste. The most recent stage of the Theosophical Society in India reveals _it_ as virtually a Hindu revival society. Finally, we read, the old philosopher Pythagoras, Apollonius of Tyana, and others were represented on the stage dressed in imitation of Christ Himself, and the Emperor Alexander Severus [A.D. 222-235] placed the figure of Christ in his lararium alongside of those of Abraham, Orpheus, and Apollonius. There we have the modern Indians who fully recognise Christ alongside of their own avatars. The whole parallel is complete.[105] In spite of the feebleness and, it may be, unworthiness of His Church, through the force of Christ's personality, the Roman history of the second, third, and fourth centuries has been repeating itself in India in the nineteenth and twentieth, and unless the force of Christ's personality be spent, the parallels will proceed. From new reasonings about God, her new monotheism, New India has been brought a stage farther to actual history. From theologies she has come to the first three Gospels. New India has been introduced to Christ as He actually lived on earth before men's eyes; and to India, intensely interested in religious teachers, the personality of the Christ of the Gospels, of the first three Gospels in particular, appeals strongly. To the pessimistic mood of India He appeals as one whose companionship makes this life more worth living; for Christ was not a jogi in the Indian sense of a renouncer of the world. His call to fraternal service has taken firm hold of the best Indians of to-day. Of the future we know not, but we feel that the narrative of the first three Gospels naturally precedes the deeper insight of the fourth. CHAPTER XVII INDIAN PESSIMISM--ITS BEARING ON BELIEF IN THE HERE AND HEREAFTER "How many births are past, I cannot tell: How many yet to come, no man can say: But this alone I know, and know full well, That pain and grief embitter all the way." (_South-Indian Folk-song_, quoted in _Lux Christi_, by Caroline Atwater Mason.) "When desire is gone, and the cords of the heart are broken, then the soul is delivered from the world and is at rest in God." [Sidenote: Indian pessimism.] Two commonplaces about India are that pessimism is her natural temperament, and that a natural outcome of her pessimism is the Indian doctrine of the transmigration of souls. The second statement will require explanation; but as regards the former, there is no denying the strain of melancholy, the note of hopelessness, that pervades these words we have quoted, or that they are characteristic of India. In them life seems a burden; to be born into it, a punishment; and of the transmigrations of our souls from life to life, seemingly, we should gladly see the end. All the same, as new India is proving, pessimism is not the inherent temperament of India, and the hope of the end of the transmigration, and of the lives of the soul, no more natural in India than in any other land. [Sidenote: Due to nature?] Pessimism is natural in India, say such writers as we have in mind, because of the spirit-subduing aspects of nature and life amid which Indians live their lives. Life is of little value to the possessor, they say, where nature makes it a burden, and where its transitoriness is constantly being thrust upon us. And that is so in India. Great rivers keep repeating their contemptuous motto that "men may come and men may go," and by their floods sometimes devastate whole districts. Sailing up the Brahmaputra at one place in Assam, the writer saw a not uncommon occurrence, the great river actually eating off the soft bank in huge slices, five or six feet in breadth at a time. Something higher up, it might have been the grounding of a floating tree, had turned the current towards the bank, and at five-minute intervals, it seemed, these huge slices were falling in. Not fifty yards back from the bank stood a cottage, whose garden was already part gone; a banana tree standing upon one of these slices fell in and was swept down before our eyes. Within an hour the cottage itself would meet the same fate, and the people were already rushing in and out. Or pass to another aspect of nature. For a season every year the unveiled Indian sun in a sky of polished steel glares with cruel pitiless eye. The light is fierce. Then, arbitrarily, as it seems, the rains may be withheld, and the hard-baked, heat-cracked soil never softens to admit the ploughshare, and hundreds of thousands of the cultivators and field hands are overtaken by famine. At one time during the famine of 1899-1900, it will be remembered that six million people were receiving relief. Or, equally arbitrarily, betokening some unknown displeasure of the gods, plague may take hold of a district and literally take its tithe of the population. At any moment, life is liable to be terminated with appalling suddenness by cholera or the bite of a venomous serpent. With French imagination and grace, in his _Introduction to General History_, Michelet describes the tyranny of nature--"Natura maligna"--in India. "Man is utterly overpowered by nature there--like a feeble child upon a mother's breast, alternately spoiled and beaten, and intoxicated rather than nourished by a milk too strong and stimulating for it."[106] One cannot help contrasting the supplicating Indian villagers--of whom a University matriculation candidate told in his essay, how, when the rains were withheld, they carried out the village goddess from her temple and bathed the idol in the temple tank--with the English fisher-woman of whom Tennyson tells us, who shook her fist at the cruel sea that had robbed her of two sons. As she looked at it one day with its lines of white breakers, she shook her fist at it and told it her mind--"How I hates you, with your cruel teeth." Can this Indian aspect of nature, one wonders, be the true explanation of the fierceness of her goddesses as contrasted with her gods, and the offering of bloody sacrifices to goddesses only? Mother Nature is malignant, not benign. [Sidenote: Indian life estimated by the economic standard of life's value.] The value of life and the little worth of life in India may be gauged in another way. In the language of the political economist, the value of human life in any country may be estimated by the average wage, which determines the standard of comfort and how far a man is restricted to the bare necessities of bodily life. Again, judged by that standard, life is probably in no civilised country at a lower estimate than in India, where the labourer spends over 90 per. cent of his income upon the bare necessities for the sustenance of the bodies of his household. [Sidenote: Indian pessimism only a mood.] [Sidenote: Humanlife is rising in value] [Sidenote: Pessimism is declining] All that is true, and yet the conclusion is only partly true. In spite of all such reasoning, and acknowledging that the physical characteristics of India have largely made her what she is, politically, socially, and even religiously, I venture to think that the pessimism of India is exaggerated. Not a pessimistic temperament, but a mood, a mood of helpless submissiveness, a bowing to the powers that be in nature and in the world, seems to me the truer description of the prevailing "pessimism." At least, if it be the case, as I have tried to show, that during the past century in India, human life has been rising in value, the pessimistic mood must be declining. Let us observe some facts again. In a Government or Mission Hospital, _there_ is a European doctor taking part in the offensive work of the dressing of a coolie's sores,--we assume that the doctor's touch is the touch of a true Christian gentleman. To the despised sufferer, life is gaining a new sweetness, and to the high-caste student looking on and ready to imitate his teacher, life is attaining a new dignity. That human life has been rising in value is patent. The wage of the labourer has been steadily rising--in one or two places the workers are become masters of the situation; the rights of woman are being recognised, if only slowly; the middle classes are eager for education and advancement; the individual has been gaining in independence as the tyranny of caste and custom has declined; the sense of personal security and of citizenship and of nationality has come into being. Whatever the merits of the great agitation in 1905 against the partition of the Province of Bengal, and inconceivable as taking place a century ago, it is manifestly the doing of men keenly interested in the conditions under which they live. It is a contradiction of the theory of an inherent Indian pessimism. Self-respect and a sense of the dignity and duties of manhood are surely increasing, and making our earth a place of hope and making life worth living, instead of a burden to be borne. "The Hindus," says Sir Alfred Lyall, "have been rescued by the English out of a chronic state of anarchy, insecurity, lawlessness, and precarious exposure to the caprice of despots."[107] [Sidenote: Asceticism is declining.] Best proof probably that pessimism is declining is the fact that asceticism is declining. The times are no longer those in which the life of a brahman is supposed to culminate in the Sannyasi or ascetic "who has laid down everything," who, in the words of the Bhagabat Gita, "does not hate and does not love anything."[108] The pro-Hindu writer often quoted also acknowledges the new pleasure in life and the religious corollary of it when she says that the recent rise in the standard of comfort in India is opposed to the idea of asceticism. Desire, indeed, is not gone, and the cords of the heart are not breaking. Says the old brahman, in the guise of whom Sir Alfred Lyall speaks: "I own that you [Britons] are doing a great deal to soften and enliven material existence in this melancholy, sunburnt country of ours, and certainly you are so far successful that you are bringing the ascetic idea into discouragement and, with the younger folk, into contempt."[109] Welcome to the new joy of living, all honour to the old ascetics, and may a still nobler self-sacrifice take their place! [Sidenote: Pessimism, asceticism, transmigration are allied ideas.] For Western minds it is difficult to realise the close connection between the doctrine of transmigration and the mood of India, rightly or wrongly termed pessimism. _Our_ instinctive feeling is that life is sweet; while there is life there is hope, _we_ say; "_healthy_ optimism" is the expression of Professor James in his _Varieties of Religious Experience_; it is "_more life_ and fuller that we want." In keeping with this Western and human instinct, the Christian idea of the Hereafter is a fuller life than the life Here, a perfect eternal life. To the pessimist, on the contrary [and Hindu philosophy is pessimistic, whatever be the new mood of India], the question is, "Why was I born?" The Indian doctrine of transmigration comes with answer--"Life is a punishment: it is the bitter consequence of our past that we are working out; we must _submit_ to be born into the world again and again, until we are cleared." "Yes, until your minds are cleared," the Indian pantheist adds, "life _itself_ is a delusion, if you only knew it; life itself, your consciousness of individuality or separateness, is a delusion." But the pantheist's thought is here beside our present point. [Sidenote: Transmigration the antithesis of eternal life.] To the pessimistic Indian accepting the Indian view of transmigration, it is therefore no gospel to preach the continuation of life, either here or hereafter. "To be born again" sounds like a penance to be endured. _Mukti_, commonly rendered _salvation_, is not regeneration Here and eternal life Hereafter; it is _deliverance_ from further lives altogether. If, however, we accept the statement that the value of human life in India is rising, that life is becoming worth living, and that the pessimistic mood is no ingrained fundamental trait, we are prepared to believe that the hopeful Christian conception of the Here and the Hereafter is finding acceptance. Rightly understood, the Christian conception is at bottom the antithesis of pessimism and its corollary, transmigration. To deny the one is almost to assert the other. The decay of the one is the growth of the other. For the Christian conception of the Here and the Hereafter--what is it? Life, eternal, in and through the Spirit of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. "God gave unto us eternal life, and the life is in His Son. He that hath the Son hath the life."[110] Says Harnack in his volume _What is Christianity?_ "The Christian religion means one thing, and one thing only--eternal life in the midst of time by the strength and under the eyes of God." Not that the new idea in India is to be wholly ascribed to Christian influence. A marked change in Christian thought itself during the nineteenth century has been the higher value of this present life. Christianity has become a vitalising gospel for the life Here even more than for the Hereafter. But assuming the truth of what we have sought to show, namely, that within the past century the winning personality of Christ has come to New India, a new incentive to noble life and service, we have at least a further reason for believing that pessimism and transmigration are fading out of Indian minds. The new Advent, as that at Bethlehem, is a turning-point of time; the gloomy winter of pessimism is turning to a hopeful spring. CHAPTER XVIII INDIAN TRANSMIGRATION AND THE CHRISTIAN HERE AND HEREAFTER "The dew is on the lotus. Rise, good sun! And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. The sunrise comes! The dewdrop slips into the shining sea. If any teach Nirvana is to cease, Say unto such they lie. If any teach Nirvana is to live, Say unto such they err." (Buddha's teaching in Arnold's _Light of Asia_.) [Sidenote: Over against Transmigration, Christian immortality is continuity of the individual's memory.] To appreciate the impact of the Christian idea of the Here and Hereafter upon the Hindu idea of Transmigration and Absorption, the two ideas must be more fully examined. Stated briefly, the Christian idea is that after this life on earth comes an Eternity, whose character has been determined by the life on earth. The crisis of death terminates our bodily activities and renders impossible any further action, either virtuous or sinful, and ushers the soul, its ledger closed, its earthy limitations cast off, into some more immediate presence of God. If in communion with God, through its faith in Jesus Christ, the soul is in a state of blessedness; if still alien from God, the soul is in a state of utter misery, for its spiritual perception and its recollection of itself are now clear. That, at all events, seems a fair statement of the belief of many Protestants, so far as their belief is definite at all. But over against transmigration, what are the essential and distinctive features of that Christian belief? Its essentially distinctive feature, both in the case of the blessed and of the miserable, is a _continuity_ of the consciousness in the life that now is with that which is to come. The soul in bliss or misery is able to associate its existing state with its past. Even on earth, as the modern preacher tells us, heaven and hell are already begun. Over against the Hindu idea of transmigration, accordingly, we define the Christian idea of immortality as the continuity of our consciousness, or the immortality of the individual consciousness. [Sidenote: Transmigration is essentially dissolution of the individual's memory.] Per contra, the distinguishing feature of the Hindu doctrine of transmigration or rebirth is the interruption of consciousness, the dissolution of memory, at the close of the present existence. In the next existence there is no memory of the present. "The draught of Lethe" does "await The slipping through from state to state." The present life is a member of a series of lives; there are said to be 8,400,000 of them, each member of which is as unconscious of the preceding as you are of being I. As a seed develops into plant and flower and seed again, so the soul in each new member of the series develops a conscious life, lapses from consciousness, and hands on a germinal soul for a new beginning again. As the seed transmits the type, and also some variation from the type, so is the germinal soul transmitted through unconsciousness, ennobled or degraded by each conscious existence it has lived. At each stage the germinal soul represents the totality, the net outcome of its existences, as in each generation of a plant the seed may be said to do. So far, the doctrine of transmigration is a doctrine of the evolution of a soul, a declaration that in a sense we are all that we have been, that virtue and vice will have their reward, that in a sense "men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves." It does not leave hard cases of heathen or of reprobates to the discernment and mercy of God; it offers them, instead, other chances in subsequent lives. A not unattractive doctrine it is, even although the attractive analogy of the evolution of a plant breaks down. For in the scientific doctrine of evolution, individuals have no immortality _at all_; it is only the species that lives and moves on. But in Hinduism, as in Christianity, we are thinking of the continuity of the _individual_ souls. [Sidenote: The end of transmigration is absorption into Deity.] [Sidenote: The saint Ramkrishna's obliviousness of self.] To proceed with the statement of the doctrine of transmigration. The climax of the transmigrations is Nirvana or extinction of the individual soul, according to the Buddhist, and union with or absorption into Deity, according to the Hindu.[111] Buddhism has gone from the land of its birth, as Christianity and even Judaism from Palestine, and I pass from the Buddhist doctrine. The Hindu climax, of absorption into Deity, is reached when by self-mastery personal desire is gone, and by profound contemplation upon Deity a pure-bred soul has lost the consciousness of separation from Deity. The distinction between _I_ and the great _Thou_ has vanished; the One is present in the mind not as an objective thought, but by a transformation of the consciousness itself. The words of Hindus themselves in the _Advanced Text-book of Hindu Religion_ are: The human soul (the Jivatmic seed) "grows into self-conscious Deity." Listen also to the words of Swami Vivekananda, in the Parliament of Religions, Chicago, about his master, Ramkrishna Paramhansa's growing into self-conscious Deity: "Every now and then strange fits of God-consciousness came upon him.... He then spoke of himself as being able to do and know everything.... He would speak of himself as the same soul that had been born before as Rama, as Krishna, as Jesus, or as Buddha, born again as Ramkrishna.... He would say he was ... an incarnation of God Himself." Again Swami Vivekananda tells us: "From time to time Ramkrishna would entirely lose his own identity, so much so as to appropriate to himself the offerings brought for the goddess" (to the temple in which he officiated). "Sometimes forgetting to adorn the image, he would adorn _himself_ with the flowers."[112] Transmigration is not necessarily bound up with the pantheistic view of the world, but in _Hinduism_, transmigration is only a ladder towards the realisation of the One. [Sidenote: Contrasts--"Born again" and a spiritual aristocracy of long spiritual descent.] [Sidenote: Heaven and Hell not necessary ideas in Transmigration.] Radical differences from Christian thought emerge. In the Hindu conception, the acme is reached only by a spiritual aristocracy of long spiritual descent; for the common multitude there is no gospel of being born again in Christ, no guiding hand like that of Our Lord towards the Father's presence. The upward path, according to the Hindu idea, is the path of philosophical knowledge and of meditation, not the power of union with Jesus Christ to make us sons of God. Most striking difference perhaps of all--in the Hindu philosophical system there is no place for even the conceptions of heaven and hell except as temporary halting-places between two incarnations of the soul, which practical necessity requires. For the soul, this world is the plane of existence; union with omnipresent Deity is the climax of existence that the Hindu devotee seeks to attain; yet not in a Hereafter, but as he sits on the ground no longer conscious of his self. "The beatific vision of Hinduism," says a recent pro-Hindu writer, "is to be relegated to no distant future."[113] Heaven and Hell are mocked at as absurdities by the new sect of the [=A]ryas in the United Provinces and the Punjab, who retain the doctrine of transmigration.[114] [Sidenote: Several heavens and hells in popular Hinduism.] Hindus are divided as to the existence of these temporary halting-places between the successive incarnations of the soul. The _Text-book of Hindu Religion_, already referred to, speaks unhesitatingly about their place in the Hindu system. The [=A]ryas, on the other hand, hold that the instant a soul leaves its body it enters another body just born. The soul is never naked--to employ a common figure. Of course in popular Hinduism it is not surprising to find not merely the ideas of Heaven and Hell, but even that each chief Deity has his own heaven and that there are various hells. In the Tantras or ritual books of modern Hinduism, there is frequent mention of such heavens and hells, and when the idea of rebirths is also met with, the rebirths are regarded as stages towards the reward or punishment of the _individual conscious_ souls. It is the popular idea of heaven that has given rise to the common euphemism for _to die_, namely, to become a deva or inhabitant of heaven. [Sidenote: Transmigration, associated with pessimism and pantheism, is likewise yielding.] We have observed the pessimistic mood of India yielding before the improved conditions of life, and the brahmanical pantheism before the thought of God the Father. Bound up as the idea of transmigration has been with the pessimism and pantheism of India, we are prepared to find that it too is yielding. Of that we now ask what evidence there is in the ordinary speech and writings of educated India, apart from controversy or professedly Hindu writings, in which the accepted Indian orthodoxy would probably appear. [Sidenote: Educated Hindus speak of the dead as if their former consciousness continued.] From the ordinary speeches and writings of educated Hindus regarding the dead, no one would infer that their doctrinal standpoint was other than that of the ordinary religious Briton, namely, that the dead friend has returned to God or has been called away by God, or the like. A native judge in Bengal, one of the most distinguished leaders of the Hindu Revival, writes as follows: The beatitude which the new Radha-Krishnaites aspire to "is not the Nirvana of the Vedantists, the quiescence of Rationalism. Nirvana and quiescence are merely negatives. The beatitude [of the new Radha-Krishnaites] is a positive something. They do not aspire to unification with the divine essence. They prefer hell with its torments to such unification."[115] A few years ago, at a public meeting in Calcutta, the acknowledged leader of Hinduism, speaking of a Hindu gentleman whose death we were lamenting, said: "God has taken him to himself"--certainly not a Hindu statement of the passing of a soul. Similarly, in 1882 we find one nobleman in Bengal writing to another regarding his mother's death: "It is my prayer to God that she may abide in eternal happiness in heaven."[116] Generations of Hindu students I have known to find pleasure in identifying themselves with Wordsworth's views of immortality: "Trailing clouds of glory do we come From God who is our home," and "The faith that looks through death." [Sidenote: Transmigration now no more than a conventional explanation of how misfortunes befell one.] Somewhat dreamlike Wordsworth's views may be, but his belief is clearly not in transmigration. To the educated Hindu, who may not consciously have rejected the idea of transmigration, the doctrine is really now no more than a current and convenient explanation of any misfortune that has befallen a person. "Why has it befallen him? He must have earned it in some previous existence. It is in the debit balance of the transactions in his lives." Such are the vague ideas floating in the air. Upon any individual's acts or plans for the future, the idea of transmigration seems to have no bearing whatever beyond a numbing of the will.[117] For in theory, the Hindu's fate is just. In strict logic no doubt the same numbing effect might be alleged about the Christian doctrine of predestination. Even when misfortune has overtaken an educated Hindu, I think I am justified in saying that the more frequent thought with him is now in keeping with the new theistic belief; the misfortune is referred to the will of God. As already said, it is a commonplace of the unfortunate student who has failed, to ascribe his failure to God's will. [Sidenote: Transmigration and Predestination more properly contrasted.] [Sidenote: Illustration from actual fact.] There is room for the Christian thought of the Hereafter, because in reality, as theologians know, the doctrine of transmigration stands over against the Christian doctrine of predestination rather than over against the Christian doctrine of the Here and Hereafter. Transmigration is a doctrine of what has gone before the present life rather than of what will follow. Every educated Anglo-Indian whom I have consulted agrees that in a modern Hindu's mouth transmigration is only a theory of the incidence of actual suffering. Here is the doctrine of _karma_ (works), that is of transmigration or merited rebirth, in the actual life of India--transmigration and the pessimistic helplessness of which I have spoken? In the last great famine of 1899-1900, in a village in South-western India, a missionary found a victim of famine lying on one side of the village street, and not far off, upon the other side, two or three men of the middle class. The missionary reproached them for their callousness. What might be answered for them is not here to the point; their answer for themselves was, "It is his _karma_." The missionary did what he could for the famine sufferer, and then when repassing the group could not forbear remarking to them, "You see you were wrong about his _karma_." "Yes, we were wrong," they replied. "It was his _karma_ to be helped by you." The same views of karma and of transmigration, as referring to the past, not the future, are apparent in a recent number of _The Inquirer_, a paper conducted in Calcutta for the benefit of Hindu students and others. I take the following from the question column: "Do Christians believe in the doctrine of reincarnation? If not, how do you account for blindness at birth?" The questioner's idea is plain, and the coincidence with the question put to Christ in St. John's Gospel, chapter ix, is striking. Hindus thus have room for an idea of the _future_ of the soul, as Christians, on their side, have for a theory of the soul's origin. [Sidenote: The idea of the Hereafter not dynamical with Christians at present.] The Christian idea of the Hereafter cannot, as yet, be called a strongly dynamical doctrine of Christianity in the sense that the Person of Our Lord has proved dynamical. Not that interest in the subject is lacking. I have referred to questions put by educated Hindus in _The Inquirer_. Out of fifty-seven questions I find eight bearing on the Christian doctrine of the Hereafter or the Hindu doctrine of Transmigration. In the _Magazine of the Hindu College_, _Benares_, out of fourteen questions I find four bearing on the same subject. The want of force in the Christian doctrine no doubt reflects its want of force for Christians themselves in this present positive age. For even Tennyson himself was vague: "That which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home." [Sidenote: The new sects and the doctrine of Transmigration.] [Sidenote: The _Text-book of Hindu Religion_.] [Sidenote: A European's place on the ladder of transmigration.] Of the sects of recent origin, only the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j or Theistic Association rejects the doctrine of transmigration avowedly. We have already said that the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j or Vedic Theists of the United Provinces and the Punjab hold strongly to the doctrine. It is noteworthy that _they_ should do so, the Vedas being their standards wherewith to test Modern Hinduism, for the doctrine of transmigration is scarcely hinted at in the Vedas, and in the oldest, the Rigveda, there is said to be no trace of the doctrine.[118] It appears in the later writings, the Upanishads, and is manifest throughout the Code of Manu (c. A.D. 200). Mrs. Besant, chief figure among the Indian Theosophists, now virtually a Hindu Revival Association, preaches the doctrine, and, in fact, lectured on it in Britain in 1904. At the same time, transmigration is no part of the Theosophist's creed. As might be expected, the _Text-book of Hindu Religion_, of the Hindu College, Benares, gives the doctrine of transmigration a prominent place, although the explicitness with which it is set forth is very surprising to one acquainted with the way the doctrine is generally ignored by the educated. I quote from the _Hindu Text-book_, published in 1903, that Westerns may realise that in dealing with transmigration we are not dealing simply with some old-world doctrine deciphered from some palm-leaf written in some ancient character. After describing--here following the ancient philosophical writings, the Upanishads--how the Jivatma or Soul comes up through the various existences of the mineral, plant, and animal kingdoms until it reaches the human stage, the Text-book proceeds to describe the further upward or downward process. It is declared that the downward movement (from man to animal) is now much rarer than formerly--that concession is made to modern ideas--but the _law_ of the downward process is as follows: "When a man has so degraded himself below the human level that many of his qualities can only express themselves through the form of a lower creature, he cannot, when his time for rebirth comes, pass into a human form. He is delayed, therefore, and is attached to the body of one of the lower creatures as a co-tenant with the animal, vegetable, or mineral Jiva [life], until he has worn out the bonds of these non-human qualities and is fit to take birth again in the world of men. A very strong and excessive attachment to an animal may have similar results." Where modern ideas reach in India, one can understand such ideas as those melting away. A second passage from the Text-book is interesting, as showing the compiler's idea of the place of a life in Europe in the chain of existences, although in this case also the statement is made only about "ancient days." "The Jivatma [soul] was prepared for entrance into each [Indian] caste through a long preliminary stage _outside_ India; then he was born into India and passed into each caste to receive its definite lessons; then was born away from India to practise these lessons; usually returning to India to the highest of them, in the final stages of his evolution." In other words, people of the outer world, say Europeans, are rewarded for virtue by being born into the lowest Indian caste, and then, after rising to be brahmans in India, they go back to Europe to give it the benefit of their acquirements; and finally crown their career by reappearing in India as a brahman philosopher or jogi. Surely we may laugh at this without being thought unsympathetic or narrow-minded. We recall Mrs. Besant's assertion that she had a dim recollection of an existence as a brahman pandit in India. According to the spiritual genealogy of the _Hindu Text-book_, she may hope to be born next in an Indian child, and become a jogi possessed of saving knowledge of the identity of self with Deity. [Sidenote: The women of the middle class and transmigration.] I asked a lady who had been a missionary in Calcutta for many years, how far a belief in transmigration was apparent among the women of the middle class. She could recall only two instances in which it had come to her notice in her talks with the wives and daughters of educated India. Once a reason was given for being kind to a cat, that the speaker's grandmother might then be in it as her abode, although the observation was accompanied with a laugh. On the second occasion, when the lady was having trouble with a slow pupil, one of the women present, sympathising with the teacher, said, "Do not trouble with her; perhaps next time when she comes back she will be cleverer." The general conclusion, therefore, I repeat: Transmigration is no longer a living part of the belief of educated India; the Christian conception of the Hereafter is as yet only partially taking its place. CHAPTER XIX THE IDEAS OF SIN AND SALVATION "Conscience does make cowards of us _all_." --SHAKESPEARE. [Sidenote: Recapitulation.] [Sidenote: The new Theism.] In the new India, as fish out of the water die, many things cannot survive. We have seen the educated Hindu dropping polytheism, forgetting pantheism, and adopting or readopting monotheism as the basis of his religious thinking and feeling. For modern enlightenment and Indian polytheism are incongruous; there is a like incongruity between Indian pantheism and the modern demand for practical reality. Likewise, both polytheism and pantheism are inconsistent with Christian thought, which is no minor factor in the education of modern India. Further, the theism that the educated Hindu is adopting as the basis of his religion approaches to Christian Theism. The doctrines of the Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of Man have become commonplaces in his mouth. [Sidenote: Homage to Christ Himself] Likewise, the educated Hindu is strongly attracted to the person of Jesus Christ, in spite of His alien birth and His association with Great Britain. There is a sweet savour in His presence, and the man of any spirituality finds it grateful to sit at His feet. That familiar oriental expression, hyperbolical to our ears, but ever upon the lips in India to express the relationship of student to trusted professor, or of disciple to religious teacher, expresses exactly the relationship to Jesus Christ of the educated man who is possessed of any religious instinct. To such a man the miracles, the superhuman claims, the highest titles of Jesus Christ, present no difficulty until they are formulated for his subscription in some hard dogmatic mould. Then he must question and discuss. [Sidenote: Transmigration forgotten.] Again, the educated Hindu finds himself employing about the dead and the hereafter not the language of transmigration, but words that convey the idea of a continuation of our present consciousness in the presence of a personal God. For life is becoming worth living, and the thought of life continuing and progressing is acceptable. This present life also has become a reality; a devotee renouncing the world may deny its reality; but how in this practical modern world can a man retain the doctrine of Maya or Delusion. It has dropped from the speech and apparently out of the mind of the educated classes. [Sidenote: The ideas of Sin and Salvation by faith in Jesus Christ not yet dynamical.] I have suggested that those features of Christianity that are proving to be dynamical in India will be found to be those same that are proving to be dynamical in Britain. The converse also probably holds true, as our religious teachers might do well to note. The doctrines of Sin and Salvation through faith in Jesus Christ do not yet seem to have commended themselves in any measure in India. Positive repudiation of a Christian doctrine is rare, but the flourishing new sect of the North-West, the [=A]ryas, make a point of repudiating the Christian doctrine of salvation by faith, although not explicitly denying it in their creed. Over against it they set up the Justice of God and the certainty of goodness and wickedness receiving each its meed. One can imagine that salvation by faith in Jesus Christ, the outstanding feature of Christianity, may have been unworthily presented to the [=A]rya leaders, so that it appeared to them merely as some cheap or gratis kind of "indulgences." The biographer of the Parsee philanthropist, Malabari, a forceful and otherwise well-informed writer, sets forth that idea of salvation by faith, or an idea closely akin. He is explaining why his religious-minded hero did not accept the religion of his missionary teachers. "The proud Asiatic," he says, "strives to purchase salvation with work, and never stoops to accept it as alms, as it necessarily would be if faith were to be his only merit." The unworthy presentation of "salvation by faith" may have occurred either in feeble Christian preaching or in anti-Christian pamphlets. Neither is unknown in India; and anti-Christian pamphlets have been known to be circulated through [=A]rya agencies. [Sidenote: The ideas of sin incompatible with pantheism.] To appreciate the attitude of the Hindu mind to the doctrines of Sin and Salvation, we must return again to the rough division of Hindus into--first, the mass of the people, polytheists; secondly, the educated classes, now largely monotheists; thirdly, the brahmanically educated and the ascetics, pantheists. It is only with the monotheists that we have now to deal. As already said--to the pantheist the word sin has no meaning. Where all is God, sin or alienation from God is a contradiction in terms. The conception of sin implies the _two_ conceptions of God and Man, or at least of Law and Man; and where one or other of these two conceptions is lacking, the conception of sin cannot arise. In pantheism, the idea of man as a distinct individual is relegated to the region of Maya or Delusion; there cannot therefore be a real sinner. Does such reasoning appear mere dialectics without practical application, or is it unfair, think you, thus to bind a person down to the logical deductions from his creed? On the contrary, persons denying that we can sin are easy to find. Writes the latest British apostle of Hinduism, for the leaders of reaction in India are a few English and Americans: "There is no longer a vague horrible something called sin: This has given place to a clearly defined state of ignorance or blindness of the will."[119] I quote again also from Swami Vivekananda, representative of Hinduism in the Parliament of Religions at Chicago in 1893. It is from his lecture published in 1896, entitled _The Real and the Apparent Man_. His statement is unambiguous. "It is the greatest of all lies," he says, "that we are mere men; we are the God of the Universe.... The worst lie that you ever told yourself is that you were born a sinner.... The wicked see this universe as a hell; and the partially good see it as heaven; and the perfect beings realise it as God Himself. By mistake we think that we are impure, that we are limited, that we are separate. The real man is the One Unit Existence." Such is the logical and the actual outcome of pantheism in regard to the idea of sin, and such is the standpoint of Hindu philosophy. [Sidenote: Sankarachargya, the pantheist's, confession of sins.] Or if further illustration be needed of the incompatibility of the ideas of pantheism and sin, listen to the striking prayer of Sankarachargya, the pantheistic Vedantist of the eighth century A.D., with whom is identified the pantheistic motto, "One only, without a second."[120] It attracts our attention because Sankarachargya is professedly confessing sins. Thus runs the prayer: "O Lord, pardon my three sins: I have in contemplation clothed in form thee who art formless; I have in praise described thee who art ineffable; and in visiting shrines I have ignored thine omnipresence."[121] Beautiful expressions indeed, confessions that finite language and definite acts are inadequate to the Infinite, nay, contradictions of the Infinite, expressions fit to be recited in prayer by any man of any creed who feels that God is a Spirit and omnipresent! But in a Christian prayer such expressions would only form a preface to confession of one's own _moral_ sin; after adoration comes confession. Whether, like Sankarachargya, we think of the Deity objectively, as the formless and literally omnipresent Being, the _pure Being_ which, according to Hegel, equals nothing, or whether like Swami Vivekananda we think of man and God as really one, all differentiation being a delusion within the mind--there is _no second_, neither any second to sin against nor any second to commit the sin. [Sidenote: The masses and the sense of sin.] [Sidenote: Prescriptions for sinners.] For the ignorant masses, the sense of sin has been worn out by the importance attached to religious and social externals and by the artificial value of the service of a hereditary monopolist priesthood. These right, all is right in the eyes of the millions of India. When one of the multitude proposes to himself a visit to some shrine or sacred spot, no doubt the motive often is some divine dissatisfaction with himself; it is a feeling that God is not near enough where he himself lives. But what is poured into his ears? By a visit to Dwaraka, the city of Krishna's sports, he will be liberated from all his sins. By bathing in the sacred stream of the Ganges he will wash away his sins. All who die at Benares are sure to go to heaven. By repeating the Gayatri (a certain verse of the Rigveda addressed to the sun) a man is saved. "A brahman who holds the Veda in his memory is not culpable though he should destroy the three worlds"--so says the Code of Manu. The Tantras, or ritual works of modern Hinduism, abound in such prescriptions for sinners. "He who liberates a bull at the Aswamedika place of pilgrimage obtains _mukti_, that is salvation or an end of his rebirths." "All sin is destroyed by the repetition of Kali's thousand names." "The water of a guru's [religious teacher's] feet purifies from all sin." "The man who carries the guru's dust [the dust of the guru's feet] upon his head is emancipated from all sin and is [the god] Siva himself." "By a certain inhalation of the breath through the left nostril, and holding of the breath, with repetition of _yam_, the V[=a]yu Bija or mystical spell of wind or air, the body and its indwelling sinful self are dessicated, the breath being expelled by the right nostril."[122] And so on _ad infinitum_. Superstition, Western or Eastern, has no end of panaceas. We recall the advertisements of "Plenaria indulgenzia" on the doors of churches in South Italy. Visiting Benares, the metropolis of popular Hinduism, the conception of salvation everywhere obtruded upon one is that it is a question of sacred spots, and of due offerings and performances thereat. [Sidenote: The signification of sacrifices to the Indian masses.] [Sidenote: Description of animal sacrifice.] What to the masses is _sacrifice_ even, the word which to western ears, familiar with the term in our Scriptures, suggests acknowledgment of sin and atonement therefor? It is a mistake to regard sacrifices in India as expiatory; they are gifts to the Deities as superior powers for boons desired or received, or they are the customary homage to the powers that be, at festivals and special occasions. Animal sacrifices are distinguished from the offerings of fruits and flowers only in being limited to particular Deities and pertaining to more special occasions. An actual instance will show the place that sacrifices hold. In a letter from a village youth to his father, informing him how he had proceeded upon his arrival at Calcutta, whither he had gone for the University Matriculation Examination, he reports that he has offered a goat in sacrifice in order to ensure his success. What he probably does is this. In a bazaar near the great temple of Kalighat, near Calcutta, the greatest centre of animal sacrifices in the world, he buys a goat or kid, fetches it into the temple court and hands it over to one of the priests whom he has fee'd. The priest puts a consecrating daub of red lead upon the animal's head, utters over it some mantra or sacred Sanscrit text, sprinkles water and a few flowers upon it at the actual place of slaughter, and then delivers it over again to the offerer. Then when the turn of the offerer, whom we are watching, has come, he hands over the animal to the executioner, who fixes its neck within a forked or Y-shaped stick fixed fast in the ground. With one blow the animal's head is severed from its body. The bleeding head is carried off into the shrine to be laid before the image of the goddess, and become the temple perquisite. The decapitated body is carried off by the offerer to furnish his family with a holiday meal. With his forehead ceremonially marked with a touch of the blood lying thick upon the ground, the offerer leaves the temple, his sacrifice finished. Such is animal sacrifice; if the description recalls the slaughter-house, the actual sight is certainly sickening. Yet, far as a European now feels from worship in such a place, and thankful to Him who has abolished sacrifice once for all, there is no doubt religious gratification to those who go through what I have described. Our point is that, as Sir M. Monier Williams declares, in such an offering, "there is no idea of effacing guilt or making a vicarious offering for sin."[123] [Sidenote: The educated classes and the idea of sin.] [Sidenote: The brahma monopoly of nearness to the Deity broken down.] The educated classes, breathing now a monotheistic atmosphere, although in close contact with polytheism in their homes and with pantheism in their sacred literature, have reached the platform on which the idea of sin may be experienced. A member of that class, a pantheist no longer, is in the presence of a personal God, a Moral Being, and is himself a responsible person, with the instincts of a child of that Supreme Moral Being, our Father. With his education, he knows himself to be independent of brahmanical mediation in his intercourse with that Being. As confirmation, it is noteworthy how many of the religious leaders of modern times, like Buddha of old, are other than brahman by caste. In a previous chapter the names of a number of these non-brahman leaders were given. Even the Hindu ascetics of these latter days are more numerously non-brahman than of old, for in theory only brahmans have reached the ascetical stage of religious development. Whatever the reason, the brahmanical monopoly of access to and inspiration from the Deity is no longer recognised by new-educated India. [Sidenote: The worship of the new sects--its significance.] In like manner, the new religious associations seem to feel themselves directly in the presence of God. Congregational worship, a feature new to Hindus, is a regular exercise in the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j or Theistic Association of Bengal, the Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes or Prayer Associations of Western India, and the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j or Vedic Theistic Association of the United Provinces and the North-West of India. When Rammohan Roy, the theistic reformer, opened his church in Calcutta in 1830, he introduced among Hindus congregational worship and united prayer, before unknown among them and confessedly borrowed from Christian worship.[124] The public worship in all these bodies is indeed not unlike many a Christian service, consisting of Prayer to God, Praise of God, and expositions of religious truth. In a small collection of hymns, "Theistic Hymns," published some years ago for the use of members of the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j, we find many Christian hymns expressive of this personal relationship to God. We find "My God, my Father, while I stray," and "O God, our help in ages past." Neither of these hymns, however, it must be noted, contains confession of sin. Curiously incongruous to our minds is the inclusion among these hymns of poems like "The boy stood on the burning deck," and "Tell me not in mournful numbers," and "There's a magical tie to the land of our home," etc.[125] Even among the Hindu revivalists, judged by that test of the incoming of public worship, we perceive the growth of the idea of personal relationship to God. A recent publication of that party is "_Songs for the worship of the Goddess Durga_." One of them, we may note in passing, is the well-known hymn, "Work, for the night is coming." All such personal relationship, we again repeat, is incompatible with pantheism, and almost equally so with the popular sacerdotalism. Not without significance do the new theists of Western India call their associations the Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes or Prayer Associations, and give to the buildings in which they worship the name of Prayer Halls instead of temples. Let not men say that religion and theological belief belong to separable spheres. [Sidenote: The idea of sin naturally accompanies the new monotheism.] Once more, the public worship and prayer attendant on the new monotheism of the new religious associations are the signs that the stage has been reached where sin will be felt and confessed. As yet, however, it cannot be said that the thought of sin is prominent. In the creeds of the [=A]rya Sam[=a]j and the Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes, the word _sin_ does not occur. What we find in the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j is as follows. From the creed of the Southern India Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, of date about 1883, we quote paragraph 7: "Should I through folly commit sin, I will endeavour to be atoned _[sic]_ unto God by earnest repentance and reformation."[126] From the "Principles of the Sadharan [Universal or Catholic] Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j," set forth in the organ of the body, we quote a paragraph 8: "God rewards virtue and punishes sin, but that punishment is for our good and cannot last to eternity." From a publication by a third section of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, the party of Keshub Chunder Sen, we quote: "Every sinner must suffer the consequences of his own sins, sooner or later, in this world or in the next; for the moral law is unchangeable and God's justice irreversible. His mercy also must have its way. As the just king, He visits the soul with _adequate agonies_, and when the sinner after being thus chastised mournfully prays, He as the merciful Father delivers and accepts him and becomes reconciled to him. Such reconciliation is the only true atonement."[127] Even in the last quoted, the expression "adequate agonies" shows its standpoint regarding salvation from sin to be salvation by repentance, and not the standpoint of St. Paul, "I live, and yet no longer I, but Christ liveth in me." CHAPTER XX THE IDEA OF SALVATION "The slender sound As from a distance beyond distance grew, Coming upon me--O never harp nor horn Was like that music as it came; and then Stream'd thro' my cell a cold and silver beam, And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail." TENNYSON. [Sidenote: Hinduism superseded Buddhism because it offered salvation, not extinction.] Salvation does mean something to every class. The huge fabric of Brahmanism does not continue to exist without ministering to some wide-felt need of the masses. It was in obedience to some inward demand, however perverted, that children were cast into the Ganges at Saugor, that human sacrifices were offered and self-tortures like hook-swinging were endured. These have been put down by British authority, but there still remain many austerities and bloody sacrifices and strange devices to satisfy the clamant demand of our souls. Even may we not say that, along with other reasons for the disappearance of Buddhism from India, some response more satisfying to the human need must have been offered by the rival system of Hinduism. Hinduism has deities and avatars; Buddhism had none. Two of the most interesting spots in India, the most sacred in the world to Buddhists, are Budh-gaya, where under the bo tree Buddha attained to enlightenment, and S[=a]rn[=a]th, where he began his preaching. Yet the worship at neither place to-day is Buddhist. At the scene of Gautama's enlightenment, where he became Buddha or Enlightened, one of the conventional statues of Buddha is actually marked and worshipped as Vishnu, the Hindu deity, the Preserver in the Hindu triad. Even at that most holy shrine of Buddhism, Hinduism has supplanted it, for popular Hinduism offered salvation, while Buddhism offered extinction. Turning from the masses to the philosophical ascetic--when he cuts himself off from family life with all its variety of pleasure and interest, not to speak of the self-torture he also sometimes inflicts, he too has some corresponding demand, some adequate motive to satisfy. His is the resolute quest for salvation of the higher, older type. But we are dealing with modern, new-educated India, and now we ask ourselves: What does the modern, new-educated Indian mean by salvation? Why does the thought of salvation by faith in Jesus Christ fail to reach his heart? [Sidenote: Three ways of salvation in Hinduism: more strictly, three stages.] [Sidenote: 1. Saving knowledge] [Sidenote: Or now Beatific Vision.] The acute Indian mind, with its disposition to analyse and its tenderness towards all manifestations of religion, has noted three different paths of salvation, or more strictly three stages in the path. The last only really leads to salvation, the other two paths are tolerant recognition of the well-meaning religious efforts of those who have not attained to understanding of the true and final path of salvation. For convenience sake we may roughly designate the three ways as Saving Works, and Saving Faith, and Saving Knowledge, placing the elementary stage first. One of the Tantras or ritual scriptures of Modern Hinduism, the Mahanirv[=a]na Tantra, thus explains the three stages in the path and their respective merits: "The knowledge that Brahma alone is true is the best expedient; meditation is the middling [= the means?]; and (2) the chanting of glories and the recitation of names is the worst; and (3) the worship of idols is the worst of the worst.[128] Of the pantheist's "saving knowledge," perhaps enough has been said. But again, it is the piercing of the veil of Maya or Delusion which hides from the soul that God is the One and the All. It is the transformation of the consciousness of "I" into that of the "One only, without a second." It is the ability to say "Aham Brahman," _i.e._ I am Brahma. In the _Life of Dr. Wilson_, the Scottish Missionary at Bombay, we read that in 1833, Dr. Wilson went with a visitor to see a celebrated jogi who was lying in the sun in the street, the nails of whose hands were grown into his cheek, and on whose head there was the nest of a bird. The visitor questioned the jogi, "How can one obtain the knowledge of God?" and the reply of the jogi was, "Do not ask me questions; you may look at me, for I am God." "Aham Brahman," very probably was his reply. That is pantheistic salvation, _mukti_, or deliverance from further human existences and their desires and delusions. At last the spirit is free, and the galling chains of the lusting and limited body are broken. But as pantheism is declining, such cases are growing fewer, and for the educated Hindus, now largely monotheists, the saving knowledge is rather a beatific vision of the Divine, only vouchsafed to minds intensely concentrated upon the quest and thought of God, and cut off from mundane distractions. This is the union with God which is salvation to many of the modern monotheistic Hindus. [Sidenote: The quest of the beatific vision still implies the dissociation of religion and active life.] [Sidenote: An unproductive religious ideal.] What concerns us here is that in the conception of the beatific vision, we still find ourselves in a different religious world from ours--religion exoteric for the vulgar, and religion esoteric for the enlightened; religion not for living by, but for a period of retirement; a religion of spiritual self-culture, not of active sonship and brotherhood. Far be it from me to say that at this point the West may not learn as well as teach, for how much thought does the culture of the spirit receive among us? How little! However that may be, this conception of the religious life is deeply rooted in educated India. The impersonal pantheistic conception of the Deity may be passing into the theistic, and even into Christian theism; the doctrine of transmigration may be little more than the current orthodox explanation of the coming of misfortune; the doctrine of Maya or the illusory character of the phenomena of our consciousness, it may be impossible to utter in this new practical age; and Jesus Christ may be the object of the highest reverence; but still the instinctive thought of the educated Hindu is that there is a period of life for the world's work, and a later period for devotion to religion. When dissatisfaction with himself or with the world does overtake him, instinctively there occur to him thoughts of retirement from the world and concentration of his mind, thereby to reach God's presence. Very few spiritually minded Hindus past middle life pass into the Christian Church, as some do at the earlier stages of life. Under the sway of the Hindu idea of salvation, by knowledge or by intense intuition, they withdraw from active life to meditate on God, with less or more of the practice of religious exercises. Painful to contemplate the spiritual loss to the community of a conception of religion that diverts the spiritual energy away from the community, and renders it practically unproductive, except as an example. Once more we recall as typical the jogi, not going about doing good, anointed with the Holy Ghost and with power, but fixed like a plant to its own spot, and with inward-looking eyes. Time was that there were jogis and joginis (female jogis) in Europe; but even of St. Theresa, at one period of her life a typical jogini, we read that not long after her visions and supernatural visitations, she became a most energetic reformer of the convents. [Sidenote: The jogi, not the brahman, is the living part of present-day Hinduism.] That quest for the beatific vision or for union with God, is the highest and the most living part of present-day Hinduism, whether monotheistic or pantheistic. Not the purohit brahman (the domestic celebrant), or the guru brahman (the professional spiritual director), conventionally spoken of as divine, but the jogi or religious seeker is the object of universal reverence. And rightly so. The reality of this aspect of Hinduism is manifest in the ease with which it overrides the idea of caste. In theory brahmans are the twice-born caste, the nearest to the Deity and to union with Him. A man of lower caste, in his upward transmigrations towards union with God or absorption into Deity, should pass through an existence as a brahman. In the chapter on Transmigration we found that the upward steps of the ladder up to the brahman caste had been clearly stated in an authoritative Hindu text-book. The word _br[=a]hman_, the name of the highest caste, is itself in fact a synonym for Deity. But as a matter of fact, men of any caste, moved by the spirit, are found devoting themselves to the jogi life. "He who attains to God is the true br[=a]hman," is the current maxim, attributed to the great Buddha. [Sidenote: Saving Faith, or Bhakti.] [Sidenote: Bhakti implies a personal God.] [Sidenote: Bhakti a genuine feeling because it may override caste.] [Sidenote: Bhakti not fit to cope with caste.] This brings us to the second of the three paths of salvation, the middle portion of the upward path to the mountain top of clear, unclouded vision of the All, the One Soul. In Hindu theory, at this second stage man is still amid the clouds that cling to the mountain's breast. For easy reference I have named it _Salvation by Faith_, although the English term must not mislead. The extract from the Mahanirv[=a]na Tantra, already quoted, describes this inferior stage as the method of "chanting of glories and recitation of names" of gods. The Sanscrit name, _Bhakti_, is rendered devotion, or fervour, or faith, or fervent love; and in spite of alien ideas associated with bhakti, bhakti is much more akin to Faith than are many of the features of Hinduism to the Christian analogues with whose names they are ticketed. For example, bhakti practically implies a personal god, not the impersonal pantheistic Brahma. Intense devotion to some personal god, generally Vishnu the preserver, under the name Hari, or either of Vishnu's chief incarnations, Ram or Krishna, is the usual manifestation of bhakti. In actual practice it displays itself in ecstatic dancing or singing, or in exclaiming the name of the god or goddess, or in self-lacerations in his or her honour. Lacerations and what we would call penances, be it remembered, are done to the honour of a Deity; they are not a discipline like the self-whipping of the Flagellants and the jumping of the Jumpers of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. "Bhakti," says Sir Monier Williams, "is really a kind of 'meritorious work,' and not equivalent to 'faith' in the Christian sense."[129] Bhakti is the religion of many millions of India, combined more or less with the conventional externals of sacrifice and offerings and pilgrimages and employment of brahmans, which together constitute the third path of salvation, by karma or works. That ecstatic adoration is religion for many millions of India, although the name _bhakti_ may never pass their lips. We judged the idea of salvation by knowledge, or by intense concentration of mind, to be _genuinely_ felt, because it could override the idea of caste. Applying the same test here, we must acknowledge the genuineness of feeling in bhakti. Theoretically, at least, as Sir Monier Williams says, "devotion to Vishnu supersedes all distinctions of caste"; and again, "Vishnavism [Vishnuism], notwithstanding the gross polytheistic superstitions and hideous idolatry to which it gives rise, is the only Hindu system worthy of being called a religion."[130] In actual practice the repudiation of caste no doubt varies greatly. In some cases, caste is dropped only during the fit of fervour or bhakti. At Puri, _during_ the celebrated Juggernath (Jagan-nath, Lord of the world) pilgrimage, high caste and low together receive and eat the temple food, afterwards resuming their several ranks in caste. As a matter of fact it was found at the census of 1901, that with the exception of a few communities of devotees, all the professed Vishnuites returned themselves by their caste names. Hindu bhakti, like Christianity, is in conflict with caste, and bhakti has not proved fit to cope with it. [Sidenote: Bhakti in other religions.] [Sidenote: In Christian worship.] Bhakti, then, is simply the designation for fervour in worship or in presence of the Deity, as it appears in Hinduism. For fervour is not peculiar to any religion, even ecstatic fervour. We see it among the Jews in King David's dancing before the ark of the Lord, and we see it in the whirling of the dervishes of Cairo, despite Mahomedans' overawing idea of God. May we not say that the singing in Christian worship recognises the same religious instinct, and the necessity to permit the exercise of it. Many of the psalms, we feel we must chant or sing; reading is too cold for them--the 148th Psalm for example, "Praise ye the Lord from the heavens; praise Him in the heights: praise ye Him, sun and moon," and so on. [Sidenote: Bhakti a natural channel for religious feeling, now being reconsecrated.] We pass over the extravagances and gross depths to which bhakti, devotion or faith or love, may degenerate in the excitement of religious festivals--_corruptio optimi pessimum_. Even, strange to say, we find the grossness of bhakti also deliberately embodied in figures of wood and stone. Passing that over, we repeat that in bhakti or devotion to a personal God, or even only ecstatic extravagant devotion to a saint or religious hero semi-deified, we have a natural channel for the religious feeling of Indians, a channel that in these days is wearing deep. I speak of the middle classes, not of the ignorant masses, and my point is that the middle classes and the new religious organisations including the Indian Church are reconsecrating bhakti. Here is a portion of a bhakti hymn of one of the sections of the Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j: "The gods dance, chanting the name of Hari; Dances my Gouranga in the midst of the choral band; The eyes full of tears, Oh! how beautiful! Jesus dances, Paul dances, dances Sakya Muni." [Sidenote: Bhakti in the Indian Church.] Between singing the song and acting it while singing, the distance in India is little. The explanation of a recent Hindu devotee, Ramkrishna Paramhansa, is: "A true devotee, who has drunk deep of divine Love, is like a veritable drunkard, and as such cannot always observe the rules of propriety."[131] Manifestations of bhakti we would soon have in the Indian Christian Church were the cold moderating influence of Westerns lessened; and as the Church increases and becomes indigenous, we must welcome bhakti in measure. Every religious procession will lead to manifestations of bhakti. In the Church of Scotland Magazine, _Life and Work_, for November 1904, we are told of a convert at Calcutta: "She kept speaking and singing of Jesus.... She appeared to the Hindu family to be a Christ-intoxicated woman." Again, in the _Indian Standard_ for October 1905, we read of a religious revival among the Christians of the hills in Assam, where the Welsh missionaries work. We may contrast the concomitants of the revival with those attending the late revival even among the fervid Welsh. At one meeting, we are told, "the fervour rose at times to boiling heat, and scores of men were almost beside themselves with spiritual ecstasy. We never witnessed such scenes; scores of people literally danced, while large numbers who did not dance waved their arms in the air, keeping time, as they sang some of our magnificent Khassie hymns." [Sidenote: Saving knowledge naturally superseded by Bhakti in the new monotheism.] [Sidenote: An object of bhakti needed for educated India.] [Sidenote: Buddha, Krishna, Chaitanya.] [Sidenote: Jesus Christ, the supereminent object of bhakti.] If what I have frequently repeated in these chapters be correct--that in the nineteenth century educated India has become largely monotheistic, it is in keeping therewith that the prevailing conception of religion should have changed, alongside, from the quest of Saving Knowledge to that of Bhakti or enthusiastic devotion to a person. Direct confirmation of that inference, a recent Hindu historian supplies. In a different context altogether, he declares: "The doctrine of bhakti (Faith) now rules the Hindu to the almost utter exclusion of the higher and more intellectual doctrine of gnan (Knowledge of the Supreme Soul)." The conception of the all-comprehending impersonal Brahma has, indeed, lost vitality; for the educated also the externals of the popular religion have lost their significance and become puerile. But for them also, the objects of popular bhakti, Ram and Krishna, are as much epical as religious heroes. Hinduism needs an object of bhakti for her educated people. The fact explains several of the novel religious features of the past half-century. The great jogi, Buddha, although not a brahman, was rediscovered as a religious hero for Hindus; at the commencement of the century he was a heretic to the brahmans. "The head of a sect inimical to Hinduism," the great Rammohan Roy calls him. So Sir Edwin Arnold's _Light of Asia_ had a great vogue some twenty years ago. Then Krishna has had his life re-written and his cult revived--purged of the old excesses of the Krishna-bhakti. More recently, Chaitanya, the religious teacher in Bengal in the fifteenth century, has been adopted by certain of the educated class in Bengal as an object of bhakti. Here, it seems to me, is found the place of Christ in the mind of educated India. They are fairly familiar now with the story of the New Testament, and Jesus Christ stands before them as the supereminent object of bhakti; and I venture to say is generally regarded as such, although comparatively few as yet have adopted the bhakti attitude towards Him. The _Imitatio Christi_, however, is a well-known book to the spiritually minded among the educated classes. India has advanced beyond the cold, intellectual, Unitarian appreciation of Jesus Christ that marked the early Br[=a]hma and Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]j movements and manifested itself in their creeds in express denial of any incarnation. For Br[=a]hma worship, I have seen the hymn, "Jesus, lover of my soul," transformed into "Father, lover of my soul." Hindus of the newer bhakti attitude to Christ would find no difficulty in singing the hymn as Christians do, provided the doctrinal background be not obtruded upon them. Sober faith has dawned, and will formulate itself by and by. CHAPTER XXI CONCLUSION "Draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation." SHAKESPEARE, _Hen. VI_. II. Sailing, say to India, from Britain down through the Atlantic, close by the coast of Portugal and Spain, and then, within the Mediterranean, skirting the coast of Algeria, and so on, one is often oppressed with a sense of his isolation. We can see that the land we are passing is inhabited by human beings like ourselves; and those houses visible are homes; and signs of life we can see even from our passing vessel. What of all the tragedies and comedies that are daily being enacted in these houses--the exits and the entrances, the friendships and the feuds, the selfishnesses and self-sacrifices, the commonplace toil, the children's play, that are going on the very moment we are looking? We are out of it, and our affections refuse to be wholly alienated from these fellow-beings, although the ship of which we form a part must pursue her own aim, and hurries along. The Briton's tie to India and Indians is of no passing accidental character. Our life-histories are not merely running parallel; our destinies are linked together. Christian feeling, duty, self-interest, and the interest of a linked destiny all call upon us to know each other and cherish mutual sympathy. Not that the West has ever been without an interest in India, as far back as we have Indian history, in the Greek accounts of the invasion of India by Alexander the Great in 327 B.C. Writing in the first century B.C. and rehearsing what the earlier Greek writers had said about India, Strabo, the Greek geographer, testifies to the prevailing interest in India, and even sets forth the difficulty of knowing India, exactly as a modern student of India often feels inclined to do. "We must take with discrimination," he says, "what we are told about India, for it is the most distant of lands, and few of our nation have seen it. Those, moreover, who have seen it, have seen only a part, and most of what they say is no more than hearsay. Even what they saw, they became acquainted with only while passing through the country with an army, in great haste. Yea, even their reports about the same things are not the same, although they write as if they had examined the things with the greatest care and attention. Some of the writers were fellow-soldiers and fellow-travellers, yet oft-times they contradict each other.... Nor do those who at present make voyages thither afford any precise information." We sympathise with Strabo, as our own readers also may. The interest of the West was of course interrupted when the Turks thrust themselves in between Europe and India and blocked the road Eastward overland. But the sea-road round the Cape of Good Hope was discovered, and West and East met more directly again, and Britain's special interest in India began. Judged by the recent output of English books on India, the interest of Britons in things Indian is rapidly increasing, and, _pace_ Strabo, it is hoped that this book, the record of the birth of New Ideas in India, will not only increase the knowledge but also deepen interest and sympathy. For even more noteworthy than the number of new books--since many of the new books deal only with what may be called Pictorial India--is the deepening of interest manifest in recent years. That self-glorifying expression, "the brightest jewel in the British crown," has grown obsolete, and India has become not the glory of Britain, but the first of her imperial responsibilities. The thought of Britain as well as the thought of new India has changed. To the extent of recognising a great imperial responsibility, the mission efforts of the Churches and the speeches of statesmen and the output of the press have converted Britain. India, what her people actually are in thought and feeling, what the country is in respect of the necessities of life and industrial possibilities--these are questions that never fail to interest an intelligent British audience. In this volume, the aim has been to set forth the existing thoughts and feelings, especially of new-educated India, and to do so on the historical principle, that to know how a thing _has come to be_, is the right way to know what it is and how to treat it. The history of an opinion is its true exposition. These chapters are not speculations, but a setting forth of the progress of opinion in India during the British period, and particularly during the nineteenth century. The successive chapters make clear how wonderful has been the progress of India during the century in social, political, and religious ideas. The darkness of the night has been forgotten, and will hardly be believed by the new Indians of to-day; and ordinary Britons can hardly be expected to know Indian history beyond outstanding political events. Not, however, to boast of progress, but to encourage educated Indians to further progress, and to enlighten Britons regarding the India which they are creating, is the hope of this volume. Further progress has yet to be made, and difficult problems yet await solution, and to know the history of the perplexing situation will surely be most helpful as a guide. What future is in store for India lies hidden. It would be interesting to speculate, and with a few _ifs_ interposed, it might be easy to dogmatise. What will she become? is indeed a question of fascinating interest, when we ask it of a child of the household, or when we ask it of a great people rejuvenated, to whom the British nation stands in place of parent. In the history of the soul of a people, the century just ended may be but a brief space on which to stand to take stock of what is past and seek inspiration for the future, to talk of progress made and progress possible. "Where lies the land to which the ship would go? Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. And where the land she travels from away? Far, far behind, is all that they can say."[132] But the past century is all the experience of India we Britons have, and we are bound to reflect well upon it in our outlook ahead. [Footnote 1: The Senate and People of Rome--Senatus Populus-que Romanus.] [Footnote 2: In the Hindu College at Benares, affiliated to Allahabad University, certain orthodox Hindus also objected to sacred texts being read in the presence of European professors and teachers. Think of it, in that college preparing students for ordinary modern degrees!--Bose, _Hindu Civilisation, I_. xxxiii.] [Footnote 3: One of the Zoroastrian Persians who fled to Western India at the beginning of the eighth century A.D. At the census of 1901 they numbered 94,190. They are most numerous in the city of Bombay.] [Footnote 4: _Asiatic Studies_, I.] [Footnote 5: _Ibid_., I. iii.] [Footnote 6: _Quinquen, Report on Education in India_, 1897-1902.] [Footnote 7: For an apparently contrary view, see _Census of India, 1901, Report,_ p. 430: "Railways, which are sometimes represented as a solvent of caste prejudices, have in fact enormously extended the area within which those prejudices reign supreme." The sentence refers to the influence of the fashion of the higher castes in regard to child marriage and prohibition of the marriage of widows.] [Footnote 8: Sir W.W. Hunter, _England's Work in India_.] [Footnote 9: The manifold origins of castes are fully discussed in the newest lights in the _Census of India Report_, 1901.] [Footnote 10: Miss Noble [Sister Nivedita], finds herein an apology for caste. "The power of the individual to advance is by this means kept strictly in ratio to the thinking of the society in which he lives." _(The Web of Indian Life_, p. 145.)] [Footnote 11: Sir A. Lyall, _Asiatic Studies_, I. v.: "A man is not a Hindu because he inhabits India or belongs to any particular race or state, but because he is a Brahmanist." Similarly _Census of India_, 1901, _Report_, p. 360: "The most obvious characteristics of the ordinary Hindu are his acceptance of the Brahmanical supremacy and of the caste system."] [Footnote 12: _Harvest Field_, March 1904; _Madras Decen. Missionary Conference Report,_ 1902.] [Footnote 13: Introduction to _Translation of the Ishopanishad_.] [Footnote 14: _Benares Hindu Coll. Maga_. Sept. 1904.] [Footnote 15: _Karkarin: Forty years of Progress and Reform_, p. 117.] [Footnote 16: _Census of India_, 1901, _Report_, pp. 496, 517, 544.] [Footnote 17: Miss Noble [Sister Nivedita], _Web of Indian Life_, p. 133.] [Footnote 18: _Report, Census of India_, 1901, p. 163.] [Footnote 19: _Census of India_, 1901, _Report_, p. 163.] [Footnote 20: _Census of India_, 1901, _Report_, p. 522.] [Footnote 21: _Lux Christi_, by C.A. Mason, p. 255. 1902.] [Footnote 22: In Italy, in 1891, the sexes were almost equal, being males 1000 to females 995.] [Footnote 23: _Census of India_, 1901, _Report_, p. 115.] [Footnote 24: A case of Suttee is reported in the _Bengal Police Report_ for 1903.] [Footnote 25: _Report, Census of India_, 1901, pp. 442, 443.] [Footnote 26: Justice Amir Ali, _Life and Teaching of Mohammed_.] [Footnote 27: Sister Nivedita, _Web of Indian Life_, p. 80.] [Footnote 28: _Church of Scotland Mission Record_, 1894; _East and West_, July 1905.] [Footnote 29: Trotter, _India under Queen Victoria_.] [Footnote 30: P. 428.] [Footnote 31: _Hindu_ was originally a geographical term referring to the country of the River Indus. It is derived from the Sanscrit (_Sindhu_), meaning _river_, from which also come _Indus, Sindh, Hindu, Hindi,_ and _India_. The names _Indus_ and _India_ are English words got from Greek; they are not Indian, terms at all, although they are coming into use among educated Indians.] [Footnote 32: _Hindi_ is also used as a comprehensive term for all the kindred dialects of Hindustan. See R.N. Cust, LL.D, _Oecumenical List of Translations of the Holy Scriptures_, 1901. The above account follows that given in the _Census Report_ for 1901.] [Footnote 33: The correct form, _brahman_, not _brahmin_, is employed by the majority of recent writers.] [Footnote 34: Quoted in _Census of India_, 1881.] [Footnote 35: _The Web of Indian Life_, pp. 101, 298.] [Footnote 36: I. xvi.] [Footnote 37: _Ancient Geography of Asia_, by Nibaran Chandra Das.] [Footnote 38: For other testimony to the new national feeling, see _Decen. Missionary Conference Report_, 1902, p. 305, etc.; Sister Nivedita, _Web of Indian Life_.] [Footnote 39: This may not be so in the extreme south-west, where there have been Christians since the sixth century.] [Footnote 40: _The Indian National Congress_, by John Murdoch, LL.D., 1898. (Christian Literature Society, Madras.)] [Footnote 41: _Karkaria: Forty Years of Progress and Reform_, 1896, p. 94.] [Footnote 42: _The Indian National Congress_, by John Murdoch, LL.D., p. 95. (Madras Christian Literature Society.)] [Footnote 43: _The Indian National Congress_, by John Murdoch, LL.D. (Madras Christian Literature Society), p. 142, etc.] [Footnote 44: _Asiatic Studies_, I. iii., II. i.] [Footnote 45: _The Indian National Congress_, by John Murdoch, LL.D., p. 153. (Madras Christian Literature Society.)] [Footnote 46: Smith, _Life of Alexander Duff_, 1881, Chapter V.] [Footnote 47: _Asiatic Studies_, II. I. 7, 37.] [Footnote 48: _Report of Madras Decennial Missionary Conf_., 1902, p. 311.] [Footnote 49: Acts iv. 33.] [Footnote 50: Acts xvii. 18, 32.] [Footnote 51: _Statistical Atlas of India_, 1895.] [Footnote 52: Census of 1901.] [Footnote 53: _Hinduism and its Modern Exponents_, by Rev. C.N. Banerji, B.A.] [Footnote 54: Monier Williams, _Brahmanism_, etc., p. 18.] [Footnote 55: Monier Williams, _Hinduism_, p. 38.] [Footnote 56: Youngson, _Punjab Mission of the Church of Scotland_, p. 27.] [Footnote 57: "The Arya Samaj," by Rev. H.D. Griswold, D.D., _Madras Decen. Mission. Conference Report_; "The Arya Samaj," by Rev. H. Forman, _Allahabad Mission Press_, 1902; _Biographical Essays_, by Max Müller--"Dyananda Saraswati"] [Footnote 58: For another explanation of the separation, see Lillie, _Madame Blavatsky_, chap. vii.] [Footnote 59: 62,458,077 Mahomedans at Census of 1901.] [Footnote 60: _Census of India_, 1901, _Report_, pp. 371-73.] [Footnote 61: Disguised as _Necharis_ in the _Report, Census of India_, 1901, p. 373. See Youngson, _Punjab Mission of the Church of Scotland_, p. 14; _Madras Decen. Miss. Conf. Report of_ 1902, p. 341.] [Footnote 62: _Asiatic Studies_, I. 1.] [Footnote 63: Guru-prasad Sen in _Introduction to the Study of Hinduism_, quoted in _Madras Decen. Miss. Conf. Report_, p. 280.] [Footnote 64: Sister Nivedita, _Web of Indian Life_, pp. 175, 179.] [Footnote 65: Cf. _Philosophic Hinduism_, p. 27, Madras, C.V.E.S.] [Footnote 66: Amy W. Carmichael, _Things as they are in South India_.] [Footnote 67: Monier Williams, _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, p. 54.] [Footnote 68: _Indian Missions from the Outside_.] [Footnote 69: _Hinduism_, p. 88. _Things as They Are_, iv. by Amy W. Carmichael.] [Footnote 70: _Intellectual Progress of India_, P. Mitter, p. 5.] [Footnote 71: _Defence of Hindu Theism: Appeal to the Christian Public_ (II. 91).] [Footnote 72: Smith, _Life of Dr. Wilson_.] [Footnote 73: Rammohan Roy, _Appeal to the Christian Public_.] [Footnote 74: _Vedic Hinduism_, (Madras C.V.E.S.) 1888.] [Footnote 75: Bose, _Hindu Civilisation during British Rule_, i. 95.] [Footnote 76: Monier Williams, _Modern India_, 1878, p. 101.] [Footnote 77: Plato in the _Timæus_ teaches the eternal existence of matter as a substance distinct from God. See also p. 134.] [Footnote 78: Max Müller, _Ramakrishna_, p. 48.] [Footnote 79: Sister Nivedita, _The Web of Indian Life_.] [Footnote 80: Monier Williams, _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, p. 25, etc.] [Footnote 81: For the Yoga System, see pp. 127, 128, 134.] [Footnote 82: _Text-book of Hindu Religion_, etc., p. 60.] [Footnote 83: See _also Life of Rev. J.J. Weitbrecht_, 1830, p. 318.] [Footnote 84: Max Müller, _Ramakrishna_, p. 8.] [Footnote 85: _Weekly Statesman_ (Calcutta), 14 IX. 1905.] [Footnote 86: Rev. Dr. Griswold in _Madras Decen. Missionary Conf. Report_, 1902, p. 317.] [Footnote 87: _Asiatic Studies_, II. i. 11.] [Footnote 88: Sister Nivedita, _The Web of Indian Life_, pp. 191, 287.] [Footnote 89: Avatar=a descent.] [Footnote 90: Lillie, _India and its Problems_.] [Footnote 91: Smith, _Life of Dr. John Wilson_, pp. 63, 65.] [Footnote 92: Lillie, _India and its Problems_, p. 130.] [Footnote 93: _Biographical Sketch of K.M. Banerjea_, p. 79. K.M. Banerjea, _Christianity and Hinduism_, pp. 1, 2, 11. Monier Williams, _Hinduism_, p. 36, etc; _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, pp. 4, 14, 17, 33. Compare Hebrews i. 2, 3.] [Footnote 94: _Hinduism and its Modern Exponents_, Rev. C.N. Banerjea, B.A. Calcutta, 1893.] [Footnote 95: _Sketches of Indian Christians_ (Madras C.L.S.), 1896.] [Footnote 96: _Lectures in India_.] [Footnote 97: P.N. Mitter, _Intellectual Progress of Modern India_.] [Footnote 98: _U.F. Church of Scot. Mission Report_ for 1903; _Madras Decen. Missionary Conference Report_, 1903, pp. 310, 311.] [Footnote 99: Farquhar, _The Future of Christianity in India_ (Chr. Lit. Soc).] [Footnote 100: K.C. Banurji, Esq., M.A., B.L., Registrar of Calcutta University.] [Footnote 101: _Asiatic Studies_, I. v. 143.] [Footnote 102: _Madras Decen. Miss. Conf. Report_, 1902, p. 345.] [Footnote 103: Translated by Rev. J.L. Thakur Das, of Lahore.] [Footnote 104: J.N. Farquhar, M.A., in _The Future of Christianity in India_, Madras C.L.S.] [Footnote 105: For a fuller statement, see Farquhar, _The Future of Christianity in India_. C.L.S., Madras.] [Footnote 106: Flint, _Philosophy of History_.] [Footnote 107: _Asiatic Studies_, I. i.] [Footnote 108: Bhag. Gita, v. 3, quoted by Max Müller in _Ramakrishna_, p. 3.] [Footnote 109: _Asiatic Studies_, II. i. 35.] [Footnote 110: John v. 11.] [Footnote 111: The term _Nirvana_ is not used by ordinary uneducated Indians: it is known only to the educated.] [Footnote 112: Max Müller, _Ramakrishna_.] [Footnote 113: Sister Nivedita, _The Web of Indian Life_.] [Footnote 114: Rev. H. Forman, _The Arya Sarm[=a]j_, Allahabad.] [Footnote 115: _Madras Decen. Missionary Conf. Report_, 1902, p. 276.] [Footnote 116: Hastie, _Hindu Idolatry and English Enlightenment_.] [Footnote 117: "The tendency of the doctrine of Karma has been to promote contentment."--Bose, _Hindu Civilisation_, I. lix.] [Footnote 118: Sir M. Monier Williams' _Brahmanism and Hinduism_.] [Footnote 119: Sister Nivedita, _The Web of Indian Life_, p. 198.] [Footnote 120: Taken from the Chh[=a]ndogya Upanishad.] [Footnote 121: Lilly, _India and its Problems_.] [Footnote 122: K.S. Macdonald, _Sin and Salvation ... in the Tantras_, Calcutta Methodist Publ. House.] [Footnote 123: _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, pp. 25, 24; _Hinduism_, p. 39.] [Footnote 124: Monier Williams, _Brahmanism and Hinduism_.] [Footnote 125: _The [=A]rya Sam[=a][=i]_, by Rev. Henry Forman. Allahabad, 1887.] [Footnote 126: _Religious Reform_, Part IV. Madras C.V.E.S., 1888.] [Footnote 127: _Religious Reform_, Part IV. Madras C.V.E.S., 1888.] [Footnote 128: K.S. Macdonald, _Sin and Salvation ... in the Tantras_. Calcutta Methodist Publ. House.] [Footnote 129: Monier Williams, _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, p. 63.] [Footnote 130: Monier Williams, _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, Chap. V.] [Footnote 131: Max Müller, _Ranuikrishna Paramahansa_, p. viii.] [Footnote 132: A.H. Clough. Quoted by Lord Curzon at Simla, September 1905.] INDEX Absorption into Deity, 153, 223, 226, 230. Agnosticism, 183. Agra, 2, 67, 82. Ahmad, Mirza Gholam, of Qadian, 202-4, 210. Ahmad, Sir Syed, 146. Akbar, 13, 95. Allah, 3, 207. Allahabad, 13. Ammonius, the Neo-Platonist, 208-9. Anglo-Indians, viii, 51-2, 67, 88, 89, 91, 100, 101, 105, 114, 123, 124, 160. Anti-British feeling, ix, xi, 88-95, 101, 137, 144-5, 190, 192, 240. Anti--Christian feeling, 137, 191-2, 241. Anti-foreign feeling, 128, 191-2, 240. _See_ Indian bias. Army. _See_ British soldiers. [=A]rya Sam[=a]j, 30, 36, 46, 56-7, 64, 122, 132-40, 143-5, 149, 169, 172, 181-2, 210, 228-9, 241-2, 250-2. Aryans, 32, 70, 78, 134, 139, 156 Ascetics, 12, 47-9, 107, 157, 184, 219, 249, 255. Asoka. 77-8. Assam, 35, 214, 265. Aurangzeb, 3, 14, 77. Avatars (descents or incarnations), 184-8, 200, 211. Avidya (ignorance). _See_ Delusion. Awakening, Intellectual, 19, 76, 118. _See_ New. Banerjea, K.M., 46, 94, 188-9. Banyan tree, 12-3. Baroda, 26, 35, 54, 58. Beef, 18, 136. Benares, 3, 13, 54, 132, 142, 246. Benares, Hindu College, 25, 142-3, 155, 173, 182, 234-5. Bengal, v, 8-9, 35-6, 47-8, 54, 60, 64, 69, 75, 81-2, 84, 106, 127, 129, 130, 138, 145, 163, 168, 178, 191, 194-5, 198-9, 218, 230-1, 250, 267. Bentinck, Lord W., 25. Besant, Mrs., 31, 38, 140-2, 208, 237. Bhagabat Gita, 96, 198-9. Bhakti (enthusiastic devotion), 187, 261-8. Bible, 111, 194-8, 205-6, 211-2, 233. 247, 253, 263-4, 267. Blavatsky, Madame, 31, 140-1, 209. Bombay, 2, 44, 46, 54, 69, 75, 81, 84-6, 96, 130-1, 138-9, 167, 172, 195, 257. Bose's _Hindu Civilisation_, etc., 75, 160, 170, 196. Brahma, 70, 169, 175-7, 256-7, 261, 266. Brahm[=a], 70, 176-7, 185. Br[=a]hma Sam[=a]j, 30, 36, 56-7, 62-4, 71, 122, 125-31, 143, 145-6, 148, 169-71, 179, 192, 194-5, 234, 250, 252, 264, 267-8. Brahman privileges, 6-7, 16-7, 24, 42, 60, 245-6, 249. Brahmanism, 69-70, 255. Brahmans, 7, 21, 23, 26, 30, 35, 38-9, 49, 60, 68-9, 128, 151, 158, 167, 219, 237, 249-50, 260, 262. Breath, Ritual management of the, 246. Britain and India. _See_ India. British Government, 2, 8, 14, 25, 33-6, 53, 55, 73-6, 79, 92-4, 106, 144, 208, 217-9. British Government, a theological illustration, 154, 157. British Government, Acts of, 14, 53-5, 72, 254. British Government and caste, 33-6. British influence, vii, ix, 4-5, 14-15, 42-4, 61, 106, 272-3. British merchants, viii. British soldiers, 2, 15. Brotherhood of man, 102, 239. Buddha or Sakya Muni, 161, 186, 196, 199, 223, 227, 249, 260, 264, 267. Buddhism, Buddhists, 66, 70, 77, 141, 196, 226, 254-5. Calcutta, 2, 17, 25-6, 36, 43, 45-8, 63, 72, 79, 85-6, 99, 122, 125-6, 181, 192, 198, 230, 232, 247-8, 250. Calcutta University, 6, 49, 68, 134, 247. Capital in India, 92-3. Cashmere, 204. Caste, 22, 39, 46, 48, 56, 75, 95, 128, 132, 135, 137, 142-3, 158, 190, 211, 218, 260, 262-3. Caste declining, 16-8, 35, 37-8, 218. Castes: Brahman. _See_ Brahman; Kayasth (Clerk), 5, 35, 48, 49; Kshatriya or Soldier, 35; Mahratta, 35; Nayar, 33; Pariah, 33; Shaha, 35; Soldier, 35; Sudras (the group of lowest castes recognised as within Hinduism), 6, 21. Census of 1901, 5, 17, 33-6, 53-4, 57, 59, 61, 64, 106, 131, 154, 207, 263. Central Provinces, 17. Chaitanya or Gauranga, 22, 199-200, 264, 267. Chet Ram, 204-8. Chinese--Literati, 43, 113; Pilgrim, 13; Anti-foreign feeling, 191. Christ. _See_ Jesus Christ. Christian civilisation in India, xi, 4, 14. Christian doctrine in contrast, 172, 174, 181, 186, 207, 221-34, 238, 241, 253, 261-2. Christian influence, 146, 153, 156, 158-9, 169-71, 179, 197, 206, 222. Christian religion, The, 221-2. Christian worship, 117, 128, 187, 245, 250, 263, 264. Christianity in India, xi, 14, 41, 44, 73, 80, 101, 105-9, 112, 115, 125-7, 133, 143, 148-9, 165, 182, 190, 196-7, 241. Christians, 151, 163, 203-4, 233-4. Christians, Indian, 5, 30, 32, 37, 45, 52, 56-7, 62-4, 66, 89, 122-5, 137, 143, 169, 190-2, 194-5, 264-6. Citizenship, Idea of, 24, 72-3, 87, 101, 104, 218. Civil Servants, vii-ix, 87, 160, 188. Cochin, 33. Colleges, Indian, x, 48-9, 74. Common welfare, Idea of. _See_ Public. Commons, House of, 102. Company, East India, 99. Comparative religion, 107-8. Conflict of ideas, 4, 6, 7, 49, 117. _See_ Christian doctrine. Congress, The--the All-India political association, 76-93, 133, 139, 144. Conservatism, Indian, vi, 11-20, 46, 49, 83, 142, 158-165. Coronation, Bengali representative at, 29. Cow, Sanctity of the, 136, 151, 202. Creator, 177, 186, 189. Cremation and burial, 105. Curzon, Lord, 15, 89, 93, 274. Darjeeling, 18. Daru-l-harb, 145-6. Delhi, 2, 67, 68, 82. Delusion, 153, 157, 173-7, 184-5, 220, 241, 243, 257-8. Devotee. _See_ Jogi. Digby, William, 92-3. Doctors, Indian lady, 62. Doctrine. _See_ Christian; Hindu. Drink-selling, 18. Dualistic conceptions, 172, 178, 242. Dufferin Association, Lady, 62. Durga, the Goddess, 251. Dutt, Narendranath, B.A. _See_ Vivekananda. Eating together, 81, 104, 160. Educated Indians, The New, v, vii, ix, 44-5, 55, 58, 76, 83, 86-7, 89, 91, 97-8, 112, 115, 117-8, 124, 127, 132, 140, 143, 149, 155-6, 159-62, 167-71, 173-4, 178, 183, 185, 189-92, 196, 211, 222, 230-42, 250, 255, 258. Education in India-- Boys, 5, 43. Females, 5, 46, 55-6, 62. Influence of, 15, 39-49, 94, 101, 106, 115, 126, 132, 146, 160, 168. Edward VII., 2, 29, 76. Elphinstone, Mountstuart, 44. English education. _See_ Education. English-knowing Indians. _See_ Educated Indians. English language, 14-5, 39-41, 44, 78, 81, 83. English literature, 14, 23, 73, 179. Esoteric religion. _See_ Knowledge. Eternal entities, Three, 134, 172. Europe, Voyages to, 26-9, 45, 48, 101, 127, 149. Europeans. _See_ Anglo-Indians. Evolution of India, v. Extinction. _See_ Nirvana. Family ties, Indian, 52, 60. Famines, 2, 20, 74, 92-3, 94, 98, 106, 215, 232-3. Farquhar, J.N., 197-8, 209. Females. _See_ Education; Infanticide; Women. Females fewer than males, 52-4. Flesh-eating. _See_ Food. Food forbidden, vi, 18, 26-7, 48, 105, 136-7. Future of India, 41, 98, 116, 273-4. Ganges, The, 17, 246, 254, 266-7, 272-3. Girls. _See_ Education. God, 134, 150, 154-7, 166-9, 172-5, 178-82, 184, 211, 221-2, 224-5, 230, 242-5, 250-1. God, Fatherhood of, 116-8, 149, 179-82, 228-9, 239-40, 249-50. Goddesses, 107, 178-9, 216, 227, 251. Gujarat, 82, 178. Gunning Lectures, v. xii. Guru (religious teacher or spiritual guide), xi, 163-5, 200, 206, 246, 260. Hari, the God, 187, 197. Harnack, Prof., 209-10, 221. Hastie, Rev. Dr., 48, 231. Heaven and hell, Ideas of, 224, 228-30. _See_ Hereafter. Hereafter, The, 117, 149, 213-38, 240. Hindu, Hinduism, Definitions of, 24, 26, 66, 69-70, 78, 151-4, 169. Hindu doctrines, 144-69, 200, 228. Hindu exclusiveness, 6, 30, 47, 75, 80, 142, 149. _Hindu Religion, Catechism of_, 182. _Hindu Religion, Text-book of_, 38, 142-3, 173-7, 227, 229, 235-7, 260. Hindu religious mood, 7, 180. Hindu reverence for holy men, 165. Hindu Revival, 38, 79, 122, 143, 155, 173, 193, 211, 230, 235, 251. Hindu rites, 158-65, 245-9. Hindu Triad, 70, 176-7, 185-7, 207 255 Hinduism, 7, 112-3, 133, 135, 138, 142-3, 145, 159-60, 163, 173, 182, 200, 202, 206-9, 228-9, 230, 246-7, 255, 260, 263, 266. Hinduism and Christianity. _See_ Christian doctrine. Hinduism regarded as local or racial, 40-1, 114-6. Hinduism, Solidarity of, 17, 23-4, 75. Hindus, 106, 128, 133-4, 140, 142, 144, 150, 178, 180, 204, 242, 250. Hindus and Mahomedans, 3-4, 89, 137, 144, 204. Hindustan, Hindustani, 66-8, 81. Ideas, New. _See_ New. Idolatry, 544-5, 48, 65, 127, 133, 135, 166-9, 171, 211, 256, 262. Ilbert Bill, 88. Illusion. _See_ Delusion. Immortality. _See_ Hereafter. Incarnation. _See_ Avatar. India, Indians (meaning of), 65-6, 78. India, Ancient, 139-41, 236. India and Britain, xi, 2-4, 78, 91, 95-8, 236-7, 270-4. India and Mahomedans, 145-6. India, Features of, 158, 202, 204, 206, 212-17, 221. India, New. _See_ Educated. India ruled by Indians, 91. Indian bias, 95-7, 128, 190. Individual's rights, The, 21-5. Infanticide, 53-4. Interest in India, 1-4, 107, 270-4. Japan, 89, 98, 113, 195. Jesus Christ, 112, 117-9, 149, 184-213, 221-2, 227-8, 234, 240-1, 248, 253, 255, 258, 264-5, 267-8. Jesus Christ and Chaitanya, 199-200. Jesus Christ and Krishna, 187-9, 198-9. Jesus Christ distinguished from Christians and Christianity, 192-7, 207-11. Jews, 104, 151, 203, 263. Joga philosophy (the system which specially instructs devotees), 127-8, 134. Jogi (a devotee), 185, 212, 228, 237, 240, 257-60, 265. John's Gospel, St., 195, 212, 233. Juggernath, 263. Justice, God's, 181, 241, 252. Kali, the Goddess, 178, 246. Kalighat, 108, 248. Karachi, 82, 86. Karma (works, or rebirth according to one's acts), 262. _See_ Transmigration. Kayasth (clerk), caste. _See_ Castes. Keranis (Christians), 137. Knowledge, Saving, 175, 177, 220, 244, 256-9, 266. Koran, 145, 182, 203. Krishna, vi, 96, 186-9, 198-200, 204, 211, 227, 245, 261, 264, 266-7. Krishnaites, Neo-, 198, 209, 230. Kulin brahmans (Kulin signifies a recognised aristocracy within a caste), 60. Lahore, 122, 180, 204, 206. Law, Profession of, 42, 62. Legislative Councils, 73, 84-5. Life, Economic value of, 216-8, 221. London, 79, 93, 100, 126. Lyall, Sir Alfred, 8, 24, 69, 94, 105, 151, 182, 202, 218-19. Macaulay, 44, 99, 168. Madras, 2, 46, 54, 69, 81-2, 84, 140-1, 152, 161, 170-1, 196. Mahabharat, 186, 198. Mahatmas (great spirits), 141, 209. Mahomedanism, 36-7, 107-8, 128, 144-7, 169. Mahomedans, 3, 37, 41, 50, 59, 61, 66, 68, 78, 80, 89, 96, 128, 137, 144-7, 151, 163, 182, 196, 202-4, 206-7, 263. Mahomedans. _See_ Hindus and Mahomedans. Mahrattas, 78, 82. Malabari (a Parsee reformer), 7, 30, 46, 90, 195-6, 241. Mantra (sacred Sanscrit text), 164, 248. Manu, 143, 235, 246. Marriage, 22-3, 26, 31-2, 55-61, 104, 135. Marriage age for girls, 4, 14, 19, 46, 55-8. Marriage of widows, 19, 26, 31, 45, 55, 57, 63, 135. Mary, mother of Jesus, 195, 205, 207. Masses, The, 43, 182, 228, 242, 245, 254-5. Matter, 134, 172-3. Maya or unreality of the objects of Sense and Consciousness. _See_ Delusion. Merchants, British, viii. Messiahs, Indian, 201-4. Methodists, 111, 265-6. Middle Class, New. _See_ Educated. Mission College, 49, 142, 180, 195. Missionaries, viii, 52, 54, 62, 99, 106, 123, 124, 158, 167, 187, 189, 191, 195-7, 202, 217, 232, 237, 241. _See_ Scotland. Missionary Conference, Decennial, 106, 136. Moghul empire and emperors, 2-4, 14, 67, 77. Monier Williams. _See_ Williams. Monotheism, 107, 117, 126, 127-8, 130, 134, 140, 150, 153-5, 161, 166-183, 239, 242, 252, 258, 260, 266. Mosque, 3, 13-4, 50. Mother (title of deities), 178-81. Mozumdar, P.C., 30, 195. Mukti, 40-1, 246. _See_ Salvation. Müller, Max, 75, 136, 170, 175. Municipalities, 86. Murdoch, Rev. Dr. John, 81, 91, 93, 95, 170, 196. Mutiny, The, 95. Nanda-kumar, 25, 42. Nationality, Idea of, 9, 24, 75, 95, 101, 104, 124, 129, 132, 134, 139, 190, 218. Native States, 76, 95. Nature, Tyranny of, 214-6. Naturis, 146-7. Neo-Platonists a religious parallel to New Indians, 207-12. New Era, The, 1-10, 19, 76. New ideas, v, vi, ix, xi, 4, 6-10, 15, 19, 49, 76, 165, 236. New India. _See_ Educated. New Testament. _See_ Bible; John; Paul. Newspapers. _See_ Press. Nirvana, 226, 230, 255. Noble, Miss (Sister Nivedita), 22, 31, 32, 75, 153, 175, 185, 228, 243. North-West, The, 82, 172, 241, 250. Northern India, 2, 28-9, 37, 66-8, 77, 107, 130. Pandit (learned man or teacher), xi, 31, 47, 134, 142, 162. Pantheism, 107, 126-9, 140, 150, 153, 155-7, 166, 169-78, 182-5, 209, 220, 229, 239, 242-5, 249, 251, 256-8, 260-1. Parameswar, 176-7, 207. Paramhansa, Ramkrishna, 47, 48, 175, 199, 227, 265. Pariahs. _See_ Castes. Parliament of Religions, 30, 48, 128, 152, 227, 243. Parsees, 7, 41, 66, 82, 138, 178. Patriotism, 95, 116, 130, 132, 134-5, 141, 149, 172, 190. _See_ Indian bias. Paul, Saint, 111, 253, 264. Pessimism, Indian, 212-22, 229, 232. Philosophy, Hindu, 47, 70, 128, 172-6, 179, 220. Physical changes, 120-2. Pilgrims, 13, 245-6, 262-3. Plains, The, 2, 66, 130. Political activity, 20, 138. Political criticism, Idea of, 7, 72-4, 76, 78. Political Economy, 99, 216. Political ideas, New, v, 7, 72-102, 104. Political reformers, 83. Polygamy, 55, 59-61. Polytheism, 128, 133, 150, 153-6, 166-72, 182, 239, 242, 249, 262. Poona, 97. Post Office, 2, 34, 76. Poverty, Indian, 20, 99. _See_ Famines. Prajapati, 188-9. Pr[=a]rthan[=a] Sam[=a]jes (Prayer Associations), 122, 130-1, 138, 169, 171-2, 250-2, 267. Prayer, 128, 130, 244-5, 250-1. Press, The Indian, 20, 26, 72, 73, 75, 88-9, 92, 99. Priesthood, Hereditary, 7, 163, 245. Priesthood twofold, 163-5. Professions, Modern, 42, 144. Progress, xi, 8, 52, 273. Public meetings, 17, 113. Public questions, Idea of, 16-7, 72. Punjab, 36, 47, 84, 130, 132-3, 138, 201, 228, 234. Purans or later Hindu Scriptures, 137. Purohit (celebrant priest), 163-5, 260. Purusha (the first embodiment of the Universal Spirit), 21, 188-9. Qadian. _See_ Ahmad. Race feeling, 88-95. Railways, 2, 17, 18, 76. Rajputana, 54, 58. Ram, 77, 186, 227, 261, 266. Ramabhai, Pandita, 46. Ramayan, The, 77, 186. Rao, Sir T. Madhava, 28, 46. Reactionaries, 20, 46, 149, 243. _See_ Conservatism; Hindu Revival. Reformers. _See_ Political, Religious, Social. Reincarnation. _See_ Transmigration. Religious ideas, Hindu, 7, 94, 104, 115, 117, 150. Religious ideas, New, v, 8, 9, 103, 150. Religious leaders not brahmans, 30-1, 249. Religious reformers, 22, 45-6, 49. Renaissance, Indian, 19, 104. _See_ New. Responsibility, Moral, 156. _See_ Sin. Resurrection, The, 110-1, 126. Rigveda (earliest book of Aryan hymns), 135, 188, 234, 246. Robertson Lectures, Alexander, v, xi. xii. Roy, Rammohan, 16, 23, 26, 45, 54-5, 75, 125-7, 157, 167-9, 194, 250, 267. Russia, 89, 98. Sacred places, 3, 154, 244-8. Sacrifice, 108, 133, 135, 179, 247-9, 262. Salvation, 40-1, 108, 221, 239-67. _See_ Mukti. Sankarachargya, 153, 244-5. Sanscrit College, Calcutta, 5, 15, 35. Sanscrit learning, 6, 15, 47, 128, 162. Saraswati (Hindu Goddess of Learning), 192. Saraswati, Dyanand, 30, 46, 134, 136. Schools and Caste, 34, 39. Schools, Secondary, 43. Scotland Mission, Church of, 48, 99, 265. Sea--voyages forbidden. _See_ Europe. Self-government, 15, 86. Self-torture, 107, 254-55, 257, 261. Sen, Keshub Chunder, 8, 30, 46, 125, 130, 179-80, 192, 195, 252. Serfdom, Indian, 27-9. Shah, Mahbub, 204-6. Shrines. _See_ Sacred places. Sikhs, 37. Sin, Idea of, 156, 172, 239-53. Singh, Hakim, 202. Sinnett, A.P., 92, 141. Siva, the God, 14, 164, 176-7, 185, 246. Sivaji, 96. Social ideas, Hindu, 6-7, 21, 50, 104, 105. _See_ Women, Zenana. Social ideas, New, v, 8, 21, 39, 98. Social reformers, 22, 45-6, 49, 116. Social usages rigid, Hindu, 159, 165. Sorabjee, Miss Cornelia, 62. Soul, The, 134, 172-3, 213-4, 224-5, 227-31, 235-6. South India, 28-9, 33-4, 37, 106, 130, 156, 195, 232, 252. Students, 41-5, 60. Sudras. _See_ Castes. Suttee or Widow-burning (_Sati,_ a chaste woman), v, 4, 45, 54-5, 127. Swadeshi (boycott of all except _own-country_ products), 97. Tantras, 229, 246, 256, 261. Teachers, Indian, xi. Tennyson, 14, 216, 234, 254. Theatres, 63. Theism. _See_ Monotheism. Theosophists, 30, 38, 92, 122, 132, 138-43, 149, 208-9, 235. Thibet, 89, 141, 196, 204, 209. Tilak, Hon. Mr., 96-7, 99. Tols, 162-3. Transmigration, 31, 38, 108, 134, 153, 185, 213-4, 220-38, 240, 246, 258, 260. Travancore State, 37. Trinity, 186, 207. Unitarians, 126, 171, 267. United Provinces, 36, 46, 54, 84, 105, 130, 132-3, 145, 172, 228, 234, 250. Unity of India, New, 75, 104, 116. Universities, 43, 49, 89, 99-100, 216. Upanishads, 170, 235. Vedanta (the specially pantheistic system of Hindu philosophy), 6, 172, 209, 230, 244. Vedas, 46, 135-7, 140, 210, 234. Vedas do not sanction certain abuses, 47, 135. Viceroy, 79, 85, 114. Victoria, Queen, 2, 52. Vidyasagar, I.C., 45, 63. Vivekananda, Swami (Narendranath Dutt, B.A.), 30, 47-9, 128, 227, 243-5. Vishnu, the God; or Hari, 176-7, 185-7, 197, 255, 261. Vishnuism, 262. Wahabbis, 145. Western India, 8, 35, 54, 82, 138, 171, 251. Widow. _See_ Marriage. Williams, Sir M. Monier, 23, 70, 126, 154-5, 164, 170, 188-9, 235, 249, 262 Wilson, Dr. John, 167, 257. Women, 151, 237. Women, Social position of, 31, 37, 40, 50-64. _See_ Zenana. Youngson, Rev. Dr., 135-6. Zenana system (Zenana=the women's portion of a Hindu house), 52, 55, 61-3, 133. 
4058	----	MARIUS THE EPICUREAN, VOLUME TWO WALTER HORATIO PATER London: 1910. (The Library Edition.) NOTES BY THE E-TEXT EDITOR: Notes: The 1910 Library Edition employs footnotes, a style inconvenient in an electronic edition. I have therefore placed an asterisk immediately after each of Pater's footnotes and a + sign after my own notes, and have listed each chapter's notes at that chapter's end. Pagination and Paragraphing: To avoid an unwieldy electronic copy, I have transferred original pagination to brackets. A bracketed numeral such as [22] indicates that the material immediately following the number marks the beginning of the relevant page. I have preserved paragraph structure except for first-line indentation. Hyphenation: I have not preserved original hyphenation since an e-text does not require line-end or page-end hyphenation. Greek typeface: For this full-text edition, I have transliterated Pater's Greek quotations. If there is a need for the original Greek, it can be viewed at my site, http://www.ajdrake.com/etexts, a Victorianist archive that contains the complete works of Walter Pater and many other nineteenth-century texts, mostly in first editions. MARIUS THE EPICUREAN, VOLUME TWO WALTER PATER Cheimerinos oneiros, hote mêkistai hai vyktes.+ +"A winter's dream, when nights are longest." Lucian, The Dream, Vol. 3. CONTENTS PART THE THIRD 15. Stoicism at Court: 3-13 16. Second Thoughts: 14-28 17. Beata Urbs: 29-40 18. "The Ceremony of the Dart": 41-56 19. The Will as Vision: 57-72 PART THE FOURTH 20. Two Curious Houses--1. Guests: 75-91 21. Two Curious Houses--2. The Church in Cecilia's House: 92-108 22. "The Minor Peace of the Church": 109-127 23. Divine Service: 128-140 24. A Conversation Not Imaginary: 141-171 25. Sunt Lacrimae Rerum: 172-185 26. The Martyrs: 186-196 27. The Triumph of Marcus Aurelius: 197-207 28. Anima Naturaliter Christiana: 208-224 PART THE THIRD CHAPTER XV: STOICISM AT COURT [3] THE very finest flower of the same company--Aurelius with the gilded fasces borne before him, a crowd of exquisites, the empress Faustina herself, and all the elegant blue-stockings of the day, who maintained, people said, their private "sophists" to whisper philosophy into their ears winsomely as they performed the duties of the toilet--was assembled again a few months later, in a different place and for a very different purpose. The temple of Peace, a "modernising" foundation of Hadrian, enlarged by a library and lecture-rooms, had grown into an institution like something between a college and a literary club; and here Cornelius Fronto was to pronounce a discourse on the Nature of Morals. There were some, indeed, who had desired the emperor Aurelius himself to declare his whole mind on this matter. Rhetoric was become almost a function of the state: philosophy was upon the throne; and had from time to time, by [4] request, delivered an official utterance with well-nigh divine authority. And it was as the delegate of this authority, under the full sanction of the philosophic emperor--emperor and pontiff, that the aged Fronto purposed to-day to expound some parts of the Stoic doctrine, with the view of recommending morals to that refined but perhaps prejudiced company, as being, in effect, one mode of comeliness in things--as it were music, or a kind of artistic order, in life. And he did this earnestly, with an outlay of all his science of mind, and that eloquence of which he was known to be a master. For Stoicism was no longer a rude and unkempt thing. Received at court, it had largely decorated itself: it was grown persuasive and insinuating, and sought not only to convince men's intelligence but to allure their souls. Associated with the beautiful old age of the great rhetorician, and his winning voice, it was almost Epicurean. And the old man was at his best on the occasion; the last on which he ever appeared in this way. To-day was his own birthday. Early in the morning the imperial letter of congratulation had reached him; and all the pleasant animation it had caused was in his face, when assisted by his daughter Gratia he took his place on the ivory chair, as president of the Athenaeum of Rome, wearing with a wonderful grace the philosophic pall,--in reality neither more nor less than the loose woollen cloak of the common soldier, but fastened [5] on his right shoulder with a magnificent clasp, the emperor's birthday gift. It was an age, as abundant evidence shows, whose delight in rhetoric was but one result of a general susceptibility--an age not merely taking pleasure in words, but experiencing a great moral power in them. Fronto's quaintly fashionable audience would have wept, and also assisted with their purses, had his present purpose been, as sometimes happened, the recommendation of an object of charity. As it was, arranging themselves at their ease among the images and flowers, these amateurs of exquisite language, with their tablets open for careful record of felicitous word or phrase, were ready to give themselves wholly to the intellectual treat prepared for them, applauding, blowing loud kisses through the air sometimes, at the speaker's triumphant exit from one of his long, skilfully modulated sentences; while the younger of them meant to imitate everything about him, down to the inflections of his voice and the very folds of his mantle. Certainly there was rhetoric enough:--a wealth of imagery; illustrations from painting, music, mythology, the experiences of love; a management, by which subtle, unexpected meaning was brought out of familiar terms, like flies from morsels of amber, to use Fronto's own figure. But with all its richness, the higher claim of his style was rightly understood to lie in gravity and self-command, and an especial care for the [6] purities of a vocabulary which rejected every expression unsanctioned by the authority of approved ancient models. And it happened with Marius, as it will sometimes happen, that this general discourse to a general audience had the effect of an utterance adroitly designed for him. His conscience still vibrating painfully under the shock of that scene in the amphitheatre, and full of the ethical charm of Cornelius, he was questioning himself with much impatience as to the possibility of an adjustment between his own elaborately thought-out intellectual scheme and the "old morality." In that intellectual scheme indeed the old morality had so far been allowed no place, as seeming to demand from him the admission of certain first principles such as might misdirect or retard him in his efforts towards a complete, many-sided existence; or distort the revelations of the experience of life; or curtail his natural liberty of heart and mind. But now (his imagination being occupied for the moment with the noble and resolute air, the gallantry, so to call it, which composed the outward mien and presentment of his strange friend's inflexible ethics) he felt already some nascent suspicion of his philosophic programme, in regard, precisely, to the question of good taste. There was the taint of a graceless "antinomianism" perceptible in it, a dissidence, a revolt against accustomed modes, the actual impression of which on other [7] men might rebound upon himself in some loss of that personal pride to which it was part of his theory of life to allow so much. And it was exactly a moral situation such as this that Fronto appeared to be contemplating. He seemed to have before his mind the case of one--Cyrenaic or Epicurean, as the courtier tends to be, by habit and instinct, if not on principle--who yet experiences, actually, a strong tendency to moral assents, and a desire, with as little logical inconsistency as may be, to find a place for duty and righteousness in his house of thought. And the Stoic professor found the key to this problem in the purely aesthetic beauty of the old morality, as an element in things, fascinating to the imagination, to good taste in its most highly developed form, through association--a system or order, as a matter of fact, in possession, not only of the larger world, but of the rare minority of élite intelligences; from which, therefore, least of all would the sort of Epicurean he had in view endure to become, so to speak, an outlaw. He supposed his hearer to be, with all sincerity, in search after some principle of conduct (and it was here that he seemed to Marius to be speaking straight to him) which might give unity of motive to an actual rectitude, a cleanness and probity of life, determined partly by natural affection, partly by enlightened self-interest or the feeling of honour, due in part even to the mere fear of penalties; no element of which, [8] however, was distinctively moral in the agent himself as such, and providing him, therefore, no common ground with a really moral being like Cornelius, or even like the philosophic emperor. Performing the same offices; actually satisfying, even as they, the external claims of others; rendering to all their dues--one thus circumstanced would be wanting, nevertheless, in the secret of inward adjustment to the moral agents around him. How tenderly--more tenderly than many stricter souls--he might yield himself to kindly instinct! what fineness of charity in passing judgment on others! what an exquisite conscience of other men's susceptibilities! He knows for how much the manner, because the heart itself, counts, in doing a kindness. He goes beyond most people in his care for all weakly creatures; judging, instinctively, that to be but sentient is to possess rights. He conceives a hundred duties, though he may not call them by that name, of the existence of which purely duteous souls may have no suspicion. He has a kind of pride in doing more than they, in a way of his own. Sometimes, he may think that those men of line and rule do not really understand their own business. How narrow, inflexible, unintelligent! what poor guardians (he may reason) of the inward spirit of righteousness, are some supposed careful walkers according to its letter and form. And yet all the while he admits, as such, no moral world at all: no [9] theoretic equivalent to so large a proportion of the facts of life. But, over and above such practical rectitude, thus determined by natural affection or self-love or fear, he may notice that there is a remnant of right conduct, what he does, still more what he abstains from doing, not so much through his own free election, as from a deference, an "assent," entire, habitual, unconscious, to custom--to the actual habit or fashion of others, from whom he could not endure to break away, any more than he would care to be out of agreement with them on questions of mere manner, or, say, even, of dress. Yes! there were the evils, the vices, which he avoided as, essentially, a failure in good taste. An assent, such as this, to the preferences of others, might seem to be the weakest of motives, and the rectitude it could determine the least considerable element in a moral life. Yet here, according to Cornelius Fronto, was in truth the revealing example, albeit operating upon comparative trifles, of the general principle required. There was one great idea associated with which that determination to conform to precedent was elevated into the clearest, the fullest, the weightiest principle of moral action; a principle under which one might subsume men's most strenuous efforts after righteousness. And he proceeded to expound the idea of Humanity--of a universal commonwealth of mind, which [10] becomes explicit, and as if incarnate, in a select communion of just men made perfect. Ho kosmos hôsanei polis estin+--the world is as it were a commonwealth, a city: and there are observances, customs, usages, actually current in it, things our friends and companions will expect of us, as the condition of our living there with them at all, as really their peers or fellow-citizens. Those observances were, indeed, the creation of a visible or invisible aristocracy in it, whose actual manners, whose preferences from of old, become now a weighty tradition as to the way in which things should or should not be done, are like a music, to which the intercourse of life proceeds--such a music as no one who had once caught its harmonies would willingly jar. In this way, the becoming, as in Greek--to prepon: or ta êthê+ mores, manners, as both Greeks and Romans said, would indeed be a comprehensive term for duty. Righteousness would be, in the words of "Caesar" himself, of the philosophic Aurelius, but a "following of the reasonable will of the oldest, the most venerable, of cities, of polities--of the royal, the law-giving element, therein--forasmuch as we are citizens also in that supreme city on high, of which all other cities beside are but as single habitations." But as the old man spoke with animation of this supreme city, this invisible society, whose conscience was become explicit in its inner circle of inspired souls, of whose [11] common spirit, the trusted leaders of human conscience had been but the mouthpiece, of whose successive personal preferences in the conduct of life, the "old morality" was the sum,--Marius felt that his own thoughts were passing beyond the actual intention of the speaker; not in the direction of any clearer theoretic or abstract definition of that ideal commonwealth, but rather as if in search of its visible locality and abiding-place, the walls and towers of which, so to speak, he might really trace and tell, according to his own old, natural habit of mind. It would be the fabric, the outward fabric, of a system reaching, certainly, far beyond the great city around him, even if conceived in all the machinery of its visible and invisible influences at their grandest--as Augustus or Trajan might have conceived of them--however well the visible Rome might pass for a figure of that new, unseen, Rome on high. At moments, Marius even asked himself with surprise, whether it might be some vast secret society the speaker had in view:--that august community, to be an outlaw from which, to be foreign to the manners of which, was a loss so much greater than to be excluded, into the ends of the earth, from the sovereign Roman commonwealth. Humanity, a universal order, the great polity, its aristocracy of elect spirits, the mastery of their example over their successors--these were the ideas, stimulating enough in their way, [12] by association with which the Stoic professor had attempted to elevate, to unite under a single principle, men's moral efforts, himself lifted up with so genuine an enthusiasm. But where might Marius search for all this, as more than an intellectual abstraction? Where were those elect souls in whom the claim of Humanity became so amiable, winning, persuasive--whose footsteps through the world were so beautiful in the actual order he saw--whose faces averted from him, would be more than he could bear? Where was that comely order, to which as a great fact of experience he must give its due; to which, as to all other beautiful "phenomena" in life, he must, for his own peace, adjust himself? Rome did well to be serious. The discourse ended somewhat abruptly, as the noise of a great crowd in motion was heard below the walls; whereupon, the audience, following the humour of the younger element in it, poured into the colonnade, from the steps of which the famous procession, or transvectio, of the military knights was to be seen passing over the Forum, from their trysting-place at the temple of Mars, to the temple of the Dioscuri. The ceremony took place this year, not on the day accustomed--anniversary of the victory of Lake Regillus, with its pair of celestial assistants--and amid the heat and roses of a Roman July, but, by [13] anticipation, some months earlier, the almond-trees along the way being still in leafless flower. Through that light trellis-work, Marius watched the riders, arrayed in all their gleaming ornaments, and wearing wreaths of olive around their helmets, the faces below which, what with battle and the plague, were almost all youthful. It was a flowery scene enough, but had to-day its fulness of war-like meaning; the return of the army to the North, where the enemy was again upon the move, being now imminent. Cornelius had ridden along in his place, and, on the dismissal of the company, passed below the steps where Marius stood, with that new song he had heard once before floating from his lips. NOTES 10. +Transliteration: Ho kosmos hôsanei polis estin. Translation: "The world is like a city." 10. +Transliteration: to prepon ... ta êthê. Translation: "That which is seemly ... mores." CHAPTER XVI: SECOND THOUGHTS [14] AND Marius, for his part, was grave enough. The discourse of Cornelius Fronto, with its wide prospect over the human, the spiritual, horizon, had set him on a review--on a review of the isolating narrowness, in particular, of his own theoretic scheme. Long after the very latest roses were faded, when "the town" had departed to country villas, or the baths, or the war, he remained behind in Rome; anxious to try the lastingness of his own Epicurean rose-garden; setting to work over again, and deliberately passing from point to point of his old argument with himself, down to its practical conclusions. That age and our own have much in common--many difficulties and hopes. Let the reader pardon me if here and there I seem to be passing from Marius to his modern representatives--from Rome, to Paris or London. What really were its claims as a theory of practice, of the sympathies that determine [15] practice? It had been a theory, avowedly, of loss and gain (so to call it) of an economy. If, therefore, it missed something in the commerce of life, which some other theory of practice was able to include, if it made a needless sacrifice, then it must be, in a manner, inconsistent with itself, and lack theoretic completeness. Did it make such a sacrifice? What did it lose, or cause one to lose? And we may note, as Marius could hardly have done, that Cyrenaicism is ever the characteristic philosophy of youth, ardent, but narrow in its survey--sincere, but apt to become one-sided, or even fanatical. It is one of those subjective and partial ideals, based on vivid, because limited, apprehension of the truth of one aspect of experience (in this case, of the beauty of the world and the brevity of man's life there) which it may be said to be the special vocation of the young to express. In the school of Cyrene, in that comparatively fresh Greek world, we see this philosophy where it is least blasé, as we say; in its most pleasant, its blithest and yet perhaps its wisest form, youthfully bright in the youth of European thought. But it grows young again for a while in almost every youthful soul. It is spoken of sometimes as the appropriate utterance of jaded men; but in them it can hardly be sincere, or, by the nature of the case, an enthusiasm. "Walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes," is, indeed, most often, [16] according to the supposition of the book from which I quote it, the counsel of the young, who feel that the sunshine is pleasant along their veins, and wintry weather, though in a general sense foreseen, a long way off. The youthful enthusiasm or fanaticism, the self-abandonment to one favourite mode of thought or taste, which occurs, quite naturally, at the outset of every really vigorous intellectual career, finds its special opportunity in a theory such as that so carefully put together by Marius, just because it seems to call on one to make the sacrifice, accompanied by a vivid sensation of power and will, of what others value--sacrifice of some conviction, or doctrine, or supposed first principle--for the sake of that clear-eyed intellectual consistency, which is like spotless bodily cleanliness, or scrupulous personal honour, and has itself for the mind of the youthful student, when he first comes to appreciate it, the fascination of an ideal. The Cyrenaic doctrine, then, realised as a motive of strenuousness or enthusiasm, is not so properly the utterance of the "jaded Epicurean," as of the strong young man in all the freshness of thought and feeling, fascinated by the notion of raising his life to the level of a daring theory, while, in the first genial heat of existence, the beauty of the physical world strikes potently upon his wide-open, unwearied senses. He discovers a great new poem every spring, with a hundred delightful things he too has felt, but [16] which have never been expressed, or at least never so truly, before. The workshops of the artists, who can select and set before us what is really most distinguished in visible life, are open to him. He thinks that the old Platonic, or the new Baconian philosophy, has been better explained than by the authors themselves, or with some striking original development, this very month. In the quiet heat of early summer, on the dusty gold morning, the music comes, louder at intervals, above the hum of voices from some neighbouring church, among the flowering trees, valued now, perhaps, only for the poetically rapt faces among priests or worshippers, or the mere skill and eloquence, it may be, of its preachers of faith and righteousness. In his scrupulous idealism, indeed, he too feels himself to be something of a priest, and that devotion of his days to the contemplation of what is beautiful, a sort of perpetual religious service. Afar off, how many fair cities and delicate sea-coasts await him! At that age, with minds of a certain constitution, no very choice or exceptional circumstances are needed to provoke an enthusiasm something like this. Life in modern London even, in the heavy glow of summer, is stuff sufficient for the fresh imagination of a youth to build its "palace of art" of; and the very sense and enjoyment of an experience in which all is new, are but enhanced, like that glow of summer itself, by the [18] thought of its brevity, giving him something of a gambler's zest, in the apprehension, by dexterous act or diligently appreciative thought, of the highly coloured moments which are to pass away so quickly. At bottom, perhaps, in his elaborately developed self-consciousness, his sensibilities, his almost fierce grasp upon the things he values at all, he has, beyond all others, an inward need of something permanent in its character, to hold by: of which circumstance, also, he may be partly aware, and that, as with the brilliant Claudio in Measure for Measure, it is, in truth, but darkness he is, "encountering, like a bride." But the inevitable falling of the curtain is probably distant; and in the daylight, at least, it is not often that he really shudders at the thought of the grave--the weight above, the narrow world and its company, within. When the thought of it does occur to him, he may say to himself:--Well! and the rude monk, for instance, who has renounced all this, on the security of some dim world beyond it, really acquiesces in that "fifth act," amid all the consoling ministries around him, as little as I should at this moment; though I may hope, that, as at the real ending of a play, however well acted, I may already have had quite enough of it, and find a true well-being in eternal sleep. And precisely in this circumstance, that, consistently with the function of youth in general, Cyrenaicism will always be more or [19] less the special philosophy, or "prophecy," of the young, when the ideal of a rich experience comes to them in the ripeness of the receptive, if not of the reflective, powers--precisely in this circumstance, if we rightly consider it, lies the duly prescribed corrective of that philosophy. For it is by its exclusiveness, and by negation rather than positively, that such theories fail to satisfy us permanently; and what they really need for their correction, is the complementary influence of some greater system, in which they may find their due place. That Sturm und Drang of the spirit, as it has been called, that ardent and special apprehension of half-truths, in the enthusiastic, and as it were "prophetic" advocacy of which, devotion to truth, in the case of the young--apprehending but one point at a time in the great circumference--most usually embodies itself, is levelled down, safely enough, afterwards, as in history so in the individual, by the weakness and mere weariness, as well as by the maturer wisdom, of our nature. And though truth indeed, resides, as has been said, "in the whole"--in harmonisings and adjustments like this--yet those special apprehensions may still owe their full value, in this sense of "the whole," to that earlier, one-sided but ardent pre-occupation with them. Cynicism and Cyrenaicism:--they are the earlier Greek forms of Roman Stoicism and Epicureanism, and in that world of old Greek [20] thought, we may notice with some surprise that, in a little while, the nobler form of Cyrenaicism--Cyrenaicism cured of its faults--met the nobler form of Cynicism half-way. Starting from opposed points, they merged, each in its most refined form, in a single ideal of temperance or moderation. Something of the same kind may be noticed regarding some later phases of Cyrenaic theory. If it starts with considerations opposed to the religious temper, which the religious temper holds it a duty to repress, it is like it, nevertheless, and very unlike any lower development of temper, in its stress and earnestness, its serious application to the pursuit of a very unworldly type of perfection. The saint, and the Cyrenaic lover of beauty, it may be thought, would at least understand each other better than either would understand the mere man of the world. Carry their respective positions a point further, shift the terms a little, and they might actually touch. Perhaps all theories of practice tend, as they rise to their best, as understood by their worthiest representatives, to identification with each other. For the variety of men's possible reflections on their experience, as of that experience itself, is not really so great as it seems; and as the highest and most disinterested ethical formulae, filtering down into men's everyday existence, reach the same poor level of vulgar egotism, so, we may fairly suppose that all the highest spirits, from [21] whatever contrasted points they have started, would yet be found to entertain, in the moral consciousness realised by themselves, much the same kind of mental company; to hold, far more than might be thought probable, at first sight, the same personal types of character, and even the same artistic and literary types, in esteem or aversion; to convey, all of them alike, the same savour of unworldliness. And Cyrenaicism or Epicureanism too, new or old, may be noticed, in proportion to the completeness of its development, to approach, as to the nobler form of Cynicism, so also to the more nobly developed phases of the old, or traditional morality. In the gravity of its conception of life, in its pursuit after nothing less than a perfection, in its apprehension of the value of time--the passion and the seriousness which are like a consecration--la passion et le sérieux qui consacrent--it may be conceived, as regards its main drift, to be not so much opposed to the old morality, as an exaggeration of one special motive in it. Some cramping, narrowing, costly preference of one part of his own nature, and of the nature of things, to another, Marius seemed to have detected in himself, meantime,--in himself, as also in those old masters of the Cyrenaic philosophy. If they did realise the monochronos hêdonê+ as it was called--the pleasure of the "Ideal Now"--if certain moments of their lives were high-pitched, passionately coloured, intent with sensation, [22] and a kind of knowledge which, in its vivid clearness, was like sensation--if, now and then, they apprehended the world in its fulness, and had a vision, almost "beatific," of ideal personalities in life and art, yet these moments were a very costly matter: they paid a great price for them, in the sacrifice of a thousand possible sympathies, of things only to be enjoyed through sympathy, from which they detached themselves, in intellectual pride, in loyalty to a mere theory that would take nothing for granted, and assent to no approximate or hypothetical truths. In their unfriendly, repellent attitude towards the Greek religion, and the old Greek morality, surely, they had been but faulty economists. The Greek religion was then alive: then, still more than in its later day of dissolution, the higher view of it was possible, even for the philosopher. Its story made little or no demand for a reasoned or formal acceptance. A religion, which had grown through and through man's life, with so much natural strength; had meant so much for so many generations; which expressed so much of their hopes, in forms so familiar and so winning; linked by associations so manifold to man as he had been and was--a religion like this, one would think, might have had its uses, even for a philosophic sceptic. Yet those beautiful gods, with the whole round of their poetic worship, the school of Cyrene definitely renounced. [23] The old Greek morality, again, with all its imperfections, was certainly a comely thing.--Yes! a harmony, a music, in men's ways, one might well hesitate to jar. The merely aesthetic sense might have had a legitimate satisfaction in the spectacle of that fair order of choice manners, in those attractive conventions, enveloping, so gracefully, the whole of life, insuring some sweetness, some security at least against offence, in the intercourse of the world. Beyond an obvious utility, it could claim, indeed but custom--use-and-wont, as we say--for its sanction. But then, one of the advantages of that liberty of spirit among the Cyrenaics (in which, through theory, they had become dead to theory, so that all theory, as such, was really indifferent to them, and indeed nothing valuable but in its tangible ministration to life) was precisely this, that it gave them free play in using as their ministers or servants, things which, to the uninitiated, must be masters or nothing. Yet, how little the followers of Aristippus made of that whole comely system of manners or morals, then actually in possession of life, is shown by the bold practical consequence, which one of them maintained (with a hard, self-opinionated adherence to his peculiar theory of values) in the not very amiable paradox that friendship and patriotism were things one could do without; while another--Death's-advocate, as he was called--helped so many to self-destruction, by his [24] pessimistic eloquence on the evils of life, that his lecture-room was closed. That this was in the range of their consequences--that this was a possible, if remote, deduction from the premisses of the discreet Aristippus--was surely an inconsistency in a thinker who professed above all things an economy of the moments of life. And yet those old Cyrenaics felt their way, as if in the dark, we may be sure, like other men in the ordinary transactions of life, beyond the narrow limits they drew of clear and absolutely legitimate knowledge, admitting what was not of immediate sensation, and drawing upon that "fantastic" future which might never come. A little more of such "walking by faith," a little more of such not unreasonable "assent," and they might have profited by a hundred services to their culture, from Greek religion and Greek morality, as they actually were. The spectacle of their fierce, exclusive, tenacious hold on their own narrow apprehension, makes one think of a picture with no relief, no soft shadows nor breadth of space, or of a drama without proportionate repose. Yet it was of perfection that Marius (to return to him again from his masters, his intellectual heirs) had been really thinking all the time: a narrow perfection it might be objected, the perfection of but one part of his nature--his capacities of feeling, of exquisite physical impressions, of an imaginative sympathy--but still, a true perfection of those capacities, wrought out [25] to their utmost degree, admirable enough in its way. He too is an economist: he hopes, by that "insight" of which the old Cyrenaics made so much, by skilful apprehension of the conditions of spiritual success as they really are, the special circumstances of the occasion with which he has to deal, the special felicities of his own nature, to make the most, in no mean or vulgar sense, of the few years of life; few, indeed, for the attainment of anything like general perfection! With the brevity of that sum of years his mind is exceptionally impressed; and this purpose makes him no frivolous dilettante, but graver than other men: his scheme is not that of a trifler, but rather of one who gives a meaning of his own, yet a very real one, to those old words--Let us work while it is day! He has a strong apprehension, also, of the beauty of the visible things around him; their fading, momentary, graces and attractions. His natural susceptibility in this direction, enlarged by experience, seems to demand of him an almost exclusive pre-occupation with the aspects of things; with their aesthetic character, as it is called--their revelations to the eye and the imagination: not so much because those aspects of them yield him the largest amount of enjoyment, as because to be occupied, in this way, with the aesthetic or imaginative side of things, is to be in real contact with those elements of his own nature, and of theirs, which, for him at [26] least, are matter of the most real kind of apprehension. As other men are concentrated upon truths of number, for instance, or on business, or it may be on the pleasures of appetite, so he is wholly bent on living in that full stream of refined sensation. And in the prosecution of this love of beauty, he claims an entire personal liberty, liberty of heart and mind, liberty, above all, from what may seem conventional answers to first questions. But, without him there is a venerable system of sentiment and idea, widely extended in time and place, in a kind of impregnable possession of human life--a system, which, like some other great products of the conjoint efforts of human mind through many generations, is rich in the world's experience; so that, in attaching oneself to it, one lets in a great tide of that experience, and makes, as it were with a single step, a great experience of one's own, and with great consequent increase to one's sense of colour, variety, and relief, in the spectacle of men and things. The mere sense that one belongs to a system--an imperial system or organisation--has, in itself, the expanding power of a great experience; as some have felt who have been admitted from narrower sects into the communion of the catholic church; or as the old Roman citizen felt. It is, we might fancy, what the coming into possession of a very widely spoken language might be, with a great literature, which is also [27] the speech of the people we have to live among. A wonderful order, actually in possession of human life!--grown inextricably through and through it; penetrating into its laws, its very language, its mere habits of decorum, in a thousand half-conscious ways; yet still felt to be, in part, an unfulfilled ideal; and, as such, awakening hope, and an aim, identical with the one only consistent aspiration of mankind! In the apprehension of that, just then, Marius seemed to have joined company once more with his own old self; to have overtaken on the road the pilgrim who had come to Rome, with absolute sincerity, on the search for perfection. It defined not so much a change of practice, as of sympathy--a new departure, an expansion, of sympathy. It involved, certainly, some curtailment of his liberty, in concession to the actual manner, the distinctions, the enactments of that great crowd of admirable spirits, who have elected so, and not otherwise, in their conduct of life, and are not here to give one, so to term it, an "indulgence." But then, under the supposition of their disapproval, no roses would ever seem worth plucking again. The authority they exercised was like that of classic taste--an influence so subtle, yet so real, as defining the loyalty of the scholar; or of some beautiful and venerable ritual, in which every observance is become spontaneous and almost mechanical, yet is found, [28] the more carefully one considers it, to have a reasonable significance and a natural history. And Marius saw that he would be but an inconsistent Cyrenaic, mistaken in his estimate of values, of loss and gain, and untrue to the well-considered economy of life which he had brought with him to Rome--that some drops of the great cup would fall to the ground--if he did not make that concession, if he did but remain just there. NOTES 21. +Transliteration: monochronos hêdonê. Pater's definition "the pleasure of the ideal present, of the mystic now." The definition is fitting; the unusual adjective monochronos means, literally, "single or unitary time." CHAPTER XVII: BEATA URBS "Many prophets and kings have desired to see the things which ye see." [29] THE enemy on the Danube was, indeed, but the vanguard of the mighty invading hosts of the fifth century. Illusively repressed just now, those confused movements along the northern boundary of the Empire were destined to unite triumphantly at last, in the barbarism, which, powerless to destroy the Christian church, was yet to suppress for a time the achieved culture of the pagan world. The kingdom of Christ was to grow up in a somewhat false alienation from the light and beauty of the kingdom of nature, of the natural man, with a partly mistaken tradition concerning it, and an incapacity, as it might almost seem at times, for eventual reconciliation thereto. Meantime Italy had armed itself once more, in haste, and the imperial brothers set forth for the Alps. Whatever misgiving the Roman people may [30] have felt as to the leadership of the younger was unexpectedly set at rest; though with some temporary regret for the loss of what had been, after all, a popular figure on the world's stage. Travelling fraternally in the same litter with Aurelius, Lucius Verus was struck with sudden and mysterious disease, and died as he hastened back to Rome. His death awoke a swarm of sinister rumours, to settle on Lucilla, jealous, it was said, of Fabia her sister, perhaps of Faustina--on Faustina herself, who had accompanied the imperial progress, and was anxious now to hide a crime of her own--even on the elder brother, who, beforehand with the treasonable designs of his colleague, should have helped him at supper to a favourite morsel, cut with a knife poisoned ingeniously on one side only. Aurelius, certainly, with sincere distress, his long irritations, so dutifully concealed or repressed, turning now into a single feeling of regret for the human creature, carried the remains back to Rome, and demanded of the Senate a public funeral, with a decree for the apotheôsis, or canonisation, of the dead. For three days the body lay in state in the Forum, enclosed in an open coffin of cedar-wood, on a bed of ivory and gold, in the centre of a sort of temporary chapel, representing the temple of his patroness Venus Genetrix. Armed soldiers kept watch around it, while choirs of select voices relieved one another in the chanting of hymns or monologues from the great tragedians. [31] At the head of the couch were displayed the various personal decorations which had belonged to Verus in life. Like all the rest of Rome, Marius went to gaze on the face he had seen last scarcely disguised under the hood of a travelling-dress, as the wearer hurried, at night-fall, along one of the streets below the palace, to some amorous appointment. Unfamiliar as he still was with dead faces, he was taken by surprise, and touched far beyond what he had reckoned on, by the piteous change there; even the skill of Galen having been not wholly successful in the process of embalming. It was as if a brother of his own were lying low before him, with that meek and helpless expression it would have been a sacrilege to treat rudely. Meantime, in the centre of the Campus Martius, within the grove of poplars which enclosed the space where the body of Augustus had been burnt, the great funeral pyre, stuffed with shavings of various aromatic woods, was built up in many stages, separated from each other by a light entablature of woodwork, and adorned abundantly with carved and tapestried images. Upon this pyramidal or flame-shaped structure lay the corpse, hidden now under a mountain of flowers and incense brought by the women, who from the first had had their fondness for the wanton graces of the deceased. The dead body was surmounted by a waxen effigy of great size, arrayed in the triumphal ornaments. [32] At last the Centurions to whom that office belonged, drew near, torch in hand, to ignite the pile at its four corners, while the soldiers, in wild excitement, flung themselves around it, casting into the flames the decorations they had received for acts of valour under the dead emperor's command. It had been a really heroic order, spoiled a little, at the last moment, through the somewhat tawdry artifice, by which an eagle--not a very noble or youthful specimen of its kind--was caused to take flight amid the real or affected awe of the spectators, above the perishing remains; a court chamberlain, according to ancient etiquette, subsequently making official declaration before the Senate, that the imperial "genius" had been seen in this way, escaping from the fire. And Marius was present when the Fathers, duly certified of the fact, by "acclamation," muttering their judgment all together, in a kind of low, rhythmical chant, decreed Caelum--the privilege of divine rank to the departed. The actual gathering of the ashes in a white cere-cloth by the widowed Lucilla, when the last flicker had been extinguished by drops of wine; and the conveyance of them to the little cell, already populous, in the central mass of the sepulchre of Hadrian, still in all the splendour of its statued colonnades, were a matter of private or domestic duty; after the due accomplishment of which Aurelius was at [33] liberty to retire for a time into the privacy o his beloved apartments of the Palatine. And hither, not long afterwards, Marius was summoned a second time, to receive from the imperial hands the great pile of Manuscripts it would be his business to revise and arrange. One year had passed since his first visit to the palace; and as he climbed the stairs to-day, the great cypresses rocked against the sunless sky, like living creatures in pain. He had to traverse a long subterranean gallery, once a secret entrance to the imperial apartments, and in our own day, amid the ruin of all around it, as smooth and fresh as if the carpets were but just removed from its floor after the return of the emperor from the shows. It was here, on such an occasion, that the emperor Caligula, at the age of twenty-nine, had come by his end, the assassins gliding along it as he lingered a few moments longer to watch the movements of a party of noble youths at their exercise in the courtyard below. As Marius waited, a second time, in that little red room in the house of the chief chamberlain, curious to look once more upon its painted walls--the very place whither the assassins were said to have turned for refuge after the murder--he could all but see the figure, which in its surrounding light and darkness seemed to him the most melancholy in the entire history of Rome. He called to mind the greatness of that popularity and early [34] promise--the stupefying height of irresponsible power, from which, after all, only men's viler side had been clearly visible--the overthrow of reason--the seemingly irredeemable memory; and still, above all, the beautiful head in which the noble lines of the race of Augustus were united to, he knew not what expression of sensibility and fineness, not theirs, and for the like of which one must pass onward to the Antonines. Popular hatred had been careful to destroy its semblance wherever it was to be found; but one bust, in dark bronze-like basalt of a wonderful perfection of finish, preserved in the museum of the Capitol, may have seemed to some visitors there perhaps the finest extant relic of Roman art. Had the very seal of empire upon those sombre brows, reflected from his mirror, suggested his insane attempt upon the liberties, the dignity of men?--"O humanity!" he seems to ask, "what hast thou done to me that I should so despise thee?"--And might not this be indeed the true meaning of kingship, if the world would have one man to reign over it? The like of this: or, some incredible, surely never to be realised, height of disinterestedness, in a king who should be the servant of all, quite at the other extreme of the practical dilemma involved in such a position. Not till some while after his death had the body been decently interred by the piety of the sisters he had driven into exile. Fraternity [35] of feeling had been no invariable feature in the incidents of Roman story. One long Vicus Sceleratus, from its first dim foundation in fraternal quarrel on the morrow of a common deliverance so touching--had not almost every step in it some gloomy memory of unnatural violence? Romans did well to fancy the traitress Tarpeia still "green in earth," crowned, enthroned, at the roots of the Capitoline rock. If in truth the religion of Rome was everywhere in it, like that perfume of the funeral incense still upon the air, so also was the memory of crime prompted by a hypocritical cruelty, down to the erring, or not erring, Vesta calmly buried alive there, only eighty years ago, under Domitian. It was with a sense of relief that Marius found himself in the presence of Aurelius, whose gesture of friendly intelligence, as he entered, raised a smile at the gloomy train of his own thoughts just then, although since his first visit to the palace a great change had passed over it. The clear daylight found its way now into empty rooms. To raise funds for the war, Aurelius, his luxurious brother being no more, had determined to sell by auction the accumulated treasures of the imperial household. The works of art, the dainty furniture, had been removed, and were now "on view" in the Forum, to be the delight or dismay, for many weeks to come, of the [36] large public of those who were curious in these things. In such wise had Aurelius come to the condition of philosophic detachment he had affected as a boy, hardly persuaded to wear warm clothing, or to sleep in more luxurious manner than on the bare floor. But, in his empty house, the man of mind, who had always made so much of the pleasures of philosophic contemplation, felt freer in thought than ever. He had been reading, with less self-reproach than usual, in the Republic of Plato, those passages which describe the life of the philosopher-kings--like that of hired servants in their own house--who, possessed of the "gold undefiled" of intellectual vision, forgo so cheerfully all other riches. It was one of his happy days: one of those rare days, when, almost with none of the effort, otherwise so constant with him, his thoughts came rich and full, and converged in a mental view, as exhilarating to him as the prospect of some wide expanse of landscape to another man's bodily eye. He seemed to lie readier than was his wont to the imaginative influence of the philosophic reason--to its suggestions of a possible open country, commencing just where all actual experience leaves off, but which experience, one's own and not another's, may one day occupy. In fact, he was seeking strength for himself, in his own way, before he started for that ambiguous earthly warfare [37] which was to occupy the remainder of his life. "Ever remember this," he writes, "that a happy life depends, not on many things--en oligistois keitai."+ And to-day, committing himself with a steady effort of volition to the mere silence of the great empty apartments, he might be said to have escaped, according to Plato's promise to those who live closely with philosophy, from the evils of the world. In his "conversations with himself" Marcus Aurelius speaks often of that City on high, of which all other cities are but single habitations. From him in fact Cornelius Fronto, in his late discourse, had borrowed the expression; and he certainly meant by it more than the whole commonwealth of Rome, in any idealisation of it, however sublime. Incorporate somehow with the actual city whose goodly stones were lying beneath his gaze, it was also implicate in that reasonable constitution of nature, by devout contemplation of which it is possible for man to associate himself to the consciousness of God. In that New Rome he had taken up his rest for awhile on this day, deliberately feeding his thoughts on the better air of it, as another might have gone for mental renewal to a favourite villa. "Men seek retirement in country-houses," he writes, "on the sea-coast, on the mountains; and you have yourself as much fondness for such places as another. But there is little proof of culture therein; since the privilege is yours of [38] retiring into yourself whensoever you please,--into that little farm of one's own mind, where a silence so profound may be enjoyed." That it could make these retreats, was a plain consequence of the kingly prerogative of the mind, its dominion over circumstance, its inherent liberty.--"It is in thy power to think as thou wilt: The essence of things is in thy thoughts about them: All is opinion, conception: No man can be hindered by another: What is outside thy circle of thought is nothing at all to it; hold to this, and you are safe: One thing is needful--to live close to the divine genius within thee, and minister thereto worthily." And the first point in this true ministry, this culture, was to maintain one's soul in a condition of indifference and calm. How continually had public claims, the claims of other persons, with their rough angularities of character, broken in upon him, the shepherd of the flock. But after all he had at least this privilege he could not part with, of thinking as he would; and it was well, now and then, by a conscious effort of will, to indulge it for a while, under systematic direction. The duty of thus making discreet, systematic use of the power of imaginative vision for purposes of spiritual culture, "since the soul takes colour from its fantasies," is a point he has frequently insisted on. The influence of these seasonable meditations--a symbol, or sacrament, because an intensified [39] condition, of the soul's own ordinary and natural life--would remain upon it, perhaps for many days. There were experiences he could not forget, intuitions beyond price, he had come by in this way, which were almost like the breaking of a physical light upon his mind; as the great Augustus was said to have seen a mysterious physical splendour, yonder, upon the summit of the Capitol, where the altar of the Sibyl now stood. With a prayer, therefore, for inward quiet, for conformity to the divine reason, he read some select passages of Plato, which bear upon the harmony of the reason, in all its forms, with itself--"Could there be Cosmos, that wonderful, reasonable order, in him, and nothing but disorder in the world without?" It was from this question he had passed on to the vision of a reasonable, a divine, order, not in nature, but in the condition of human affairs--that unseen Celestial City, Uranopolis, Callipolis, Urbs Beata--in which, a consciousness of the divine will being everywhere realised, there would be, among other felicitous differences from this lower visible world, no more quite hopeless death, of men, or children, or of their affections. He had tried to-day, as never before, to make the most of this vision of a New Rome, to realise it as distinctly as he could,--and, as it were, find his way along its streets, ere he went down into a world so irksomely different, to make his practical effort towards it, with a soul full of [40] compassion for men as they were. However distinct the mental image might have been to him, with the descent of but one flight of steps into the market-place below, it must have retreated again, as if at touch of some malign magic wand, beyond the utmost verge of the horizon. But it had been actually, in his clearest vision of it, a confused place, with but a recognisable entry, a tower or fountain, here or there, and haunted by strange faces, whose novel expression he, the great physiognomist, could by no means read. Plato, indeed, had been able to articulate, to see, at least in thought, his ideal city. But just because Aurelius had passed beyond Plato, in the scope of the gracious charities he pre-supposed there, he had been unable really to track his way about it. Ah! after all, according to Plato himself, all vision was but reminiscence, and this, his heart's desire, no place his soul could ever have visited in any region of the old world's achievements. He had but divined, by a kind of generosity of spirit, the void place, which another experience than his must fill. Yet Marius noted the wonderful expression of peace, of quiet pleasure, on the countenance of Aurelius, as he received from him the rolls of fine clear manuscript, fancying the thoughts of the emperor occupied at the moment with the famous prospect towards the Alban hills, from those lofty windows. NOTES 37. +Transliteration: en oligistois keitai. Definition "it lies in the fewest [things]." CHAPTER XVIII: "THE CEREMONY OF THE DART" [41] THE ideas of Stoicism, so precious to Marcus Aurelius, ideas of large generalisation, have sometimes induced, in those over whose intellects they have had real power, a coldness of heart. It was the distinction of Aurelius that he was able to harmonise them with the kindness, one might almost say the amenities, of a humourist, as also with the popular religion and its many gods. Those vasty conceptions of the later Greek philosophy had in them, in truth, the germ of a sort of austerely opinionative "natural theology," and how often has that led to religious dryness--a hard contempt of everything in religion, which touches the senses, or charms the fancy, or really concerns the affections. Aurelius had made his own the secret of passing, naturally, and with no violence to his thought, to and fro, between the richly coloured and romantic religion of those old gods who had still been human beings, and a very abstract speculation upon the impassive, [42] universal soul--that circle whose centre is everywhere, the circumference nowhere--of which a series of purely logical necessities had evolved the formula. As in many another instance, those traditional pieties of the place and the hour had been derived by him from his mother:--para tês mêtros to theosebes.+ Purified, as all such religion of concrete time and place needs to be, by frequent confronting with the ideal of godhead as revealed to that innate religious sense in the possession of which Aurelius differed from the people around him, it was the ground of many a sociability with their simpler souls, and for himself, certainly, a consolation, whenever the wings of his own soul flagged in the trying atmosphere of purely intellectual vision. A host of companions, guides, helpers, about him from of old time, "the very court and company of heaven," objects for him of personal reverence and affection--the supposed presence of the ancient popular gods determined the character of much of his daily life, and might prove the last stay of human nature at its weakest. "In every time and place," he had said, "it rests with thyself to use the event of the hour religiously: at all seasons worship the gods." And when he said "Worship the gods!" he did it, as strenuously as everything else. Yet here again, how often must he have experienced disillusion, or even some revolt of [43] feeling, at that contact with coarser natures to which his religious conclusions exposed him. At the beginning of the year one hundred and seventy-three public anxiety was as great as ever; and as before it brought people's superstition into unreserved play. For seven days the images of the old gods, and some of the graver new ones, lay solemnly exposed in the open air, arrayed in all their ornaments, each in his separate resting-place, amid lights and burning incense, while the crowd, following the imperial example, daily visited them, with offerings of flowers to this or that particular divinity, according to the devotion of each. But supplementing these older official observances, the very wildest gods had their share of worship,--strange creatures with strange secrets startled abroad into open daylight. The delirious sort of religion of which Marius was a spectator in the streets of Rome, during the seven days of the Lectisternium, reminded him now and again of an observation of Apuleius: it was "as if the presence of the gods did not do men good, but disordered or weakened them." Some jaded women of fashion, especially, found in certain oriental devotions, at once relief for their religiously tearful souls and an opportunity for personal display; preferring this or that "mystery," chiefly because the attire required in it was suitable to their peculiar manner of beauty. And one morning Marius [44] encountered an extraordinary crimson object, borne in a litter through an excited crowd--the famous courtesan Benedicta, still fresh from the bath of blood, to which she had submitted herself, sitting below the scaffold where the victims provided for that purpose were slaughtered by the priests. Even on the last day of the solemnity, when the emperor himself performed one of the oldest ceremonies of the Roman religion, this fantastic piety had asserted itself. There were victims enough certainly, brought from the choice pastures of the Sabine mountains, and conducted around the city they were to die for, in almost continuous procession, covered with flowers and well-nigh worried to death before the time by the crowds of people superstitiously pressing to touch them. But certain old-fashioned Romans, in these exceptional circumstances, demanded something more than this, in the way of a human sacrifice after the ancient pattern; as when, not so long since, some Greeks or Gauls had been buried alive in the Forum. At least, human blood should be shed; and it was through a wild multitude of fanatics, cutting their flesh with knives and whips and licking up ardently the crimson stream, that the emperor repaired to the temple of Bellona, and in solemn symbolic act cast the bloodstained spear, or "dart," carefully preserved there, towards the enemy's country-- [45] towards that unknown world of German homes, still warm, as some believed under the faint northern twilight, with those innocent affections of which Romans had lost the sense. And this at least was clear, amid all doubts of abstract right or wrong on either side, that the ruin of those homes was involved in what Aurelius was then preparing for, with,--Yes! the gods be thanked for that achievement of an invigorating philosophy!--almost with a light heart. For, in truth, that departure, really so difficult to him, for which Marcus Aurelius had needed to brace himself so strenuously, came to test the power of a long-studied theory of practice; and it was the development of this theory--a theôria, literally--a view, an intuition, of the most important facts, and still more important possibilities, concerning man in the world, that Marius now discovered, almost as if by accident, below the dry surface of the manuscripts entrusted to him. The great purple rolls contained, first of all, statistics, a general historical account of the writer's own time, and an exact diary; all alike, though in three different degrees of nearness to the writer's own personal experience, laborious, formal, self-suppressing. This was for the instruction of the public; and part of it has, perhaps, found its way into the Augustan Histories. But it was for the especial guidance of his son Commodus that he had permitted himself to break out, here [46] and there, into reflections upon what was passing, into conversations with the reader. And then, as though he were put off his guard in this way, there had escaped into the heavy matter-of-fact, of which the main portion was composed, morsels of his conversation with himself. It was the romance of a soul (to be traced only in hints, wayside notes, quotations from older masters), as it were in lifelong, and often baffled search after some vanished or elusive golden fleece, or Hesperidean fruit-trees, or some mysterious light of doctrine, ever retreating before him. A man, he had seemed to Marius from the first, of two lives, as we say. Of what nature, he had sometimes wondered, on the day, for instance, when he had interrupted the emperor's musings in the empty palace, might be that placid inward guest or inhabitant, who from amid the pre-occupations of the man of practical affairs looked out, as if surprised, at the things and faces around. Here, then, under the tame surface of what was meant for a life of business, Marius discovered, welcoming a brother, the spontaneous self-revelation of a soul as delicate as his own,--a soul for which conversation with itself was a necessity of existence. Marius, indeed, had always suspected that the sense of such necessity was a peculiarity of his. But here, certainly, was another, in this respect like himself; and again he seemed to detect the advent of some [47] new or changed spirit into the world, mystic, inward, hardly to be satisfied with that wholly external and objective habit of life, which had been sufficient for the old classic soul. His purely literary curiosity was greatly stimulated by this example of a book of self-portraiture. It was in fact the position of the modern essayist,--creature of efforts rather than of achievements, in the matter of apprehending truth, but at least conscious of lights by the way, which he must needs record, acknowledge. What seemed to underlie that position was the desire to make the most of every experience that might come, outwardly or from within: to perpetuate, to display, what was so fleeting, in a kind of instinctive, pathetic protest against the imperial writer's own theory--that theory of the "perpetual flux" of all things--to Marius himself, so plausible from of old. There was, besides, a special moral or doctrinal significance in the making of such conversation with one's self at all. The Logos, the reasonable spark, in man, is common to him with the gods--koinos autô pros tous theous+--cum diis communis. That might seem but the truism of a certain school of philosophy; but in Aurelius was clearly an original and lively apprehension. There could be no inward conversation with one's self such as this, unless there were indeed some one else, aware of our actual thoughts and feelings, pleased or displeased at [48] one's disposition of one's self. Cornelius Fronto too could enounce that theory of the reasonable community between men and God, in many different ways. But then, he was a cheerful man, and Aurelius a singularly sad one; and what to Fronto was but a doctrine, or a motive of mere rhetoric, was to the other a consolation. He walks and talks, for a spiritual refreshment lacking which he would faint by the way, with what to the learned professor is but matter of philosophic eloquence. In performing his public religious functions Marcus Aurelius had ever seemed like one who took part in some great process, a great thing really done, with more than the actually visible assistants about him. Here, in these manuscripts, in a hundred marginal flowers of thought or language, in happy new phrases of his own like the impromptus of an actual conversation, in quotations from other older masters of the inward life, taking new significance from the chances of such intercourse, was the record of his communion with that eternal reason, which was also his own proper self, with the divine companion, whose tabernacle was in the intelligence of men--the journal of his daily commerce with that. Chance: or Providence! Chance: or Wisdom, one with nature and man, reaching from end to end, through all time and all existence, orderly disposing all things, according to [49] fixed periods, as he describes it, in terms very like certain well-known words of the book of Wisdom:--those are the "fenced opposites" of the speculative dilemma, the tragic embarras, of which Aurelius cannot too often remind himself as the summary of man's situation in the world. If there be, however, a provident soul like this "behind the veil," truly, even to him, even in the most intimate of those conversations, it has never yet spoken with any quite irresistible assertion of its presence. Yet one's choice in that speculative dilemma, as he has found it, is on the whole a matter of will.--"'Tis in thy power," here too, again, "to think as thou wilt." For his part he has asserted his will, and has the courage of his opinion. "To the better of two things, if thou findest that, turn with thy whole heart: eat and drink ever of the best before thee." "Wisdom," says that other disciple of the Sapiential philosophy, "hath mingled Her wine, she hath also prepared Herself a table." Tou aristou apolaue:+ "Partake ever of Her best!" And what Marius, peeping now very closely upon the intimacies of that singular mind, found a thing actually pathetic and affecting, was the manner of the writer's bearing as in the presence of this supposed guest; so elusive, so jealous of any palpable manifestation of himself, so taxing to one's faith, never allowing one to lean frankly upon him and feel wholly at rest. Only, he [50] would do his part, at least, in maintaining the constant fitness, the sweetness and quiet, of the guest-chamber. Seeming to vary with the intellectual fortune of the hour, from the plainest account of experience, to a sheer fantasy, only "believed because it was impossible," that one hope was, at all events, sufficient to make men's common pleasures and their common ambition, above all their commonest vices, seem very petty indeed, too petty to know of. It bred in him a kind of magnificence of character, in the old Greek sense of the term; a temper incompatible with any merely plausible advocacy of his convictions, or merely superficial thoughts about anything whatever, or talk about other people, or speculation as to what was passing in their so visibly little souls, or much talking of any kind, however clever or graceful. A soul thus disposed had "already entered into the better life":--was indeed in some sort "a priest, a minister of the gods." Hence his constant "recollection"; a close watching of his soul, of a kind almost unique in the ancient world.--Before all things examine into thyself: strive to be at home with thyself!--Marius, a sympathetic witness of all this, might almost seem to have had a foresight of monasticism itself in the prophetic future. With this mystic companion he had gone a step onward out of the merely objective pagan existence. Here was already a master in that craft of self-direction, which was about to [51] play so large a part in the forming of human mind, under the sanction of the Christian church. Yet it was in truth a somewhat melancholy service, a service on which one must needs move about, solemn, serious, depressed, with the hushed footsteps of those who move about the house where a dead body is lying. Such was the impression which occurred to Marius again and again as he read, with a growing sense of some profound dissidence from his author. By certain quite traceable links of association he was reminded, in spite of the moral beauty of the philosophic emperor's ideas, how he had sat, essentially unconcerned, at the public shows. For, actually, his contemplations had made him of a sad heart, inducing in him that melancholy--Tristitia--which even the monastic moralists have held to be of the nature of deadly sin, akin to the sin of Desidia or Inactivity. Resignation, a sombre resignation, a sad heart, patient bearing of the burden of a sad heart:--Yes! this belonged doubtless to the situation of an honest thinker upon the world. Only, in this case there seemed to be too much of a complacent acquiescence in the world as it is. And there could be no true Théodicé in that; no real accommodation of the world as it is, to the divine pattern of the Logos, the eternal reason, over against it. It amounted to a tolerance of evil. The soul of good, though it moveth upon a way thou canst but little understand, yet prospereth on the journey: [52] If thou sufferest nothing contrary to nature, there can be nought of evil with thee therein. If thou hast done aught in harmony with that reason in which men are communicant with the gods, there also can be nothing of evil with thee--nothing to be afraid of: Whatever is, is right; as from the hand of one dispensing to every man according to his desert: If reason fulfil its part in things, what more dost thou require? Dost thou take it ill that thy stature is but of four cubits? That which happeneth to each of us is for the profit of the whole. The profit of the whole,--that was sufficient!+ --Links, in a train of thought really generous! of which, nevertheless, the forced and yet facile optimism, refusing to see evil anywhere, might lack, after all, the secret of genuine cheerfulness. It left in truth a weight upon the spirits; and with that weight unlifted, there could be no real justification of the ways of Heaven to man. "Let thine air be cheerful," he had said; and, with an effort, did himself at times attain to that serenity of aspect, which surely ought to accompany, as their outward flower and favour, hopeful assumptions like those. Still, what in Aurelius was but a passing expression, was with Cornelius (Marius could but note the contrast) nature, and a veritable physiognomy. With Cornelius, in fact, it was nothing less than the joy which Dante apprehended in the blessed spirits of the perfect, the outward semblance of which, like a reflex of physical light upon human faces from "the land which is very far off," we may trace from Giotto onward to its consummation in the work of Raphael--the serenity, the [53] durable cheerfulness, of those who have been indeed delivered from death, and of which the utmost degree of that famed "blitheness "of the Greeks had been but a transitory gleam, as in careless and wholly superficial youth. And yet, in Cornelius, it was certainly united with the bold recognition of evil as a fact in the world; real as an aching in the head or heart, which one instinctively desires to have cured; an enemy with whom no terms could be made, visible, hatefully visible, in a thousand forms--the apparent waste of men's gifts in an early, or even in a late grave; the death, as such, of men, and even of animals; the disease and pain of the body. And there was another point of dissidence between Aurelius and his reader.--The philosophic emperor was a despiser of the body. Since it is "the peculiar privilege of reason to move within herself, and to be proof against corporeal impressions, suffering neither sensation nor passion to break in upon her," it follows that the true interest of the spirit must ever be to treat the body--Well! as a corpse attached thereto, rather than as a living companion--nay, actually to promote its dissolution. In counterpoise to the inhumanity of this, presenting itself to the young reader as nothing less than a sin against nature, the very person of Cornelius was nothing less than a sanction of that reverent delight Marius had always had in the visible body of man. Such delight indeed had been but [54] a natural consequence of the sensuous or materialistic character of the philosophy of his choice. Now to Cornelius the body of man was unmistakeably, as a later seer terms it, the one true temple in the world; or rather itself the proper object of worship, of a sacred service, in which the very finest gold might have its seemliness and due symbolic use:--Ah! and of what awe-stricken pity also, in its dejection, in the perishing gray bones of a poor man's grave! Some flaw of vision, thought Marius, must be involved in the philosopher's contempt for it--some diseased point of thought, or moral dulness, leading logically to what seemed to him the strangest of all the emperor's inhumanities, the temper of the suicide; for which there was just then, indeed, a sort of mania in the world. "'Tis part of the business of life," he read, "to lose it handsomely." On due occasion, "one might give life the slip." The moral or mental powers might fail one; and then it were a fair question, precisely, whether the time for taking leave was not come:--"Thou canst leave this prison when thou wilt. Go forth boldly!" Just there, in the bare capacity to entertain such question at all, there was what Marius, with a soul which must always leap up in loyal gratitude for mere physical sunshine, touching him as it touched the flies in the air, could not away with. There, surely, was a sign of some crookedness in the natural power of apprehension. It was the [55] attitude, the melancholy intellectual attitude, of one who might be greatly mistaken in things--who might make the greatest of mistakes. A heart that could forget itself in the misfortune, or even in the weakness of others:--of this Marius had certainly found the trace, as a confidant of the emperor's conversations with himself, in spite of those jarring inhumanities, of that pretension to a stoical indifference, and the many difficulties of his manner of writing. He found it again not long afterwards, in still stronger evidence, in this way. As he read one morning early, there slipped from the rolls of manuscript a sealed letter with the emperor's superscription, which might well be of importance, and he felt bound to deliver it at once in person; Aurelius being then absent from Rome in one of his favourite retreats, at Praeneste, taking a few days of quiet with his young children, before his departure for the war. A whole day passed as Marius crossed the Campagna on horseback, pleased by the random autumn lights bringing out in the distance the sheep at pasture, the shepherds in their picturesque dress, the golden elms, tower and villa; and it was after dark that he mounted the steep street of the little hill-town to the imperial residence. He was struck by an odd mixture of stillness and excitement about the place. Lights burned at the windows. It seemed that numerous visitors were within, for the courtyard was crowded with litters and horses [56] in waiting. For the moment, indeed, all larger cares, even the cares of war, of late so heavy a pressure, had been forgotten in what was passing with the little Annius Verus; who for his part had forgotten his toys, lying all day across the knees of his mother, as a mere child's ear-ache grew rapidly to alarming sickness with great and manifest agony, only suspended a little, from time to time, when from very weariness he passed into a few moments of unconsciousness. The country surgeon called in, had removed the imposthume with the knife. There had been a great effort to bear this operation, for the terrified child, hardly persuaded to submit himself, when his pain was at its worst, and even more for the parents. At length, amid a company of pupils pressing in with him, as the custom was, to watch the proceedings in the sick-room, the eminent Galen had arrived, only to pronounce the thing done visibly useless, the patient falling now into longer intervals of delirium. And thus, thrust on one side by the crowd of departing visitors, Marius was forced into the privacy of a grief, the desolate face of which went deep into his memory, as he saw the emperor carry the child away--quite conscious at last, but with a touching expression upon it of weakness and defeat--pressed close to his bosom, as if he yearned just then for one thing only, to be united, to be absolutely one with it, in its obscure distress. NOTES 42. +Transliteration: para tês mêtros to theosebes. Translation: "rites deriving from [his] mother." 47. +Transliteration: koinos autô pros tous theous. Translation: "common to him together with the gods." 49. +Transliteration: Tou aristou apolaue. Translation: "[Always] take the best." 52. +Not indented in the original. CHAPTER XIX: THE WILL AS VISION Paratum cor meum deus! paratum cor meum! [57] THE emperor demanded a senatorial decree for the erection of images in memory of the dead prince; that a golden one should be carried, together with the other images, in the great procession of the Circus, and the addition of the child's name to the Hymn of the Salian Priests: and so, stifling private grief, without further delay set forth for the war. True kingship, as Plato, the old master of Aurelius, had understood it, was essentially of the nature of a service. If so be, you can discover a mode of life more desirable than the being a king, for those who shall be kings; then, the true Ideal of the State will become a possibility; but not otherwise. And if the life of Beatific Vision be indeed possible, if philosophy really "concludes in an ecstasy," affording full fruition to the entire nature of man; then, for certain elect souls at least, a mode of life will have been [58] discovered more desirable than to be a king. By love or fear you might induce such persons to forgo their privilege; to take upon them the distasteful task of governing other men, or even of leading them to victory in battle. But, by the very conditions of its tenure, their dominion would be wholly a ministry to others: they would have taken upon them-"the form of a servant": they would be reigning for the well-being of others rather than their own. The true king, the righteous king, would be Saint Lewis, exiling himself from the better land and its perfected company--so real a thing to him, definite and real as the pictured scenes of his psalter--to take part in or to arbitrate men's quarrels, about the transitory appearances of things. In a lower degree (lower, in proportion as the highest Platonic dream is lower than any Christian vision) the true king would be Marcus Aurelius, drawn from the meditation of books, to be the ruler of the Roman people in peace, and still more, in war. To Aurelius, certainly, the philosophic mood, the visions, however dim, which this mood brought with it, were sufficiently pleasant to him, together with the endearments of his home, to make public rule nothing less than a sacrifice of himself according to Plato's requirement, now consummated in his setting forth for the campaign on the Danube. That it was such a sacrifice was to Marius visible fact, as he saw him [59] ceremoniously lifted into the saddle amid all the pageantry of an imperial departure, yet with the air less of a sanguine and self-reliant leader than of one in some way or other already defeated. Through the fortune of the subsequent years, passing and repassing so inexplicably from side to side, the rumour of which reached him amid his own quiet studies, Marius seemed always to see that central figure, with its habitually dejected hue grown now to an expression of positive suffering, all the stranger from its contrast with the magnificent armour worn by the emperor on this occasion, as it had been worn by his predecessor Hadrian. Totus et argento contextus et auro: clothed in its gold and silver, dainty as that old divinely constructed armour of which Homer tells, but without its miraculous lightsomeness--he looked out baffled, labouring, moribund; a mere comfortless shadow taking part in some shadowy reproduction of the labours of Hercules, through those northern, mist-laden confines of the civilised world. It was as if the familiar soul which had been so friendly disposed towards him were actually departed to Hades; and when he read the Conversations afterwards, though his judgment of them underwent no material change, it was nevertheless with the allowance we make for the dead. The memory of that suffering image, while it certainly strengthened his adhesion [60] to what he could accept at all in the philosophy of Aurelius, added a strange pathos to what must seem the writer's mistakes. What, after all, had been the meaning of that incident, observed as so fortunate an omen long since, when the prince, then a little child much younger than was usual, had stood in ceremony among the priests of Mars and flung his crown of flowers with the rest at the sacred image reclining on the Pulvinar? The other crowns lodged themselves here or there; when, Lo! the crown thrown by Aurelius, the youngest of them all, alighted upon the very brows of the god, as if placed there by a careful hand! He was still young, also, when on the day of his adoption by Antoninus Pius he saw himself in a dream, with as it were shoulders of ivory, like the images of the gods, and found them more capable than shoulders of flesh. Yet he was now well-nigh fifty years of age, setting out with two-thirds of life behind him, upon a labour which would fill the remainder of it with anxious cares--a labour for which he had perhaps no capacity, and certainly no taste. That ancient suit of armour was almost the only object Aurelius now possessed from all those much cherished articles of vertu collected by the Caesars, making the imperial residence like a magnificent museum. Not men alone were needed for the war, so that it became necessary, to the great disgust alike of timid persons and of [61] the lovers of sport, to arm the gladiators, but money also was lacking. Accordingly, at the sole motion of Aurelius himself, unwilling that the public burden should be further increased, especially on the part of the poor, the whole of the imperial ornaments and furniture, a sumptuous collection of gems formed by Hadrian, with many works of the most famous painters and sculptors, even the precious ornaments of the emperor's chapel or Lararium, and the wardrobe of the empress Faustina, who seems to have borne the loss without a murmur, were exposed for public auction. "These treasures," said Aurelius, "like all else that I possess, belong by right to the Senate and People." Was it not a characteristic of the true kings in Plato that they had in their houses nothing they could call their own? Connoisseurs had a keen delight in the mere reading of the Praetor's list of the property for sale. For two months the learned in these matters were daily occupied in the appraising of the embroidered hangings, the choice articles of personal use selected for preservation by each succeeding age, the great outlandish pearls from Hadrian's favourite cabinet, the marvellous plate lying safe behind the pretty iron wicker-work of the shops in the goldsmiths' quarter. Meantime ordinary persons might have an interest in the inspection of objects which had been as daily companions to people so far above and remote from them--things so fine also [62] in workmanship and material as to seem, with their antique and delicate air, a worthy survival of the grand bygone eras, like select thoughts or utterances embodying the very spirit of the vanished past. The town became more pensive than ever over old fashions. The welcome amusement of this last act of preparation for the great war being now over, all Rome seemed to settle down into a singular quiet, likely to last long, as though bent only on watching from afar the languid, somewhat uneventful course of the contest itself. Marius took advantage of it as an opportunity for still closer study than of old, only now and then going out to one of his favourite spots on the Sabine or Alban hills for a quiet even greater than that of Rome in the country air. On one of these occasions, as if by favour of an invisible power withdrawing some unknown cause of dejection from around him, he enjoyed a quite unusual sense of self-possession--the possession of his own best and happiest self. After some gloomy thoughts over-night, he awoke under the full tide of the rising sun, himself full, in his entire refreshment, of that almost religious appreciation of sleep, the graciousness of its influence on men's spirits, which had made the old Greeks conceive of it as a god. It was like one of those old joyful wakings of childhood, now becoming rarer and rarer with him, and looked back upon with much regret as a measure of advancing age. In fact, [63] the last bequest of this serene sleep had been a dream, in which, as once before, he overheard those he loved best pronouncing his name very pleasantly, as they passed through the rich light and shadow of a summer morning, along the pavement of a city--Ah! fairer far than Rome! In a moment, as he arose, a certain oppression of late setting very heavily upon him was lifted away, as though by some physical motion in the air. That flawless serenity, better than the most pleasurable excitement, yet so easily ruffled by chance collision even with the things and persons he had come to value as the greatest treasure in life, was to be wholly his to-day, he thought, as he rode towards Tibur, under the early sunshine; the marble of its villas glistening all the way before him on the hillside. And why could he not hold such serenity of spirit ever at command? he asked, expert as he was at last become in the art of setting the house of his thoughts in order. "'Tis in thy power to think as thou wilt:" he repeated to himself: it was the most serviceable of all the lessons enforced on him by those imperial conversations.--"'Tis in thy power to think as thou wilt." And were the cheerful, sociable, restorative beliefs, of which he had there read so much, that bold adhesion, for instance, to the hypothesis of an eternal friend to man, just hidden behind the veil of a mechanical and material order, but only just behind it, [64] ready perhaps even now to break through:--were they, after all, really a matter of choice, dependent on some deliberate act of volition on his part? Were they doctrines one might take for granted, generously take for granted, and led on by them, at first as but well-defined objects of hope, come at last into the region of a corresponding certitude of the intellect? "It is the truth I seek," he had read, "the truth, by which no one," gray and depressing though it might seem, "was ever really injured." And yet, on the other hand, the imperial wayfarer, he had been able to go along with so far on his intellectual pilgrimage, let fall many things concerning the practicability of a methodical and self-forced assent to certain principles or presuppositions "one could not do without." Were there, as the expression "one could not do without" seemed to hint, beliefs, without which life itself must be almost impossible, principles which had their sufficient ground of evidence in that very fact? Experience certainly taught that, as regarding the sensible world he could attend or not, almost at will, to this or that colour, this or that train of sounds, in the whole tumultuous concourse of colour and sound, so it was also, for the well-trained intelligence, in regard to that hum of voices which besiege the inward no less than the outward ear. Might it be not otherwise with those various and competing hypotheses, the permissible hypotheses, which, [65] in that open field for hypothesis--one's own actual ignorance of the origin and tendency of our being--present themselves so importunately, some of them with so emphatic a reiteration, through all the mental changes of successive ages? Might the will itself be an organ of knowledge, of vision? On this day truly no mysterious light, no irresistibly leading hand from afar reached him; only the peculiarly tranquil influence of its first hour increased steadily upon him, in a manner with which, as he conceived, the aspects of the place he was then visiting had something to do. The air there, air supposed to possess the singular property of restoring the whiteness of ivory, was pure and thin. An even veil of lawn-like white cloud had now drawn over the sky; and under its broad, shadowless light every hue and tone of time came out upon the yellow old temples, the elegant pillared circle of the shrine of the patronal Sibyl, the houses seemingly of a piece with the ancient fundamental rock. Some half-conscious motive of poetic grace would appear to have determined their grouping; in part resisting, partly going along with the natural wildness and harshness of the place, its floods and precipices. An air of immense age possessed, above all, the vegetation around--a world of evergreen trees--the olives especially, older than how many generations of men's lives! fretted and twisted by the combining forces of [66] life and death, into every conceivable caprice of form. In the windless weather all seemed to be listening to the roar of the immemorial waterfall, plunging down so unassociably among these human habitations, and with a motion so unchanging from age to age as to count, even in this time-worn place, as an image of unalterable rest. Yet the clear sky all but broke to let through the ray which was silently quickening everything in the late February afternoon, and the unseen violet refined itself through the air. It was as if the spirit of life in nature were but withholding any too precipitate revelation of itself, in its slow, wise, maturing work. Through some accident to the trappings of his horse at the inn where he rested, Marius had an unexpected delay. He sat down in an olive-garden, and, all around him and within still turning to reverie, the course of his own life hitherto seemed to withdraw itself into some other world, disparted from this spectacular point where he was now placed to survey it, like that distant road below, along which he had travelled this morning across the Campagna. Through a dreamy land he could see himself moving, as if in another life, and like another person, through all his fortunes and misfortunes, passing from point to point, weeping, delighted, escaping from various dangers. That prospect brought him, first of all, an impulse of lively gratitude: it was as if he must look round for some one [67] else to share his joy with: for some one to whom he might tell the thing, for his own relief. Companionship, indeed, familiarity with others, gifted in this way or that, or at least pleasant to him, had been, through one or another long span of it, the chief delight of the journey. And was it only the resultant general sense of such familiarity, diffused through his memory, that in a while suggested the question whether there had not been--besides Flavian, besides Cornelius even, and amid the solitude he had which in spite of ardent friendship perhaps loved best of all things--some other companion, an unfailing companion, ever at his side throughout; doubling his pleasure in the roses by the way, patient of his peevishness or depression, sympathetic above all with his grateful recognition, onward from his earliest days, of the fact that he was there at all? Must not the whole world around have faded away for him altogether, had he been left for one moment really alone in it? In his deepest apparent solitude there had been rich entertainment. It was as if there were not one only, but two wayfarers, side by side, visible there across the plain, as he indulged his fancy. A bird came and sang among the wattled hedge-roses: an animal feeding crept nearer: the child who kept it was gazing quietly: and the scene and the hours still conspiring, he passed from that mere fantasy of a self not himself, beside him in his coming and [68] going, to those divinations of a living and companionable spirit at work in all things, of which he had become aware from time to time in his old philosophic readings--in Plato and others, last but not least, in Aurelius. Through one reflection upon another, he passed from such instinctive divinations, to the thoughts which give them logical consistency, formulating at last, as the necessary exponent of our own and the world's life, that reasonable Ideal to which the Old Testament gives the name of Creator, which for the philosophers of Greece is the Eternal Reason, and in the New Testament the Father of Men--even as one builds up from act and word and expression of the friend actually visible at one's side, an ideal of the spirit within him. In this peculiar and privileged hour, his bodily frame, as he could recognise, although just then, in the whole sum of its capacities, so entirely possessed by him--Nay! actually his very self--was yet determined by a far-reaching system of material forces external to it, a thousand combining currents from earth and sky. Its seemingly active powers of apprehension were, in fact, but susceptibilities to influence. The perfection of its capacity might be said to depend on its passive surrender, as of a leaf on the wind, to the motions of the great stream of physical energy without it. And might not the intellectual frame also, still [69] more intimately himself as in truth it was, after the analogy of the bodily life, be a moment only, an impulse or series of impulses, a single process, in an intellectual or spiritual system external to it, diffused through all time and place--that great stream of spiritual energy, of which his own imperfect thoughts, yesterday or to-day, would be but the remote, and therefore imperfect pulsations? It was the hypothesis (boldest, though in reality the most conceivable of all hypotheses) which had dawned on the contemplations of the two opposed great masters of the old Greek thought, alike:--the "World of Ideas," existent only because, and in so far as, they are known, as Plato conceived; the "creative, incorruptible, informing mind," supposed by Aristotle, so sober-minded, yet as regards this matter left something of a mystic after all. Might not this entire material world, the very scene around him, the immemorial rocks, the firm marble, the olive-gardens, the falling water, be themselves but reflections in, or a creation of, that one indefectible mind, wherein he too became conscious, for an hour, a day, for so many years? Upon what other hypothesis could he so well understand the persistency of all these things for his own intermittent consciousness of them, for the intermittent consciousness of so many generations, fleeting away one after another? It was easier to conceive of the material fabric of things as [70] but an element in a world of thought--as a thought in a mind, than of mind as an element, or accident, or passing condition in a world of matter, because mind was really nearer to himself: it was an explanation of what was less known by what was known better. The purely material world, that close, impassable prison-wall, seemed just then the unreal thing, to be actually dissolving away all around him: and he felt a quiet hope, a quiet joy dawning faintly, in the dawning of this doctrine upon him as a really credible opinion. It was like the break of day over some vast prospect with the "new city," as it were some celestial New Rome, in the midst of it. That divine companion figured no longer as but an occasional wayfarer beside him; but rather as the unfailing "assistant," without whose inspiration and concurrence he could not breathe or see, instrumenting his bodily senses, rounding, supporting his imperfect thoughts. How often had the thought of their brevity spoiled for him the most natural pleasures of life, confusing even his present sense of them by the suggestion of disease, of death, of a coming end, in everything! How had he longed, sometimes, that there were indeed one to whose boundless power of memory he could commit his own most fortunate moments, his admiration, his love, Ay! the very sorrows of which he could not bear quite to lose the sense:--one strong to retain them even though [71] he forgot, in whose more vigorous consciousness they might subsist for ever, beyond that mere quickening of capacity which was all that remained of them in himself! "Oh! that they might live before Thee"--To-day at least, in the peculiar clearness of one privileged hour, he seemed to have apprehended that in which the experiences he valued most might find, one by one, an abiding-place. And again, the resultant sense of companionship, of a person beside him, evoked the faculty of conscience--of conscience, as of old and when he had been at his best, in the form, not of fear, nor of self-reproach even, but of a certain lively gratitude. Himself--his sensations and ideas--never fell again precisely into focus as on that day, yet he was the richer by its experience. But for once only to have come under the power of that peculiar mood, to have felt the train of reflections which belong to it really forcible and conclusive, to have been led by them to a conclusion, to have apprehended the Great Ideal, so palpably that it defined personal gratitude and the sense of a friendly hand laid upon him amid the shadows of the world, left this one particular hour a marked point in life never to be forgotten. It gave him a definitely ascertained measure of his moral or intellectual need, of the demand his soul must make upon the powers, whatsoever they might be, which [72] had brought him, as he was, into the world at all. And again, would he be faithful to himself, to his own habits of mind, his leading suppositions, if he did but remain just there? Must not all that remained of life be but a search for the equivalent of that Ideal, among so-called actual things--a gathering together of every trace or token of it, which his actual experience might present? PART THE FOURTH CHAPTER XX: TWO CURIOUS HOUSES I. GUESTS "Your old men shall dream dreams."+ [75] A NATURE like that of Marius, composed, in about equal parts, of instincts almost physical, and of slowly accumulated intellectual judgments, was perhaps even less susceptible than other men's characters of essential change. And yet the experience of that fortunate hour, seeming to gather into one central act of vision all the deeper impressions his mind had ever received, did not leave him quite as he had been. For his mental view, at least, it changed measurably the world about him, of which he was still indeed a curious spectator, but which looked further off, was weaker in its hold, and, in a sense, less real to him than ever. It was as if he viewed it through a diminishing glass. And the permanency of this change he could note, some years later, when it [76] happened that he was a guest at a feast, in which the various exciting elements of Roman life, its physical and intellectual accomplishments, its frivolity and far-fetched elegances, its strange, mystic essays after the unseen, were elaborately combined. The great Apuleius, the literary ideal of his boyhood, had arrived in Rome,--was now visiting Tusculum, at the house of their common friend, a certain aristocratic poet who loved every sort of superiorities; and Marius was favoured with an invitation to a supper given in his honour. It was with a feeling of half-humorous concession to his own early boyish hero-worship, yet with some sense of superiority in himself, seeing his old curiosity grown now almost to indifference when on the point of satisfaction at last, and upon a juster estimate of its object, that he mounted to the little town on the hillside, the foot-ways of which were so many flights of easy-going steps gathered round a single great house under shadow of the "haunted" ruins of Cicero's villa on the wooded heights. He found a touch of weirdness in the circumstance that in so romantic a place he had been bidden to meet the writer who was come to seem almost like one of the personages in his own fiction. As he turned now and then to gaze at the evening scene through the tall narrow openings of the street, up which the cattle were going home slowly from the [77] pastures below, the Alban mountains, stretched between the great walls of the ancient houses, seemed close at hand--a screen of vaporous dun purple against the setting sun--with those waves of surpassing softness in the boundary lines which indicate volcanic formation. The coolness of the little brown market-place, for profit of which even the working-people, in long file through the olive-gardens, were leaving the plain for the night, was grateful, after the heats of Rome. Those wild country figures, clad in every kind of fantastic patchwork, stained by wind and weather fortunately enough for the eye, under that significant light inclined him to poetry. And it was a very delicate poetry of its kind that seemed to enfold him, as passing into the poet's house he paused for a moment to glance back towards the heights above; whereupon, the numerous cascades of the precipitous garden of the villa, framed in the doorway of the hall, fell into a harmless picture, in its place among the pictures within, and scarcely more real than they--a landscape-piece, in which the power of water (plunging into what unseen depths!) done to the life, was pleasant, and without its natural terrors. At the further end of this bland apartment, fragrant with the rare woods of the old inlaid panelling, the falling of aromatic oil from the ready-lighted lamps, the iris-root clinging to the dresses of the guests, as with odours from the [78] altars of the gods, the supper-table was spread, in all the daintiness characteristic of the agreeable petit-maître, who entertained. He was already most carefully dressed, but, like Martial's Stella, perhaps consciously, meant to change his attire once and again during the banquet; in the last instance, for an ancient vesture (object of much rivalry among the young men of fashion, at that great sale of the imperial wardrobes) a toga, of altogether lost hue and texture. He wore it with a grace which became the leader of a thrilling movement then on foot for the restoration of that disused garment, in which, laying aside the customary evening dress, all the visitors were requested to appear, setting off the delicate sinuosities and well-disposed "golden ways" of its folds, with harmoniously tinted flowers. The opulent sunset, blending pleasantly with artificial light, fell across the quiet ancestral effigies of old consular dignitaries, along the wide floor strewn with sawdust of sandal-wood, and lost itself in the heap of cool coronals, lying ready for the foreheads of the guests on a sideboard of old citron. The crystal vessels darkened with old wine, the hues of the early autumn fruit--mulberries, pomegranates, and grapes that had long been hanging under careful protection upon the vines, were almost as much a feast for the eye, as the dusky fires of the rare twelve-petalled roses. A favourite animal, white as snow, brought by one of the visitors, purred its way [79] gracefully among the wine-cups, coaxed onward from place to place by those at table, as they reclined easily on their cushions of German eider-down, spread over the long-legged, carved couches. A highly refined modification of the acroama--a musical performance during supper for the diversion of the guests--was presently heard hovering round the place, soothingly, and so unobtrusively that the company could not guess, and did not like to ask, whether or not it had been designed by their entertainer. They inclined on the whole to think it some wonderful peasant-music peculiar to that wild neighbourhood, turning, as it did now and then, to a solitary reed-note, like a bird's, while it wandered into the distance. It wandered quite away at last, as darkness with a bolder lamplight came on, and made way for another sort of entertainment. An odd, rapid, phantasmal glitter, advancing from the garden by torchlight, defined itself, as it came nearer, into a dance of young men in armour. Arrived at length in a portico, open to the supper-chamber, they contrived that their mechanical march-movement should fall out into a kind of highly expressive dramatic action; and with the utmost possible emphasis of dumb motion, their long swords weaving a silvery network in the air, they danced the Death of Paris. The young Commodus, already an adept in these matters, who had condescended to [80] welcome the eminent Apuleius at the banquet, had mysteriously dropped from his place to take his share in the performance; and at its conclusion reappeared, still wearing the dainty accoutrements of Paris, including a breastplate, composed entirely of overlapping tigers' claws, skilfully gilt. The youthful prince had lately assumed the dress of manhood, on the return of the emperor for a brief visit from the North; putting up his hair, in imitation of Nero, in a golden box dedicated to Capitoline Jupiter. His likeness to Aurelius, his father, was become, in consequence, more striking than ever; and he had one source of genuine interest in the great literary guest of the occasion, in that the latter was the fortunate possessor of a monopoly for the exhibition of wild beasts and gladiatorial shows in the province of Carthage, where he resided. Still, after all complaisance to the perhaps somewhat crude tastes of the emperor's son, it was felt that with a guest like Apuleius whom they had come prepared to entertain as veritable connoisseurs, the conversation should be learned and superior, and the host at last deftly led his company round to literature, by the way of bindings. Elegant rolls of manuscript from his fine library of ancient Greek books passed from hand to hand about the table. It was a sign for the visitors themselves to draw their own choicest literary curiosities from their bags, as their contribution to the banquet; and one of them, a [81] famous reader, choosing his lucky moment, delivered in tenor voice the piece which follows, with a preliminary query as to whether it could indeed be the composition of Lucian of Samosata,+ understood to be the great mocker of that day:-- "What sound was that, Socrates?" asked Chaerephon. "It came from the beach under the cliff yonder, and seemed a long way off.--And how melodious it was! Was it a bird, I wonder. I thought all sea-birds were songless." "Aye! a sea-bird," answered Socrates, "a bird called the Halcyon, and has a note full of plaining and tears. There is an old story people tell of it. It was a mortal woman once, daughter of Aeolus, god of the winds. Ceyx, the son of the morning-star, wedded her in her early maidenhood. The son was not less fair than the father; and when it came to pass that he died, the crying of the girl as she lamented his sweet usage, was, Just that! And some while after, as Heaven willed, she was changed into a bird. Floating now on bird's wings over the sea she seeks her lost Ceyx there; since she was not able to find him after long wandering over the land." "That then is the Halcyon--the kingfisher," said Chaerephon. "I never heard a bird like it before. It has truly a plaintive note. What kind of a bird is it, Socrates?" "Not a large bird, though she has received [82] large honour from the gods on account of her singular conjugal affection. For whensoever she makes her nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's weather,--days distinguishable among all others for their serenity, though they come sometimes amid the storms of winter--days like to-day! See how transparent is the sky above us, and how motionless the sea!--like a smooth mirror." True! A Halcyon day, indeed! and yesterday was the same. But tell me, Socrates, what is one to think of those stories which have been told from the beginning, of birds changed into mortals and mortals into birds? To me nothing seems more incredible." "Dear Chaerephon," said Socrates, "methinks we are but half-blind judges of the impossible and the possible. We try the question by the standard of our human faculty, which avails neither for true knowledge, nor for faith, nor vision. Therefore many things seem to us impossible which are really easy, many things unattainable which are within our reach; partly through inexperience, partly through the childishness of our minds. For in truth, every man, even the oldest of us, is like a little child, so brief and babyish are the years of our life in comparison of eternity. Then, how can we, who comprehend not the faculties of gods and of the heavenly host, tell whether aught of that kind be possible or no?--What a tempest you saw [83] three days ago! One trembles but to think of the lightning, the thunderclaps, the violence of the wind! You might have thought the whole world was going to ruin. And then, after a little, came this wonderful serenity of weather, which has continued till to-day. Which do you think the greater and more difficult thing to do: to exchange the disorder of that irresistible whirlwind to a clarity like this, and becalm the whole world again, or to refashion the form of a woman into that of a bird? We can teach even little children to do something of that sort,--to take wax or clay, and mould out of the same material many kinds of form, one after another, without difficulty. And it may be that to the Deity, whose power is too vast for comparison with ours, all processes of that kind are manageable and easy. How much wider is the whole circle of heaven than thyself?--Wider than thou canst express. "Among ourselves also, how vast the difference we may observe in men's degrees of power! To you and me, and many another like us, many things are impossible which are quite easy to others. For those who are unmusical, to play on the flute; to read or write, for those who have not yet learned; is no easier than to make birds of women, or women of birds. From the dumb and lifeless egg Nature moulds her swarms of winged creatures, aided, as some will have it, by a divine and secret [84] art in the wide air around us. She takes from the honeycomb a little memberless live thing; she brings it wings and feet, brightens and beautifies it with quaint variety of colour:--and Lo! the bee in her wisdom, making honey worthy of the gods. "It follows, that we mortals, being altogether of little account, able wholly to discern no great matter, sometimes not even a little one, for the most part at a loss regarding what happens even with ourselves, may hardly speak with security as to what may be the powers of the immortal gods concerning Kingfisher, or Nightingale. Yet the glory of thy mythus, as my fathers bequeathed it to me, O tearful songstress! that will I too hand on to my children, and tell it often to my wives, Xanthippe and Myrto:--the story of thy pious love to Ceyx, and of thy melodious hymns; and, above all, of the honour thou hast with the gods!" The reader's well-turned periods seemed to stimulate, almost uncontrollably, the eloquent stirrings of the eminent man of letters then present. The impulse to speak masterfully was visible, before the recital was well over, in the moving lines about his mouth, by no means designed, as detractors were wont to say, simply to display the beauty of his teeth. One of the company, expert in his humours, made ready to transcribe what he would say, the sort of [85] things of which a collection was then forming, the "Florida" or Flowers, so to call them, he was apt to let fall by the way--no impromptu ventures at random; but rather elaborate, carved ivories of speech, drawn, at length, out of the rich treasure-house of a memory stored with such, and as with a fine savour of old musk about them. Certainly in this case, as Marius thought, it was worth while to hear a charming writer speak. Discussing, quite in our modern way, the peculiarities of those suburban views, especially the sea-views, of which he was a professed lover, he was also every inch a priest of Aesculapius, patronal god of Carthage. There was a piquancy in his rococo, very African, and as it were perfumed personality, though he was now well-nigh sixty years old, a mixture there of that sort of Platonic spiritualism which can speak of the soul of man as but a sojourner m the prison of the body--a blending of that with such a relish for merely bodily graces as availed to set the fashion in matters of dress, deportment, accent, and the like, nay! with something also which reminded Marius of the vein of coarseness he had found in the "Golden Book." All this made the total impression he conveyed a very uncommon one. Marius did not wonder, as he watched him speaking, that people freely attributed to him many of the marvellous adventures he had recounted in that famous romance, [86] over and above the wildest version of his own actual story--his extraordinary marriage, his religious initiations, his acts of mad generosity, his trial as a sorcerer. But a sign came from the imperial prince that it was time for the company to separate. He was entertaining his immediate neighbours at the table with a trick from the streets; tossing his olives in rapid succession into the air, and catching them, as they fell, between his lips. His dexterity in this performance made the mirth around him noisy, disturbing the sleep of the furry visitor: the learned party broke up; and Marius withdrew, glad to escape into the open air. The courtesans in their large wigs of false blond hair, were lurking for the guests, with groups of curious idlers. A great conflagration was visible in the distance. Was it in Rome; or in one of the villages of the country? Pausing for a few minutes on the terrace to watch it, Marius was for the first time able to converse intimately with Apuleius; and in this moment of confidence the "illuminist," himself with locks so carefully arranged, and seemingly so full of affectations, almost like one of those light women there, dropped a veil as it were, and appeared, though still permitting the play of a certain element of theatrical interest in his bizarre tenets, to be ready to explain and defend his position reasonably. For a moment his fantastic foppishness and his pretensions to ideal [87] vision seemed to fall into some intelligible congruity with each other. In truth, it was the Platonic Idealism, as he conceived it, which for him literally animated, and gave him so lively an interest in, this world of the purely outward aspects of men and things.--Did material things, such things as they had had around them all that evening, really need apology for being there, to interest one, at all? Were not all visible objects--the whole material world indeed, according to the consistent testimony of philosophy in many forms--"full of souls"? embarrassed perhaps, partly imprisoned, but still eloquent souls? Certainly, the contemplative philosophy of Plato, with its figurative imagery and apologue, its manifold aesthetic colouring, its measured eloquence, its music for the outward ear, had been, like Plato's old master himself, a two-sided or two-coloured thing. Apuleius was a Platonist: only, for him, the Ideas of Plato were no creatures of logical abstraction, but in very truth informing souls, in every type and variety of sensible things. Those noises in the house all supper-time, sounding through the tables and along the walls:--were they only startings in the old rafters, at the impact of the music and laughter; or rather importunities of the secondary selves, the true unseen selves, of the persons, nay! of the very things around, essaying to break through their frivolous, merely transitory surfaces, to remind one of abiding essentials beyond them, [88] which might have their say, their judgment to give, by and by, when the shifting of the meats and drinks at life's table would be over? And was not this the true significance of the Platonic doctrine?--a hierarchy of divine beings, associating themselves with particular things and places, for the purpose of mediating between God and man--man, who does but need due attention on his part to become aware of his celestial company, filling the air about him, thick as motes in the sunbeam, for the glance of sympathetic intelligence he casts through it. "Two kinds there are, of animated beings," he exclaimed: "Gods, entirely differing from men in the infinite distance of their abode, since one part of them only is seen by our blunted vision--those mysterious stars!--in the eternity of their existence, in the perfection of their nature, infected by no contact with ourselves: and men, dwelling on the earth, with frivolous and anxious minds, with infirm and mortal members, with variable fortunes; labouring in vain; taken altogether and in their whole species perhaps, eternal; but, severally, quitting the scene in irresistible succession. "What then? Has nature connected itself together by no bond, allowed itself to be thus crippled, and split into the divine and human elements? And you will say to me: If so it be, that man is thus entirely exiled from the immortal gods, that all communication is denied [89] him, that not one of them occasionally visits us, as a shepherd his sheep--to whom shall I address my prayers? Whom, shall I invoke as the helper of the unfortunate, the protector of the good? "Well! there are certain divine powers of a middle nature, through whom our aspirations are conveyed to the gods, and theirs to us. Passing between the inhabitants of earth and heaven, they carry from one to the other prayers and bounties, supplication and assistance, being a kind of interpreters. This interval of the air is full of them! Through them, all revelations, miracles, magic processes, are effected. For, specially appointed members of this order have their special provinces, with a ministry according to the disposition of each. They go to and fro without fixed habitation: or dwell in men's houses"-- Just then a companion's hand laid in the darkness on the shoulder of the speaker carried him away, and the discourse broke off suddenly. Its singular intimations, however, were sufficient to throw back on this strange evening, in all its detail--the dance, the readings, the distant fire--a kind of allegoric expression: gave it the character of one of those famous Platonic figures or apologues which had then been in fact under discussion. When Marius recalled its circumstances he seemed to hear once more that voice of genuine conviction, pleading, from amidst a [90] scene at best of elegant frivolity, for so boldly mystical a view of man and his position in the world. For a moment, but only for a moment, as he listened, the trees had seemed, as of old, to be growing "close against the sky." Yes! the reception of theory, of hypothesis, of beliefs, did depend a great deal on temperament. They were, so to speak, mere equivalents of temperament. A celestial ladder, a ladder from heaven to earth: that was the assumption which the experience of Apuleius had suggested to him: it was what, in different forms, certain persons in every age had instinctively supposed: they would be glad to find their supposition accredited by the authority of a grave philosophy. Marius, however, yearning not less than they, in that hard world of Rome, and below its unpeopled sky, for the trace of some celestial wing across it, must still object that they assumed the thing with too much facility, too much of self-complacency. And his second thought was, that to indulge but for an hour fantasies, fantastic visions of that sort, only left the actual world more lonely than ever. For him certainly, and for his solace, the little godship for whom the rude countryman, an unconscious Platonist, trimmed his twinkling lamp, would never slip from the bark of these immemorial olive-trees.--No! not even in the wildest moonlight. For himself, it was clear, he must still hold by what his eyes really saw. Only, he had to concede also, that [91] the very boldness of such theory bore witness, at least, to a variety of human disposition and a consequent variety of mental view, which might--who can tell?--be correspondent to, be defined by and define, varieties of facts, of truths, just "behind the veil," regarding the world all alike had actually before them as their original premiss or starting-point; a world, wider, perhaps, in its possibilities than all possible fancies concerning it. NOTES 75. Joel 2.28. 81. +Halcyone. CHAPTER XXI: TWO CURIOUS HOUSES II. THE CHURCH IN CECILIA'S HOUSE "Your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions." [92] CORNELIUS had certain friends in or near Rome, whose household, to Marius, as he pondered now and again what might be the determining influences of that peculiar character, presented itself as possibly its main secret--the hidden source from which the beauty and strength of a nature, so persistently fresh in the midst of a somewhat jaded world, might be derived. But Marius had never yet seen these friends; and it was almost by accident that the veil of reserve was at last lifted, and, with strange contrast to his visit to the poet's villa at Tusculum, he entered another curious house. "The house in which she lives," says that mystical German writer quoted once before, "is for the orderly soul, which does not live on [93] blindly before her, but is ever, out of her passing experiences, building and adorning the parts of a many-roomed abode for herself, only an expansion of the body; as the body, according to the philosophy of Swedenborg,+ is but a process, an expansion, of the soul. For such an orderly soul, as life proceeds, all sorts of delicate affinities establish themselves, between herself and the doors and passage-ways, the lights and shadows, of her outward dwelling-place, until she may seem incorporate with it--until at last, in the entire expressiveness of what is outward, there is for her, to speak properly, between outward and inward, no longer any distinction at all; and the light which creeps at a particular hour on a particular picture or space upon the wall, the scent of flowers in the air at a particular window, become to her, not so much apprehended objects, as themselves powers of apprehension and door-ways to things beyond--the germ or rudiment of certain new faculties, by which she, dimly yet surely, apprehends a matter lying beyond her actually attained capacities of spirit and sense." So it must needs be in a world which is itself, we may think, together with that bodily "tent" or "tabernacle," only one of many vestures for the clothing of the pilgrim soul, to be left by her, surely, as if on the wayside, worn-out one by one, as it was from her, indeed, they borrowed what momentary value or significance they had. [94] The two friends were returning to Rome from a visit to a country-house, where again a mixed company of guests had been assembled; Marius, for his part, a little weary of gossip, and those sparks of ill-tempered rivalry, which would seem sometimes to be the only sort of fire the intercourse of people in general society can strike out of them. A mere reaction upon this, as they started in the clear morning, made their companionship, at least for one of them, hardly less tranquillising than the solitude he so much valued. Something in the south-west wind, combining with their own intention, favoured increasingly, as the hours wore on, a serenity like that Marius had felt once before in journeying over the great plain towards Tibur--a serenity that was to-day brotherly amity also, and seemed to draw into its own charmed circle whatever was then present to eye or ear, while they talked or were silent together, and all petty irritations, and the like, shrank out of existence, or kept certainly beyond its limits. The natural fatigue of the long journey overcame them quite suddenly at last, when they were still about two miles distant from Rome. The seemingly endless line of tombs and cypresses had been visible for hours against the sky towards the west; and it was just where a cross-road from the Latin Way fell into the Appian, that Cornelius halted at a doorway in a long, low wall--the outer wall of some villa courtyard, it might be supposed-- [95] as if at liberty to enter, and rest there awhile. He held the door open for his companion to enter also, if he would; with an expression, as he lifted the latch, which seemed to ask Marius, apparently shrinking from a possible intrusion: "Would you like to see it?" Was he willing to look upon that, the seeing of which might define--yes! define the critical turning-point in his days? The little doorway in this long, low wall admitted them, in fact, into the court or garden of a villa, disposed in one of those abrupt natural hollows, which give its character to the country in this place; the house itself, with all its dependent buildings, the spaciousness of which surprised Marius as he entered, being thus wholly concealed from passengers along the road. All around, in those well-ordered precincts, were the quiet signs of wealth, and of a noble taste--a taste, indeed, chiefly evidenced in the selection and juxtaposition of the material it had to deal with, consisting almost exclusively of the remains of older art, here arranged and harmonised, with effects, both as regards colour and form, so delicate as to seem really derivative from some finer intelligence in these matters than lay within the resources of the ancient world. It was the old way of true Renaissance--being indeed the way of nature with her roses, the divine way with the body of man, perhaps with his soul--conceiving the new organism by no sudden and [96] abrupt creation, but rather by the action of a new principle upon elements, all of which had in truth already lived and died many times. The fragments of older architecture, the mosaics, the spiral columns, the precious corner-stones of immemorial building, had put on, by such juxtaposition, a new and singular expressiveness, an air of grave thought, of an intellectual purpose, in itself, aesthetically, very seductive. Lastly, herb and tree had taken possession, spreading their seed-bells and light branches, just astir in the trembling air, above the ancient garden-wall, against the wide realms of sunset. And from the first they could hear singing, the singing of children mainly, it would seem, and of a new kind; so novel indeed in its effect, as to bring suddenly to the recollection of Marius, Flavian's early essays towards a new world of poetic sound. It was the expression not altogether of mirth, yet of some wonderful sort of happiness--the blithe self-expansion of a joyful soul in people upon whom some all-subduing experience had wrought heroically, and who still remembered, on this bland afternoon, the hour of a great deliverance. His old native susceptibility to the spirit, the special sympathies, of places,--above all, to any hieratic or religious significance they might have,--was at its liveliest, as Marius, still encompassed by that peculiar singing, and still amid the evidences of a grave discretion all around him, passed into the house. That intelligent seriousness [97] about life, the absence of which had ever seemed to remove those who lacked it into some strange species wholly alien from himself, accumulating all the lessons of his experience since those first days at White-nights, was as it were translated here, as if in designed congruity with his favourite precepts of the power of physical vision, into an actual picture. If the true value of souls is in proportion to what they can admire, Marius was just then an acceptable soul. As he passed through the various chambers, great and small, one dominant thought increased upon him, the thought of chaste women and their children--of all the various affections of family life under its most natural conditions, yet developed, as if in devout imitation of some sublime new type of it, into large controlling passions. There reigned throughout, an order and purity, an orderly disposition, as if by way of making ready for some gracious spousals. The place itself was like a bride adorned for her husband; and its singular cheerfulness, the abundant light everywhere, the sense of peaceful industry, of which he received a deep impression though without precisely reckoning wherein it resided, as he moved on rapidly, were in forcible contrast just at first to the place to which he was next conducted by Cornelius still with a sort of eager, hurried, half-troubled reluctance, and as if he forbore the explanation which might well be looked for by his companion. [98] An old flower-garden in the rear of the house, set here and there with a venerable olive-tree--a picture in pensive shade and fiery blossom, as transparent, under that afternoon light, as the old miniature-painters' work on the walls of the chambers within--was bounded towards the west by a low, grass-grown hill. A narrow opening cut in its steep side, like a solid blackness there, admitted Marius and his gleaming leader into a hollow cavern or crypt, neither more nor less in fact than the family burial-place of the Cecilii, to whom this residence belonged, brought thus, after an arrangement then becoming not unusual, into immediate connexion with the abode of the living, in bold assertion of that instinct of family life, which the sanction of the Holy Family was, hereafter, more and more to reinforce. Here, in truth, was the centre of the peculiar religious expressiveness, of the sanctity, of the entire scene. That "any person may, at his own election, constitute the place which belongs to him a religious place, by the carrying of his dead into it":--had been a maxim of old Roman law, which it was reserved for the early Christian societies, like that established here by the piety of a wealthy Roman matron, to realise in all its consequences. Yet this was certainly unlike any cemetery Marius had ever before seen; most obviously in this, that these people had returned to the older fashion of disposing of [99] their dead by burial instead of burning. Originally a family sepulchre, it was growing to a vast necropolis, a whole township of the deceased, by means of some free expansion of the family interest beyond its amplest natural limits. That air of venerable beauty which characterised the house and its precincts above, was maintained also here. It was certainly with a great outlay of labour that these long, apparently endless, yet elaborately designed galleries, were increasing so rapidly, with their layers of beds or berths, one above another, cut, on either side the path-way, in the porous tufa, through which all the moisture filters downwards, leaving the parts above dry and wholesome. All alike were carefully closed, and with all the delicate costliness at command; some with simple tiles of baked clay, many with slabs of marble, enriched by fair inscriptions: marble taken, in some cases, from older pagan tombs--the inscription sometimes a palimpsest, the new epitaph being woven into the faded letters of an earlier one. As in an ordinary Roman cemetery, an abundance of utensils for the worship or commemoration of the departed was disposed around--incense, lights, flowers, their flame or their freshness being relieved to the utmost by contrast with the coal-like blackness of the soil itself, a volcanic sandstone, cinder of burnt-out fires. Would they ever kindle again?--possess, transform, the place?--Turning to an [100] ashen pallor where, at regular intervals, an air-hole or luminare let in a hard beam of clear but sunless light, with the heavy sleepers, row upon row within, leaving a passage so narrow that only one visitor at a time could move along, cheek to cheek with them, the high walls seemed to shut one in into the great company of the dead. Only the long straight pathway lay before him; opening, however, here and there, into a small chamber, around a broad, table-like coffin or "altar-tomb," adorned even more profusely than the rest as if for some anniversary observance. Clearly, these people, concurring in this with the special sympathies of Marius himself, had adopted the practice of burial from some peculiar feeling of hope they entertained concerning the body; a feeling which, in no irreverent curiosity, he would fain have penetrated. The complete and irreparable disappearance of the dead in the funeral fire, so crushing to the spirits, as he for one had found it, had long since induced in him a preference for that other mode of settlement to the last sleep, as having something about it more home-like and hopeful, at least in outward seeming. But whence the strange confidence that these "handfuls of white dust" would hereafter recompose themselves once more into exulting human creatures? By what heavenly alchemy, what reviving dew from above, such as was certainly never again to reach the dead violets?-- [101] Januarius, Agapetus, Felicitas; Martyrs! refresh, I pray you, the soul of Cecil, of Cornelius! said an inscription, one of many, scratched, like a passing sigh, when it was still fresh in the mortar that had closed up the prison-door. All critical estimate of this bold hope, as sincere apparently as it was audacious in its claim, being set aside, here at least, carried further than ever before, was that pious, systematic commemoration of the dead, which, in its chivalrous refusal to forget or finally desert the helpless, had ever counted with Marius as the central exponent or symbol of all natural duty. The stern soul of the excellent Jonathan Edwards, applying the faulty theology of John Calvin, afforded him, we know, the vision of infants not a span long, on the floor of hell. Every visitor to the Catacombs must have observed, in a very different theological connexion, the numerous children's graves there--beds of infants, but a span long indeed, lowly "prisoners of hope," on these sacred floors. It was with great curiosity, certainly, that Marius considered them, decked in some instances with the favourite toys of their tiny occupants--toy-soldiers, little chariot-wheels, the entire paraphernalia of a baby-house; and when he saw afterwards the living children, who sang and were busy above--sang their psalm Laudate Pueri Dominum!--their very faces caught for him a sort of quaint unreality from the memory [102] of those others, the children of the Catacombs, but a little way below them. Here and there, mingling with the record of merely natural decease, and sometimes even at these children's graves, were the signs of violent death or "martyrdom,"--proofs that some "had loved not their lives unto the death"--in the little red phial of blood, the palm-branch, the red flowers for their heavenly "birthday." About one sepulchre in particular, distinguished in this way, and devoutly arrayed for what, by a bold paradox, was thus treated as, natalitia--a birthday, the peculiar arrangements of the whole place visibly centered. And it was with a singular novelty of feeling, like the dawning of a fresh order of experiences upon him, that, standing beside those mournful relics, snatched in haste from the common place of execution not many years before, Marius became, as by some gleam of foresight, aware of the whole force of evidence for a certain strange, new hope, defining in its turn some new and weighty motive of action, which lay in deaths so tragic for the "Christian superstition." Something of them he had heard indeed already. They had seemed to him but one savagery the more, savagery self-provoked, in a cruel and stupid world. And yet these poignant memorials seemed also to draw him onwards to-day, as if towards an image of some still more pathetic suffering, [103] in the remote background. Yes! the interest, the expression, of the entire neighbourhood was instinct with it, as with the savour of some priceless incense. Penetrating the whole atmosphere, touching everything around with its peculiar sentiment, it seemed to make all this visible mortality, death's very self--Ah! lovelier than any fable of old mythology had ever thought to render it, in the utmost limits of fantasy; and this, in simple candour of feeling about a supposed fact. Peace! Pax tecum!--the word, the thought--was put forth everywhere, with images of hope, snatched sometimes from that jaded pagan world which had really afforded men so little of it from first to last; the various consoling images it had thrown off, of succour, of regeneration, of escape from the grave--Hercules wrestling with Death for possession of Alcestis, Orpheus taming the wild beasts, the Shepherd with his sheep, the Shepherd carrying the sick lamb upon his shoulders. Yet these imageries after all, it must be confessed, formed but a slight contribution to the dominant effect of tranquil hope there--a kind of heroic cheerfulness and grateful expansion of heart, as with the sense, again, of some real deliverance, which seemed to deepen the longer one lingered through these strange and awful passages. A figure, partly pagan in character, yet most frequently repeated of all these visible parables--the figure of one just [104] escaped from the sea, still clinging as for life to the shore in surprised joy, together with the inscription beneath it, seemed best to express the prevailing sentiment of the place. And it was just as he had puzzled out this inscription-- I went down to the bottom of the mountains. The earth with her bars was about me for ever: Yet hast Thou brought up my life from corruption! --that with no feeling of suddenness or change Marius found himself emerging again, like a later mystic traveller through similar dark places "quieted by hope," into the daylight. They were still within the precincts of the house, still in possession of that wonderful singing, although almost in the open country, with a great view of the Campagna before them, and the hills beyond. The orchard or meadow, through which their path lay, was already gray with twilight, though the western sky, where the greater stars were visible, was still afloat in crimson splendour. The colour of all earthly things seemed repressed by the contrast, yet with a sense of great richness lingering in their shadows. At that moment the voice of the singers, a "voice of joy and health," concentrated itself with solemn antistrophic movement, into an evening, or "candle" hymn. "Hail! Heavenly Light, from his pure glory poured, Who is the Almighty Father, heavenly, blest:-- Worthiest art Thou, at all times to be sung With undefiled tongue."-- [105] It was like the evening itself made audible, its hopes and fears, with the stars shining in the midst of it. Half above, half below the level white mist, dividing the light from the darkness, came now the mistress of this place, the wealthy Roman matron, left early a widow a few years before, by Cecilius "Confessor and Saint." With a certain antique severity in the gathering of the long mantle, and with coif or veil folded decorously below the chin, "gray within gray," to the mind of Marius her temperate beauty brought reminiscences of the serious and virile character of the best female statuary of Greece. Quite foreign, however, to any Greek statuary was the expression of pathetic care, with which she carried a little child at rest in her arms. Another, a year or two older, walked beside, the fingers of one hand within her girdle. She paused for a moment with a greeting for Cornelius. That visionary scene was the close, the fitting close, of the afternoon's strange experiences. A few minutes later, passing forward on his way along the public road, he could have fancied it a dream. The house of Cecilia grouped itself beside that other curious house he had lately visited at Tusculum. And what a contrast was presented by the former, in its suggestions of hopeful industry, of immaculate cleanness, of responsive affection!--all alike determined by that transporting discovery of some fact, or series [106] of facts, in which the old puzzle of life had found its solution. In truth, one of his most characteristic and constant traits had ever been a certain longing for escape--for some sudden, relieving interchange, across the very spaces of life, it might be, along which he had lingered most pleasantly--for a lifting, from time to time, of the actual horizon. It was like the necessity under which the painter finds himself, to set a window or open doorway in the background of his picture; or like a sick man's longing for northern coolness, and the whispering willow-trees, amid the breathless evergreen forests of the south. To some such effect had this visit occurred to him, and through so slight an accident. Rome and Roman life, just then, were come to seem like some stifling forest of bronze-work, transformed, as if by malign enchantment, out of the generations of living trees, yet with roots in a deep, down-trodden soil of poignant human susceptibilities. In the midst of its suffocation, that old longing for escape had been satisfied by this vision of the church in Cecilia's house, as never before. It was still, indeed, according to the unchangeable law of his temperament, to the eye, to the visual faculty of mind, that those experiences appealed--the peaceful light and shade, the boys whose very faces seemed to sing, the virginal beauty of the mother and her children. But, in his case, what was thus visible constituted a moral [107] or spiritual influence, of a somewhat exigent and controlling character, added anew to life, a new element therein, with which, consistently with his own chosen maxim, he must make terms. The thirst for every kind of experience, encouraged by a philosophy which taught that nothing was intrinsically great or small, good or evil, had ever been at strife in him with a hieratic refinement, in which the boy-priest survived, prompting always the selection of what was perfect of its kind, with subsequent loyal adherence of his soul thereto. This had carried him along in a continuous communion with ideals, certainly realised in part, either in the conditions of his own being, or in the actual company about him, above all, in Cornelius. Surely, in this strange new society he had touched upon for the first time to-day--in this strange family, like "a garden enclosed"--was the fulfilment of all the preferences, the judgments, of that half-understood friend, which of late years had been his protection so often amid the perplexities of life. Here, it might be, was, if not the cure, yet the solace or anodyne of his great sorrows--of that constitutional sorrowfulness, not peculiar to himself perhaps, but which had made his life certainly like one long "disease of the spirit." Merciful intention made itself known remedially here, in the mere contact of the air, like a soft touch upon aching [108] flesh. On the other hand, he was aware that new responsibilities also might be awakened--new and untried responsibilities--a demand for something from him in return. Might this new vision, like the malignant beauty of pagan Medusa, be exclusive of any admiring gaze upon anything but itself? At least he suspected that, after the beholding of it, he could never again be altogether as he had been before. NOTES 93. +Emanuel Swedenborg, Swedish mystic writer, 1688-1772. Return. CHAPTER XXII: "THE MINOR PEACE OF THE CHURCH" [109] FAITHFUL to the spirit of his early Epicurean philosophy and the impulse to surrender himself, in perfectly liberal inquiry about it, to anything that, as a matter of fact, attracted or impressed him strongly, Marius informed himself with much pains concerning the church in Cecilia's house; inclining at first to explain the peculiarities of that place by the establishment there of the schola or common hall of one of those burial-guilds, which then covered so much of the unofficial, and, as it might be called, subterranean enterprise of Roman society. And what he found, thus looking, literally, for the dead among the living, was the vision of a natural, a scrupulously natural, love, transforming, by some new gift of insight into the truth of human relationships, and under the urgency of some new motive by him so far unfathomable, all the conditions of life. He saw, in all its primitive freshness and amid the lively facts of its actual coming into the world, as a reality of [110] experience, that regenerate type of humanity, which, centuries later, Giotto and his successors, down to the best and purest days of the young Raphael, working under conditions very friendly to the imagination, were to conceive as an artistic ideal. He felt there, felt amid the stirring of some wonderful new hope within himself, the genius, the unique power of Christianity; in exercise then, as it has been exercised ever since, in spite of many hindrances, and under the most inopportune circumstances. Chastity,--as he seemed to understand--the chastity of men and women, amid all the conditions, and with the results, proper to such chastity, is the most beautiful thing in the world and the truest conservation of that creative energy by which men and women were first brought into it. The nature of the family, for which the better genius of old Rome itself had sincerely cared, of the family and its appropriate affections--all that love of one's kindred by which obviously one does triumph in some degree over death--had never been so felt before. Here, surely! in its genial warmth, its jealous exclusion of all that was opposed to it, to its own immaculate naturalness, in the hedge set around the sacred thing on every side, this development of the family did but carry forward, and give effect to, the purposes, the kindness, of nature itself, friendly to man. As if by way of a due recognition of some immeasurable divine condescension manifest in a [111] certain historic fact, its influence was felt more especially at those points which demanded some sacrifice of one's self, for the weak, for the aged, for little children, and even for the dead. And then, for its constant outward token, its significant manner or index, it issued in a certain debonair grace, and a certain mystic attractiveness, a courtesy, which made Marius doubt whether that famed Greek "blitheness," or gaiety, or grace, in the handling of life, had been, after all, an unrivalled success. Contrasting with the incurable insipidity even of what was most exquisite in the higher Roman life, of what was still truest to the primitive soul of goodness amid its evil, the new creation he now looked on--as it were a picture beyond the craft of any master of old pagan beauty--had indeed all the appropriate freshness of a "bride adorned for her husband." Things new and old seemed to be coming as if out of some goodly treasure-house, the brain full of science, the heart rich with various sentiment, possessing withal this surprising healthfulness, this reality of heart. "You would hardly believe," writes Pliny,--to his own wife!--"what a longing for you possesses me. Habit--that we have not been used to be apart--adds herein to the primary force of affection. It is this keeps me awake at night fancying I see you beside me. That is why my feet take me unconsciously to your sitting-room at those hours when I was wont to [112] visit you there. That is why I turn from the door of the empty chamber, sad and ill-at-ease, like an excluded lover."-- There, is a real idyll from that family life, the protection of which had been the motive of so large a part of the religion of the Romans, still surviving among them; as it survived also in Aurelius, his disposition and aims, and, spite of slanderous tongues, in the attained sweetness of his interior life. What Marius had been permitted to see was a realisation of such life higher still: and with--Yes! with a more effective sanction and motive than it had ever possessed before, in that fact, or series of facts, to be ascertained by those who would. The central glory of the reign of the Antonines was that society had attained in it, though very imperfectly, and for the most part by cumbrous effort of law, many of those ends to which Christianity went straight, with the sufficiency, the success, of a direct and appropriate instinct. Pagan Rome, too, had its touching charity-sermons on occasions of great public distress; its charity-children in long file, in memory of the elder empress Faustina; its prototype, under patronage of Aesculapius, of the modern hospital for the sick on the island of Saint Bartholomew. But what pagan charity was doing tardily, and as if with the painful calculation of old age, the church was doing, almost without thinking about it, with all the liberal [113] enterprise of youth, because it was her very being thus to do. "You fail to realise your own good intentions," she seems to say, to pagan virtue, pagan kindness. She identified herself with those intentions and advanced them with an unparalleled freedom and largeness. The gentle Seneca would have reverent burial provided even for the dead body of a criminal. Yet when a certain woman collected for interment the insulted remains of Nero, the pagan world surmised that she must be a Christian: only a Christian would have been likely to conceive so chivalrous a devotion towards mere wretchedness. "We refuse to be witnesses even of a homicide commanded by the law," boasts the dainty conscience of a Christian apologist, "we take no part in your cruel sports nor in the spectacles of the amphitheatre, and we hold that to witness a murder is the same thing as to commit one." And there was another duty almost forgotten, the sense of which Rousseau brought back to the degenerate society of a later age. In an impassioned discourse the sophist Favorinus counsels mothers to suckle their own infants; and there are Roman epitaphs erected to mothers, which gratefully record this proof of natural affection as a thing then unusual. In this matter too, what a sanction, what a provocative to natural duty, lay in that image discovered to Augustus by the Tiburtine Sibyl, amid the aurora of a new age, the image of the Divine Mother and the [114] Child, just then rising upon the world like the dawn! Christian belief, again, had presented itself as a great inspirer of chastity. Chastity, in turn, realised in the whole scope of its conditions, fortified that rehabilitation of peaceful labour, after the mind, the pattern, of the workman of Galilee, which was another of the natural instincts of the catholic church, as being indeed the long-desired initiator of a religion of cheerfulness, as a true lover of the industry--so to term it--the labour, the creation, of God. And this severe yet genial assertion of the ideal of woman, of the family, of industry, of man's work in life, so close to the truth of nature, was also, in that charmed hour of the minor "Peace of the church," realised as an influence tending to beauty, to the adornment of life and the world. The sword in the world, the right eye plucked out, the right hand cut off, the spirit of reproach which those images express, and of which monasticism is the fulfilment, reflect one side only of the nature of the divine missionary of the New Testament. Opposed to, yet blent with, this ascetic or militant character, is the function of the Good Shepherd, serene, blithe and debonair, beyond the gentlest shepherd of Greek mythology; of a king under whom the beatific vision is realised of a reign of peace--peace of heart--among men. Such aspect of the divine character of Christ, rightly understood, [115] is indeed the final consummation of that bold and brilliant hopefulness in man's nature, which had sustained him so far through his immense labours, his immense sorrows, and of which pagan gaiety in the handling of life, is but a minor achievement. Sometimes one, sometimes the other, of those two contrasted aspects of its Founder, have, in different ages and under the urgency of different human needs, been at work also in the Christian Church. Certainly, in that brief "Peace of the church" under the Antonines, the spirit of a pastoral security and happiness seems to have been largely expanded. There, in the early church of Rome, was to be seen, and on sufficiently reasonable grounds, that satisfaction and serenity on a dispassionate survey of the facts of life, which all hearts had desired, though for the most part in vain, contrasting itself for Marius, in particular, very forcibly, with the imperial philosopher's so heavy burden of unrelieved melancholy. It was Christianity in its humanity, or even its humanism, in its generous hopes for man, its common sense and alacrity of cheerful service, its sympathy with all creatures, its appreciation of beauty and daylight. "The angel of righteousness," says the Shepherd of Hermas, the most characteristic religious book of that age, its Pilgrim's Progress--"the angel of righteousness is modest and delicate and meek and quiet. Take from thyself grief, for (as Hamlet will one day discover) 'tis the sister [116] of doubt and ill-temper. Grief is more evil than any other spirit of evil, and is most dreadful to the servants of God, and beyond all spirits destroyeth man. For, as when good news is come to one in grief, straightway he forgetteth his former grief, and no longer attendeth to anything except the good news which he hath heard, so do ye, also! having received a renewal of your soul through the beholding of these good things. Put on therefore gladness that hath always favour before God, and is acceptable unto Him, and delight thyself in it; for every man that is glad doeth the things that are good, and thinketh good thoughts, despising grief."--Such were the commonplaces of this new people, among whom so much of what Marius had valued most in the old world seemed to be under renewal and further promotion. Some transforming spirit was at work to harmonise contrasts, to deepen expression--a spirit which, in its dealing with the elements of ancient life, was guided by a wonderful tact of selection, exclusion, juxtaposition, begetting thereby a unique effect of freshness, a grave yet wholesome beauty, because the world of sense, the whole outward world was understood to set forth the veritable unction and royalty of a certain priesthood and kingship of the soul within, among the prerogatives of which was a delightful sense of freedom. The reader may think perhaps, that Marius, who, Epicurean as he was, had his visionary [117] aptitudes, by an inversion of one of Plato's peculiarities with which he was of course familiar, must have descended, by foresight, upon a later age than his own, and anticipated Christian poetry and art as they came to be under the influence of Saint Francis of Assisi. But if he dreamed on one of those nights of the beautiful house of Cecilia, its lights and flowers, of Cecilia herself moving among the lilies, with an enhanced grace as happens sometimes in healthy dreams, it was indeed hardly an anticipation. He had lighted, by one of the peculiar intellectual good-fortunes of his life, upon a period when, even more than in the days of austere ascêsis which had preceded and were to follow it, the church was true for a moment, truer perhaps than she would ever be again, to that element of profound serenity in the soul of her Founder, which reflected the eternal goodwill of God to man, "in whom," according to the oldest version of the angelic message, "He is well-pleased." For what Christianity did many centuries afterwards in the way of informing an art, a poetry, of graver and higher beauty, we may think, than that of Greek art and poetry at their best, was in truth conformable to the original tendency of its genius. The genuine capacity of the catholic church in this direction, discoverable from the first in the New Testament, was also really at work, in that earlier "Peace," under [118] the Antonines--the minor "Peace of the church," as we might call it, in distinction from the final "Peace of the church," commonly so called, under Constantine. Saint Francis, with his following in the sphere of poetry and of the arts--the voice of Dante, the hand of Giotto--giving visible feature and colour, and a palpable place among men, to the regenerate race, did but re-establish a continuity, only suspended in part by those troublous intervening centuries--the "dark ages," properly thus named--with the gracious spirit of the primitive church, as manifested in that first early springtide of her success. The greater "Peace" of Constantine, on the other hand, in many ways, does but establish the exclusiveness, the puritanism, the ascetic gloom which, in the period between Aurelius and the first Christian emperor, characterised a church under misunderstanding or oppression, driven back, in a world of tasteless controversy, inwards upon herself. Already, in the reign of Antoninus Pius, the time was gone by when men became Christians under some sudden and overpowering impression, and with all the disturbing results of such a crisis. At this period the larger number, perhaps, had been born Christians, had been ever with peaceful hearts in their "Father's house." That earlier belief in the speedy coming of judgment and of the end of the world, with the consequences it so naturally involved in the temper [119] of men's minds, was dying out. Every day the contrast between the church and the world was becoming less pronounced. And now also, as the church rested awhile from opposition, that rapid self-development outward from within, proper to times of peace, was in progress. Antoninus Pius, it might seem, more truly even than Marcus Aurelius himself, was of that group of pagan saints for whom Dante, like Augustine, has provided in his scheme of the house with many mansions. A sincere old Roman piety had urged his fortunately constituted nature to no mistakes, no offences against humanity. And of his entire freedom from guile one reward had been this singular happiness, that under his rule there was no shedding of Christian blood. To him belonged that half-humorous placidity of soul, of a kind illustrated later very effectively by Montaigne, which, starting with an instinct of mere fairness towards human nature and the world, seems at last actually to qualify its possessor to be almost the friend of the people of Christ. Amiable, in its own nature, and full of a reasonable gaiety, Christianity has often had its advantage of characters such as that. The geniality of Antoninus Pius, like the geniality of the earth itself, had permitted the church, as being in truth no alien from that old mother earth, to expand and thrive for a season as by natural process. And that charmed period under the Antonines, extending to the later years of the [120] reign of Aurelius (beautiful, brief, chapter of ecclesiastical history!), contains, as one of its motives of interest, the earliest development of Christian ritual under the presidence of the church of Rome. Again as in one of those mystical, quaint visions of the Shepherd of Hermas, "the aged woman was become by degrees more and more youthful. And in the third vision she was quite young, and radiant with beauty: only her hair was that of an aged woman. And at the last she was joyous, and seated upon a throne--seated upon a throne, because her position is a strong one." The subterranean worship of the church belonged properly to those years of her early history in which it was illegal for her to worship at all. But, hiding herself for awhile as conflict grew violent, she resumed, when there was felt to be no more than ordinary risk, her natural freedom. And the kind of outward prosperity she was enjoying in those moments of her first "Peace," her modes of worship now blossoming freely above-ground, was re-inforced by the decision at this point of a crisis in her internal history. In the history of the church, as throughout the moral history of mankind, there are two distinct ideals, either of which it is possible to maintain--two conceptions, under one or the other of which we may represent to ourselves men's efforts towards a better life--corresponding to those two contrasted aspects, noted above, as [121] discernible in the picture afforded by the New Testament itself of the character of Christ. The ideal of asceticism represents moral effort as essentially a sacrifice, the sacrifice of one part of human nature to another, that it may live the more completely in what survives of it; while the ideal of culture represents it as a harmonious development of all the parts of human nature, in just proportion to each other. It was to the latter order of ideas that the church, and especially the church of Rome in the age of the Antonines, freely lent herself. In that earlier "Peace" she had set up for herself the ideal of spiritual development, under the guidance of an instinct by which, in those serene moments, she was absolutely true to the peaceful soul of her Founder. "Goodwill to men," she said, "in whom God Himself is well-pleased!" For a little while, at least, there was no forced opposition between the soul and the body, the world and the spirit, and the grace of graciousness itself was pre-eminently with the people of Christ. Tact, good sense, ever the note of a true orthodoxy, the merciful compromises of the church, indicative of her imperial vocation in regard to all the varieties of human kind, with a universality of which the old Roman pastorship she was superseding is but a prototype, was already become conspicuous, in spite of a discredited, irritating, vindictive society, all around her. Against that divine urbanity and moderation [122] the old error of Montanus we read of dimly, was a fanatical revolt--sour, falsely anti-mundane, ever with an air of ascetic affectation, and a bigoted distaste in particular for all the peculiar graces of womanhood. By it the desire to please was understood to come of the author of evil. In this interval of quietness, it was perhaps inevitable, by the law of reaction, that some such extravagances of the religious temper should arise. But again the church of Rome, now becoming every day more and more completely the capital of the Christian world, checked the nascent Montanism, or puritanism of the moment, vindicating for all Christian people a cheerful liberty of heart, against many a narrow group of sectaries, all alike, in their different ways, accusers of the genial creation of God. With her full, fresh faith in the Evangele--in a veritable regeneration of the earth and the body, in the dignity of man's entire personal being--for a season, at least, at that critical period in the development of Christianity, she was for reason, for common sense, for fairness to human nature, and generally for what may be called the naturalness of Christianity.--As also for its comely order: she would be "brought to her king in raiment of needlework." It was by the bishops of Rome, diligently transforming themselves, in the true catholic sense, into universal pastors, that the path of what we must call humanism was thus defined. [123] And then, in this hour of expansion, as if now at last the catholic church might venture to show her outward lineaments as they really were, worship--"the beauty of holiness," nay! the elegance of sanctity--was developed, with a bold and confident gladness, the like of which has hardly been the ideal of worship in any later age. The tables in fact were turned: the prize of a cheerful temper on a candid survey of life was no longer with the pagan world. The aesthetic charm of the catholic church, her evocative power over all that is eloquent and expressive in the better mind of man, her outward comeliness, her dignifying convictions about human nature:--all this, as abundantly realised centuries later by Dante and Giotto, by the great medieval church-builders, by the great ritualists like Saint Gregory, and the masters of sacred music in the middle age--we may see already, in dim anticipation, in those charmed moments towards the end of the second century. Dissipated or turned aside, partly through the fatal mistake of Marcus Aurelius himself, for a brief space of time we may discern that influence clearly predominant there. What might seem harsh as dogma was already justifying itself as worship; according to the sound rule: Lex orandi, lex credendi--Our Creeds are but the brief abstract of our prayer and song. The wonderful liturgical spirit of the church, her wholly unparalleled genius for worship, [124] being thus awake, she was rapidly re-organising both pagan and Jewish elements of ritual, for the expanding therein of her own new heart of devotion. Like the institutions of monasticism, like the Gothic style of architecture, the ritual system of the church, as we see it in historic retrospect, ranks as one of the great, conjoint, and (so to term them) necessary, products of human mind. Destined for ages to come, to direct with so deep a fascination men's religious instincts, it was then already recognisable as a new and precious fact in the sum of things. What has been on the whole the method of the church, as "a power of sweetness and patience," in dealing with matters like pagan art, pagan literature was even then manifest; and has the character of the moderation, the divine moderation of Christ himself. It was only among the ignorant, indeed, only in the "villages," that Christianity, even in conscious triumph over paganism, was really betrayed into iconoclasm. In the final "Peace" of the Church under Constantine, while there was plenty of destructive fanaticism in the country, the revolution was accomplished in the larger towns, in a manner more orderly and discreet--in the Roman manner. The faithful were bent less on the destruction of the old pagan temples than on their conversion to a new and higher use; and, with much beautiful furniture ready to hand, they became Christian sanctuaries. [125] Already, in accordance with such maturer wisdom, the church of the "Minor Peace" had adopted many of the graces of pagan feeling and pagan custom; as being indeed a living creature, taking up, transforming, accommodating still more closely to the human heart what of right belonged to it. In this way an obscure synagogue was expanded into the catholic church. Gathering, from a richer and more varied field of sound than had remained for him, those old Roman harmonies, some notes of which Gregory the Great, centuries later, and after generations of interrupted development, formed into the Gregorian music, she was already, as we have heard, the house of song--of a wonderful new music and poesy. As if in anticipation of the sixteenth century, the church was becoming "humanistic," in an earlier, and unimpeachable Renaissance. Singing there had been in abundance from the first; though often it dared only be "of the heart." And it burst forth, when it might, into the beginnings of a true ecclesiastical music; the Jewish psalter, inherited from the synagogue, turning now, gradually, from Greek into Latin--broken Latin, into Italian, as the ritual use of the rich, fresh, expressive vernacular superseded the earlier authorised language of the Church. Through certain surviving remnants of Greek in the later Latin liturgies, we may still discern a highly interesting intermediate phase of ritual development, when the Greek [126] and the Latin were in combination; the poor, surely!--the poor and the children of that liberal Roman church--responding already in their own "vulgar tongue," to an office said in the original, liturgical Greek. That hymn sung in the early morning, of which Pliny had heard, was kindling into the service of the Mass. The Mass, indeed, would appear to have been said continuously from the Apostolic age. Its details, as one by one they become visible in later history, have already the character of what is ancient and venerable. "We are very old, and ye are young!" they seem to protest, to those who fail to understand them. Ritual, in fact, like all other elements of religion, must grow and cannot be made--grow by the same law of development which prevails everywhere else, in the moral as in the physical world. As regards this special phase of the religious life, however, such development seems to have been unusually rapid in the subterranean age which preceded Constantine; and in the very first days of the final triumph of the church the Mass emerges to general view already substantially complete. "Wisdom" was dealing, as with the dust of creeds and philosophies, so also with the dust of outworn religious usage, like the very spirit of life itself, organising soul and body out of the lime and clay of the earth. In a generous eclecticism, within the bounds of her liberty, and as by some providential power within her, [127] she gathers and serviceably adopts, as in other matters so in ritual, one thing here, another there, from various sources--Gnostic, Jewish, Pagan--to adorn and beautify the greatest act of worship the world has seen. It was thus the liturgy of the church came to be--full of consolations for the human soul, and destined, surely! one day, under the sanction of so many ages of human experience, to take exclusive possession of the religious consciousness. TANTUM ERGO SACRAMENTUM VENEREMUR CERNUI: ET ANTIQUUM DOCUMENTUM NOVO CEDAT RITUI. CHAPTER XXIII: DIVINE SERVICE. "Wisdom hath builded herself a house: she hath mingled her wine: she hath also prepared for herself a table." [128] THE more highly favoured ages of imaginative art present instances of the summing up of an entire world of complex associations under some single form, like the Zeus of Olympia, or the series of frescoes which commemorate The Acts of Saint Francis, at Assisi, or like the play of Hamlet or Faust. It was not in an image, or series of images, yet still in a sort of dramatic action, and with the unity of a single appeal to eye and ear, that Marius about this time found all his new impressions set forth, regarding what he had already recognised, intellectually, as for him at least the most beautiful thing in the world. To understand the influence upon him of what follows the reader must remember that it was an experience which came amid a deep sense of vacuity in life. The fairest products of [129] the earth seemed to be dropping to pieces, as if in men's very hands, around him. How real was their sorrow, and his! "His observation of life" had come to be like the constant telling of a sorrowful rosary, day after day; till, as if taking infection from the cloudy sorrow of the mind, the eye also, the very senses, were grown faint and sick. And now it happened as with the actual morning on which he found himself a spectator of this new thing. The long winter had been a season of unvarying sullenness. At last, on this day he awoke with a sharp flash of lightning in the earliest twilight: in a little while the heavy rain had filtered the air: the clear light was abroad; and, as though the spring had set in with a sudden leap in the heart of things, the whole scene around him lay like some untarnished picture beneath a sky of delicate blue. Under the spell of his late depression, Marius had suddenly determined to leave Rome for a while. But desiring first to advertise Cornelius of his movements, and failing to find him in his lodgings, he had ventured, still early in the day, to seek him in the Cecilian villa. Passing through its silent and empty court-yard he loitered for a moment, to admire. Under the clear but immature light of winter morning after a storm, all the details of form and colour in the old marbles were distinctly visible, and with a kind of severity or sadness--so it struck him--amid their beauty: [130] in them, and in all other details of the scene--the cypresses, the bunches of pale daffodils in the grass, the curves of the purple hills of Tusculum, with the drifts of virgin snow still lying in their hollows. The little open door, through which he passed from the court-yard, admitted him into what was plainly the vast Lararium, or domestic sanctuary, of the Cecilian family, transformed in many particulars, but still richly decorated, and retaining much of its ancient furniture in metal-work and costly stone. The peculiar half-light of dawn seemed to be lingering beyond its hour upon the solemn marble walls; and here, though at that moment in absolute silence, a great company of people was assembled. In that brief period of peace, during which the church emerged for awhile from her jealously-guarded subterranean life, the rigour of an earlier rule of exclusion had been relaxed. And so it came to pass that, on this morning Marius saw for the first time the wonderful spectacle--wonderful, especially, in its evidential power over himself, over his own thoughts--of those who believe. There were noticeable, among those present, great varieties of rank, of age, of personal type. The Roman ingenuus, with the white toga and gold ring, stood side by side with his slave; and the air of the whole company was, above all, a grave one, an air of recollection. Coming [131] thus unexpectedly upon this large assembly, so entirely united, in a silence so profound, for purposes unknown to him, Marius felt for a moment as if he had stumbled by chance upon some great conspiracy. Yet that could scarcely be, for the people here collected might have figured as the earliest handsel, or pattern, of a new world, from the very face of which discontent had passed away. Corresponding to the variety of human type there present, was the various expression of every form of human sorrow assuaged. What desire, what fulfilment of desire, had wrought so pathetically on the features of these ranks of aged men and women of humble condition? Those young men, bent down so discreetly on the details of their sacred service, had faced life and were glad, by some science, or light of knowledge they had, to which there had certainly been no parallel in the older world. Was some credible message from beyond "the flaming rampart of the world"--a message of hope, regarding the place of men's souls and their interest in the sum of things--already moulding anew their very bodies, and looks, and voices, now and here? At least, there was a cleansing and kindling flame at work in them, which seemed to make everything else Marius had ever known look comparatively vulgar and mean. There were the children, above all--troops of children--reminding him of those pathetic children's graves, like cradles or garden- [132] beds, he had noticed in his first visit to these places; and they more than satisfied the odd curiosity he had then conceived about them, wondering in what quaintly expressive forms they might come forth into the daylight, if awakened from sleep. Children of the Catacombs, some but "a span long," with features not so much beautiful as heroic (that world of new, refining sentiment having set its seal even on childhood), they retained certainly no stain or trace of anything subterranean this morning, in the alacrity of their worship--as ready as if they had been at play--stretching forth their hands, crying, chanting in a resonant voice, and with boldly upturned faces, Christe Eleison! For the silence--silence, amid those lights of early morning to which Marius had always been constitutionally impressible, as having in them a certain reproachful austerity--was broken suddenly by resounding cries of Kyrie Eleison! Christe Eleison! repeated alternately, again and again, until the bishop, rising from his chair, made sign that this prayer should cease. But the voices burst out once more presently, in richer and more varied melody, though still of an antiphonal character; the men, the women and children, the deacons, the people, answering one another, somewhat after the manner of a Greek chorus. But again with what a novelty of poetic accent; what a genuine expansion of heart; what profound intimations for the [133] intellect, as the meaning of the words grew upon him! Cum grandi affectu et compunctione dicatur--says an ancient eucharistic order; and certainly, the mystic tone of this praying and singing was one with the expression of deliverance, of grateful assurance and sincerity, upon the faces of those assembled. As if some searching correction, a regeneration of the body by the spirit, had begun, and was already gone a great way, the countenances of men, women, and children alike had a brightness on them which he could fancy reflected upon himself--an amenity, a mystic amiability and unction, which found its way most readily of all to the hearts of children themselves. The religious poetry of those Hebrew psalms--Benedixisti Domine terram tuam: Dixit Dominus Domino meo, sede a dextris meis--was certainly in marvellous accord with the lyrical instinct of his own character. Those august hymns, he thought, must thereafter ever remain by him as among the well-tested powers in things to soothe and fortify the soul. One could never grow tired of them! In the old pagan worship there had been little to call the understanding into play. Here, on the other hand, the utterance, the eloquence, the music of worship conveyed, as Marius readily understood, a fact or series of facts, for intellectual reception. That became evident, more especially, in those lessons, or sacred readings, which, like the singing, in broken [134] vernacular Latin, occurred at certain intervals, amid the silence of the assembly. There were readings, again with bursts of chanted invocation between for fuller light on a difficult path, in which many a vagrant voice of human philosophy, haunting men's minds from of old, recurred with clearer accent than had ever belonged to it before, as if lifted, above its first intention, into the harmonies of some supreme system of knowledge or doctrine, at length complete. And last of all came a narrative which, with a thousand tender memories, every one appeared to know by heart, displaying, in all the vividness of a picture for the eye, the mournful figure of him towards whom this whole act of worship still consistently turned--a figure which seemed to have absorbed, like some rich tincture in his garment, all that was deep-felt and impassioned in the experiences of the past. It was the anniversary of his birth as a little child they celebrated to-day. Astiterunt reges terrae: so the Gradual, the "Song of Degrees," proceeded, the young men on the steps of the altar responding in deep, clear, antiphon or chorus-- Astiterunt reges terrae-- Adversus sanctum puerum tuum, Jesum: Nunc, Domine, da servis tuis loqui verbum tuum-- Et signa fieri, per nomen sancti pueri Jesu. And the proper action of the rite itself, like a [135] half-opened book to be read by the duly initiated mind took up those suggestions, and carried them forward into the present, as having reference to a power still efficacious, still after some mystic sense even now in action among the people there assembled. The entire office, indeed, with its interchange of lessons, hymns, prayer, silence, was itself like a single piece of highly composite, dramatic music; a "song of degrees," rising steadily to a climax. Notwithstanding the absence of any central image visible to the eye, the entire ceremonial process, like the place in which it was enacted, was weighty with symbolic significance, seemed to express a single leading motive. The mystery, if such in fact it was, centered indeed in the actions of one visible person, distinguished among the assistants, who stood ranged in semicircle around him, by the extreme fineness of his white vestments, and the pointed cap with the golden ornaments upon his head. Nor had Marius ever seen the pontifical character, as he conceived it--sicut unguentum in capite, descendens in oram vestimenti--so fully realised, as in the expression, the manner and voice, of this novel pontiff, as he took his seat on the white chair placed for him by the young men, and received his long staff into his hand, or moved his hands--hands which seemed endowed in very deed with some mysterious power--at the Lavabo, or at the various benedictions, or [136] to bless certain objects on the table before him, chanting in cadence of a grave sweetness the leading parts of the rite. What profound unction and mysticity! The solemn character of the singing was at its height when he opened his lips. Like some new sort of rhapsôdos, it was for the moment as if he alone possessed the words of the office, and they flowed anew from some permanent source of inspiration within him. The table or altar at which he presided, below a canopy on delicate spiral columns, was in fact the tomb of a youthful "witness," of the family of the Cecilii, who had shed his blood not many years before, and whose relics were still in this place. It was for his sake the bishop put his lips so often to the surface before him; the regretful memory of that death entwining itself, though not without certain notes of triumph, as a matter of special inward significance, throughout a service, which was, before all else, from first to last, a commemoration of the dead. A sacrifice also,--a sacrifice, it might seem, like the most primitive, the most natural and enduringly significant of old pagan sacrifices, of the simplest fruits of the earth. And in connexion with this circumstance again, as in the actual stones of the building so in the rite itself, what Marius observed was not so much new matter as a new spirit, moulding, informing, with a new intention, many observances not [137] witnessed for the first time to-day. Men and women came to the altar successively, in perfect order, and deposited below the lattice-work of pierced white marble, their baskets of wheat and grapes, incense, oil for the sanctuary lamps; bread and wine especially--pure wheaten bread, the pure white wine of the Tusculan vineyards. There was here a veritable consecration, hopeful and animating, of the earth's gifts, of old dead and dark matter itself, now in some way redeemed at last, of all that we can touch or see, in the midst of a jaded world that had lost the true sense of such things, and in strong contrast to the wise emperor's renunciant and impassive attitude towards them. Certain portions of that bread and wine were taken into the bishop's hands; and thereafter, with an increasing mysticity and effusion the rite proceeded. Still in a strain of inspired supplication, the antiphonal singing developed, from this point, into a kind of dialogue between the chief minister and the whole assisting company-- SURSUM CORDA! HABEMUS AD DOMINUM. GRATIAS AGAMUS DOMINO DEO NOSTRO!-- It might have been thought the business, the duty or service of young men more particularly, as they stood there in long ranks, and in severe and simple vesture of the purest white--a service in which they would seem to be flying [138] for refuge, as with their precious, their treacherous and critical youth in their hands, to one--Yes! one like themselves, who yet claimed their worship, a worship, above all, in the way of Aurelius, in the way of imitation. Adoramus te Christe, quia per crucem tuam redemisti mundum!--they cry together. So deep is the emotion that at moments it seems to Marius as if some there present apprehend that prayer prevails, that the very object of this pathetic crying himself draws near. From the first there had been the sense, an increasing assurance, of one coming:--actually with them now, according to the oft-repeated affirmation or petition, Dominus vobiscum! Some at least were quite sure of it; and the confidence of this remnant fired the hearts, and gave meaning to the bold, ecstatic worship, of all the rest about them. Prompted especially by the suggestions of that mysterious old Jewish psalmody, so new to him--lesson and hymn--and catching therewith a portion of the enthusiasm of those beside him, Marius could discern dimly, behind the solemn recitation which now followed, at once a narrative and a prayer, the most touching image truly that had ever come within the scope of his mental or physical gaze. It was the image of a young man giving up voluntarily, one by one, for the greatest of ends, the greatest gifts; actually parting with himself, above all, with the serenity, the divine serenity, of his [139] own soul; yet from the midst of his desolation crying out upon the greatness of his success, as if foreseeing this very worship.* As centre of the supposed facts which for these people were become so constraining a motive of hopefulness, of activity, that image seemed to display itself with an overwhelming claim on human gratitude. What Saint Lewis of France discerned, and found so irresistibly touching, across the dimness of many centuries, as a painful thing done for love of him by one he had never seen, was to them almost as a thing of yesterday; and their hearts were whole with it. It had the force, among their interests, of an almost recent event in the career of one whom their fathers' fathers might have known. From memories so sublime, yet so close at hand, had the narrative descended in which these acts of worship centered; though again the names of some more recently dead were mingled in it. And it seemed as if the very dead were aware; to be stirring beneath the slabs of the sepulchres which lay so near, that they might associate themselves to this enthusiasm--to this exalted worship of Jesus. One by one, at last, the faithful approach to receive from the chief minister morsels of the great, white, wheaten cake, he had taken into his hands--Perducat vos ad vitam aeternam! he prays, half-silently, as they depart again, after [140] discreet embraces. The Eucharist of those early days was, even more entirely than at any later or happier time, an act of thanksgiving; and while the remnants of the feast are borne away for the reception of the sick, the sustained gladness of the rite reaches its highest point in the singing of a hymn: a hymn like the spontaneous product of two opposed militant companies, contending accordantly together, heightening, accumulating, their witness, provoking one another's worship, in a kind of sacred rivalry. Ite! Missa est!--cried the young deacons: and Marius departed from that strange scene along with the rest. What was it?--Was it this made the way of Cornelius so pleasant through the world? As for Marius himself,--the natural soul of worship in him had at last been satisfied as never before. He felt, as he left that place, that he must hereafter experience often a longing memory, a kind of thirst, for all this, over again. And it seemed moreover to define what he must require of the powers, whatsoever they might be, that had brought him into the world at all, to make him not unhappy in it. NOTES 139. *Psalm xxii.22-31. CHAPTER XXIV: A CONVERSATION NOT IMAGINARY [141] IN cheerfulness is the success of our studies, says Pliny--studia hilaritate proveniunt. It was still the habit of Marius, encouraged by his experience that sleep is not only a sedative but the best of stimulants, to seize the morning hours for creation, making profit when he might of the wholesome serenity which followed a dreamless night. "The morning for creation," he would say; "the afternoon for the perfecting labour of the file; the evening for reception--the reception of matter from without one, of other men's words and thoughts--matter for our own dreams, or the merely mechanic exercise of the brain, brooding thereon silently, in its dark chambers." To leave home early in the day was therefore a rare thing for him. He was induced so to do on the occasion of a visit to Rome of the famous writer Lucian, whom he had been bidden to meet. The breakfast over, he walked away with the learned guest, having offered to be his guide [142] to the lecture-room of a well-known Greek rhetorician and expositor of the Stoic philosophy, a teacher then much in fashion among the studious youth of Rome. On reaching the place, however, they found the doors closed, with a slip of writing attached, which proclaimed "a holiday"; and the morning being a fine one, they walked further, along the Appian Way. Mortality, with which the Queen of Ways--in reality the favourite cemetery of Rome--was so closely crowded, in every imaginable form of sepulchre, from the tiniest baby-house, to the massive monument out of which the Middle Age would adapt a fortress-tower, might seem, on a morning like this, to be "smiling through tears." The flower-stalls just beyond the city gates presented to view an array of posies and garlands, fresh enough for a wedding. At one and another of them groups of persons, gravely clad, were making their bargains before starting for some perhaps distant spot on the highway, to keep a dies rosationis, this being the time of roses, at the grave of a deceased relation. Here and there, a funeral procession was slowly on its way, in weird contrast to the gaiety of the hour. The two companions, of course, read the epitaphs as they strolled along. In one, reminding them of the poet's--Si lacrimae prosunt, visis te ostende videri!--a woman prayed that her lost husband might visit her dreams. Their characteristic note, indeed, was an imploring cry, still [143] to be sought after by the living. "While I live," such was the promise of a lover to his dead mistress, "you will receive this homage: after my death,--who can tell?"--post mortem nescio. "If ghosts, my sons, do feel anything after death, my sorrow will be lessened by your frequent coming to me here!" "This is a privileged tomb; to my family and descendants has been conceded the right of visiting this place as often as they please." "This is an eternal habitation; here lie I; here I shall lie for ever." "Reader! if you doubt that the soul survives, make your oblation and a prayer for me; and you shall understand!" The elder of the two readers, certainly, was little affected by those pathetic suggestions. It was long ago that after visiting the banks of the Padus, where he had sought in vain for the poplars (sisters of Phaethon erewhile) whose tears became amber, he had once for all arranged for himself a view of the world exclusive of all reference to what might lie beyond its "flaming barriers." And at the age of sixty he had no misgivings. His elegant and self-complacent but far from unamiable scepticism, long since brought to perfection, never failed him. It surrounded him, as some are surrounded by a magic ring of fine aristocratic manners, with "a rampart," through which he himself never broke, nor permitted any thing or person to break upon him. Gay, animated, content with his old age [144] as it was, the aged student still took a lively interest in studious youth.--Could Marius inform him of any such, now known to him in Rome? What did the young men learn, just then? and how? In answer, Marius became fluent concerning the promise of one young student, the son, as it presently appeared, of parents of whom Lucian himself knew something: and soon afterwards the lad was seen coming along briskly--a lad with gait and figure well enough expressive of the sane mind in the healthy body, though a little slim and worn of feature, and with a pair of eyes expressly designed, it might seem, for fine glancings at the stars. At the sight of Marius he paused suddenly, and with a modest blush on recognising his companion, who straightway took with the youth, so prettily enthusiastic, the freedom of an old friend. In a few moments the three were seated together, immediately above the fragrant borders of a rose-farm, on the marble bench of one of the exhedrae for the use of foot-passengers at the roadside, from which they could overlook the grand, earnest prospect of the Campagna, and enjoy the air. Fancying that the lad's plainly written enthusiasm had induced in the elder speaker somewhat more fervour than was usual with him, Marius listened to the conversation which follows.-- "Ah! Hermotimus! Hurrying to lecture! [145] --if I may judge by your pace, and that volume in your hand. You were thinking hard as you came along, moving your lips and waving your arms. Some fine speech you were pondering, some knotty question, some viewy doctrine--not to be idle for a moment, to be making progress in philosophy, even on your way to the schools. To-day, however, you need go no further. We read a notice at the schools that there would be no lecture. Stay therefore, and talk awhile with us. --With pleasure, Lucian.--Yes! I was ruminating yesterday's conference. One must not lose a moment. Life is short and art is long! And it was of the art of medicine, that was first said--a thing so much easier than divine philosophy, to which one can hardly attain in a lifetime, unless one be ever wakeful, ever on the watch. And here the hazard is no little one:--By the attainment of a true philosophy to attain happiness; or, having missed both, to perish, as one of the vulgar herd. --The prize is a great one, Hermotimus! and you must needs be near it, after these months of toil, and with that scholarly pallor of yours. Unless, indeed, you have already laid hold upon it, and kept us in the dark. --How could that be, Lucian? Happiness, as Hesiod says, abides very far hence; and the way to it is long and steep and rough. I see myself still at the beginning of my journey; still [146] but at the mountain's foot. I am trying with all my might to get forward. What I need is a hand, stretched out to help me. --And is not the master sufficient for that? Could he not, like Zeus in Homer, let down to you, from that high place, a golden cord, to draw you up thither, to himself and to that Happiness, to which he ascended so long ago? --The very point, Lucian! Had it depended on him I should long ago have been caught up. 'Tis I, am wanting. --Well! keep your eye fixed on the journey's end, and that happiness there above, with confidence in his goodwill. --Ah! there are many who start cheerfully on the journey and proceed a certain distance, but lose heart when they light on the obstacles of the way. Only, those who endure to the end do come to the mountain's top, and thereafter live in Happiness:--live a wonderful manner of life, seeing all other people from that great height no bigger than tiny ants. --What little fellows you make of us--less than the pygmies--down in the dust here. Well! we, 'the vulgar herd,' as we creep along, will not forget you in our prayers, when you are seated up there above the clouds, whither you have been so long hastening. But tell me, Hermotimus!--when do you expect to arrive there? --Ah! that I know not. In twenty years, [147] perhaps, I shall be really on the summit.--A great while! you think. But then, again, the prize I contend for is a great one. --Perhaps! But as to those twenty years--that you will live so long. Has the master assured you of that? Is he a prophet as well as a philosopher? For I suppose you would not endure all this, upon a mere chance--toiling day and night, though it might happen that just ere the last step, Destiny seized you by the foot and plucked you thence, with your hope still unfulfilled. --Hence, with these ill-omened words, Lucian! Were I to survive but for a day, I should be happy, having once attained wisdom. --How?--Satisfied with a single day, after all those labours? --Yes! one blessed moment were enough! --But again, as you have never been, how know you that happiness is to be had up there, at all--the happiness that is to make all this worth while? --I believe what the master tells me. Of a certainty he knows, being now far above all others. --And what was it he told you about it? Is it riches, or glory, or some indescribable pleasure? --Hush! my friend! All those are nothing in comparison of the life there. --What, then, shall those who come to the [148] end of this discipline--what excellent thing shall they receive, if not these? --Wisdom, the absolute goodness and the absolute beauty, with the sure and certain knowledge of all things--how they are. Riches and glory and pleasure--whatsoever belongs to the body--they have cast from them: stripped bare of all that, they mount up, even as Hercules, consumed in the fire, became a god. He too cast aside all that he had of his earthly mother, and bearing with him the divine element, pure and undefiled, winged his way to heaven from the discerning flame. Even so do they, detached from all that others prize, by the burning fire of a true philosophy, ascend to the highest degree of happiness. --Strange! And do they never come down again from the heights to help those whom they left below? Must they, when they be once come thither, there remain for ever, laughing, as you say, at what other men prize? --More than that! They whose initiation is entire are subject no longer to anger, fear, desire, regret. Nay! They scarcely feel at all. --Well! as you have leisure to-day, why not tell an old friend in what way you first started on your philosophic journey? For, if I might, I should like to join company with you from this very day. --If you be really willing, Lucian! you will learn in no long time your advantage over all [149] other people. They will seem but as children, so far above them will be your thoughts. --Well! Be you my guide! It is but fair. But tell me--Do you allow learners to contradict, if anything is said which they don't think right? --No, indeed! Still, if you wish, oppose your questions. In that way you will learn more easily. --Let me know, then--Is there one only way which leads to a true philosophy--your own way--the way of the Stoics: or is it true, as I have heard, that there are many ways of approaching it? --Yes! Many ways! There are the Stoics, and the Peripatetics, and those who call themselves after Plato: there are the enthusiasts for Diogenes, and Antisthenes, and the followers of Pythagoras, besides others. --It was true, then. But again, is what they say the same or different? --Very different. --Yet the truth, I conceive, would be one and the same, from all of them. Answer me then--In what, or in whom, did you confide when you first betook yourself to philosophy, and seeing so many doors open to you, passed them all by and went in to the Stoics, as if there alone lay the way of truth? What token had you? Forget, please, all you are to-day--half-way, or more, on the philosophic journey: [150] answer me as you would have done then, a mere outsider as I am now. --Willingly! It was there the great majority went! 'Twas by that I judged it to be the better way. --A majority how much greater than the Epicureans, the Platonists, the Peripatetics? You, doubtless, counted them respectively, as with the votes in a scrutiny. --No! But this was not my only motive. I heard it said by every one that the Epicureans were soft and voluptuous, the Peripatetics avaricious and quarrelsome, and Plato's followers puffed up with pride. But of the Stoics, not a few pronounced that they were true men, that they knew everything, that theirs was the royal road, the one road, to wealth, to wisdom, to all that can be desired. --Of course those who said this were not themselves Stoics: you would not have believed them--still less their opponents. They were the vulgar, therefore. --True! But you must know that I did not trust to others exclusively. I trusted also to myself--to what I saw. I saw the Stoics going through the world after a seemly manner, neatly clad, never in excess, always collected, ever faithful to the mean which all pronounce 'golden.' --You are trying an experiment on me. You would fain see how far you can mislead [151] me as to your real ground. The kind of probation you describe is applicable, indeed, to works of art, which are rightly judged by their appearance to the eye. There is something in the comely form, the graceful drapery, which tells surely of the hand of Pheidias or Alcamenes. But if philosophy is to be judged by outward appearances, what would become of the blind man, for instance, unable to observe the attire and gait of your friends the Stoics? --It was not of the blind I was thinking. --Yet there must needs be some common criterion in a matter so important to all. Put the blind, if you will, beyond the privileges of philosophy; though they perhaps need that inward vision more than all others. But can those who are not blind, be they as keen-sighted as you will, collect a single fact of mind from a man's attire, from anything outward?--Understand me! You attached yourself to these men--did you not?--because of a certain love you had for the mind in them, the thoughts they possessed desiring the mind in you to be improved thereby? --Assuredly! --How, then, did you find it possible, by the sort of signs you just now spoke of, to distinguish the true philosopher from the false? Matters of that kind are not wont so to reveal themselves. They are but hidden mysteries, hardly to be guessed at through the words and acts which [152] may in some sort be conformable to them. You, however, it would seem, can look straight into the heart in men's bosoms, and acquaint yourself with what really passes there. --You are making sport of me, Lucian! In truth, it was with God's help I made my choice, and I don't repent it. --And still you refuse to tell me, to save me from perishing in that 'vulgar herd.' --Because nothing I can tell you would satisfy you. --You are mistaken, my friend! But since you deliberately conceal the thing, grudging me, as I suppose, that true philosophy which would make me equal to you, I will try, if it may be, to find out for myself the exact criterion in these matters--how to make a perfectly safe choice. And, do you listen. --I will; there may be something worth knowing in what you will say. --Well!--only don't laugh if I seem a little fumbling in my efforts. The fault is yours, in refusing to share your lights with me. Let Philosophy, then, be like a city--a city whose citizens within it are a happy people, as your master would tell you, having lately come thence, as we suppose. All the virtues are theirs, and they are little less than gods. Those acts of violence which happen among us are not to be seen in their streets. They live together in one mind, very seemly; the things which beyond [153] everything else cause men to contend against each other, having no place upon them. Gold and silver, pleasure, vainglory, they have long since banished, as being unprofitable to the commonwealth; and their life is an unbroken calm, in liberty, equality, an equal happiness. --And is it not reasonable that all men should desire to be of a city such as that, and take no account of the length and difficulty of the way thither, so only they may one day become its freemen? --It might well be the business of life:--leaving all else, forgetting one's native country here, unmoved by the tears, the restraining hands, of parents or children, if one had them--only bidding them follow the same road; and if they would not or could not, shaking them off, leaving one's very garment in their hands if they took hold on us, to start off straightway for that happy place! For there is no fear, I suppose, of being shut out if one came thither naked. I remember, indeed, long ago an aged man related to me how things passed there, offering himself to be my leader, and enrol me on my arrival in the number of the citizens. I was but fifteen--certainly very foolish: and it may be that I was then actually within the suburbs, or at the very gates, of the city. Well, this aged man told me, among other things, that all the citizens were wayfarers from afar. Among them were barbarians and slaves, poor [154] men--aye! and cripples--all indeed who truly desired that citizenship. For the only legal conditions of enrolment were--not wealth, nor bodily beauty, nor noble ancestry--things not named among them--but intelligence, and the desire for moral beauty, and earnest labour. The last comer, thus qualified, was made equal to the rest: master and slave, patrician, plebeian, were words they had not--in that blissful place. And believe me, if that blissful, that beautiful place, were set on a hill visible to all the world, I should long ago have journeyed thither. But, as you say, it is far off: and one must needs find out for oneself the road to it, and the best possible guide. And I find a multitude of guides, who press on me their services, and protest, all alike, that they have themselves come thence. Only, the roads they propose are many, and towards adverse quarters. And one of them is steep and stony, and through the beating sun; and the other is through green meadows, and under grateful shade, and by many a fountain of water. But howsoever the road may be, at each one of them stands a credible guide; he puts out his hand and would have you come his way. All other ways are wrong, all other guides false. Hence my difficulty!--The number and variety of the ways! For you know, There is but one road that leads to Corinth. --Well! If you go the whole round, you [155] will find no better guides than those. If you wish to get to Corinth, you will follow the traces of Zeno and Chrysippus. It is impossible otherwise. --Yes! The old, familiar language! Were one of Plato's fellow-pilgrims here, or a follower of Epicurus--or fifty others--each would tell me that I should never get to Corinth except in his company. One must therefore credit all alike, which would be absurd; or, what is far safer, distrust all alike, until one has discovered the truth. Suppose now, that, being as I am, ignorant which of all philosophers is really in possession of truth, I choose your sect, relying on yourself--my friend, indeed, yet still acquainted only with the way of the Stoics; and that then some divine power brought Plato, and Aristotle, and Pythagoras, and the others, back to life again. Well! They would come round about me, and put me on my trial for my presumption, and say:--'In whom was it you confided when you preferred Zeno and Chrysippus to me?--and me?--masters of far more venerable age than those, who are but of yesterday; and though you have never held any discussion with us, nor made trial of our doctrine? It is not thus that the law would have judges do--listen to one party and refuse to let the other speak for himself. If judges act thus, there may be an appeal to another tribunal.' What should I answer? Would it [156] be enough to say:--'I trusted my friend Hermotimus?'--'We know not Hermotimus, nor he us,' they would tell me; adding, with a smile, 'your friend thinks he may believe all our adversaries say of us whether in ignorance or in malice. Yet if he were umpire in the games, and if he happened to see one of our wrestlers, by way of a preliminary exercise, knock to pieces an antagonist of mere empty air, he would not thereupon pronounce him a victor. Well! don't let your friend Hermotimus suppose, in like manner, that his teachers have really prevailed over us in those battles of theirs, fought with our mere shadows. That, again, were to be like children, lightly overthrowing their own card-castles; or like boy-archers, who cry out when they hit the target of straw. The Persian and Scythian bowmen, as they speed along, can pierce a bird on the wing.' --Let us leave Plato and the others at rest. It is not for me to contend against them. Let us rather search out together if the truth of Philosophy be as I say. Why summon the athletes, and archers from Persia? --Yes! let them go, if you think them in the way. And now do you speak! You really look as if you had something wonderful to deliver. --Well then, Lucian! to me it seems quite possible for one who has learned the doctrines of the Stoics only, to attain from those a knowledge [157] of the truth, without proceeding to inquire into all the various tenets of the others. Look at the question in this way. If one told you that twice two make four, would it be necessary for you to go the whole round of the arithmeticians, to see whether any one of them will say that twice two make five, or seven? Would you not see at once that the man tells the truth? --At once. --Why then do you find it impossible that one who has fallen in with the Stoics only, in their enunciation of what is true, should adhere to them, and seek after no others; assured that four could never be five, even if fifty Platos, fifty Aristotles said so? --You are beside the point, Hermotimus! You are likening open questions to principles universally received. Have you ever met any one who said that twice two make five, or seven? --No! only a madman would say that. --And have you ever met, on the other hand, a Stoic and an Epicurean who were agreed upon the beginning and the end, the principle and the final cause, of things? Never! Then your parallel is false. We are inquiring to which of the sects philosophic truth belongs, and you seize on it by anticipation, and assign it to the Stoics, alleging, what is by no means clear, that it is they for whom twice two make four. But the Epicureans, or the Platonists, [158] might say that it is they, in truth, who make two and two equal four, while you make them five or seven. Is it not so, when you think virtue the only good, and the Epicureans pleasure; when you hold all things to be material, while the Platonists admit something immaterial? As I said, you resolve offhand, in favour of the Stoics, the very point which needs a critical decision. If it is clear beforehand that the Stoics alone make two and two equal four, then the others must hold their peace. But so long as that is the very point of debate, we must listen to all sects alike, or be well-assured that we shall seem but partial in our judgment. --I think, Lucian! that you do not altogether understand my meaning. To make it clear, then, let us suppose that two men had entered a temple, of Aesculapius,--say! or Bacchus: and that afterwards one of the sacred vessels is found to be missing. And the two men must be searched to see which of them has hidden it under his garment. For it is certainly in the possession of one or the other of them. Well! if it be found on the first there will be no need to search the second; if it is not found on the first, then the other must have it; and again, there will be no need to search him. --Yes! So let it be. --And we too, Lucian! if we have found the holy vessel in possession of the Stoics, shall no longer have need to search other philosophers, [159] having attained that we were seeking. Why trouble ourselves further? --No need, if something had indeed been found, and you knew it to be that lost thing: if, at the least, you could recognise the sacred object when you saw it. But truly, as the matter now stands, not two persons only have entered the temple, one or the other of whom must needs have taken the golden cup, but a whole crowd of persons. And then, it is not clear what the lost object really is--cup, or flagon, or diadem; for one of the priests avers this, another that; they are not even in agreement as to its material: some will have it to be of brass, others of silver, or gold. It thus becomes necessary to search the garments of all persons who have entered the temple, if the lost vessel is to be recovered. And if you find a golden cup on the first of them, it will still be necessary to proceed in searching the garments of the others; for it is not certain that this cup really belonged to the temple. Might there not be many such golden vessels?--No! we must go on to every one of them, placing all that we find in the midst together, and then make our guess which of all those things may fairly be supposed to be the property of the god. For, again, this circumstance adds greatly to our difficulty, that without exception every one searched is found to have something upon him--cup, or flagon, or diadem, of brass, of silver, [160] of gold: and still, all the while, it is not ascertained which of all these is the sacred thing. And you must still hesitate to pronounce any one of them guilty of the sacrilege--those objects may be their own lawful property: one cause of all this obscurity being, as I think, that there was no inscription on the lost cup, if cup it was. Had the name of the god, or even that of the donor, been upon it, at least we should have had less trouble, and having detected the inscription, should have ceased to trouble any one else by our search. --I have nothing to reply to that. --Hardly anything plausible. So that if we wish to find who it is has the sacred vessel, or who will be our best guide to Corinth, we must needs proceed to every one and examine him with the utmost care, stripping off his garment and considering him closely. Scarcely, even so, shall we come at the truth. And if we are to have a credible adviser regarding this question of philosophy--which of all philosophies one ought to follow--he alone who is acquainted with the dicta of every one of them can be such a guide: all others must be inadequate. I would give no credence to them if they lacked information as to one only. If somebody introduced a fair person and told us he was the fairest of all men, we should not believe that, unless we knew that he had seen all the people in the world. Fair he might be; but, fairest of all--none could [161] know, unless he had seen all. And we too desire, not a fair one, but the fairest of all. Unless we find him, we shall think we have failed. It is no casual beauty that will content us; what we are seeking after is that supreme beauty which must of necessity be unique. --What then is one to do, if the matter be really thus? Perhaps you know better than I. All I see is that very few of us would have time to examine all the various sects of philosophy in turn, even if we began in early life. I know not how it is; but though you seem to me to speak reasonably, yet (I must confess it) you have distressed me not a little by this exact exposition of yours. I was unlucky in coming out to-day, and in my falling in with you, who have thrown me into utter perplexity by your proof that the discovery of truth is impossible, just as I seemed to be on the point of attaining my hope. --Blame your parents, my child, not me! Or rather, blame mother Nature herself, for giving us but seventy or eighty years instead of making us as long-lived as Tithonus. For my part, I have but led you from premise to conclusion. --Nay! you are a mocker! I know not wherefore, but you have a grudge against philosophy; and it is your entertainment to make a jest of her lovers. --Ah! Hermotimus! what the Truth may [162] be, you philosophers may be able to tell better than I. But so much at least I know of her, that she is one by no means pleasant to those who hear her speak: in the matter of pleasantness, she is far surpassed by Falsehood: and Falsehood has the pleasanter countenance. She, nevertheless, being conscious of no alloy within, discourses with boldness to all men, who therefore have little love for her. See how angry you are now because I have stated the truth about certain things of which we are both alike enamoured--that they are hard to come by. It is as if you had fallen in love with a statue and hoped to win its favour, thinking it a human creature; and I, understanding it to be but an image of brass or stone, had shown you, as a friend, that your love was impossible, and thereupon you had conceived that I bore you some ill-will. --But still, does it not follow from what you said, that we must renounce philosophy and pass our days in idleness? --When did you hear me say that? I did but assert that if we are to seek after philosophy, whereas there are many ways professing to lead thereto, we must with much exactness distinguish them. --Well, Lucian! that we must go to all the schools in turn, and test what they say, if we are to choose the right one, is perhaps reasonable; but surely ridiculous, unless we are to live as [163] many years as the Phoenix, to be so lengthy in the trial of each; as if it were not possible to learn the whole by the part! They say that Pheidias, when he was shown one of the talons of a lion, computed the stature and age of the animal it belonged to, modelling a complete lion upon the standard of a single part of it. You too would recognise a human hand were the rest of the body concealed. Even so with the schools of philosophy:--the leading doctrines of each might be learned in an afternoon. That over-exactness of yours, which required so long a time, is by no means necessary for making the better choice. --You are forcible, Hermotimus! with this theory of The Whole by the Part. Yet, methinks, I heard you but now propound the contrary. But tell me; would Pheidias when he saw the lion's talon have known that it was a lion's, if he had never seen the animal? Surely, the cause of his recognising the part was his knowledge of the whole. There is a way of choosing one's philosophy even less troublesome than yours. Put the names of all the philosophers into an urn. Then call a little child, and let him draw the name of the philosopher you shall follow all the rest of your days. --Nay! be serious with me. Tell me; did you ever buy wine? --Surely. --And did you first go the whole round of [164] the wine-merchants, tasting and comparing their wines? --By no means. --No! You were contented to order the first good wine you found at your price. By tasting a little you were ascertained of the quality of the whole cask. How if you had gone to each of the merchants in turn, and said, 'I wish to buy a cotylé of wine. Let me drink out the whole cask. Then I shall be able to tell which is best, and where I ought to buy.' Yet this is what you would do with the philosophies. Why drain the cask when you might taste, and see? --How slippery you are; how you escape from one's fingers! Still, you have given me an advantage, and are in your own trap. --How so? --Thus! You take a common object known to every one, and make wine the figure of a thing which presents the greatest variety in itself, and about which all men are at variance, because it is an unseen and difficult thing. I hardly know wherein philosophy and wine are alike unless it be in this, that the philosophers exchange their ware for money, like the wine-merchants; some of them with a mixture of water or worse, or giving short measure. However, let us consider your parallel. The wine in the cask, you say, is of one kind throughout. But have the philosophers--has your own [165] master even--but one and the same thing only to tell you, every day and all days, on a subject so manifold? Otherwise, how can you know the whole by the tasting of one part? The whole is not the same--Ah! and it may be that God has hidden the good wine of philosophy at the bottom of the cask. You must drain it to the end if you are to find those drops of divine sweetness you seem so much to thirst for! Yourself, after drinking so deeply, are still but at the beginning, as you said. But is not philosophy rather like this? Keep the figure of the merchant and the cask: but let it be filled, not with wine, but with every sort of grain. You come to buy. The merchant hands you a little of the wheat which lies at the top. Could you tell by looking at that, whether the chick-peas were clean, the lentils tender, the beans full? And then, whereas in selecting our wine we risk only our money; in selecting our philosophy we risk ourselves, as you told me--might ourselves sink into the dregs of 'the vulgar herd.' Moreover, while you may not drain the whole cask of wine by way of tasting, Wisdom grows no less by the depth of your drinking. Nay! if you take of her, she is increased thereby. And then I have another similitude to propose, as regards this tasting of philosophy. Don't think I blaspheme her if I say that it may be with her as with some deadly poison, [166] hemlock or aconite. These too, though they cause death, yet kill not if one tastes but a minute portion. You would suppose that the tiniest particle must be sufficient. --Be it as you will, Lucian! One must live a hundred years: one must sustain all this labour; otherwise philosophy is unattainable. --Not so! Though there were nothing strange in that, if it be true, as you said at first, that Life is short and art is long. But now you take it hard that we are not to see you this very day, before the sun goes down, a Chrysippus, a Pythagoras, a Plato. --You overtake me, Lucian! and drive me into a corner; in jealousy of heart, I believe, because I have made some progress in doctrine whereas you have neglected yourself. --Well! Don't attend to me! Treat me as a Corybant, a fanatic: and do you go forward on this road of yours. Finish the journey in accordance with the view you had of these matters at the beginning of it. Only, be assured that my judgment on it will remain unchanged. Reason still says, that without criticism, without a clear, exact, unbiassed intelligence to try them, all those theories--all things--will have been seen but in vain. 'To that end,' she tells us, 'much time is necessary, many delays of judgment, a cautious gait; repeated inspection.' And we are not to regard the outward appearance, or the reputation of wisdom, in any of the [167] speakers; but like the judges of Areopagus, who try their causes in the darkness of the night, look only to what they say. --Philosophy, then, is impossible, or possible only in another life! --Hermotimus! I grieve to tell you that all this even, may be in truth insufficient. After all, we may deceive ourselves in the belief that we have found something:--like the fishermen! Again and again they let down the net. At last they feel something heavy, and with vast labour draw up, not a load of fish, but only a pot full of sand, or a great stone. --I don't understand what you mean by the net. It is plain that you have caught me in it. --Try to get out! You can swim as well as another. We may go to all philosophers in turn and make trial of them. Still, I, for my part, hold it by no mean certain that any one of them really possesses what we seek. The truth may be a thing that not one of them has yet found. You have twenty beans in your hand, and you bid ten persons guess how many: one says five, another fifteen; it is possible that one of them may tell the true number; but it is not impossible that all may be wrong. So it is with the philosophers. All alike are in search of Happiness--what kind of thing it is. One says one thing, one another: it is pleasure; it is virtue;--what not? And Happiness may indeed be one of those things. But it is possible [168] also that it may be still something else, different and distinct from them all. --What is this?--There is something, I know not how, very sad and disheartening in what you say. We seem to have come round in a circle to the spot whence we started, and to our first incertitude. Ah! Lucian, what have you done to me? You have proved my priceless pearl to be but ashes, and all my past labour to have been in vain. --Reflect, my friend, that you are not the first person who has thus failed of the good thing he hoped for. All philosophers, so to speak, are but fighting about the 'ass's shadow.' To me you seem like one who should weep, and reproach fortune because he is not able to climb up into heaven, or go down into the sea by Sicily and come up at Cyprus, or sail on wings in one day from Greece to India. And the true cause of his trouble is that he has based his hope on what he has seen in a dream, or his own fancy has put together; without previous thought whether what he desires is in itself attainable and within the compass of human nature. Even so, methinks, has it happened with you. As you dreamed, so largely, of those wonderful things, came Reason, and woke you up from sleep, a little roughly: and then you are angry with Reason, your eyes being still but half open, and find it hard to shake off sleep for the pleasure of what you saw therein. Only, [169] don't be angry with me, because, as a friend, I would not suffer you to pass your life in a dream, pleasant perhaps, but still only a dream--because I wake you up and demand that you should busy yourself with the proper business of life, and send you to it possessed of common sense. What your soul was full of just now is not very different from those Gorgons and Chimaeras and the like, which the poets and the painters construct for us, fancy-free:--things which never were, and never will be, though many believe in them, and all like to see and hear of them, just because they are so strange and odd. And you too, methinks, having heard from some such maker of marvels of a certain woman of a fairness beyond nature--beyond the Graces, beyond Venus Urania herself--asked not if he spoke truth, and whether this woman be really alive in the world, but straightway fell in love with her; as they say that Medea was enamoured of Jason in a dream. And what more than anything else seduced you, and others like you, into that passion, for a vain idol of the fancy, is, that he who told you about that fair woman, from the very moment when you first believed that what he said was true, brought forward all the rest in consequent order. Upon her alone your eyes were fixed; by her he led you along, when once you had given him a hold upon you--led you along the straight road, as he said, to the beloved one. All was easy after that. [170] None of you asked again whether it was the true way; following one after another, like sheep led by the green bough in the hand of the shepherd. He moved you hither and thither with his finger, as easily as water spilt on a table! My friend! Be not so lengthy in preparing the banquet, lest you die of hunger! I saw one who poured water into a mortar, and ground it with all his might with a pestle of iron, fancying he did a thing useful and necessary; but it remained water only, none the less." Just there the conversation broke off suddenly, and the disputants parted. The horses were come for Lucian. The boy went on his way, and Marius onward, to visit a friend whose abode lay further. As he returned to Rome towards evening the melancholy aspect, natural to a city of the dead, had triumphed over the superficial gaudiness of the early day. He could almost have fancied Canidia there, picking her way among the rickety lamps, to rifle some neglected or ruined tomb; for these tombs were not all equally well cared for (Post mortem nescio!) and it had been one of the pieties of Aurelius to frame a severe law to prevent the defacing of such monuments. To Marius there seemed to be some new meaning in that terror of isolation, of being left alone in these places, of which the sepulchral inscriptions were so full. A blood-red sunset was dying angrily, and its wild glare upon the shadowy objects around helped to combine [171] the associations of this famous way, its deeply graven marks of immemorial travel, together with the earnest questions of the morning as to the true way of that other sort of travelling, around an image, almost ghastly in the traces of its great sorrows--bearing along for ever, on bleeding feet, the instrument of its punishment--which was all Marius could recall distinctly of a certain Christian legend he had heard. The legend told of an encounter at this very spot, of two wayfarers on the Appian Way, as also upon some very dimly discerned mental journey, altogether different from himself and his late companions--an encounter between Love, literally fainting by the road, and Love "travelling in the greatness of his strength," Love itself, suddenly appearing to sustain that other. A strange contrast to anything actually presented in that morning's conversation, it seemed nevertheless to echo its very words--"Do they never come down again," he heard once more the well-modulated voice: "Do they never come down again from the heights, to help those whom they left here below?"--"And we too desire, not a fair one, but the fairest of all. Unless we find him, we shall think we have failed." CHAPTER XXV: SUNT LACRIMAE RERUM+ [172] It was become a habit with Marius--one of his modernisms--developed by his assistance at the Emperor's "conversations with himself," to keep a register of the movements of his own private thoughts and humours; not continuously indeed, yet sometimes for lengthy intervals, during which it was no idle self-indulgence, but a necessity of his intellectual life, to "confess himself," with an intimacy, seemingly rare among the ancients; ancient writers, at all events, having been jealous, for the most part, of affording us so much as a glimpse of that interior self, which in many cases would have actually doubled the interest of their objective informations. "If a particular tutelary or genius," writes Marius,--"according to old belief, walks through life beside each one of us, mine is very certainly a capricious creature. He fills one with wayward, unaccountable, yet quite irresistible humours, [173] and seems always to be in collusion with some outward circumstance, often trivial enough in itself--the condition of the weather, forsooth!--the people one meets by chance--the things one happens to overhear them say, veritable enodioi symboloi,+ or omens by the wayside, as the old Greeks fancied--to push on the unreasonable prepossessions of the moment into weighty motives. It was doubtless a quite explicable, physical fatigue that presented me to myself, on awaking this morning, so lack-lustre and trite. But I must needs take my petulance, contrasting it with my accustomed morning hopefulness, as a sign of the ageing of appetite, of a decay in the very capacity of enjoyment. We need some imaginative stimulus, some not impossible ideal such as may shape vague hope, and transform it into effective desire, to carry us year after year, without disgust, through the routine-work which is so large a part of life. "Then, how if appetite, be it for real or ideal, should itself fail one after awhile? Ah, yes! is it of cold always that men die; and on some of us it creeps very gradually. In truth, I can remember just such a lack-lustre condition of feeling once or twice before. But I note, that it was accompanied then by an odd indifference, as the thought of them occurred to me, in regard to the sufferings of others--a kind of callousness, so unusual with me, as at once to mark the humour it accompanied as a palpably morbid one [174] that could not last. Were those sufferings, great or little, I asked myself then, of more real consequence to them than mine to me, as I remind myself that 'nothing that will end is really long'--long enough to be thought of importance? But to-day, my own sense of fatigue, the pity I conceive for myself, disposed me strongly to a tenderness for others. For a moment the whole world seemed to present itself as a hospital of sick persons; many of them sick in mind; all of whom it would be a brutality not to humour, not to indulge. "Why, when I went out to walk off my wayward fancies, did I confront the very sort of incident (my unfortunate genius had surely beckoned it from afar to vex me) likely to irritate them further? A party of men were coming down the street. They were leading a fine race-horse; a handsome beast, but badly hurt somewhere, in the circus, and useless. They were taking him to slaughter; and I think the animal knew it: he cast such looks, as if of mad appeal, to those who passed him, as he went among the strangers to whom his former owner had committed him, to die, in his beauty and pride, for just that one mischance or fault; although the morning air was still so animating, and pleasant to snuff. I could have fancied a human soul in the creature, swelling against its luck. And I had come across the incident just when it would figure to me as the very symbol [175] of our poor humanity, in its capacities for pain, its wretched accidents, and those imperfect sympathies, which can never quite identify us with one another; the very power of utterance and appeal to others seeming to fail us, in proportion as our sorrows come home to ourselves, are really our own. We are constructed for suffering! What proofs of it does but one day afford, if we care to note them, as we go--a whole long chaplet of sorrowful mysteries! Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt.+ "Men's fortunes touch us! The little children of one of those institutions for the support of orphans, now become fashionable among us by way of memorial of eminent persons deceased, are going, in long file, along the street, on their way to a holiday in the country. They halt, and count themselves with an air of triumph, to show that they are all there. Their gay chatter has disturbed a little group of peasants; a young woman and her husband, who have brought the old mother, now past work and witless, to place her in a house provided for such afflicted people. They are fairly affectionate, but anxious how the thing they have to do may go--hope only she may permit them to leave her there behind quietly. And the poor old soul is excited by the noise made by the children, and partly aware of what is going to happen with her. She too begins to count--one, two, three, five--on her trembling fingers, misshapen by a life of toil. [176] 'Yes! yes! and twice five make ten'--they say, to pacify her. It is her last appeal to be taken home again; her proof that all is not yet up with her; that she is, at all events, still as capable as those joyous children. "At the baths, a party of labourers are at work upon one of the great brick furnaces, in a cloud of black dust. A frail young child has brought food for one of them, and sits apart, waiting till his father comes--watching the labour, but with a sorrowful distaste for the din and dirt. He is regarding wistfully his own place in the world, there before him. His mind, as he watches, is grown up for a moment; and he foresees, as it were, in that moment, all the long tale of days, of early awakings, of his own coming life of drudgery at work like this. "A man comes along carrying a boy whose rough work has already begun--the only child--whose presence beside him sweetened the father's toil a little. The boy has been badly injured by a fall of brick-work, yet, with an effort, he rides boldly on his father's shoulders. It will be the way of natural affection to keep him alive as long as possible, though with that miserably shattered body.--'Ah! with us still, and feeling our care beside him!'--and yet surely not without a heartbreaking sigh of relief, alike from him and them, when the end comes. "On the alert for incidents like these, yet of necessity passing them by on the other side, I find [177] it hard to get rid of a sense that I, for one, have failed in love. I could yield to the humour till I seemed to have had my share in those great public cruelties, the shocking legal crimes which are on record, like that cold-blooded slaughter, according to law, of the four hundred slaves in the reign of Nero, because one of their number was thought to have murdered his master. The reproach of that, together with the kind of facile apologies those who had no share in the deed may have made for it, as they went about quietly on their own affairs that day, seems to come very close to me, as I think upon it. And to how many of those now actually around me, whose life is a sore one, must I be indifferent, if I ever become aware of their soreness at all? To some, perhaps, the necessary conditions of my own life may cause me to be opposed, in a kind of natural conflict, regarding those interests which actually determine the happiness of theirs. I would that a stronger love might arise in my heart! "Yet there is plenty of charity in the world. My patron, the Stoic emperor, has made it even fashionable. To celebrate one of his brief returns to Rome lately from the war, over and above a largess of gold pieces to all who would, the public debts were forgiven. He made a nice show of it: for once, the Romans entertained themselves with a good-natured spectacle, and the whole town came to see the great bonfire [178] in the Forum, into which all bonds and evidence of debt were thrown on delivery, by the emperor himself; many private creditors following his example. That was done well enough! But still the feeling returns to me, that no charity of ours can get at a certain natural unkindness which I find in things themselves. "When I first came to Rome, eager to observe its religion, especially its antiquities of religious usage, I assisted at the most curious, perhaps, of them all, the most distinctly marked with that immobility which is a sort of ideal in the Roman religion. The ceremony took place at a singular spot some miles distant from the city, among the low hills on the bank of the Tiber, beyond the Aurelian Gate. There, in a little wood of venerable trees, piously allowed their own way, age after age--ilex and cypress remaining where they fell at last, one over the other, and all caught, in that early May-time, under a riotous tangle of wild clematis--was to be found a magnificent sanctuary, in which the members of the Arval College assembled themselves on certain days. The axe never touched those trees--Nay! it was forbidden to introduce any iron thing whatsoever within the precincts; not only because the deities of these quiet places hate to be disturbed by the harsh noise of metal, but also in memory of that better age--the lost Golden Age--the homely age of the potters, of [179] which the central act of the festival was a commemoration. "The preliminary ceremonies were long and complicated, but of a character familiar enough. Peculiar to the time and place was the solemn exposition, after lavation of hands, processions backwards and forwards, and certain changes of vestments, of the identical earthen vessels--veritable relics of the old religion of Numa!--the vessels from which the holy Numa himself had eaten and drunk, set forth above a kind of altar, amid a cloud of flowers and incense, and many lights, for the veneration of the credulous or the faithful. "They were, in fact, cups or vases of burnt clay, rude in form: and the religious veneration thus offered to them expressed men's desire to give honour to a simpler age, before iron had found place in human life: the persuasion that that age was worth remembering: a hope that it might come again. "That a Numa, and his age of gold, would return, has been the hope or the dream of some, in every period. Yet if he did come back, or any equivalent of his presence, he could but weaken, and by no means smite through, that root of evil, certainly of sorrow, of outraged human sense, in things, which one must carefully distinguish from all preventible accidents. Death, and the little perpetual daily dyings, which have something of its sting, he must [180] necessarily leave untouched. And, methinks, that were all the rest of man's life framed entirely to his liking, he would straightway begin to sadden himself, over the fate--say, of the flowers! For there is, there has come to be since Numa lived perhaps, a capacity for sorrow in his heart, which grows with all the growth, alike of the individual and of the race, in intellectual delicacy and power, and which will find its aliment. "Of that sort of golden age, indeed, one discerns even now a trace, here and there. Often have I maintained that, in this generous southern country at least, Epicureanism is the special philosophy of the poor. How little I myself really need, when people leave me alone, with the intellectual powers at work serenely. The drops of falling water, a few wild flowers with their priceless fragrance, a few tufts even of half-dead leaves, changing colour in the quiet of a room that has but light and shadow in it; these, for a susceptible mind, might well do duty for all the glory of Augustus. I notice sometimes what I conceive to be the precise character of the fondness of the roughest working-people for their young children, a fine appreciation, not only of their serviceable affection, but of their visible graces: and indeed, in this country, the children are almost always worth looking at. I see daily, in fine weather, a child like a delicate nosegay, running to meet the rudest of brick- [181] makers as he comes from work. She is not at all afraid to hang upon his rough hand: and through her, he reaches out to, he makes his own, something from that strange region, so distant from him yet so real, of the world's refinement. What is of finer soul, of finer stuff in things, and demands delicate touching--to him the delicacy of the little child represents that: it initiates him into that. There, surely, is a touch of the secular gold, of a perpetual age of gold. But then again, think for a moment, with what a hard humour at the nature of things, his struggle for bare life will go on, if the child should happen to die. I observed to-day, under one of the archways of the baths, two children at play, a little seriously--a fair girl and her crippled younger brother. Two toy chairs and a little table, and sprigs of fir set upright in the sand for a garden! They played at housekeeping. Well! the girl thinks her life a perfectly good thing in the service of this crippled brother. But she will have a jealous lover in time: and the boy, though his face is not altogether unpleasant, is after all a hopeless cripple. "For there is a certain grief in things as they are, in man as he has come to be, as he certainly is, over and above those griefs of circumstance which are in a measure removable--some inexplicable shortcoming, or misadventure, on the part of nature itself--death, and old age as it [182] must needs be, and that watching for their approach, which makes every stage of life like a dying over and over again. Almost all death is painful, and in every thing that comes to an end a touch of death, and therefore of wretched coldness struck home to one, of remorse, of loss and parting, of outraged attachments. Given faultless men and women, given a perfect state of society which should have no need to practise on men's susceptibilities for its own selfish ends, adding one turn more to the wheel of the great rack for its own interest or amusement, there would still be this evil in the world, of a certain necessary sorrow and desolation, felt, just in proportion to the moral, or nervous perfection men have attained to. And what we need in the world, over against that, is a certain permanent and general power of compassion--humanity's standing force of self-pity--as an elementary ingredient of our social atmosphere, if we are to live in it at all. I wonder, sometimes, in what way man has cajoled himself into the bearing of his burden thus far, seeing how every step in the capacity of apprehension his labour has won for him, from age to age, must needs increase his dejection. It is as if the increase of knowledge were but an increasing revelation of the radical hopelessness of his position: and I would that there were one even as I, behind this vain show of things! "At all events, the actual conditions of our [183] life being as they are, and the capacity for suffering so large a principle in things--since the only principle, perhaps, to which we may always safely trust is a ready sympathy with the pain one actually sees--it follows that the practical and effective difference between men will lie in their power of insight into those conditions, their power of sympathy. The future will be with those who have most of it; while for the present, as I persuade myself, those who have much of it, have something to hold by, even in the dissolution of a world, or in that dissolution of self, which is, for every one, no less than the dissolution of the world it represents for him. Nearly all of us, I suppose, have had our moments, in which any effective sympathy for us on the part of others has seemed impossible; in which our pain has seemed a stupid outrage upon us, like some overwhelming physical violence, from which we could take refuge, at best, only in some mere general sense of goodwill--somewhere in the world perhaps. And then, to one's surprise, the discovery of that goodwill, if it were only in a not unfriendly animal, may seem to have explained, to have actually justified to us, the fact of our pain. There have been occasions, certainly, when I have felt that if others cared for me as I cared for them, it would be, not so much a consolation, as an equivalent, for what one has lost or suffered: a realised profit on the summing up [184] of one's accounts: a touching of that absolute ground amid all the changes of phenomena, such as our philosophers have of late confessed themselves quite unable to discover. In the mere clinging of human creatures to each other, nay! in one's own solitary self-pity, amid the effects even of what might appear irredeemable loss, I seem to touch the eternal. Something in that pitiful contact, something new and true, fact or apprehension of fact, is educed, which, on a review of all the perplexities of life, satisfies our moral sense, and removes that appearance of unkindness in the soul of things themselves, and assures us that not everything has been in vain. "And I know not how, but in the thought thus suggested, I seem to take up, and re-knit myself to, a well-remembered hour, when by some gracious accident--it was on a journey--all things about me fell into a more perfect harmony than is their wont. Everything seemed to be, for a moment, after all, almost for the best. Through the train of my thoughts, one against another, it was as if I became aware of the dominant power of another person in controversy, wrestling with me. I seem to be come round to the point at which I left off then. The antagonist has closed with me again. A protest comes, out of the very depths of man's radically hopeless condition in the world, with the energy of one of those suffering yet prevailing [185] deities, of which old poetry tells. Dared one hope that there is a heart, even as ours, in that divine 'Assistant' of one's thoughts--a heart even as mine, behind this vain show of things!" NOTES 172. Virgil, Aeneid Book 1, line 462. "There are the tears of things..." See also page 175 of this chapter, where the same text is quoted in full. 173. +Transliteration: enodioi symboloi. Pater's Definition: "omens by the wayside." 175. +Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt. Virgil, Aeneid Book 1, line 462. Translation: "Here also there be tears for what men bear, and mortal creatures feel each other's sorrow," from Vergil, Aeneid, Theodore C. Williams. trans. Boston. Houghton Mifflin Co. 1910. CHAPTER XXVI: THE MARTYRS "Ah! voilà les âmes qu'il falloit à la mienne!" Rousseau. [186] THE charm of its poetry, a poetry of the affections, wonderfully fresh in the midst of a threadbare world, would have led Marius, if nothing else had done so, again and again, to Cecilia's house. He found a range of intellectual pleasures, altogether new to him, in the sympathy of that pure and elevated soul. Elevation of soul, generosity, humanity--little by little it came to seem to him as if these existed nowhere else. The sentiment of maternity, above all, as it might be understood there,--its claims, with the claims of all natural feeling everywhere, down to the sheep bleating on the hills, nay! even to the mother-wolf, in her hungry cave--seemed to have been vindicated, to have been enforced anew, by the sanction of some divine pattern thereof. He saw its legitimate place in the world given at last to the bare capacity for [187] suffering in any creature, however feeble or apparently useless. In this chivalry, seeming to leave the world's heroism a mere property of the stage, in this so scrupulous fidelity to what could not help itself, could scarcely claim not to be forgotten, what a contrast to the hard contempt of one's own or other's pain, of death, of glory even, in those discourses of Aurelius! But if Marius thought at times that some long-cherished desires were now about to blossom for him, in the sort of home he had sometimes pictured to himself, the very charm of which would lie in its contrast to any random affections: that in this woman, to whom children instinctively clung, he might find such a sister, at least, as he had always longed for; there were also circumstances which reminded him that a certain rule forbidding second marriages, was among these people still in force; ominous incidents, moreover, warning a susceptible conscience not to mix together the spirit and the flesh, nor make the matter of a heavenly banquet serve for earthly meat and drink. One day he found Cecilia occupied with the burial of one of the children of her household. It was from the tiny brow of such a child, as he now heard, that the new light had first shone forth upon them--through the light of mere physical life, glowing there again, when the child was dead, or supposed to be dead. The [188] aged servant of Christ had arrived in the midst of their noisy grief; and mounting to the little chamber where it lay, had returned, not long afterwards, with the child stirring in his arms as he descended the stair rapidly; bursting open the closely-wound folds of the shroud and scattering the funeral flowers from them, as the soul kindled once more through its limbs. Old Roman common-sense had taught people to occupy their thoughts as little as might be with children who died young. Here, to-day, however, in this curious house, all thoughts were tenderly bent on the little waxen figure, yet with a kind of exultation and joy, notwithstanding the loud weeping of the mother. The other children, its late companions, broke with it, suddenly, into the place where the deep black bed lay open to receive it. Pushing away the grim fossores, the grave-diggers, they ranged themselves around it in order, and chanted that old psalm of theirs--Laudate pueri dominum! Dead children, children's graves--Marius had been always half aware of an old superstitious fancy in his mind concerning them; as if in coming near them he came near the failure of some lately-born hope or purpose of his own. And now, perusing intently the expression with which Cecilia assisted, directed, returned afterwards to her house, he felt that he too had had to-day his funeral of a little child. But it had always been his policy, through all his pursuit [189] of "experience," to take flight in time from any too disturbing passion, from any sort of affection likely to quicken his pulses beyond the point at which the quiet work of life was practicable. Had he, after all, been taken unawares, so that it was no longer possible for him to fly? At least, during the journey he took, by way of testing the existence of any chain about him, he found a certain disappointment at his heart, greater than he could have anticipated; and as he passed over the crisp leaves, nipped off in multitudes by the first sudden cold of winter, he felt that the mental atmosphere within himself was perceptibly colder. Yet it was, finally, a quite successful resignation which he achieved, on a review, after his manner, during that absence, of loss or gain. The image of Cecilia, it would seem, was already become for him like some matter of poetry, or of another man's story, or a picture on the wall. And on his return to Rome there had been a rumour in that singular company, of things which spoke certainly not of any merely tranquil loving: hinted rather that he had come across a world, the lightest contact with which might make appropriate to himself also the precept that "They which have wives be as they that have none." This was brought home to him, when, in early spring, he ventured once more to listen to the sweet singing of the Eucharist. It breathed [190] more than ever the spirit of a wonderful hope--of hopes more daring than poor, labouring humanity had ever seriously entertained before, though it was plain that a great calamity was befallen. Amid stifled sobbing, even as the pathetic words of the psalter relieved the tension of their hearts, the people around him still wore upon their faces their habitual gleam of joy, of placid satisfaction. They were still under the influence of an immense gratitude in thinking, even amid their present distress, of the hour of a great deliverance. As he followed again that mystical dialogue, he felt also again, like a mighty spirit about him, the potency, the half-realised presence, of a great multitude, as if thronging along those awful passages, to hear the sentence of its release from prison; a company which represented nothing less than--orbis terrarum--the whole company of mankind. And the special note of the day expressed that relief--a sound new to him, drawn deep from some old Hebrew source, as he conjectured, Alleluia! repeated over and over again, Alleluia! Alleluia! at every pause and movement of the long Easter ceremonies. And then, in its place, by way of sacred lection, although in shocking contrast with the peaceful dignity of all around, came the Epistle of the churches of Lyons and Vienne, to "their sister," the church of Rome. For the "Peace" of the church had been broken--broken, as [191] Marius could not but acknowledge, on the responsibility of the emperor Aurelius himself, following tamely, and as a matter of course, the traces of his predecessors, gratuitously enlisting, against the good as well as the evil of that great pagan world, the strange new heroism of which this singular message was full. The greatness of it certainly lifted away all merely private regret, inclining one, at last, actually to draw sword for the oppressed, as if in some new order of knighthood-- "The pains which our brethren have endured we have no power fully to tell, for the enemy came upon us with his whole strength. But the grace of God fought for us, set free the weak, and made ready those who, like pillars, were able to bear the weight. These, coming now into close strife with the foe, bore every kind of pang and shame. At the time of the fair which is held here with a great crowd, the governor led forth the Martyrs as a show. Holding what was thought great but little, and that the pains of to-day are not deserving to be measured against the glory that shall be made known, these worthy wrestlers went joyfully on their way; their delight and the sweet favour of God mingling in their faces, so that their bonds seemed but a goodly array, or like the golden bracelets of a bride. Filled with the fragrance of Christ, to some they seemed to have been touched with earthly perfumes. [192] "Vettius Epagathus, though he was very young, because he would not endure to see unjust judgment given against us, vented his anger, and sought to be heard for the brethren, for he was a youth of high place. Whereupon the governor asked him whether he also were a Christian. He confessed in a clear voice, and was added to the number of the Martyrs. But he had the Paraclete within him; as, in truth, he showed by the fulness of his love; glorying in the defence of his brethren, and to give his life for theirs. "Then was fulfilled the saying of the Lord that the day should come, When he that slayeth you will think that he doeth God service. Most madly did the mob, the governor and the soldiers, rage against the handmaiden Blandina, in whom Christ showed that what seems mean among men is of price with Him. For whilst we all, and her earthly mistress, who was herself one of the contending Martyrs, were fearful lest through the weakness of the flesh she should be unable to profess the faith, Blandina was filled with such power that her tormentors, following upon each other from morning until night, owned that they were overcome, and had no more that they could do to her; admiring that she still breathed after her whole body was torn asunder. "But this blessed one, in the very midst of her 'witness,' renewed her strength; and to [193] repeat, I am Christ's! was to her rest, refreshment, and relief from pain. As for Alexander, he neither uttered a groan nor any sound at all, but in his heart talked with God. Sanctus, the deacon, also, having borne beyond all measure pains devised by them, hoping that they would get something from him, did not so much as tell his name; but to all questions answered only, I am Christ's! For this he confessed instead of his name, his race, and everything beside. Whence also a strife in torturing him arose between the governor and those tormentors, so that when they had nothing else they could do they set red-hot plates of brass to the most tender parts of his body. But he stood firm in his profession, cooled and fortified by that stream of living water which flows from Christ. His corpse, a single wound, having wholly lost the form of man, was the measure of his pain. But Christ, paining in him, set forth an ensample to the rest--that there is nothing fearful, nothing painful, where the love of the Father overcomes. And as all those cruelties were made null through the patience of the Martyrs, they bethought them of other things; among which was their imprisonment in a dark and most sorrowful place, where many were privily strangled. But destitute of man's aid, they were filled with power from the Lord, both in body and mind, and strengthened their brethren. Also, much joy was in our virgin mother, the [194] Church; for, by means of these, such as were fallen away retraced their steps--were again conceived, were filled again with lively heat, and hastened to make the profession of their faith. "The holy bishop Pothinus, who was now past ninety years old and weak in body, yet in his heat of soul and longing for martyrdom, roused what strength he had, and was also cruelly dragged to judgment, and gave witness. Thereupon he suffered many stripes, all thinking it would be a wickedness if they fell short in cruelty towards him, for that thus their own gods would be avenged. Hardly drawing breath, he was thrown into prison, and after two days there died. "After these things their martyrdom was parted into divers manners. Plaiting as it were one crown of many colours and every sort of flowers, they offered it to God. Maturus, therefore, Sanctus and Blandina, were led to the wild beasts. And Maturus and Sanctus passed through all the pains of the amphitheatre, as if they had suffered nothing before: or rather, as having in many trials overcome, and now contending for the prize itself, were at last dismissed. "But Blandina was bound and hung upon a stake, and set forth as food for the assault of the wild beasts. And as she thus seemed to be hung upon the Cross, by her fiery prayers she imparted much alacrity to those contending Witnesses. For as they looked upon her with the eye of [195] flesh, through her, they saw Him that was crucified. But as none of the beasts would then touch her, she was taken down from the Cross, and sent back to prison for another day: that, though weak and mean, yet clothed with the mighty wrestler, Christ Jesus, she might by many conquests give heart to her brethren. "On the last day, therefore, of the shows, she was brought forth again, together with Ponticus, a lad of about fifteen years old. They were brought in day by day to behold the pains of the rest. And when they wavered not, the mob was full of rage; pitying neither the youth of the lad, nor the sex of the maiden. Hence, they drave them through the whole round of pain. And Ponticus, taking heart from Blandina, having borne well the whole of those torments, gave up his life. Last of all, the blessed Blandina herself, as a mother that had given life to her children, and sent them like conquerors to the great King, hastened to them, with joy at the end, as to a marriage-feast; the enemy himself confessing that no woman had ever borne pain so manifold and great as hers. "Nor even so was their anger appeased; some among them seeking for us pains, if it might be, yet greater; that the saying might be fulfilled, He that is unjust, let him be unjust still. And their rage against the Martyrs took a new form, insomuch that we were in great sorrow for lack of freedom to entrust their bodies to the earth. [196] "Neither did the night-time, nor the offer of money, avail us for this matter; but they set watch with much carefulness, as though it were a great gain to hinder their burial. Therefore, after the bodies had been displayed to view for many days, they were at last burned to ashes, and cast into the river Rhone, which flows by this place, that not a vestige of them might be left upon the earth. For they said, Now shall we see whether they will rise again, and whether their God can save them out of our hands." CHAPTER XXVII: THE TRIUMPH OF MARCUS AURELIUS [197] NOT many months after the date of that epistle, Marius, then expecting to leave Rome for a long time, and in fact about to leave it for ever, stood to witness the triumphal entry of Marcus Aurelius, almost at the exact spot from which he had watched the emperor's solemn return to the capital on his own first coming thither. His triumph was now a "full" one--Justus Triumphus justified, by far more than the due amount of bloodshed in those Northern wars, at length, it might seem, happily at an end. Among the captives, amid the laughter of the crowds at his blowsy upper garment, his trousered legs and conical wolf-skin cap, walked our own ancestor, representative of subject Germany, under a figure very familiar in later Roman sculpture; and, though certainly with none of the grace of the Dying Gaul, yet with plenty of uncouth pathos in his misshapen features, and the pale, servile, yet angry eyes. His children, [198] white-skinned and golden-haired "as angels," trudged beside him. His brothers, of the animal world, the ibex, the wild-cat, and the reindeer, stalking and trumpeting grandly, found their due place in the procession; and among the spoil, set forth on a portable frame that it might be distinctly seen (no mere model, but the very house he had lived in), a wattled cottage, in all the simplicity of its snug contrivances against the cold, and well-calculated to give a moment's delight to his new, sophisticated masters. Andrea Mantegna, working at the end of the fifteenth century, for a society full of antiquarian fervour at the sight of the earthy relics of the old Roman people, day by day returning to light out of the clay--childish still, moreover, and with no more suspicion of pasteboard than the old Romans themselves, in its unabashed love of open-air pageantries, has invested this, the greatest, and alas! the most characteristic, of the splendours of imperial Rome, with a reality livelier than any description. The homely sentiments for which he has found place in his learned paintings are hardly more lifelike than the great public incidents of the show, there depicted. And then, with all that vivid realism, how refined, how dignified, how select in type, is this reflection of the old Roman world!--now especially, in its time-mellowed red and gold, for the modern visitor to the old English palace. [199] It was under no such selected types that the great procession presented itself to Marius; though, in effect, he found something there prophetic, so to speak, and evocative of ghosts, as susceptible minds will do, upon a repetition after long interval of some notable incident, which may yet perhaps have no direct concern for themselves. In truth, he had been so closely bent of late on certain very personal interests that the broad current of the world's doings seemed to have withdrawn into the distance, but now, as he witnessed this procession, to return once more into evidence for him. The world, certainly, had been holding on its old way, and was all its old self, as it thus passed by dramatically, accentuating, in this favourite spectacle, its mode of viewing things. And even apart from the contrast of a very different scene, he would have found it, just now, a somewhat vulgar spectacle. The temples, wide open, with their ropes of roses flapping in the wind against the rich, reflecting marble, their startling draperies and heavy cloud of incense, were but the centres of a great banquet spread through all the gaudily coloured streets of Rome, for which the carnivorous appetite of those who thronged them in the glare of the mid-day sun was frankly enough asserted. At best, they were but calling their gods to share with them the cooked, sacrificial, and other meats, reeking to the sky. The child, who was concerned for the sorrows of one of [200] those Northern captives as he passed by, and explained to his comrade--"There's feeling in that hand, you know!" benumbed and lifeless as it looked in the chain, seemed, in a moment, to transform the entire show into its own proper tinsel. Yes! these Romans were a coarse, a vulgar people; and their vulgarities of soul in full evidence here. And Aurelius himself seemed to have undergone the world's coinage, and fallen to the level of his reward, in a mediocrity no longer golden. Yet if, as he passed by, almost filling the quaint old circular chariot with his magnificent golden-flowered attire, he presented himself to Marius, chiefly as one who had made the great mistake; to the multitude he came as a more than magnanimous conqueror. That he had "forgiven" the innocent wife and children of the dashing and almost successful rebel Avidius Cassius, now no more, was a recent circumstance still in memory. As the children went past--not among those who, ere the emperor ascended the steps of the Capitol, would be detached from the great progress for execution, happy rather, and radiant, as adopted members of the imperial family--the crowd actually enjoyed an exhibition of the moral order, such as might become perhaps the fashion. And it was in consideration of some possible touch of a heroism herein that might really have cost him something, that Marius resolved to seek the emperor once more, [201] with an appeal for common-sense, for reason and justice. He had set out at last to revisit his old home; and knowing that Aurelius was then in retreat at a favourite villa, which lay almost on his way thither, determined there to present himself. Although the great plain was dying steadily, a new race of wild birds establishing itself there, as he knew enough of their habits to understand, and the idle contadino, with his never-ending ditty of decay and death, replacing the lusty Roman labourer, never had that poetic region between Rome and the sea more deeply impressed him than on this sunless day of early autumn, under which all that fell within the immense horizon was presented in one uniform tone of a clear, penitential blue. Stimulating to the fancy as was that range of low hills to the northwards, already troubled with the upbreaking of the Apennines, yet a want of quiet in their outline, the record of wild fracture there, of sudden upheaval and depression, marked them as but the ruins of nature; while at every little descent and ascent of the road might be noted traces of the abandoned work of man. From time to time, the way was still redolent of the floral relics of summer, daphne and myrtle-blossom, sheltered in the little hollows and ravines. At last, amid rocks here and there piercing the soil, as those descents became steeper, and the main line of the Apennines, [202] now visible, gave a higher accent to the scene, he espied over the plateau, almost like one of those broken hills, cutting the horizon towards the sea, the old brown villa itself, rich in memories of one after another of the family of the Antonines. As he approached it, such reminiscences crowded upon him, above all of the life there of the aged Antoninus Pius, in its wonderful mansuetude and calm. Death had overtaken him here at the precise moment when the tribune of the watch had received from his lips the word Aequanimitas! as the watchword of the night. To see their emperor living there like one of his simplest subjects, his hands red at vintage-time with the juice of the grapes, hunting, teaching his children, starting betimes, with all who cared to join him, for long days of antiquarian research in the country around:--this, and the like of this, had seemed to mean the peace of mankind. Upon that had come--like a stain! it seemed to Marius just then--the more intimate life of Faustina, the life of Faustina at home. Surely, that marvellous but malign beauty must still haunt those rooms, like an unquiet, dead goddess, who might have perhaps, after all, something reassuring to tell surviving mortals about her ambiguous self. When, two years since, the news had reached Rome that those eyes, always so persistently turned to vanity, had suddenly closed for ever, a strong desire to pray had come [203] over Marius, as he followed in fancy on its wild way the soul of one he had spoken with now and again, and whose presence in it for a time the world of art could so ill have spared. Certainly, the honours freely accorded to embalm her memory were poetic enough--the rich temple left among those wild villagers at the spot, now it was hoped sacred for ever, where she had breathed her last; the golden image, in her old place at the amphitheatre; the altar at which the newly married might make their sacrifice; above all, the great foundation for orphan girls, to be called after her name. The latter, precisely, was the cause why Marius failed in fact to see Aurelius again, and make the chivalrous effort at enlightenment he had proposed to himself. Entering the villa, he learned from an usher, at the door of the long gallery, famous still for its grand prospect in the memory of many a visitor, and then leading to the imperial apartments, that the emperor was already in audience: Marius must wait his turn--he knew not how long it might be. An odd audience it seemed; for at that moment, through the closed door, came shouts of laughter, the laughter of a great crowd of children--the "Faustinian Children" themselves, as he afterwards learned--happy and at their ease, in the imperial presence. Uncertain, then, of the time for which so pleasant a reception might last, so pleasant that he would hardly have wished to [204] shorten it, Marius finally determined to proceed, as it was necessary that he should accomplish the first stage of his journey on this day. The thing was not to be--Vale! anima infelicissima!--He might at least carry away that sound of the laughing orphan children, as a not unamiable last impression of kings and their houses. The place he was now about to visit, especially as the resting-place of his dead, had never been forgotten. Only, the first eager period of his life in Rome had slipped on rapidly; and, almost on a sudden, that old time had come to seem very long ago. An almost burdensome solemnity had grown about his memory of the place, so that to revisit it seemed a thing that needed preparation: it was what he could not have done hastily. He half feared to lessen, or disturb, its value for himself. And then, as he travelled leisurely towards it, and so far with quite tranquil mind, interested also in many another place by the way, he discovered a shorter road to the end of his journey, and found himself indeed approaching the spot that was to him like no other. Dreaming now only of the dead before him, he journeyed on rapidly through the night; the thought of them increasing on him, in the darkness. It was as if they had been waiting for him there through all those years, and felt his footsteps approaching now, and understood his devotion, quite gratefully, in that lowliness of theirs, in spite of its tardy [205] fulfilment. As morning came, his late tranquillity of mind had given way to a grief which surprised him by its freshness. He was moved more than he could have thought possible by so distant a sorrow. "To-day!"--they seemed to be saying as the hard dawn broke,--"To-day, he will come!" At last, amid all his distractions, they were become the main purpose of what he was then doing. The world around it, when he actually reached the place later in the day, was in a mood very different from his:--so work-a-day, it seemed, on that fine afternoon, and the villages he passed through so silent; the inhabitants being, for the most part, at their labour in the country. Then, at length, above the tiled outbuildings, were the walls of the old villa itself, with the tower for the pigeons; and, not among cypresses, but half-hidden by aged poplar-trees, their leaves like golden fruit, the birds floating around it, the conical roof of the tomb itself. In the presence of an old servant who remembered him, the great seals were broken, the rusty key turned at last in the lock, the door was forced out among the weeds grown thickly about it, and Marius was actually in the place which had been so often in his thoughts. He was struck, not however without a touch of remorse thereupon, chiefly by an odd air of neglect, the neglect of a place allowed to remain as when it was last used, and left in a hurry, till long years had covered all alike with thick dust [206] --the faded flowers, the burnt-out lamps, the tools and hardened mortar of the workmen who had had something to do there. A heavy fragment of woodwork had fallen and chipped open one of the oldest of the mortuary urns, many hundreds in number ranged around the walls. It was not properly an urn, but a minute coffin of stone, and the fracture had revealed a piteous spectacle of the mouldering, unburned remains within; the bones of a child, as he understood, which might have died, in ripe age, three times over, since it slipped away from among his great-grandfathers, so far up in the line. Yet the protruding baby hand seemed to stir up in him feelings vivid enough, bringing him intimately within the scope of dead people's grievances. He noticed, side by side with the urn of his mother, that of a boy of about his own age--one of the serving-boys of the household--who had descended hither, from the lightsome world of childhood, almost at the same time with her. It seemed as if this boy of his own age had taken filial place beside her there, in his stead. That hard feeling, again, which had always lingered in his mind with the thought of the father he had scarcely known, melted wholly away, as he read the precise number of his years, and reflected suddenly--He was of my own present age; no hard old man, but with interests, as he looked round him on the world for the last time, even as mine to-day! [207] And with that came a blinding rush of kindness, as if two alienated friends had come to understand each other at last. There was weakness in all this; as there is in all care for dead persons, to which nevertheless people will always yield in proportion as they really care for one another. With a vain yearning, as he stood there, still to be able to do something for them, he reflected that such doing must be, after all, in the nature of things, mainly for himself. His own epitaph might be that old one eskhatos tou idiou genous+ --He was the last of his race! Of those who might come hither after himself probably no one would ever again come quite as he had done to-day; and it was under the influence of this thought that he determined to bury all that, deep below the surface, to be remembered only by him, and in a way which would claim no sentiment from the indifferent. That took many days--was like a renewal of lengthy old burial rites--as he himself watched the work, early and late; coming on the last day very early, and anticipating, by stealth, the last touches, while the workmen were absent; one young lad only, finally smoothing down the earthy bed, greatly surprised at the seriousness with which Marius flung in his flowers, one by one, to mingle with the dark mould. NOTES 207. +Transliteration: eskhatos tou idiou genous. Translation: "[he was] the last of his race." CHAPTER XXVIII: ANIMA NATURALITER CHRISTIANA [208] THOSE eight days at his old home, so mournfully occupied, had been for Marius in some sort a forcible disruption from the world and the roots of his life in it. He had been carried out of himself as never before; and when the time was over, it was as if the claim over him of the earth below had been vindicated, over against the interests of that living world around. Dead, yet sentient and caressing hands seemed to reach out of the ground and to be clinging about him. Looking back sometimes now, from about the midway of life--the age, as he conceived, at which one begins to redescend one's life--though antedating it a little, in his sad humour, he would note, almost with surprise, the unbroken placidity of the contemplation in which it had been passed. His own temper, his early theoretic scheme of things, would have pushed him on to movement and adventure. Actually, as circumstances had determined, all its movement [209] had been inward; movement of observation only, or even of pure meditation; in part, perhaps, because throughout it had been something of a meditatio mortis, ever facing towards the act of final detachment. Death, however, as he reflected, must be for every one nothing less than the fifth or last act of a drama, and, as such, was likely to have something of the stirring character of a dénouement. And, in fact, it was in form tragic enough that his end not long afterwards came to him. In the midst of the extreme weariness and depression which had followed those last days, Cornelius, then, as it happened, on a journey and travelling near the place, finding traces of him, had become his guest at White-nights. It was just then that Marius felt, as he had never done before, the value to himself, the overpowering charm, of his friendship. "More than brother!"--he felt--like a son also!" contrasting the fatigue of soul which made himself in effect an older man, with the irrepressible youth of his companion. For it was still the marvellous hopefulness of Cornelius, his seeming prerogative over the future, that determined, and kept alive, all other sentiment concerning him. A new hope had sprung up in the world of which he, Cornelius, was a depositary, which he was to bear onward in it. Identifying himself with Cornelius in so dear a friendship, through him, Marius seemed to touch, to ally himself to, [210] actually to become a possessor of the coming world; even as happy parents reach out, and take possession of it, in and through the survival of their children. For in these days their intimacy had grown very close, as they moved hither and thither, leisurely, among the country-places thereabout, Cornelius being on his way back to Rome, till they came one evening to a little town (Marius remembered that he had been there on his first journey to Rome) which had even then its church and legend--the legend and holy relics of the martyr Hyacinthus, a young Roman soldier, whose blood had stained the soil of this place in the reign of the emperor Trajan. The thought of that so recent death, haunted Marius through the night, as if with audible crying and sighs above the restless wind, which came and went around their lodging. But towards dawn he slept heavily; and awaking in broad daylight, and finding Cornelius absent, set forth to seek him. The plague was still in the place--had indeed just broken out afresh; with an outbreak also of cruel superstition among its wild and miserable inhabitants. Surely, the old gods were wroth at the presence of this new enemy among them! And it was no ordinary morning into which Marius stepped forth. There was a menace in the dark masses of hill, and motionless wood, against the gray, although apparently unclouded sky. Under this sunless [211] heaven the earth itself seemed to fret and fume with a heat of its own, in spite of the strong night-wind. And now the wind had fallen. Marius felt that he breathed some strange heavy fluid, denser than any common air. He could have fancied that the world had sunken in the night, far below its proper level, into some close, thick abysm of its own atmosphere. The Christian people of the town, hardly less terrified and overwrought by the haunting sickness about them than their pagan neighbours, were at prayer before the tomb of the martyr; and even as Marius pressed among them to a place beside Cornelius, on a sudden the hills seemed to roll like a sea in motion, around the whole compass of the horizon. For a moment Marius supposed himself attacked with some sudden sickness of brain, till the fall of a great mass of building convinced him that not himself but the earth under his feet was giddy. A few moments later the little marketplace was alive with the rush of the distracted inhabitants from their tottering houses; and as they waited anxiously for the second shock of earthquake, a long-smouldering suspicion leapt precipitately into well-defined purpose, and the whole body of people was carried forward towards the band of worshippers below. An hour later, in the wild tumult which followed, the earth had been stained afresh with the blood of the martyrs Felix and Faustinus--Flores [212] apparuerunt in terra nostra!--and their brethren, together with Cornelius and Marius, thus, as it had happened, taken among them, were prisoners, reserved for the action of the law. Marius and his friend, with certain others, exercising the privilege of their rank, made claim to be tried in Rome, or at least in the chief town of the district; where, indeed, in the troublous days that had now begun, a legal process had been already instituted. Under the care of a military guard the captives were removed on the same day, one stage of their journey; sleeping, for security, during the night, side by side with their keepers, in the rooms of a shepherd's deserted house by the wayside. It was surmised that one of the prisoners was not a Christian: the guards were forward to make the utmost pecuniary profit of this circumstance, and in the night, Marius, taking advantage of the loose charge kept over them, and by means partly of a large bribe, had contrived that Cornelius, as the really innocent person, should be dismissed in safety on his way, to procure, as Marius explained, the proper means of defence for himself, when the time of trial came. And in the morning Cornelius in fact set forth alone, from their miserable place of detention. Marius believed that Cornelius was to be the husband of Cecilia; and that, perhaps strangely, had but added to the desire to get him away safely.--We wait for the great crisis which [213] is to try what is in us: we can hardly bear the pressure of our hearts, as we think of it: the lonely wrestler, or victim, which imagination foreshadows to us, can hardly be one's self; it seems an outrage of our destiny that we should be led along so gently and imperceptibly, to so terrible a leaping-place in the dark, for more perhaps than life or death. At last, the great act, the critical moment itself comes, easily, almost unconsciously. Another motion of the clock, and our fatal line--the "great climacteric point"--has been passed, which changes ourselves or our lives. In one quarter of an hour, under a sudden, uncontrollable impulse, hardly weighing what he did, almost as a matter of course and as lightly as one hires a bed for one's night's rest on a journey, Marius had taken upon himself all the heavy risk of the position in which Cornelius had then been--the long and wearisome delays of judgment, which were possible; the danger and wretchedness of a long journey in this manner; possibly the danger of death. He had delivered his brother, after the manner he had sometimes vaguely anticipated as a kind of distinction in his destiny; though indeed always with wistful calculation as to what it might cost him: and in the first moment after the thing was actually done, he felt only satisfaction at his courage, at the discovery of his possession of "nerve." Yet he was, as we know, no hero, no heroic [214] martyr--had indeed no right to be; and when he had seen Cornelius depart, on his blithe and hopeful way, as he believed, to become the husband of Cecilia; actually, as it had happened, without a word of farewell, supposing Marius was almost immediately afterwards to follow (Marius indeed having avoided the moment of leave-taking with its possible call for an explanation of the circumstances), the reaction came. He could only guess, of course, at what might really happen. So far, he had but taken upon himself, in the stead of Cornelius, a certain amount of personal risk; though he hardly supposed himself to be facing the danger of death. Still, especially for one such as he, with all the sensibilities of which his whole manner of life had been but a promotion, the situation of a person under trial on a criminal charge was actually full of distress. To him, in truth, a death such as the recent death of those saintly brothers, seemed no glorious end. In his case, at least, the Martyrdom, as it was called--the overpowering act of testimony that Heaven had come down among men--would be but a common execution: from the drops of his blood there would spring no miraculous, poetic flowers; no eternal aroma would indicate the place of his burial; no plenary grace, overflowing for ever upon those who might stand around it. Had there been one to listen just then, there would have come, from the very depth of his desolation, [215] an eloquent utterance at last, on the irony of men's fates, on the singular accidents of life and death. The guards, now safely in possession of whatever money and other valuables the prisoners had had on them, pressed them forward, over the rough mountain paths, altogether careless of their sufferings. The great autumn rains were falling. At night the soldiers lighted a fire; but it was impossible to keep warm. From time to time they stopped to roast portions of the meat they carried with them, making their captives sit round the fire, and pressing it upon them. But weariness and depression of spirits had deprived Marius of appetite, even if the food had been more attractive, and for some days he partook of nothing but bad bread and water. All through the dark mornings they dragged over boggy plains, up and down hills, wet through sometimes with the heavy rain. Even in those deplorable circumstances, he could but notice the wild, dark beauty of those regions--the stormy sunrise, and placid spaces of evening. One of the keepers, a very young soldier, won him at times, by his simple kindness, to talk a little, with wonder at the lad's half-conscious, poetic delight in the adventures of the journey. At times, the whole company would lie down for rest at the roadside, hardly sheltered from the storm; and in the deep fatigue of his spirit, his old longing for inopportune sleep overpowered him.--Sleep anywhere, and under any conditions, [216] seemed just then a thing one might well exchange the remnants of one's life for. It must have been about the fifth night, as he afterwards conjectured, that the soldiers, believing him likely to die, had finally left him unable to proceed further, under the care of some country people, who to the extent of their power certainly treated him kindly in his sickness. He awoke to consciousness after a severe attack of fever, lying alone on a rough bed, in a kind of hut. It seemed a remote, mysterious place, as he looked around in the silence; but so fresh--lying, in fact, in a high pasture-land among the mountains--that he felt he should recover, if he might but just lie there in quiet long enough. Even during those nights of delirium he had felt the scent of the new-mown hay pleasantly, with a dim sense for a moment that he was lying safe in his old home. The sunlight lay clear beyond the open door; and the sounds of the cattle reached him softly from the green places around. Recalling confusedly the torturing hurry of his late journeys, he dreaded, as his consciousness of the whole situation returned, the coming of the guards. But the place remained in absolute stillness. He was, in fact, at liberty, but for his own disabled condition. And it was certainly a genuine clinging to life that he felt just then, at the very bottom of his mind. So it had been, obscurely, even through all the wild fancies of his delirium, from the moment which followed [217] his decision against himself, in favour of Cornelius. The occupants of the place were to be heard presently, coming and going about him on their business: and it was as if the approach of death brought out in all their force the merely human sentiments. There is that in death which certainly makes indifferent persons anxious to forget the dead: to put them--those aliens--away out of their thoughts altogether, as soon as may be. Conversely, in the deep isolation of spirit which was now creeping upon Marius, the faces of these people, casually visible, took a strange hold on his affections; the link of general brotherhood, the feeling of human kinship, asserting itself most strongly when it was about to be severed for ever. At nights he would find this face or that impressed deeply on his fancy; and, in a troubled sort of manner, his mind would follow them onwards, on the ways of their simple, humdrum, everyday life, with a peculiar yearning to share it with them, envying the calm, earthy cheerfulness of all their days to be, still under the sun, though so indifferent, of course, to him!--as if these rude people had been suddenly lifted into some height of earthly good-fortune, which must needs isolate them from himself. Tristem neminen fecit+--he repeated to himself; his old prayer shaping itself now almost as his epitaph. Yes! so much the very hardest judge [218] must concede to him. And the sense of satisfaction which that thought left with him disposed him to a conscious effort of recollection, while he lay there, unable now even to raise his head, as he discovered on attempting to reach a pitcher of water which stood near. Revelation, vision, the discovery of a vision, the seeing of a perfect humanity, in a perfect world--through all his alternations of mind, by some dominant instinct, determined by the original necessities of his own nature and character, he had always set that above the having, or even the doing, of anything. For, such vision, if received with due attitude on his part, was, in reality, the being something, and as such was surely a pleasant offering or sacrifice to whatever gods there might be, observant of him. And how goodly had the vision been!--one long unfolding of beauty and energy in things, upon the closing of which he might gratefully utter his "Vixi!"+ Even then, just ere his eyes were to be shut for ever, the things they had seen seemed a veritable possession in hand; the persons, the places, above all, the touching image of Jesus, apprehended dimly through the expressive faces, the crying of the children, in that mysterious drama, with a sudden sense of peace and satisfaction now, which he could not explain to himself. Surely, he had prospered in life! And again, as of old, the sense of gratitude seemed to bring with it the sense also of a living person at his side. [219] For still, in a shadowy world, his deeper wisdom had ever been, with a sense of economy, with a jealous estimate of gain and loss, to use life, not as the means to some problematic end, but, as far as might be, from dying hour to dying hour, an end in itself--a kind of music, all-sufficing to the duly trained ear, even as it died out on the air. Yet now, aware still in that suffering body of such vivid powers of mind and sense, as he anticipated from time to time how his sickness, practically without aid as he must be in this rude place, was likely to end, and that the moment of taking final account was drawing very near, a consciousness of waste would come, with half-angry tears of self-pity, in his great weakness--a blind, outraged, angry feeling of wasted power, such as he might have experienced himself standing by the deathbed of another, in condition like his own. And yet it was the fact, again, that the vision of men and things, actually revealed to him on his way through the world, had developed, with a wonderful largeness, the faculties to which it addressed itself, his general capacity of vision; and in that too was a success, in the view of certain, very definite, well-considered, undeniable possibilities. Throughout that elaborate and lifelong education of his receptive powers, he had ever kept in view the purpose of preparing himself towards possible further revelation some day--towards some ampler vision, which [220] should take up into itself and explain this world's delightful shows, as the scattered fragments of a poetry, till then but half-understood, might be taken up into the text of a lost epic, recovered at last. At this moment, his unclouded receptivity of soul, grown so steadily through all those years, from experience to experience, was at its height; the house ready for the possible guest; the tablet of the mind white and smooth, for whatsoever divine fingers might choose to write there. And was not this precisely the condition, the attitude of mind, to which something higher than he, yet akin to him, would be likely to reveal itself; to which that influence he had felt now and again like a friendly hand upon his shoulder, amid the actual obscurities of the world, would be likely to make a further explanation? Surely, the aim of a true philosophy must lie, not in futile efforts towards the complete accommodation of man to the circumstances in which he chances to find himself, but in the maintenance of a kind of candid discontent, in the face of the very highest achievement; the unclouded and receptive soul quitting the world finally, with the same fresh wonder with which it had entered the world still unimpaired, and going on its blind way at last with the consciousness of some profound enigma in things, as but a pledge of something further to come. Marius seemed to understand how one might look back upon life here, and its [221] excellent visions, as but the portion of a race-course left behind him by a runner still swift of foot: for a moment he experienced a singular curiosity, almost an ardent desire to enter upon a future, the possibilities of which seemed so large. And just then, again amid the memory of certain touching actual words and images, came the thought of the great hope, that hope against hope, which, as he conceived, had arisen--Lux sedentibus in tenebris+--upon the aged world; the hope Cornelius had seemed to bear away upon him in his strength, with a buoyancy which had caused Marius to feel, not so much that by a caprice of destiny, he had been left to die in his place, as that Cornelius was gone on a mission to deliver him also from death. There had been a permanent protest established in the world, a plea, a perpetual after-thought, which humanity henceforth would ever possess in reserve, against any wholly mechanical and disheartening theory of itself and its conditions. That was a thought which relieved for him the iron outline of the horizon about him, touching it as if with soft light from beyond; filling the shadowy, hollow places to which he was on his way with the warmth of definite affections; confirming also certain considerations by which he seemed to link himself to the generations to come in the world he was leaving. Yes! through the survival of their children, happy parents are able to [222] think calmly, and with a very practical affection, of a world in which they are to have no direct share; planting with a cheerful good-humour, the acorns they carry about with them, that their grand-children may be shaded from the sun by the broad oak-trees of the future. That is nature's way of easing death to us. It was thus too, surprised, delighted, that Marius, under the power of that new hope among men, could think of the generations to come after him. Without it, dim in truth as it was, he could hardly have dared to ponder the world which limited all he really knew, as it would be when he should have departed from it. A strange lonesomeness, like physical darkness, seemed to settle upon the thought of it; as if its business hereafter must be, as far as he was concerned, carried on in some inhabited, but distant and alien, star. Contrariwise, with the sense of that hope warm about him, he seemed to anticipate some kindly care for himself; never to fail even on earth, a care for his very body-that dear sister and companion of his soul, outworn, suffering, and in the very article of death, as it was now. For the weariness came back tenfold; and he had finally to abstain from thoughts like these, as from what caused physical pain. And then, as before in the wretched, sleepless nights of those forced marches, he would try to fix his mind, as it were impassively, and like a child thinking over the toys it loves, one after another, that it [223] may fall asleep thus, and forget all about them the sooner, on all the persons he had loved in life--on his love for them, dead or living, grateful for his love or not, rather than on theirs for him--letting their images pass away again, or rest with him, as they would. In the bare sense of having loved he seemed to find, even amid this foundering of the ship, that on which his soul might "assuredly rest and depend." One after another, he suffered those faces and voices to come and go, as in some mechanical exercise, as he might have repeated all the verses he knew by heart, or like the telling of beads one by one, with many a sleepy nod between-whiles. For there remained also, for the old earthy creature still within him, that great blessedness of physical slumber. To sleep, to lose one's self in sleep--that, as he had always recognised, was a good thing. And it was after a space of deep sleep that he awoke amid the murmuring voices of the people who had kept and tended him so carefully through his sickness, now kneeling around his bed: and what he heard confirmed, in the then perfect clearness of his soul, the inevitable suggestion of his own bodily feelings. He had often dreamt he was condemned to die, that the hour, with wild thoughts of escape, was arrived; and waking, with the sun all around him, in complete liberty of life, had been full of gratitude for his place there, alive still, in the [224] land of the living. He read surely, now, in the manner, the doings, of these people, some of whom were passing out through the doorway, where the heavy sunlight in very deed lay, that his last morning was come, and turned to think once more of the beloved. Often had he fancied of old that not to die on a dark or rainy day might itself have a little alleviating grace or favour about it. The people around his bed were praying fervently--Abi! Abi! Anima Christiana!+ In the moments of his extreme helplessness their mystic bread had been placed, had descended like a snow-flake from the sky, between his lips. Gentle fingers had applied to hands and feet, to all those old passage-ways of the senses, through which the world had come and gone for him, now so dim and obstructed, a medicinable oil. It was the same people who, in the gray, austere evening of that day, took up his remains, and buried them secretly, with their accustomed prayers; but with joy also, holding his death, according to their generous view in this matter, to have been of the nature of martyrdom; and martyrdom, as the church had always said, a kind of sacrament with plenary grace. 1881-1884. THE END NOTES 217. +"He made no one unhappy." 218. +"I have lived!" 221. +From the Latin Vulgate Bible, Matthew 4:16: "populus qui sedebat in tenebris lucem vidit magnam et sedentibus in regione et umbra mortis lux orta est eis." King James Bible translation: "The people which sat in darkness saw great light; and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light is sprung up." 224. "Depart! Depart! Christian Soul!" The thought is from the Catholic prayer for the departing. 
4057	----	MARIUS THE EPICUREAN, VOLUME ONE WALTER HORATIO PATER London: 1910. (The Library Edition.) NOTES BY THE E-TEXT EDITOR: Notes: The 1910 Library Edition employs footnotes, a style inconvenient in an electronic edition. I have therefore placed an asterisk immediately after each of Pater's footnotes and a + sign after my own notes, and have listed each chapter's notes at that chapter's end. Pagination and Paragraphing: To avoid an unwieldy electronic copy, I have transferred original pagination to brackets. A bracketed numeral such as [22] indicates that the material immediately following the number marks the beginning of the relevant page. I have preserved paragraph structure except for first-line indentation. Hyphenation: I have not preserved original hyphenation since an e-text does not require line-end or page-end hyphenation. Greek typeface: For this full-text edition, I have transliterated Pater's Greek quotations. If there is a need for the original Greek, it can be viewed at my site, http://www.ajdrake.com/etexts, a Victorianist archive that contains the complete works of Walter Pater and many other nineteenth-century texts, mostly in first editions. MARIUS THE EPICUREAN, VOLUME ONE WALTER PATER Cheimerinos oneiros, hote mêkistai hai vyktes.+ +"A winter's dream, when nights are longest." Lucian, The Dream, Vol. 3. CONTENTS PART THE FIRST 1. "The Religion of Numa": 3-12 2. White-Nights: 13-26 3. Change of Air: 27-42 4. The Tree of Knowledge: 43-54 5. The Golden Book: 55-91 6. Euphuism: 92-110 7. A Pagan End: 111-120 PART THE SECOND 8. Animula Vagula: 123-143 9. New Cyrenaicism: 144-157 10. On the Way: 158-171 11. "The Most Religious City in the World": 172-187 12. "The Divinity that Doth Hedge a King": 188-211 13. The "Mistress and Mother" of Palaces: 212-229 14. Manly Amusement: 230-243 MARIUS THE EPICUREAN, VOLUME ONE PART THE FIRST CHAPTER I: "THE RELIGION OF NUMA" [3] As, in the triumph of Christianity, the old religion lingered latest in the country, and died out at last as but paganism--the religion of the villagers, before the advance of the Christian Church; so, in an earlier century, it was in places remote from town-life that the older and purer forms of paganism itself had survived the longest. While, in Rome, new religions had arisen with bewildering complexity around the dying old one, the earlier and simpler patriarchal religion, "the religion of Numa," as people loved to fancy, lingered on with little change amid the pastoral life, out of the habits and sentiment of which so much of it had grown. Glimpses of such a survival we may catch below the merely artificial attitudes of Latin pastoral poetry; in Tibullus especially, who has preserved for us many poetic details of old Roman religious usage. At mihi contingat patrios celebrare Penates, Reddereque antiquo menstrua thura Lari: [4] --he prays, with unaffected seriousness. Something liturgical, with repetitions of a consecrated form of words, is traceable in one of his elegies, as part of the order of a birthday sacrifice. The hearth, from a spark of which, as one form of old legend related, the child Romulus had been miraculously born, was still indeed an altar; and the worthiest sacrifice to the gods the perfect physical sanity of the young men and women, which the scrupulous ways of that religion of the hearth had tended to maintain. A religion of usages and sentiment rather than of facts and belief, and attached to very definite things and places--the oak of immemorial age, the rock on the heath fashioned by weather as if by some dim human art, the shadowy grove of ilex, passing into which one exclaimed involuntarily, in consecrated phrase, Deity is in this Place! Numen Inest!--it was in natural harmony with the temper of a quiet people amid the spectacle of rural life, like that simpler faith between man and man, which Tibullus expressly connects with the period when, with an inexpensive worship, the old wooden gods had been still pressed for room in their homely little shrines. And about the time when the dying Antoninus Pius ordered his golden image of Fortune to be carried into the chamber of his successor (now about to test the truth of the old Platonic contention, that the world would at last find itself [5] happy, could it detach some reluctant philosophic student from the more desirable life of celestial contemplation, and compel him to rule it), there was a boy living in an old country-house, half farm, half villa, who, for himself, recruited that body of antique traditions by a spontaneous force of religious veneration such as had originally called them into being. More than a century and a half had past since Tibullus had written; but the restoration of religious usages, and their retention where they still survived, was meantime come to be the fashion through the influence of imperial example; and what had been in the main a matter of family pride with his father, was sustained by a native instinct of devotion in the young Marius. A sense of conscious powers external to ourselves, pleased or displeased by the right or wrong conduct of every circumstance of daily life--that conscience, of which the old Roman religion was a formal, habitual recognition, was become in him a powerful current of feeling and observance. The old-fashioned, partly puritanic awe, the power of which Wordsworth noted and valued so highly in a northern peasantry, had its counterpart in the feeling of the Roman lad, as he passed the spot, "touched of heaven," where the lightning had struck dead an aged labourer in the field: an upright stone, still with mouldering garlands about it, marked the place. He brought to that system of symbolic [6] usages, and they in turn developed in him further, a great seriousness--an impressibility to the sacredness of time, of life and its events, and the circumstances of family fellowship; of such gifts to men as fire, water, the earth, from labour on which they live, really understood by him as gifts--a sense of religious responsibility in the reception of them. It was a religion for the most part of fear, of multitudinous scruples, of a year-long burden of forms; yet rarely (on clear summer mornings, for instance) the thought of those heavenly powers afforded a welcome channel for the almost stifling sense of health and delight in him, and relieved it as gratitude to the gods. The day of the "little" or private Ambarvalia was come, to be celebrated by a single family for the welfare of all belonging to it, as the great college of the Arval Brothers officiated at Rome in the interest of the whole state. At the appointed time all work ceases; the instruments of labour lie untouched, hung with wreaths of flowers, while masters and servants together go in solemn procession along the dry paths of vineyard and cornfield, conducting the victims whose blood is presently to be shed for the purification from all natural or supernatural taint of the lands they have "gone about." The old Latin words of the liturgy, to be said as the procession moved on its way, though their precise meaning was long [7] since become unintelligible, were recited from an ancient illuminated roll, kept in the painted chest in the hall, together with the family records. Early on that day the girls of the farm had been busy in the great portico, filling large baskets with flowers plucked short from branches of apple and cherry, then in spacious bloom, to strew before the quaint images of the gods--Ceres and Bacchus and the yet more mysterious Dea Dia--as they passed through the fields, carried in their little houses on the shoulders of white-clad youths, who were understood to proceed to this office in perfect temperance, as pure in soul and body as the air they breathed in the firm weather of that early summer-time. The clean lustral water and the full incense-box were carried after them. The altars were gay with garlands of wool and the more sumptuous sort of blossom and green herbs to be thrown into the sacrificial fire, fresh-gathered this morning from a particular plot in the old garden, set apart for the purpose. Just then the young leaves were almost as fragrant as flowers, and the scent of the bean-fields mingled pleasantly with the cloud of incense. But for the monotonous intonation of the liturgy by the priests, clad in their strange, stiff, antique vestments, and bearing ears of green corn upon their heads, secured by flowing bands of white, the procession moved in absolute stillness, all persons, even the children, abstaining from [8] speech after the utterance of the pontifical formula, Favete linguis!--Silence! Propitious Silence!--lest any words save those proper to the occasion should hinder the religious efficacy of the rite. With the lad Marius, who, as the head of his house, took a leading part in the ceremonies of the day, there was a devout effort to complete this impressive outward silence by that inward tacitness of mind, esteemed so important by religious Romans in the performance of these sacred functions. To him the sustained stillness without seemed really but to be waiting upon that interior, mental condition of preparation or expectancy, for which he was just then intently striving. The persons about him, certainly, had never been challenged by those prayers and ceremonies to any ponderings on the divine nature: they conceived them rather to be the appointed means of setting such troublesome movements at rest. By them, "the religion of Numa," so staid, ideal and comely, the object of so much jealous conservatism, though of direct service as lending sanction to a sort of high scrupulosity, especially in the chief points of domestic conduct, was mainly prized as being, through its hereditary character, something like a personal distinction--as contributing, among the other accessories of an ancient house, to the production of that aristocratic atmosphere which separated them from newly-made people. But [9] in the young Marius, the very absence from those venerable usages of all definite history and dogmatic interpretation, had already awakened much speculative activity; and to-day, starting from the actual details of the divine service, some very lively surmises, though scarcely distinct enough to be thoughts, were moving backwards and forwards in his mind, as the stirring wind had done all day among the trees, and were like the passing of some mysterious influence over all the elements of his nature and experience. One thing only distracted him--a certain pity at the bottom of his heart, and almost on his lips, for the sacrificial victims and their looks of terror, rising almost to disgust at the central act of the sacrifice itself, a piece of everyday butcher's work, such as we decorously hide out of sight; though some then present certainly displayed a frank curiosity in the spectacle thus permitted them on a religious pretext. The old sculptors of the great procession on the frieze of the Parthenon at Athens, have delineated the placid heads of the victims led in it to sacrifice, with a perfect feeling for animals in forcible contrast with any indifference as to their sufferings. It was this contrast that distracted Marius now in the blessing of his fields, and qualified his devout absorption upon the scrupulous fulfilment of all the details of the ceremonial, as the procession approached the altars. [10] The names of that great populace of "little gods," dear to the Roman home, which the pontiffs had placed on the sacred list of the Indigitamenta, to be invoked, because they can help, on special occasions, were not forgotten in the long litany--Vatican who causes the infant to utter his first cry, Fabulinus who prompts his first word, Cuba who keeps him quiet in his cot, Domiduca especially, for whom Marius had through life a particular memory and devotion, the goddess who watches over one's safe coming home. The urns of the dead in the family chapel received their due service. They also were now become something divine, a goodly company of friendly and protecting spirits, encamped about the place of their former abode--above all others, the father, dead ten years before, of whom, remembering but a tall, grave figure above him in early childhood, Marius habitually thought as a genius a little cold and severe. Candidus insuetum miratur limen Olympi, Sub pedibusque videt nubes et sidera.-- Perhaps!--but certainly needs his altar here below, and garlands to-day upon his urn. But the dead genii were satisfied with little--a few violets, a cake dipped in wine, or a morsel of honeycomb. Daily, from the time when his childish footsteps were still uncertain, had Marius taken them their portion of the family meal, at the second course, amidst the silence [11] of the company. They loved those who brought them their sustenance; but, deprived of these services, would be heard wandering through the house, crying sorrowfully in the stillness of the night. And those simple gifts, like other objects as trivial--bread, oil, wine, milk--had regained for him, by their use in such religious service, that poetic and as it were moral significance, which surely belongs to all the means of daily life, could we but break through the veil of our familiarity with things by no means vulgar in themselves. A hymn followed, while the whole assembly stood with veiled faces. The fire rose up readily from the altars, in clean, bright flame--a favourable omen, making it a duty to render the mirth of the evening complete. Old wine was poured out freely for the servants at supper in the great kitchen, where they had worked in the imperfect light through the long evenings of winter. The young Marius himself took but a very sober part in the noisy feasting. A devout, regretful after-taste of what had been really beautiful in the ritual he had accomplished took him early away, that he might the better recall in reverie all the circumstances of the celebration of the day. As he sank into a sleep, pleasant with all the influences of long hours in the open air, he seemed still to be moving in procession through the fields, with a kind of pleasurable awe. That feeling was still upon him as he [12] awoke amid the beating of violent rain on the shutters, in the first storm of the season. The thunder which startled him from sleep seemed to make the solitude of his chamber almost painfully complete, as if the nearness of those angry clouds shut him up in a close place alone in the world. Then he thought of the sort of protection which that day's ceremonies assured. To procure an agreement with the gods--Pacem deorum exposcere: that was the meaning of what they had all day been busy upon. In a faith, sincere but half-suspicious, he would fain have those Powers at least not against him. His own nearer household gods were all around his bed. The spell of his religion as a part of the very essence of home, its intimacy, its dignity and security, was forcible at that moment; only, it seemed to involve certain heavy demands upon him. CHAPTER II: WHITE-NIGHTS [13] To an instinctive seriousness, the material abode in which the childhood of Marius was passed had largely added. Nothing, you felt, as you first caught sight of that coy, retired place,--surely nothing could happen there, without its full accompaniment of thought or reverie. White-nights! so you might interpret its old Latin name.* "The red rose came first," says a quaint German mystic, speaking of "the mystery of so-called white things," as being "ever an after-thought--the doubles, or seconds, of real things, and themselves but half-real, half-material--the white queen, the white witch, the white mass, which, as the black mass is a travesty of the true mass turned to evil by horrible old witches, is celebrated by young candidates for the priesthood with an unconsecrated host, by way of rehearsal." So, white-nights, I suppose, after something like the same analogy, should be [14] nights not of quite blank forgetfulness, but passed in continuous dreaming, only half veiled by sleep. Certainly the place was, in such case, true to its fanciful name in this, that you might very well conceive, in face of it, that dreaming even in the daytime might come to much there. The young Marius represented an ancient family whose estate had come down to him much curtailed through the extravagance of a certain Marcellus two generations before, a favourite in his day of the fashionable world at Rome, where he had at least spent his substance with a correctness of taste Marius might seem to have inherited from him; as he was believed also to resemble him in a singularly pleasant smile, consistent however, in the younger face, with some degree of sombre expression when the mind within was but slightly moved. As the means of life decreased, the farm had crept nearer and nearer to the dwelling-house, about which there was therefore a trace of workday negligence or homeliness, not without its picturesque charm for some, for the young master himself among them. The more observant passer-by would note, curious as to the inmates, a certain amount of dainty care amid that neglect, as if it came in part, perhaps, from a reluctance to disturb old associations. It was significant of the national character, that a sort of elegant gentleman farming, as we say, had been much affected by some of the most cultivated [15] Romans. But it became something more than an elegant diversion, something of a serious business, with the household of Marius; and his actual interest in the cultivation of the earth and the care of flocks had brought him, at least, intimately near to those elementary conditions of life, a reverence for which, the great Roman poet, as he has shown by his own half-mystic pre-occupation with them, held to be the ground of primitive Roman religion, as of primitive morals. But then, farm-life in Italy, including the culture of the olive and the vine, has a grace of its own, and might well contribute to the production of an ideal dignity of character, like that of nature itself in this gifted region. Vulgarity seemed impossible. The place, though impoverished, was still deservedly dear, full of venerable memories, and with a living sweetness of its own for to-day. To hold by such ceremonial traditions had been a part of the struggling family pride of the lad's father, to which the example of the head of the state, old Antoninus Pius--an example to be still further enforced by his successor--had given a fresh though perhaps somewhat artificial popularity. It had been consistent with many another homely and old-fashioned trait in him, not to undervalue the charm of exclusiveness and immemorial authority, which membership in a local priestly college, hereditary in his house, conferred upon him. To set a real value on [16] these things was but one element in that pious concern for his home and all that belonged to it, which, as Marius afterwards discovered, had been a strong motive with his father. The ancient hymn--Fana Novella!--was still sung by his people, as the new moon grew bright in the west, and even their wild custom of leaping through heaps of blazing straw on a certain night in summer was not discouraged. The privilege of augury itself, according to tradition, had at one time belonged to his race; and if you can imagine how, once in a way, an impressible boy might have an inkling, an inward mystic intimation, of the meaning and consequences of all that, what was implied in it becoming explicit for him, you conceive aright the mind of Marius, in whose house the auspices were still carefully consulted before every undertaking of moment. The devotion of the father then had handed on loyally--and that is all many not unimportant persons ever find to do--a certain tradition of life, which came to mean much for the young Marius. The feeling with which he thought of his dead father was almost exclusively that of awe; though crossed at times by a not unpleasant sense of liberty, as he could but confess to himself, pondering, in the actual absence of so weighty and continual a restraint, upon the arbitrary power which Roman religion and Roman law gave to the parent over the son. [17] On the part of his mother, on the other hand, entertaining the husband's memory, there was a sustained freshness of regret, together with the recognition, as Marius fancied, of some costly self-sacrifice to be credited to the dead. The life of the widow, languid and shadowy enough but for the poignancy of that regret, was like one long service to the departed soul; its many annual observances centering about the funeral urn--a tiny, delicately carved marble house, still white and fair, in the family-chapel, wreathed always with the richest flowers from the garden. To the dead, in fact, was conceded in such places a somewhat closer neighbourhood to the old homes they were thought still to protect, than is usual with us, or was usual in Rome itself--a closeness which the living welcomed, so diverse are the ways of our human sentiment, and in which the more wealthy, at least in the country, might indulge themselves. All this Marius followed with a devout interest, sincerely touched and awed by his mother's sorrow. After the deification of the emperors, we are told, it was considered impious so much as to use any coarse expression in the presence of their images. To Marius the whole of life seemed full of sacred presences, demanding of him a similar collectedness. The severe and archaic religion of the villa, as he conceived it, begot in him a sort of devout circumspection lest he should fall short at any point of the demand upon him of anything [18] in which deity was concerned. He must satisfy with a kind of sacred equity, he must be very cautious lest he be found wanting to, the claims of others, in their joys and calamities--the happiness which deity sanctioned, or the blows in which it made itself felt. And from habit, this feeling of a responsibility towards the world of men and things, towards a claim for due sentiment concerning them on his side, came to be a part of his nature not to be put off. It kept him serious and dignified amid the Epicurean speculations which in after years much engrossed him, and when he had learned to think of all religions as indifferent, serious amid many fopperies and through many languid days, and made him anticipate all his life long as a thing towards which he must carefully train himself, some great occasion of self-devotion, such as really came, that should consecrate his life, and, it might be, its memory with others, as the early Christian looked forward to martyrdom at the end of his course, as a seal of worth upon it. The traveller, descending from the slopes of Luna, even as he got his first view of the Port-of-Venus, would pause by the way, to read the face, as it were, of so beautiful a dwelling-place, lying away from the white road, at the point where it began to decline somewhat steeply to the marsh-land below. The building of pale red and yellow marble, mellowed by age, which he saw beyond the gates, was indeed but the exquisite [19] fragment of a once large and sumptuous villa. Two centuries of the play of the sea-wind were in the velvet of the mosses which lay along its inaccessible ledges and angles. Here and there the marble plates had slipped from their places, where the delicate weeds had forced their way. The graceful wildness which prevailed in garden and farm gave place to a singular nicety about the actual habitation, and a still more scrupulous sweetness and order reigned within. The old Roman architects seem to have well understood the decorative value of the floor--the real economy there was, in the production of rich interior effect, of a somewhat lavish expenditure upon the surface they trod on. The pavement of the hall had lost something of its evenness; but, though a little rough to the foot, polished and cared for like a piece of silver, looked, as mosaic-work is apt to do, its best in old age. Most noticeable among the ancestral masks, each in its little cedarn chest below the cornice, was that of the wasteful but elegant Marcellus, with the quaint resemblance in its yellow waxen features to Marius, just then so full of animation and country colour. A chamber, curved ingeniously into oval form, which he had added to the mansion, still contained his collection of works of art; above all, that head of Medusa, for which the villa was famous. The spoilers of one of the old Greek towns on the coast had flung away or lost the [20] thing, as it seemed, in some rapid flight across the river below, from the sands of which it was drawn up in a fisherman's net, with the fine golden laminae still clinging here and there to the bronze. It was Marcellus also who had contrived the prospect-tower of two storeys with the white pigeon-house above, so characteristic of the place. The little glazed windows in the uppermost chamber framed each its dainty landscape--the pallid crags of Carrara, like wildly twisted snow-drifts above the purple heath; the distant harbour with its freight of white marble going to sea; the lighthouse temple of Venus Speciosa on its dark headland, amid the long-drawn curves of white breakers. Even on summer nights the air there had always a motion in it, and drove the scent of the new-mown hay along all the passages of the house. Something pensive, spell-bound, and but half real, something cloistral or monastic, as we should say, united to this exquisite order, made the whole place seem to Marius, as it were, sacellum, the peculiar sanctuary, of his mother, who, still in real widowhood, provided the deceased Marius the elder with that secondary sort of life which we can give to the dead, in our intensely realised memory of them--the "subjective immortality," to use a modern phrase, for which many a Roman epitaph cries out plaintively to widow or sister or daughter, still in the land of the living. Certainly, if any [21] such considerations regarding them do reach the shadowy people, he enjoyed that secondary existence, that warm place still left, in thought at least, beside the living, the desire for which is actually, in various forms, so great a motive with most of us. And Marius the younger, even thus early, came to think of women's tears, of women's hands to lay one to rest, in death as in the sleep of childhood, as a sort of natural want. The soft lines of the white hands and face, set among the many folds of the veil and stole of the Roman widow, busy upon her needlework, or with music sometimes, defined themselves for him as the typical expression of maternity. Helping her with her white and purple wools, and caring for her musical instruments, he won, as if from the handling of such things, an urbane and feminine refinement, qualifying duly his country-grown habits--the sense of a certain delicate blandness, which he relished, above all, on returning to the "chapel" of his mother, after long days of open-air exercise, in winter or stormy summer. For poetic souls in old Italy felt, hardly less strongly than the English, the pleasures of winter, of the hearth, with the very dead warm in its generous heat, keeping the young myrtles in flower, though the hail is beating hard without. One important principle, of fruit afterwards in his Roman life, that relish for the country fixed deeply in him; in the winters especially, when the sufferings of [22] the animal world became so palpable even to the least observant. It fixed in him a sympathy for all creatures, for the almost human troubles and sicknesses of the flocks, for instance. It was a feeling which had in it something of religious veneration for life as such--for that mysterious essence which man is powerless to create in even the feeblest degree. One by one, at the desire of his mother, the lad broke down his cherished traps and springes for the hungry wild birds on the salt marsh. A white bird, she told him once, looking at him gravely, a bird which he must carry in his bosom across a crowded public place--his own soul was like that! Would it reach the hands of his good genius on the opposite side, unruffled and unsoiled? And as his mother became to him the very type of maternity in things, its unfailing pity and protectiveness, and maternity itself the central type of all love;--so, that beautiful dwelling-place lent the reality of concrete outline to a peculiar ideal of home, which throughout the rest of his life he seemed, amid many distractions of spirit, to be ever seeking to regain. And a certain vague fear of evil, constitutional in him, enhanced still further this sentiment of home as a place of tried security. His religion, that old Italian religion, in contrast with the really light-hearted religion of Greece, had its deep undercurrent of gloom, its sad, haunting imageries, not exclusively confined to the walls [23] of Etruscan tombs. The function of the conscience, not always as the prompter of gratitude for benefits received, but oftenest as his accuser before those angry heavenly masters, had a large part in it; and the sense of some unexplored evil, ever dogging his footsteps, made him oddly suspicious of particular places and persons. Though his liking for animals was so strong, yet one fierce day in early summer, as he walked along a narrow road, he had seen the snakes breeding, and ever afterwards avoided that place and its ugly associations, for there was something in the incident which made food distasteful and his sleep uneasy for many days afterwards. The memory of it however had almost passed away, when at the corner of a street in Pisa, he came upon an African showman exhibiting a great serpent: once more, as the reptile writhed, the former painful impression revived: it was like a peep into the lower side of the real world, and again for many days took all sweetness from food and sleep. He wondered at himself indeed, trying to puzzle out the secret of that repugnance, having no particular dread of a snake's bite, like one of his companions, who had put his hand into the mouth of an old garden-god and roused there a sluggish viper. A kind of pity even mingled with his aversion, and he could hardly have killed or injured the animals, which seemed already to suffer by the very circumstance of their life, being what they [24] were. It was something like a fear of the supernatural, or perhaps rather a moral feeling, for the face of a great serpent, with no grace of fur or feathers, so different from quadruped or bird, has a sort of humanity of aspect in its spotted and clouded nakedness. There was a humanity, dusty and sordid and as if far gone in corruption, in the sluggish coil, as it awoke suddenly into one metallic spring of pure enmity against him. Long afterwards, when it happened that at Rome he saw, a second time, a showman with his serpents, he remembered the night which had then followed, thinking, in Saint Augustine's vein, on the real greatness of those little troubles of children, of which older people make light; but with a sudden gratitude also, as he reflected how richly possessed his life had actually been by beautiful aspects and imageries, seeing how greatly what was repugnant to the eye disturbed his peace. Thus the boyhood of Marius passed; on the whole, more given to contemplation than to action. Less prosperous in fortune than at an earlier day there had been reason to expect, and animating his solitude, as he read eagerly and intelligently, with the traditions of the past, already he lived much in the realm of the imagination, and became betimes, as he was to continue all through life, something of an idealist, constructing the world for himself in great measure from within, by the exercise [25] of meditative power. A vein of subjective philosophy, with the individual for its standard of all things, there would be always in his intellectual scheme of the world and of conduct, with a certain incapacity wholly to accept other men's valuations. And the generation of this peculiar element in his temper he could trace up to the days when his life had been so like the reading of a romance to him. Had the Romans a word for unworldly? The beautiful word umbratilis perhaps comes nearest to it; and, with that precise sense, might describe the spirit in which he prepared himself for the sacerdotal function hereditary in his family--the sort of mystic enjoyment he had in the abstinence, the strenuous self-control and ascêsis, which such preparation involved. Like the young Ion in the beautiful opening of the play of Euripides, who every morning sweeps the temple floor with such a fund of cheerfulness in his service, he was apt to be happy in sacred places, with a susceptibility to their peculiar influences which he never outgrew; so that often in after-times, quite unexpectedly, this feeling would revive in him with undiminished freshness. That first, early, boyish ideal of priesthood, the sense of dedication, survived through all the distractions of the world, and when all thought of such vocation had finally passed from him, as a ministry, in spirit at least, towards a sort of hieratic beauty and order in the conduct of life. [26] And now what relieved in part this over-tension of soul was the lad's pleasure in the country and the open air; above all, the ramble to the coast, over the marsh with its dwarf roses and wild lavender, and delightful signs, one after another--the abandoned boat, the ruined flood-gates, the flock of wild birds--that one was approaching the sea; the long summer-day of idleness among its vague scents and sounds. And it was characteristic of him that he relished especially the grave, subdued, northern notes in all that--the charm of the French or English notes, as we might term them--in the luxuriant Italian landscape. NOTES 13. *Ad Vigilias Albas. CHAPTER III: CHANGE OF AIR Dilexi decorem domus tuae. [27] THAT almost morbid religious idealism, and his healthful love of the country, were both alike developed by the circumstances of a journey, which happened about this time, when Marius was taken to a certain temple of Aesculapius, among the hills of Etruria, as was then usual in such cases, for the cure of some boyish sickness. The religion of Aesculapius, though borrowed from Greece, had been naturalised in Rome in the old republican times; but had reached under the Antonines the height of its popularity throughout the Roman world. That was an age of valetudinarians, in many instances of imaginary ones; but below its various crazes concerning health and disease, largely multiplied a few years after the time of which I am speaking by the miseries of a great pestilence, lay a valuable, because partly practicable, belief that all the maladies of the soul might be reached through the subtle gateways of the body. [28] Salus, salvation, for the Romans, had come to mean bodily sanity. The religion of the god of bodily health, Salvator, as they called him absolutely, had a chance just then of becoming the one religion; that mild and philanthropic son of Apollo surviving, or absorbing, all other pagan godhead. The apparatus of the medical art, the salutary mineral or herb, diet or abstinence, and all the varieties of the bath, came to have a kind of sacramental character, so deep was the feeling, in more serious minds, of a moral or spiritual profit in physical health, beyond the obvious bodily advantages one had of it; the body becoming truly, in that case, but a quiet handmaid of the soul. The priesthood or "family" of Aesculapius, a vast college, believed to be in possession of certain precious medical secrets, came nearest perhaps, of all the institutions of the pagan world, to the Christian priesthood; the temples of the god, rich in some instances with the accumulated thank-offerings of centuries of a tasteful devotion, being really also a kind of hospitals for the sick, administered in a full conviction of the religiousness, the refined and sacred happiness, of a life spent in the relieving of pain. Elements of a really experimental and progressive knowledge there were doubtless amid this devout enthusiasm, bent so faithfully on the reception of health as a direct gift from God; but for the most part his care was held to take [29] effect through a machinery easily capable of misuse for purposes of religious fraud. Through dreams, above all, inspired by Aesculapius himself, information as to the cause and cure of a malady was supposed to come to the sufferer, in a belief based on the truth that dreams do sometimes, for those who watch them carefully, give many hints concerning the conditions of the body--those latent weak points at which disease or death may most easily break into it. In the time of Marcus Aurelius these medical dreams had become more than ever a fashionable caprice. Aristeides, the "Orator," a man of undoubted intellectual power, has devoted six discourses to their interpretation; the really scientific Galen has recorded how beneficently they had intervened in his own case, at certain turning-points of life; and a belief in them was one of the frailties of the wise emperor himself. Partly for the sake of these dreams, living ministers of the god, more likely to come to one in his actual dwelling-place than elsewhere, it was almost a necessity that the patient should sleep one or more nights within the precincts of a temple consecrated to his service, during which time he must observe certain rules prescribed by the priests. For this purpose, after devoutly saluting the Lares, as was customary before starting on a journey, Marius set forth one summer morning on his way to the famous temple which lay [30] among the hills beyond the valley of the Arnus. It was his greatest adventure hitherto; and he had much pleasure in all its details, in spite of his feverishness. Starting early, under the guidance of an old serving-man who drove the mules, with his wife who took all that was needful for their refreshment on the way and for the offering at the shrine, they went, under the genial heat, halting now and then to pluck certain flowers seen for the first time on these high places, upwards, through a long day of sunshine, while cliffs and woods sank gradually below their path. The evening came as they passed along a steep white road with many windings among the pines, and it was night when they reached the temple, the lights of which shone out upon them pausing before the gates of the sacred enclosure, while Marius became alive to a singular purity in the air. A rippling of water about the place was the only thing audible, as they waited till two priestly figures, speaking Greek to one another, admitted them into a large, white-walled and clearly lighted guest-chamber, in which, while he partook of a simple but wholesomely prepared supper, Marius still seemed to feel pleasantly the height they had attained to among the hills. The agreeable sense of all this was spoiled by one thing only, his old fear of serpents; for it was under the form of a serpent that Aesculapius [31] had come to Rome, and the last definite thought of his weary head before he fell asleep had been a dread either that the god might appear, as he was said sometimes to do, under this hideous aspect, or perhaps one of those great sallow-hued snakes themselves, kept in the sacred place, as he had also heard was usual. And after an hour's feverish dreaming he awoke--with a cry, it would seem, for some one had entered the room bearing a light. The footsteps of the youthful figure which approached and sat by his bedside were certainly real. Ever afterwards, when the thought arose in his mind of some unhoped-for but entire relief from distress, like blue sky in a storm at sea, would come back the memory of that gracious countenance which, amid all the kindness of its gaze, had yet a certain air of predominance over him, so that he seemed now for the first time to have found the master of his spirit. It would have been sweet to be the servant of him who now sat beside him speaking. He caught a lesson from what was then said, still somewhat beyond his years, a lesson in the skilled cultivation of life, of experience, of opportunity, which seemed to be the aim of the young priest's recommendations. The sum of them, through various forgotten intervals of argument, as might really have happened in a [32] dream, was the precept, repeated many times under slightly varied aspects, of a diligent promotion of the capacity of the eye, inasmuch as in the eye would lie for him the determining influence of life: he was of the number of those who, in the words of a poet who came long after, must be "made perfect by the love of visible beauty." The discourse was conceived from the point of view of a theory Marius found afterwards in Plato's Phaedrus, which supposes men's spirits susceptible to certain influences, diffused, after the manner of streams or currents, by fair things or persons visibly present--green fields, for instance, or children's faces--into the air around them, acting, in the case of some peculiar natures, like potent material essences, and conforming the seer to themselves as with some cunning physical necessity. This theory,* in itself so fantastic, had however determined in a range of methodical suggestions, altogether quaint here and there from their circumstantial minuteness. And throughout, the possibility of some vision, as of a new city coming down "like a bride out of heaven," a vision still indeed, it might seem, a long way off, but to be granted perhaps one day to the eyes thus trained, was presented as the motive of this laboriously practical direction. "If thou wouldst have all about thee like the colours of some fresh picture, in a clear [33] light," so the discourse recommenced after a pause, "be temperate in thy religious notions, in love, in wine, in all things, and of a peaceful heart with thy fellows." To keep the eye clear by a sort of exquisite personal alacrity and cleanliness, extending even to his dwelling-place; to discriminate, ever more and more fastidiously, select form and colour in things from what was less select; to meditate much on beautiful visible objects, on objects, more especially, connected with the period of youth--on children at play in the morning, the trees in early spring, on young animals, on the fashions and amusements of young men; to keep ever by him if it were but a single choice flower, a graceful animal or sea-shell, as a token and representative of the whole kingdom of such things; to avoid jealously, in his way through the world, everything repugnant to sight; and, should any circumstance tempt him to a general converse in the range of such objects, to disentangle himself from that circumstance at any cost of place, money, or opportunity; such were in brief outline the duties recognised, the rights demanded, in this new formula of life. And it was delivered with conviction; as if the speaker verily saw into the recesses of the mental and physical being of the listener, while his own expression of perfect temperance had in it a fascinating power--the merely negative element of purity, the mere freedom from taint or flaw, in exercise [34] as a positive influence. Long afterwards, when Marius read the Charmides--that other dialogue of Plato, into which he seems to have expressed the very genius of old Greek temperance--the image of this speaker came back vividly before him, to take the chief part in the conversation. It was as a weighty sanction of such temperance, in almost visible symbolism (an outward imagery identifying itself with unseen moralities) that the memory of that night's double experience, the dream of the great sallow snake and the utterance of the young priest, always returned to him, and the contrast therein involved made him revolt with unfaltering instinct from the bare thought of an excess in sleep, or diet, or even in matters of taste, still more from any excess of a coarser kind. When he awoke again, still in the exceeding freshness he had felt on his arrival, and now in full sunlight, it was as if his sickness had really departed with the terror of the night: a confusion had passed from the brain, a painful dryness from his hands. Simply to be alive and there was a delight; and as he bathed in the fresh water set ready for his use, the air of the room about him seemed like pure gold, the very shadows rich with colour. Summoned at length by one of the white-robed brethren, he went out to walk in the temple garden. At a distance, on either side, his guide pointed out to him the Houses of Birth and Death, erected for the reception [35] respectively of women about to become mothers, and of persons about to die; neither of those incidents being allowed to defile, as was thought, the actual precincts of the shrine. His visitor of the previous night he saw nowhere again. But among the official ministers of the place there was one, already marked as of great celebrity, whom Marius saw often in later days at Rome, the physician Galen, now about thirty years old. He was standing, the hood partly drawn over his face, beside the holy well, as Marius and his guide approached it. This famous well or conduit, primary cause of the temple and its surrounding institutions, was supplied by the water of a spring flowing directly out of the rocky foundations of the shrine. From the rim of its basin rose a circle of trim columns to support a cupola of singular lightness and grace, itself full of reflected light from the rippling surface, through which might be traced the wavy figure-work of the marble lining below as the stream of water rushed in. Legend told of a visit of Aesculapius to this place, earlier and happier than his first coming to Rome: an inscription around the cupola recorded it in letters of gold. "Being come unto this place the son of God loved it exceedingly:"--Huc profectus filius Dei maxime amavit hunc locum;--and it was then that that most intimately human of the gods had given men the well, with all its salutary properties. The [36] element itself when received into the mouth, in consequence of its entire freedom from adhering organic matter, was more like a draught of wonderfully pure air than water; and after tasting, Marius was told many mysterious circumstances concerning it, by one and another of the bystanders:--he who drank often thereof might well think he had tasted of the Homeric lotus, so great became his desire to remain always on that spot: carried to other places, it was almost indefinitely conservative of its fine qualities: nay! a few drops of it would amend other water; and it flowed not only with unvarying abundance but with a volume so oddly rhythmical that the well stood always full to the brim, whatever quantity might be drawn from it, seeming to answer with strange alacrity of service to human needs, like a true creature and pupil of the philanthropic god. Certainly the little crowd around seemed to find singular refreshment in gazing on it. The whole place appeared sensibly influenced by the amiable and healthful spirit of the thing. All the objects of the country were there at their freshest. In the great park-like enclosure for the maintenance of the sacred animals offered by the convalescent, grass and trees were allowed to grow with a kind of graceful wildness; otherwise, all was wonderfully nice. And that freshness seemed to have something moral in its influence, as if it acted upon the body and the merely bodily [37] powers of apprehension, through the intelligence; and to the end of his visit Marius saw no more serpents. A lad was just then drawing water for ritual uses, and Marius followed him as he returned from the well, more and more impressed by the religiousness of all he saw, on his way through a long cloister or corridor, the walls well-nigh hidden under votive inscriptions recording favours from the son of Apollo, and with a distant fragrance of incense in the air, explained when he turned aside through an open doorway into the temple itself. His heart bounded as the refined and dainty magnificence of the place came upon him suddenly, in the flood of early sunshine, with the ceremonial lights burning here and there, and withal a singular expression of sacred order, a surprising cleanliness and simplicity. Certain priests, men whose countenances bore a deep impression of cultivated mind, each with his little group of assistants, were gliding round silently to perform their morning salutation to the god, raising the closed thumb and finger of the right hand with a kiss in the air, as they came and went on their sacred business, bearing their frankincense and lustral water. Around the walls, at such a level that the worshippers might read, as in a book, the story of the god and his sons, the brotherhood of the Asclepiadae, ran a series of imageries, in low relief, their delicate light and shade being [38] heightened, here and there, with gold. Fullest of inspired and sacred expression, as if in this place the chisel of the artist had indeed dealt not with marble but with the very breath of feeling and thought, was the scene in which the earliest generation of the sons of Aesculapius were transformed into healing dreams; for "grown now too glorious to abide longer among men, by the aid of their sire they put away their mortal bodies, and came into another country, yet not indeed into Elysium nor into the Islands of the Blest. But being made like to the immortal gods, they began to pass about through the world, changed thus far from their first form that they appear eternally young, as many persons have seen them in many places--ministers and heralds of their father, passing to and fro over the earth, like gliding stars. Which thing is, indeed, the most wonderful concerning them!" And in this scene, as throughout the series, with all its crowded personages, Marius noted on the carved faces the same peculiar union of unction, almost of hilarity, with a certain self-possession and reserve, which was conspicuous in the living ministrants around him. In the central space, upon a pillar or pedestal, hung, ex voto, with the richest personal ornaments, stood the image of Aesculapius himself, surrounded by choice flowering plants. It presented the type, still with something of the [39] severity of the earlier art of Greece about it, not of an aged and crafty physician, but of a youth, earnest and strong of aspect, carrying an ampulla or bottle in one hand, and in the other a traveller's staff, a pilgrim among his pilgrim worshippers; and one of the ministers explained to Marius this pilgrim guise.--One chief source of the master's knowledge of healing had been observation of the remedies resorted to by animals labouring under disease or pain--what leaf or berry the lizard or dormouse lay upon its wounded fellow; to which purpose for long years he had led the life of a wanderer, in wild places. The boy took his place as the last comer, a little way behind the group of worshippers who stood in front of the image. There, with uplifted face, the palms of his two hands raised and open before him, and taught by the priest, he said his collect of thanksgiving and prayer (Aristeides has recorded it at the end of his Asclepiadae) to the Inspired Dreams:-- "O ye children of Apollo! who in time past have stilled the waves of sorrow for many people, lighting up a lamp of safety before those who travel by sea and land, be pleased, in your great condescension, though ye be equal in glory with your elder brethren the Dioscuri, and your lot in immortal youth be as theirs, to accept this prayer, which in sleep and vision ye have inspired. Order it aright, I pray you, according to your loving-kindness to men. Preserve me [40] from sickness; and endue my body with such a measure of health as may suffice it for the obeying of the spirit, that I may pass my days unhindered and in quietness." On the last morning of his visit Marius entered the shrine again, and just before his departure the priest, who had been his special director during his stay at the place, lifting a cunningly contrived panel, which formed the back of one of the carved seats, bade him look through. What he saw was like the vision of a new world, by the opening of some unsuspected window in a familiar dwelling-place. He looked out upon a long-drawn valley of singularly cheerful aspect, hidden, by the peculiar conformation of the locality, from all points of observation but this. In a green meadow at the foot of the steep olive-clad rocks below, the novices were taking their exercise. The softly sloping sides of the vale lay alike in full sunlight; and its distant opening was closed by a beautifully formed mountain, from which the last wreaths of morning mist were rising under the heat. It might have seemed the very presentment of a land of hope, its hollows brimful of a shadow of blue flowers; and lo! on the one level space of the horizon, in a long dark line, were towers and a dome: and that was Pisa.--Or Rome, was it? asked Marius, ready to believe the utmost, in his excitement. All this served, as he understood afterwards [41] in retrospect, at once to strengthen and to purify a certain vein of character in him. Developing the ideal, pre-existent there, of a religious beauty, associated for the future with the exquisite splendour of the temple of Aesculapius, as it dawned upon him on that morning of his first visit--it developed that ideal in connexion with a vivid sense of the value of mental and bodily sanity. And this recognition of the beauty, even for the aesthetic sense, of mere bodily health, now acquired, operated afterwards as an influence morally salutary, counteracting the less desirable or hazardous tendencies of some phases of thought, through which he was to pass. He came home brown with health to find the health of his mother failing; and about her death, which occurred not long afterwards, there was a circumstance which rested with him as the cruellest touch of all, in an event which for a time seemed to have taken the light out of the sunshine. She died away from home, but sent for him at the last, with a painful effort on her part, but to his great gratitude, pondering, as he always believed, that he might chance otherwise to look back all his life long upon a single fault with something like remorse, and find the burden a great one. For it happened that, through some sudden, incomprehensible petulance there had been an angry childish gesture, and a slighting word, at the very moment of her departure, actually for the last time. Remembering this [42] he would ever afterwards pray to be saved from offences against his own affections; the thought of that marred parting having peculiar bitterness for one, who set so much store, both by principle and habit, on the sentiment of home. NOTES 32. *[Transliteration:] Ê aporroê tou kallous. +Translation: "Emanation from a thing of beauty." CHAPTER IV: THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE O mare! O littus! verum secretumque Mouseion,+ quam multa invenitis, quam multa dictatis! Pliny's Letters. [43] IT would hardly have been possible to feel more seriously than did Marius in those grave years of his early life. But the death of his mother turned seriousness of feeling into a matter of the intelligence: it made him a questioner; and, by bringing into full evidence to him the force of his affections and the probable importance of their place in his future, developed in him generally the more human and earthly elements of character. A singularly virile consciousness of the realities of life pronounced itself in him; still however as in the main a poetic apprehension, though united already with something of personal ambition and the instinct of self-assertion. There were days when he could suspect, though it was a suspicion he was careful at first to put from him, that that early, much [44] cherished religion of the villa might come to count with him as but one form of poetic beauty, or of the ideal, in things; as but one voice, in a world where there were many voices it would be a moral weakness not to listen to. And yet this voice, through its forcible pre-occupation of his childish conscience, still seemed to make a claim of a quite exclusive character, defining itself as essentially one of but two possible leaders of his spirit, the other proposing to him unlimited self-expansion in a world of various sunshine. The contrast was so pronounced as to make the easy, light-hearted, unsuspecting exercise of himself, among the temptations of the new phase of life which had now begun, seem nothing less than a rival religion, a rival religious service. The temptations, the various sunshine, were those of the old town of Pisa, where Marius was now a tall schoolboy. Pisa was a place lying just far enough from home to make his rare visits to it in childhood seem like adventures, such as had never failed to supply new and refreshing impulses to the imagination. The partly decayed pensive town, which still had its commerce by sea, and its fashion at the bathing-season, had lent, at one time the vivid memory of its fair streets of marble, at another the solemn outline of the dark hills of Luna on its background, at another the living glances of its men and women, to the thickly gathering crowd [45] of impressions, out of which his notion of the world was then forming. And while he learned that the object, the experience, as it will be known to memory, is really from first to last the chief point for consideration in the conduct of life, these things were feeding also the idealism constitutional with him--his innate and habitual longing for a world altogether fairer than that he saw. The child could find his way in thought along those streets of the old town, expecting duly the shrines at their corners, and their recurrent intervals of garden-courts, or side-views of distant sea. The great temple of the place, as he could remember it, on turning back once for a last look from an angle of his homeward road, counting its tall gray columns between the blue of the bay and the blue fields of blossoming flax beyond; the harbour and its lights; the foreign ships lying there; the sailors' chapel of Venus, and her gilded image, hung with votive gifts; the seamen themselves, their women and children, who had a whole peculiar colour-world of their own--the boy's superficial delight in the broad light and shadow of all that was mingled with the sense of power, of unknown distance, of the danger of storm and possible death. To this place, then, Marius came down now from White-nights, to live in the house of his guardian or tutor, that he might attend the school of a famous rhetorician, and learn, among [46] other things, Greek. The school, one of many imitations of Plato's Academy in the old Athenian garden, lay in a quiet suburb of Pisa, and had its grove of cypresses, its porticoes, a house for the master, its chapel and images. For the memory of Marius in after-days, a clear morning sunlight seemed to lie perpetually on that severe picture in old gray and green. The lad went to this school daily betimes, in state at first, with a young slave to carry the books, and certainly with no reluctance, for the sight of his fellow-scholars, and their petulant activity, coming upon the sadder sentimental moods of his childhood, awoke at once that instinct of emulation which is but the other side of sympathy; and he was not aware, of course, how completely the difference of his previous training had made him, even in his most enthusiastic participation in the ways of that little world, still essentially but a spectator. While all their heart was in their limited boyish race, and its transitory prizes, he was already entertaining himself, very pleasurably meditative, with the tiny drama in action before him, as but the mimic, preliminary exercise for a larger contest, and already with an implicit epicureanism. Watching all the gallant effects of their small rivalries--a scene in the main of fresh delightful sunshine--he entered at once into the sensations of a rivalry beyond them, into the passion of men, and had already recognised a certain [47] appetite for fame, for distinction among his fellows, as his dominant motive to be. The fame he conceived for himself at this time was, as the reader will have anticipated, of the intellectual order, that of a poet perhaps. And as, in that gray monastic tranquillity of the villa, inward voices from the reality of unseen things had come abundantly; so here, with the sounds and aspects of the shore, and amid the urbanities, the graceful follies, of a bathing-place, it was the reality, the tyrannous reality, of things visible that was borne in upon him. The real world around--a present humanity not less comely, it might seem, than that of the old heroic days--endowing everything it touched upon, however remotely, down to its little passing tricks of fashion even, with a kind of fleeting beauty, exercised over him just then a great fascination. That sense had come upon him in all its power one exceptionally fine summer, the summer when, at a somewhat earlier age than was usual, he had formally assumed the dress of manhood, going into the Forum for that purpose, accompanied by his friends in festal array. At night, after the full measure of those cloudless days, he would feel well-nigh wearied out, as if with a long succession of pictures and music. As he wandered through the gay streets or on the sea-shore, the real world seemed indeed boundless, and himself almost absolutely free in it, with a boundless [48] appetite for experience, for adventure, whether physical or of the spirit. His entire rearing hitherto had lent itself to an imaginative exaltation of the past; but now the spectacle actually afforded to his untired and freely open senses, suggested the reflection that the present had, it might be, really advanced beyond the past, and he was ready to boast in the very fact that it was modern. If, in a voluntary archaism, the polite world of that day went back to a choicer generation, as it fancied, for the purpose of a fastidious self-correction, in matters of art, of literature, and even, as we have seen, of religion, at least it improved, by a shade or two of more scrupulous finish, on the old pattern; and the new era, like the Neu-zeit of the German enthusiasts at the beginning of our own century, might perhaps be discerned, awaiting one just a single step onward--the perfected new manner, in the consummation of time, alike as regards the things of the imagination and the actual conduct of life. Only, while the pursuit of an ideal like this demanded entire liberty of heart and brain, that old, staid, conservative religion of his childhood certainly had its being in a world of somewhat narrow restrictions. But then, the one was absolutely real, with nothing less than the reality of seeing and hearing--the other, how vague, shadowy, problematical! Could its so limited probabilities be worth taking into account in any practical question as to the rejecting or receiving [49] of what was indeed so real, and, on the face of it, so desirable? And, dating from the time of his first coming to school, a great friendship had grown up for him, in that life of so few attachments--the pure and disinterested friendship of schoolmates. He had seen Flavian for the first time the day on which he had come to Pisa, at the moment when his mind was full of wistful thoughts regarding the new life to begin for him to-morrow, and he gazed curiously at the crowd of bustling scholars as they came from their classes. There was something in Flavian a shade disdainful, as he stood isolated from the others for a moment, explained in part by his stature and the distinction of the low, broad forehead; though there was pleasantness also for the newcomer in the roving blue eyes which seemed somehow to take a fuller hold upon things around than is usual with boys. Marius knew that those proud glances made kindly note of him for a moment, and felt something like friendship at first sight. There was a tone of reserve or gravity there, amid perfectly disciplined health, which, to his fancy, seemed to carry forward the expression of the austere sky and the clear song of the blackbird on that gray March evening. Flavian indeed was a creature who changed much with the changes of the passing light and shade about him, and was brilliant enough under the early sunshine in [50] school next morning. Of all that little world of more or less gifted youth, surely the centre was this lad of servile birth. Prince of the school, he had gained an easy dominion over the old Greek master by the fascination of his parts, and over his fellow-scholars by the figure he bore. He wore already the manly dress; and standing there in class, as he displayed his wonderful quickness in reckoning, or his taste in declaiming Homer, he was like a carved figure in motion, thought Marius, but with that indescribable gleam upon it which the words of Homer actually suggested, as perceptible on the visible forms of the gods--hoia theous epenênothen aien eontas.+ A story hung by him, a story which his comrades acutely connected with his habitual air of somewhat peevish pride. Two points were held to be clear amid its general vagueness--a rich stranger paid his schooling, and he was himself very poor, though there was an attractive piquancy in the poverty of Flavian which in a scholar of another figure might have been despised. Over Marius too his dominion was entire. Three years older than he, Flavian was appointed to help the younger boy in his studies, and Marius thus became virtually his servant in many things, taking his humours with a sort of grateful pride in being noticed at all, and, thinking over all this afterwards, found that the [51] fascination experienced by him had been a sentimental one, dependent on the concession to himself of an intimacy, a certain tolerance of his company, granted to none beside. That was in the earliest days; and then, as their intimacy grew, the genius, the intellectual power of Flavian began its sway over him. The brilliant youth who loved dress, and dainty food, and flowers, and seemed to have a natural alliance with, and claim upon, everything else which was physically select and bright, cultivated also that foppery of words, of choice diction which was common among the élite spirits of that day; and Marius, early an expert and elegant penman, transcribed his verses (the euphuism of which, amid a genuine original power, was then so delightful to him) in beautiful ink, receiving in return the profit of Flavian's really great intellectual capacities, developed and accomplished under the ambitious desire to make his way effectively in life. Among other things he introduced him to the writings of a sprightly wit, then very busy with the pen, one Lucian--writings seeming to overflow with that intellectual light turned upon dim places, which, at least in seasons of mental fair weather, can make people laugh where they have been wont, perhaps, to pray. And, surely, the sunlight which filled those well-remembered early mornings in school, had had more than the usual measure of gold in it! [52] Marius, at least, would lie awake before the time, thinking with delight of the long coming hours of hard work in the presence of Flavian, as other boys dream of a holiday. It was almost by accident at last, so wayward and capricious was he, that reserve gave way, and Flavian told the story of his father--a freedman, presented late in life, and almost against his will, with the liberty so fondly desired in youth, but on condition of the sacrifice of part of his peculium--the slave's diminutive hoard--amassed by many a self-denial, in an existence necessarily hard. The rich man, interested in the promise of the fair child born on his estate, had sent him to school. The meanness and dejection, nevertheless, of that unoccupied old age defined the leading memory of Flavian, revived sometimes, after this first confidence, with a burst of angry tears amid the sunshine. But nature had had her economy in nursing the strength of that one natural affection; for, save his half-selfish care for Marius, it was the single, really generous part, the one piety, in the lad's character. In him Marius saw the spirit of unbelief, achieved as if at one step. The much-admired freedman's son, as with the privilege of a natural aristocracy, believed only in himself, in the brilliant, and mainly sensuous gifts, he had, or meant to acquire. And then, he had certainly yielded himself, [53] though still with untouched health, in a world where manhood comes early, to the seductions of that luxurious town, and Marius wondered sometimes, in the freer revelation of himself by conversation, at the extent of his early corruption. How often, afterwards, did evil things present themselves in malign association with the memory of that beautiful head, and with a kind of borrowed sanction and charm in its natural grace! To Marius, at a later time, he counted for as it were an epitome of the whole pagan world, the depth of its corruption, and its perfection of form. And still, in his mobility, his animation, in his eager capacity for various life, he was so real an object, after that visionary idealism of the villa. His voice, his glance, were like the breaking in of the solid world upon one, amid the flimsy fictions of a dream. A shadow, handling all things as shadows, had felt a sudden real and poignant heat in them. Meantime, under his guidance, Marius was learning quickly and abundantly, because with a good will. There was that in the actual effectiveness of his figure which stimulated the younger lad to make the most of opportunity; and he had experience already that education largely increased one's capacity for enjoyment. He was acquiring what it is the chief function of all higher education to impart, the art, namely, of so relieving the ideal or poetic traits, [54] the elements of distinction, in our everyday life--of so exclusively living in them--that the unadorned remainder of it, the mere drift or débris of our days, comes to be as though it were not. And the consciousness of this aim came with the reading of one particular book, then fresh in the world, with which he fell in about this time--a book which awakened the poetic or romantic capacity as perhaps some other book might have done, but was peculiar in giving it a direction emphatically sensuous. It made him, in that visionary reception of every-day life, the seer, more especially, of a revelation in colour and form. If our modern education, in its better efforts, really conveys to any of us that kind of idealising power, it does so (though dealing mainly, as its professed instruments, with the most select and ideal remains of ancient literature) oftenest by truant reading; and thus it happened also, long ago, with Marius and his friend. NOTES 43. +Transliteration: Mouseion. The word means "seat of the muses." Translation: "O sea! O shore! my own Helicon, / How many things have you uncovered to me, how many things suggested!" Pliny, Letters, Book I, ix, to Minicius Fundanus. 50. +Transliteration: hoia theous epenênothen aien eontas. Translation: "such as the gods are endowed with." Homer, Odyssey, 8.365. CHAPTER V: THE GOLDEN BOOK [55] THE two lads were lounging together over a book, half-buried in a heap of dry corn, in an old granary--the quiet corner to which they had climbed out of the way of their noisier companions on one of their blandest holiday afternoons. They looked round: the western sun smote through the broad chinks of the shutters. How like a picture! and it was precisely the scene described in what they were reading, with just that added poetic touch in the book which made it delightful and select, and, in the actual place, the ray of sunlight transforming the rough grain among the cool brown shadows into heaps of gold. What they were intent on was, indeed, the book of books, the "golden" book of that day, a gift to Flavian, as was shown by the purple writing on the handsome yellow wrapper, following the title Flaviane!--it said, Flaviane! lege Felicitur! Flaviane! Vivas! Fioreas! Flaviane! Vivas! Gaudeas! [56] It was perfumed with oil of sandal-wood, and decorated with carved and gilt ivory bosses at the ends of the roller. And the inside was something not less dainty and fine, full of the archaisms and curious felicities in which that generation delighted, quaint terms and images picked fresh from the early dramatists, the lifelike phrases of some lost poet preserved by an old grammarian, racy morsels of the vernacular and studied prettinesses:--all alike, mere playthings for the genuine power and natural eloquence of the erudite artist, unsuppressed by his erudition, which, however, made some people angry, chiefly less well "got-up" people, and especially those who were untidy from indolence. No! it was certainly not that old-fashioned, unconscious ease of the early literature, which could never come again; which, after all, had had more in common with the "infinite patience" of Apuleius than with the hack-work readiness of his detractors, who might so well have been "self-conscious" of going slip-shod. And at least his success was unmistakable as to the precise literary effect he had intended, including a certain tincture of "neology" in expression--nonnihil interdum elocutione novella parum signatum--in the language of Cornelius Fronto, the contemporary prince of rhetoricians. What words he had found for conveying, with a single touch, the sense of textures, colours, [57] incidents! "Like jewellers' work! Like a myrrhine vase!"--admirers said of his writing. "The golden fibre in the hair, the gold thread-work in the gown marked her as the mistress"--aurum in comis et in tunicis, ibi inflexum hic intextum, matronam profecto confitebatur--he writes, with his "curious felicity," of one of his heroines. Aurum intextum: gold fibre:--well! there was something of that kind in his own work. And then, in an age when people, from the emperor Aurelius downwards, prided themselves unwisely on writing in Greek, he had written for Latin people in their own tongue; though still, in truth, with all the care of a learned language. Not less happily inventive were the incidents recorded--story within story--stories with the sudden, unlooked-for changes of dreams. He had his humorous touches also. And what went to the ordinary boyish taste, in those somewhat peculiar readers, what would have charmed boys more purely boyish, was the adventure:--the bear loose in the house at night, the wolves storming the farms in winter, the exploits of the robbers, their charming caves, the delightful thrill one had at the question--"Don't you know that these roads are infested by robbers?" The scene of the romance was laid in Thessaly, the original land of witchcraft, and took one up and down its mountains, and into its old weird towns, haunts of magic and [58] incantation, where all the more genuine appliances of the black art, left behind her by Medea when she fled through that country, were still in use. In the city of Hypata, indeed, nothing seemed to be its true self--"You might think that through the murmuring of some cadaverous spell, all things had been changed into forms not their own; that there was humanity in the hardness of the stones you stumbled on; that the birds you heard singing were feathered men; that the trees around the walls drew their leaves from a like source. The statues seemed about to move, the walls to speak, the dumb cattle to break out in prophecy; nay! the very sky and the sunbeams, as if they might suddenly cry out." Witches are there who can draw down the moon, or at least the lunar virus--that white fluid she sheds, to be found, so rarely, "on high, heathy places: which is a poison. A touch of it will drive men mad." And in one very remote village lives the sorceress Pamphile, who turns her neighbours into various animals. What true humour in the scene where, after mounting the rickety stairs, Lucius, peeping curiously through a chink in the door, is a spectator of the transformation of the old witch herself into a bird, that she may take flight to the object of her affections--into an owl! "First she stripped off every rag she had. Then opening a certain chest she took from it many small boxes, and removing the lid [59] of one of them, rubbed herself over for a long time, from head to foot, with an ointment it contained, and after much low muttering to her lamp, began to jerk at last and shake her limbs. And as her limbs moved to and fro, out burst the soft feathers: stout wings came forth to view: the nose grew hard and hooked: her nails were crooked into claws; and Pamphile was an owl. She uttered a queasy screech; and, leaping little by little from the ground, making trial of herself, fled presently, on full wing, out of doors." By clumsy imitation of this process, Lucius, the hero of the romance, transforms himself, not as he had intended into a showy winged creature, but into the animal which has given name to the book; for throughout it there runs a vein of racy, homely satire on the love of magic then prevalent, curiosity concerning which had led Lucius to meddle with the old woman's appliances. "Be you my Venus," he says to the pretty maid-servant who has introduced him to the view of Pamphile, "and let me stand by you a winged Cupid!" and, freely applying the magic ointment, sees himself transformed, "not into a bird, but into an ass!" Well! the proper remedy for his distress is a supper of roses, could such be found, and many are his quaintly picturesque attempts to come by them at that adverse season; as he contrives to do at last, when, the grotesque procession of Isis [60] passing by with a bear and other strange animals in its train, the ass following along with the rest suddenly crunches the chaplet of roses carried in the High-priest's hand. Meantime, however, he must wait for the spring, with more than the outside of an ass; "though I was not so much a fool, nor so truly an ass," he tells us, when he happens to be left alone with a daintily spread table, "as to neglect this most delicious fare, and feed upon coarse hay." For, in truth, all through the book, there is an unmistakably real feeling for asses, with bold touches like Swift's, and a genuine animal breadth. Lucius was the original ass, who peeping slily from the window of his hiding-place forgot all about the big shade he cast just above him, and gave occasion to the joke or proverb about "the peeping ass and his shadow." But the marvellous, delight in which is one of the really serious elements in most boys, passed at times, those young readers still feeling its fascination, into what French writers call the macabre--that species of almost insane pre-occupation with the materialities of our mouldering flesh, that luxury of disgust in gazing on corruption, which was connected, in this writer at least, with not a little obvious coarseness. It was a strange notion of the gross lust of the actual world, that Marius took from some of these episodes. "I am told," they read, "that [61] when foreigners are interred, the old witches are in the habit of out-racing the funeral procession, to ravage the corpse"--in order to obtain certain cuttings and remnants from it, with which to injure the living--"especially if the witch has happened to cast her eye upon some goodly young man." And the scene of the night-watching of a dead body lest the witches should come to tear off the flesh with their teeth, is worthy of Théophile Gautier. But set as one of the episodes in the main narrative, a true gem amid its mockeries, its coarse though genuine humanity, its burlesque horrors, came the tale of Cupid and Psyche, full of brilliant, life-like situations, speciosa locis, and abounding in lovely visible imagery (one seemed to see and handle the golden hair, the fresh flowers, the precious works of art in it!) yet full also of a gentle idealism, so that you might take it, if you chose, for an allegory. With a concentration of all his finer literary gifts, Apuleius had gathered into it the floating star-matter of many a delightful old story.-- The Story of Cupid and Psyche. In a certain city lived a king and queen who had three daughters exceeding fair. But the beauty of the elder sisters, though pleasant to behold, yet passed not the measure of human praise, while such was the loveliness of the [62] youngest that men's speech was too poor to commend it worthily and could express it not at all. Many of the citizens and of strangers, whom the fame of this excellent vision had gathered thither, confounded by that matchless beauty, could but kiss the finger-tips of their right hands at sight of her, as in adoration to the goddess Venus herself. And soon a rumour passed through the country that she whom the blue deep had borne, forbearing her divine dignity, was even then moving among men, or that by some fresh germination from the stars, not the sea now, but the earth, had put forth a new Venus, endued with the flower of virginity. This belief, with the fame of the maiden's loveliness, went daily further into distant lands, so that many people were drawn together to behold that glorious model of the age. Men sailed no longer to Paphos, to Cnidus or Cythera, to the presence of the goddess Venus: her sacred rites were neglected, her images stood uncrowned, the cold ashes were left to disfigure her forsaken altars. It was to a maiden that men's prayers were offered, to a human countenance they looked, in propitiating so great a godhead: when the girl went forth in the morning they strewed flowers on her way, and the victims proper to that unseen goddess were presented as she passed along. This conveyance of divine worship to a mortal kindled meantime the anger of the true Venus. "Lo! now, the ancient [63] parent of nature," she cried, "the fountain of all elements! Behold me, Venus, benign mother of the world, sharing my honours with a mortal maiden, while my name, built up in heaven, is profaned by the mean things of earth! Shall a perishable woman bear my image about with her? In vain did the shepherd of Ida prefer me! Yet shall she have little joy, whosoever she be, of her usurped and unlawful loveliness!" Thereupon she called to her that winged, bold boy, of evil ways, who wanders armed by night through men's houses, spoiling their marriages; and stirring yet more by her speech his inborn wantonness, she led him to the city, and showed him Psyche as she walked. "I pray thee," she said, "give thy mother a full revenge. Let this maid become the slave of an unworthy love." Then, embracing him closely, she departed to the shore and took her throne upon the crest of the wave. And lo! at her unuttered will, her ocean-servants are in waiting: the daughters of Nereus are there singing their song, and Portunus, and Salacia, and the tiny charioteer of the dolphin, with a host of Tritons leaping through the billows. And one blows softly through his sounding sea-shell, another spreads a silken web against the sun, a third presents the mirror to the eyes of his mistress, while the others swim side by side below, drawing her chariot. Such was the escort of Venus as she went upon the sea. [64] Psyche meantime, aware of her loveliness, had no fruit thereof. All people regarded and admired, but none sought her in marriage. It was but as on the finished work of the craftsman that they gazed upon that divine likeness. Her sisters, less fair than she, were happily wedded. She, even as a widow, sitting at home, wept over her desolation, hating in her heart the beauty in which all men were pleased. And the king, supposing the gods were angry, inquired of the oracle of Apollo, and Apollo answered him thus: "Let the damsel be placed on the top of a certain mountain, adorned as for the bed of marriage and of death. Look not for a son-in-law of mortal birth; but for that evil serpent-thing, by reason of whom even the gods tremble and the shadows of Styx are afraid." So the king returned home and made known the oracle to his wife. For many days she lamented, but at last the fulfilment of the divine precept is urgent upon her, and the company make ready to conduct the maiden to her deadly bridal. And now the nuptial torch gathers dark smoke and ashes: the pleasant sound of the pipe is changed into a cry: the marriage hymn concludes in a sorrowful wailing: below her yellow wedding-veil the bride shook away her tears; insomuch that the whole city was afflicted together at the ill-luck of the stricken house. But the mandate of the god impelled the hapless Psyche to her fate, and, these solemnities [65] being ended, the funeral of the living soul goes forth, all the people following. Psyche, bitterly weeping, assists not at her marriage but at her own obsequies, and while the parents hesitate to accomplish a thing so unholy the daughter cries to them: "Wherefore torment your luckless age by long weeping? This was the prize of my extraordinary beauty! When all people celebrated us with divine honours, and in one voice named the New Venus, it was then ye should have wept for me as one dead. Now at last I understand that that one name of Venus has been my ruin. Lead me and set me upon the appointed place. I am in haste to submit to that well-omened marriage, to behold that goodly spouse. Why delay the coming of him who was born for the destruction of the whole world?" She was silent, and with firm step went on the way. And they proceeded to the appointed place on a steep mountain, and left there the maiden alone, and took their way homewards dejectedly. The wretched parents, in their close-shut house, yielded themselves to perpetual night; while to Psyche, fearful and trembling and weeping sore upon the mountain-top, comes the gentle Zephyrus. He lifts her mildly, and, with vesture afloat on either side, bears her by his own soft breathing over the windings of the hills, and sets her lightly among the flowers in the bosom of a valley below. Psyche, in those delicate grassy places, lying [66] sweetly on her dewy bed, rested from the agitation of her soul and arose in peace. And lo! a grove of mighty trees, with a fount of water, clear as glass, in the midst; and hard by the water, a dwelling-place, built not by human hands but by some divine cunning. One recognised, even at the entering, the delightful hostelry of a god. Golden pillars sustained the roof, arched most curiously in cedar-wood and ivory. The walls were hidden under wrought silver:--all tame and woodland creatures leaping forward to the visitor's gaze. Wonderful indeed was the craftsman, divine or half-divine, who by the subtlety of his art had breathed so wild a soul into the silver! The very pavement was distinct with pictures in goodly stones. In the glow of its precious metal the house is its own daylight, having no need of the sun. Well might it seem a place fashioned for the conversation of gods with men! Psyche, drawn forward by the delight of it, came near, and, her courage growing, stood within the doorway. One by one, she admired the beautiful things she saw; and, most wonderful of all! no lock, no chain, nor living guardian protected that great treasure house. But as she gazed there came a voice--a voice, as it were unclothed of bodily vesture--"Mistress!" it said, "all these things are thine. Lie down, and relieve thy weariness, and rise again for the bath when thou wilt. We thy servants, whose [67] voice thou hearest, will be beforehand with our service, and a royal feast shall be ready." And Psyche understood that some divine care was providing, and, refreshed with sleep and the Bath, sat down to the feast. Still she saw no one: only she heard words falling here and there, and had voices alone to serve her. And the feast being ended, one entered the chamber and sang to her unseen, while another struck the chords of a harp, invisible with him who played on it. Afterwards the sound of a company singing together came to her, but still so that none were present to sight; yet it appeared that a great multitude of singers was there. And the hour of evening inviting her, she climbed into the bed; and as the night was far advanced, behold a sound of a certain clemency approaches her. Then, fearing for her maidenhood in so great solitude, she trembled, and more than any evil she knew dreaded that she knew not. And now the husband, that unknown husband, drew near, and ascended the couch, and made her his wife; and lo! before the rise of dawn he had departed hastily. And the attendant voices ministered to the needs of the newly married. And so it happened with her for a long season. And as nature has willed, this new thing, by continual use, became a delight to her: the sound of the voice grew to be her solace in that condition of loneliness and uncertainty. [68] One night the bridegroom spoke thus to his beloved, "O Psyche, most pleasant bride! Fortune is grown stern with us, and threatens thee with mortal peril. Thy sisters, troubled at the report of thy death and seeking some trace of thee, will come to the mountain's top. But if by chance their cries reach thee, answer not, neither look forth at all, lest thou bring sorrow upon me and destruction upon thyself." Then Psyche promised that she would do according to his will. But the bridegroom was fled away again with the night. And all that day she spent in tears, repeating that she was now dead indeed, shut up in that golden prison, powerless to console her sisters sorrowing after her, or to see their faces; and so went to rest weeping. And after a while came the bridegroom again, and lay down beside her, and embracing her as she wept, complained, "Was this thy promise, my Psyche? What have I to hope from thee? Even in the arms of thy husband thou ceasest not from pain. Do now as thou wilt. Indulge thine own desire, though it seeks what will ruin thee. Yet wilt thou remember my warning, repentant too late." Then, protesting that she is like to die, she obtains from him that he suffer her to see her sisters, and present to them moreover what gifts she would of golden ornaments; but therewith he ofttimes advised her never at any time, yielding to pernicious counsel, to enquire concerning his bodily form, lest she fall, [69] through unholy curiosity, from so great a height of fortune, nor feel ever his embrace again. "I would die a hundred times," she said, cheerful at last, "rather than be deprived of thy most sweet usage. I love thee as my own soul, beyond comparison even with Love himself. Only bid thy servant Zephyrus bring hither my sisters, as he brought me. My honeycomb! My husband! Thy Psyche's breath of life!" So he promised; and after the embraces of the night, ere the light appeared, vanished from the hands of his bride. And the sisters, coming to the place where Psyche was abandoned, wept loudly among the rocks, and called upon her by name, so that the sound came down to her, and running out of the palace distraught, she cried, "Wherefore afflict your souls with lamentation? I whom you mourn am here." Then, summoning Zephyrus, she reminded him of her husband's bidding; and he bare them down with a gentle blast. "Enter now," she said, "into my house, and relieve your sorrow in the company of Psyche your sister." And Psyche displayed to them all the treasures of the golden house, and its great family of ministering voices, nursing in them the malice which was already at their hearts. And at last one of them asks curiously who the lord of that celestial array may be, and what manner of man her husband? And Psyche [70] answered dissemblingly, "A young man, handsome and mannerly, with a goodly beard. For the most part he hunts upon the mountains." And lest the secret should slip from her in the way of further speech, loading her sisters with gold and gems, she commanded Zephyrus to bear them away. And they returned home, on fire with envy. "See now the injustice of fortune!" cried one. "We, the elder children, are given like servants to be the wives of strangers, while the youngest is possessed of so great riches, who scarcely knows how to use them. You saw, Sister! what a hoard of wealth lies in the house; what glittering gowns; what splendour of precious gems, besides all that gold trodden under foot. If she indeed hath, as she said, a bridegroom so goodly, then no one in all the world is happier. And it may be that this husband, being of divine nature, will make her too a goddess. Nay! so in truth it is. It was even thus she bore herself. Already she looks aloft and breathes divinity, who, though but a woman, has voices for her handmaidens, and can command the winds." "Think," answered the other, "how arrogantly she dealt with us, grudging us these trifling gifts out of all that store, and when our company became a burden, causing us to be hissed and driven away from her through the air! But I am no woman if she keep her hold on this great fortune; and if the insult done us has touched [71] thee too, take we counsel together. Meanwhile let us hold our peace, and know naught of her, alive or dead. For they are not truly happy of whose happiness other folk are unaware." And the bridegroom, whom still she knows not, warns her thus a second time, as he talks with her by night: "Seest thou what peril besets thee? Those cunning wolves have made ready for thee their snares, of which the sum is that they persuade thee to search into the fashion of my countenance, the seeing of which, as I have told thee often, will be the seeing of it no more for ever. But do thou neither listen nor make answer to aught regarding thy husband. Besides, we have sown also the seed of our race. Even now this bosom grows with a child to be born to us, a child, if thou but keep our secret, of divine quality; if thou profane it, subject to death." And Psyche was glad at the tidings, rejoicing in that solace of a divine seed, and in the glory of that pledge of love to be, and the dignity of the name of mother. Anxiously she notes the increase of the days, the waning months. And again, as he tarries briefly beside her, the bridegroom repeats his warning: "Even now the sword is drawn with which thy sisters seek thy life. Have pity on thyself, sweet wife, and upon our child, and see not those evil women again." But the sisters make their way into the palace once more, crying to her in [72] wily tones, "O Psyche! and thou too wilt be a mother! How great will be the joy at home! Happy indeed shall we be to have the nursing of the golden child. Truly if he be answerable to the beauty of his parents, it will be a birth of Cupid himself." So, little by little, they stole upon the heart of their sister. She, meanwhile, bids the lyre to sound for their delight, and the playing is heard: she bids the pipes to move, the quire to sing, and the music and the singing come invisibly, soothing the mind of the listener with sweetest modulation. Yet not even thereby was their malice put to sleep: once more they seek to know what manner of husband she has, and whence that seed. And Psyche, simple over-much, forgetful of her first story, answers, "My husband comes from a far country, trading for great sums. He is already of middle age, with whitening locks." And therewith she dismisses them again. And returning home upon the soft breath of Zephyrus one cried to the other, "What shall be said of so ugly a lie? He who was a young man with goodly beard is now in middle life. It must be that she told a false tale: else is she in very truth ignorant what manner of man he is. Howsoever it be, let us destroy her quickly. For if she indeed knows not, be sure that her bridegroom is one of the gods: it is a god she bears in her womb. And let [73] that be far from us! If she be called mother of a god, then will life be more than I can bear." So, full of rage against her, they returned to Psyche, and said to her craftily, "Thou livest in an ignorant bliss, all incurious of thy real danger. It is a deadly serpent, as we certainly know, that comes to sleep at thy side. Remember the words of the oracle, which declared thee destined to a cruel beast. There are those who have seen it at nightfall, coming back from its feeding. In no long time, they say, it will end its blandishments. It but waits for the babe to be formed in thee, that it may devour thee by so much the richer. If indeed the solitude of this musical place, or it may be the loathsome commerce of a hidden love, delight thee, we at least in sisterly piety have done our part." And at last the unhappy Psyche, simple and frail of soul, carried away by the terror of their words, losing memory of her husband's precepts and her own promise, brought upon herself a great calamity. Trembling and turning pale, she answers them, "And they who tell those things, it may be, speak the truth. For in very deed never have I seen the face of my husband, nor know I at all what manner of man he is. Always he frights me diligently from the sight of him, threatening some great evil should I too curiously look upon his face. Do ye, if ye can help your sister in her great peril, stand by her now." [74] Her sisters answered her, "The way of safety we have well considered, and will teach thee. Take a sharp knife, and hide it in that part of the couch where thou art wont to lie: take also a lamp filled with oil, and set it Privily behind the curtain. And when he shall have drawn up his coils into the accustomed place, and thou hearest him breathe in sleep, slip then from his side and discover the lamp, and, knife in hand, put forth thy strength, and strike off the serpent's head." And so they departed in haste. And Psyche left alone (alone but for the furies which beset her) is tossed up and down in her distress, like a wave of the sea; and though her will is firm, yet, in the moment of putting hand to the deed, she falters, and is torn asunder by various apprehension of the great calamity upon her. She hastens and anon delays, now full of distrust, and now of angry courage: under one bodily form she loathes the monster and loves the bridegroom. But twilight ushers in the night; and at length in haste she makes ready for the terrible deed. Darkness came, and the bridegroom; and he first, after some faint essay of love, falls into a deep sleep. And she, erewhile of no strength, the hard purpose of destiny assisting her, is confirmed in force. With lamp plucked forth, knife in hand, she put by her sex; and lo! as the secrets of the bed became manifest, the sweetest and most gentle of all creatures, Love himself, reclined [75] there, in his own proper loveliness! At sight of him the very flame of the lamp kindled more gladly! But Psyche was afraid at the vision, and, faint of soul, trembled back upon her knees, and would have hidden the steel in her own bosom. But the knife slipped from her hand; and now, undone, yet ofttimes looking upon the beauty of that divine countenance, she lives again. She sees the locks of that golden head, pleasant with the unction of the gods, shed down in graceful entanglement behind and before, about the ruddy cheeks and white throat. The pinions of the winged god, yet fresh with the dew, are spotless upon his shoulders, the delicate plumage wavering over them as they lie at rest. Smooth he was, and, touched with light, worthy of Venus his mother. At the foot of the couch lay his bow and arrows, the instruments of his power, propitious to men. And Psyche, gazing hungrily thereon, draws an arrow from the quiver, and trying the point upon her thumb, tremulous still, drave in the barb, so that a drop of blood came forth. Thus fell she, by her own act, and unaware, into the love of Love. Falling upon the bridegroom, with indrawn breath, in a hurry of kisses from eager and open lips, she shuddered as she thought how brief that sleep might be. And it chanced that a drop of burning oil fell from the lamp upon the god's shoulder. Ah! maladroit minister of love, thus to wound him from whom [76] all fire comes; though 'twas a lover, I trow, first devised thee, to have the fruit of his desire even in the darkness! At the touch of the fire the god started up, and beholding the overthrow of her faith, quietly took flight from her embraces. And Psyche, as he rose upon the wing, laid hold on him with her two hands, hanging upon him in his passage through the air, till she sinks to the earth through weariness. And as she lay there, the divine lover, tarrying still, lighted upon a cypress tree which grew near, and, from the top of it, spake thus to her, in great emotion. "Foolish one! unmindful of the command of Venus, my mother, who had devoted thee to one of base degree, I fled to thee in his stead. Now know I that this was vainly done. Into mine own flesh pierced mine arrow, and I made thee my wife, only that I might seem a monster beside thee--that thou shouldst seek to wound the head wherein lay the eyes so full of love to thee! Again and again, I thought to put thee on thy guard concerning these things, and warned thee in loving-kindness. Now I would but punish thee by my flight hence." And therewith he winged his way into the deep sky. Psyche, prostrate upon the earth, and following far as sight might reach the flight of the bridegroom, wept and lamented; and when the breadth of space had parted him wholly from her, cast herself down from the bank of a river [77] which was nigh. But the stream, turning gentle in honour of the god, put her forth again unhurt upon its margin. And as it happened, Pan, the rustic god, was sitting just then by the waterside, embracing, in the body of a reed, the goddess Canna; teaching her to respond to him in all varieties of slender sound. Hard by, his flock of goats browsed at will. And the shaggy god called her, wounded and outworn, kindly to him and said, "I am but a rustic herdsman, pretty maiden, yet wise, by favour of my great age and long experience; and if I guess truly by those faltering steps, by thy sorrowful eyes and continual sighing, thou labourest with excess of love. Listen then to me, and seek not death again, in the stream or otherwise. Put aside thy woe, and turn thy prayers to Cupid. He is in truth a delicate youth: win him by the delicacy of thy service." So the shepherd-god spoke, and Psyche, answering nothing, but with a reverence to his serviceable deity, went on her way. And while she, in her search after Cupid, wandered through many lands, he was lying in the chamber of his mother, heart-sick. And the white bird which floats over the waves plunged in haste into the sea, and approaching Venus, as she bathed, made known to her that her son lies afflicted with some grievous hurt, doubtful of life. And Venus cried, angrily, "My son, then, has a mistress! And it is Psyche, who witched away [78] my beauty and was the rival of my godhead, whom he loves!" Therewith she issued from the sea, and returning to her golden chamber, found there the lad, sick, as she had heard, and cried from the doorway, "Well done, truly! to trample thy mother's precepts under foot, to spare my enemy that cross of an unworthy love; nay, unite her to thyself, child as thou art, that I might have a daughter-in-law who hates me! I will make thee repent of thy sport, and the savour of thy marriage bitter. There is one who shall chasten this body of thine, put out thy torch and unstring thy bow. Not till she has plucked forth that hair, into which so oft these hands have smoothed the golden light, and sheared away thy wings, shall I feel the injury done me avenged." And with this she hastened in anger from the doors. And Ceres and Juno met her, and sought to know the meaning of her troubled countenance. "Ye come in season," she cried; "I pray you, find for me Psyche. It must needs be that ye have heard the disgrace of my house." And they, ignorant of what was done, would have soothed her anger, saying, "What fault, Mistress, hath thy son committed, that thou wouldst destroy the girl he loves? Knowest thou not that he is now of age? Because he wears his years so lightly must he seem to thee ever but a child? Wilt thou for ever thus pry into the [79] pastimes of thy son, always accusing his wantonness, and blaming in him those delicate wiles which are all thine own?" Thus, in secret fear of the boy's bow, did they seek to please him with their gracious patronage. But Venus, angry at their light taking of her wrongs, turned her back upon them, and with hasty steps made her way once more to the sea. Meanwhile Psyche, tost in soul, wandering hither and thither, rested not night or day in the pursuit of her husband, desiring, if she might not sooth his anger by the endearments of a wife, at the least to propitiate him with the prayers of a handmaid. And seeing a certain temple on the top of a high mountain, she said, "Who knows whether yonder place be not the abode of my lord?" Thither, therefore, she turned her steps, hastening now the more because desire and hope pressed her on, weary as she was with the labours of the way, and so, painfully measuring out the highest ridges of the mountain, drew near to the sacred couches. She sees ears of wheat, in heaps or twisted into chaplets; ears of barley also, with sickles and all the instruments of harvest, lying there in disorder, thrown at random from the hands of the labourers in the great heat. These she curiously sets apart, one by one, duly ordering them; for she said within herself, "I may not neglect the shrines, nor the holy service, of any god there be, but must rather [80] win by supplication the kindly mercy of them all." And Ceres found her bending sadly upon her task, and cried aloud, "Alas, Psyche! Venus, in the furiousness of her anger, tracks thy footsteps through the world, seeking for thee to pay her the utmost penalty; and thou, thinking of anything rather than thine own safety, hast taken on thee the care of what belongs to me!" Then Psyche fell down at her feet, and sweeping the floor with her hair, washing the footsteps of the goddess in her tears, besought her mercy, with many prayers:--"By the gladdening rites of harvest, by the lighted lamps and mystic marches of the Marriage and mysterious Invention of thy daughter Proserpine, and by all beside that the holy place of Attica veils in silence, minister, I pray thee, to the sorrowful heart of Psyche! Suffer me to hide myself but for a few days among the heaps of corn, till time have softened the anger of the goddess, and my strength, out-worn in my long travail, be recovered by a little rest." But Ceres answered her, "Truly thy tears move me, and I would fain help thee; only I dare not incur the ill-will of my kinswoman. Depart hence as quickly as may be." And Psyche, repelled against hope, afflicted now with twofold sorrow, making her way back again, beheld among the half-lighted woods of the valley below a sanctuary builded with cunning [81] art. And that she might lose no way of hope, howsoever doubtful, she drew near to the sacred doors. She sees there gifts of price, and garments fixed upon the door-posts and to the branches of the trees, wrought with letters of gold which told the name of the goddess to whom they were dedicated, with thanksgiving for that she had done. So, with bent knee and hands laid about the glowing altar, she prayed saying, "Sister and spouse of Jupiter! be thou to these my desperate fortune's Juno the Auspicious! I know that thou dost willingly help those in travail with child; deliver me from the peril that is upon me." And as she prayed thus, Juno in the majesty of her godhead, was straightway present, and answered, "Would that I might incline favourably to thee; but against the will of Venus, whom I have ever loved as a daughter, I may not, for very shame, grant thy prayer." And Psyche, dismayed by this new shipwreck of her hope, communed thus with herself, "Whither, from the midst of the snares that beset me, shall I take my way once more? In what dark solitude shall I hide me from the all-seeing eye of Venus? What if I put on at length a man's courage, and yielding myself unto her as my mistress, soften by a humility not yet too late the fierceness of her purpose? Who knows but that I may find him also whom my soul seeketh after, in the abode of his mother?" [82] And Venus, renouncing all earthly aid in her search, prepared to return to heaven. She ordered the chariot to be made ready, wrought for her by Vulcan as a marriage-gift, with a cunning of hand which had left his work so much the richer by the weight of gold it lost under his tool. From the multitude which housed about the bed-chamber of their mistress, white doves came forth, and with joyful motions bent their painted necks beneath the yoke. Behind it, with playful riot, the sparrows sped onward, and other birds sweet of song, making known by their soft notes the approach of the goddess. Eagle and cruel hawk alarmed not the quireful family of Venus. And the clouds broke away, as the uttermost ether opened to receive her, daughter and goddess, with great joy. And Venus passed straightway to the house of Jupiter to beg from him the service of Mercury, the god of speech. And Jupiter refused not her prayer. And Venus and Mercury descended from heaven together; and as they went, the former said to the latter, "Thou knowest, my brother of Arcady, that never at any time have I done anything without thy help; for how long time, moreover, I have sought a certain maiden in vain. And now naught remains but that, by thy heraldry, I proclaim a reward for whomsoever shall find her. Do thou my bidding quickly." And therewith [83] she conveyed to him a little scrip, in the which was written the name of Psyche, with other things; and so returned home. And Mercury failed not in his office; but departing into all lands, proclaimed that whosoever delivered up to Venus the fugitive girl, should receive from herself seven kisses--one thereof full of the inmost honey of her throat. With that the doubt of Psyche was ended. And now, as she came near to the doors of Venus, one of the household, whose name was Use-and-Wont, ran out to her, crying, "Hast thou learned, Wicked Maid! now at last! that thou hast a mistress?" And seizing her roughly by the hair, drew her into the presence of Venus. And when Venus saw her, she cried out, saying, "Thou hast deigned then to make thy salutations to thy mother-in-law. Now will I in turn treat thee as becometh a dutiful daughter-in-law!" And she took barley and millet and poppy-seed, every kind of grain and seed, and mixed them together, and laughed, and said to her: "Methinks so plain a maiden can earn lovers only by industrious ministry: now will I also make trial of thy service. Sort me this heap of seed, the one kind from the others, grain by grain; and get thy task done before the evening." And Psyche, stunned by the cruelty of her bidding, was silent, and moved not her hand to the inextricable heap. And there came [84] forth a little ant, which had understanding of the difficulty of her task, and took pity upon the consort of the god of Love; and he ran deftly hither and thither, and called together the whole army of his fellows. "Have pity," he cried, "nimble scholars of the Earth, Mother of all things!--have pity upon the wife of Love, and hasten to help her in her perilous effort." Then, one upon the other, the hosts of the insect people hurried together; and they sorted asunder the whole heap of seed, separating every grain after its kind, and so departed quickly out of sight. And at nightfall Venus returned, and seeing that task finished with so wonderful diligence, she cried, "The work is not thine, thou naughty maid, but his in whose eyes thou hast found favour." And calling her again in the morning, "See now the grove," she said, "beyond yonder torrent. Certain sheep feed there, whose fleeces shine with gold. Fetch me straightway a lock of that precious stuff, having gotten it as thou mayst." And Psyche went forth willingly, not to obey the command of Venus, but even to seek a rest from her labour in the depths of the river. But from the river, the green reed, lowly mother of music, spake to her: "O Psyche! pollute not these waters by self-destruction, nor approach that terrible flock; for, as the heat groweth, they wax fierce. Lie down under yon plane-tree, till the [85] quiet of the river's breath have soothed them. Thereafter thou mayst shake down the fleecy gold from the trees of the grove, for it holdeth by the leaves." And Psyche, instructed thus by the simple reed, in the humanity of its heart, filled her bosom with the soft golden stuff, and returned to Venus. But the goddess smiled bitterly, and said to her, "Well know I who was the author of this thing also. I will make further trial of thy discretion, and the boldness of thy heart. Seest thou the utmost peak of yonder steep mountain? The dark stream which flows down thence waters the Stygian fields, and swells the flood of Cocytus. Bring me now, in this little urn, a draught from its innermost source." And therewith she put into her hands a vessel of wrought crystal. And Psyche set forth in haste on her way to the mountain, looking there at last to find the end of her hapless life. But when she came to the region which borders on the cliff that was showed to her, she understood the deadly nature of her task. From a great rock, steep and slippery, a horrible river of water poured forth, falling straightway by a channel exceeding narrow into the unseen gulf below. And lo! creeping from the rocks on either hand, angry serpents, with their long necks and sleepless eyes. The very waters found a voice and bade her depart, in smothered cries of, Depart hence! and [86] What doest thou here? Look around thee! and Destruction is upon thee! And then sense left her, in the immensity of her peril, as one changed to stone. Yet not even then did the distress of this innocent soul escape the steady eye of a gentle providence. For the bird of Jupiter spread his wings and took flight to her, and asked her, "Didst thou think, simple one, even thou! that thou couldst steal one drop of that relentless stream, the holy river of Styx, terrible even to the gods? But give me thine urn." And the bird took the urn, and filled it at the source, and returned to her quickly from among the teeth of the serpents, bringing with him of the waters, all unwilling--nay! warning him to depart away and not molest them. And she, receiving the urn with great joy, ran back quickly that she might deliver it to Venus, and yet again satisfied not the angry goddess. "My child!" she said, "in this one thing further must thou serve me. Take now this tiny casket, and get thee down even unto hell, and deliver it to Proserpine. Tell her that Venus would have of her beauty so much at least as may suffice for but one day's use, that beauty she possessed erewhile being foreworn and spoiled, through her tendance upon the sick-bed of her son; and be not slow in returning." And Psyche perceived there the last ebbing of her fortune--that she was now thrust openly [87] upon death, who must go down, of her own motion, to Hades and the Shades. And straightway she climbed to the top of an exceeding high tower, thinking within herself, "I will cast myself down thence: so shall I descend most quickly into the kingdom of the dead." And the tower again, broke forth into speech: "Wretched Maid! Wretched Maid! Wilt thou destroy thyself? If the breath quit thy body, then wilt thou indeed go down into Hades, but by no means return hither. Listen to me. Among the pathless wilds not far from this place lies a certain mountain, and therein one of hell's vent-holes. Through the breach a rough way lies open, following which thou wilt come, by straight course, to the castle of Orcus. And thou must not go empty-handed. Take in each hand a morsel of barley-bread, soaked in hydromel; and in thy mouth two pieces of money. And when thou shalt be now well onward in the way of death, then wilt thou overtake a lame ass laden with wood, and a lame driver, who will pray thee reach him certain cords to fasten the burden which is falling from the ass: but be thou cautious to pass on in silence. And soon as thou comest to the river of the dead, Charon, in that crazy bark he hath, will put thee over upon the further side. There is greed even among the dead: and thou shalt deliver to him, for the ferrying, one of those two pieces of money, in such wise that he take [88] it with his hand from between thy lips. And as thou passest over the stream, a dead old man, rising on the water, will put up to thee his mouldering hands, and pray thee draw him into the ferry-boat. But beware thou yield not to unlawful pity. "When thou shalt be come over, and art upon the causeway, certain aged women, spinning, will cry to thee to lend thy hand to their work; and beware again that thou take no part therein; for this also is the snare of Venus, whereby she would cause thee to cast away one at least of those cakes thou bearest in thy hands. And think not that a slight matter; for the loss of either one of them will be to thee the losing of the light of day. For a watch-dog exceeding fierce lies ever before the threshold of that lonely house of Proserpine. Close his mouth with one of thy cakes; so shalt thou pass by him, and enter straightway into the presence of Proserpine herself. Then do thou deliver thy message, and taking what she shall give thee, return back again; offering to the watch-dog the other cake, and to the ferryman that other piece of money thou hast in thy mouth. After this manner mayst thou return again beneath the stars. But withal, I charge thee, think not to look into, nor open, the casket thou bearest, with that treasure of the beauty of the divine countenance hidden therein." So spake the stones of the tower; and Psyche [89] delayed not, but proceeding diligently after the manner enjoined, entered into the house of Proserpine, at whose feet she sat down humbly, and would neither the delicate couch nor that divine food the goddess offered her, but did straightway the business of Venus. And Proserpine filled the casket secretly and shut the lid, and delivered it to Psyche, who fled therewith from Hades with new strength. But coming back into the light of day, even as she hasted now to the ending of her service, she was seized by a rash curiosity. "Lo! now," she said within herself, "my simpleness! who bearing in my hands the divine loveliness, heed not to touch myself with a particle at least therefrom, that I may please the more, by the favour of it, my fair one, my beloved." Even as she spoke, she lifted the lid; and behold! within, neither beauty, nor anything beside, save sleep only, the sleep of the dead, which took hold upon her, filling all her members with its drowsy vapour, so that she lay down in the way and moved not, as in the slumber of death. And Cupid being healed of his wound, because he would endure no longer the absence of her he loved, gliding through the narrow window of the chamber wherein he was holden, his pinions being now repaired by a little rest, fled forth swiftly upon them, and coming to the place where Psyche was, shook that sleep away from her, and set him in his prison again, awaking her with the [90] innocent point of his arrow. "Lo! thine old error again," he said, "which had like once more to have destroyed thee! But do thou now what is lacking of the command of my mother: the rest shall be my care." With these words, the lover rose upon the air; and being consumed inwardly with the greatness of his love, penetrated with vehement wing into the highest place of heaven, to lay his cause before the father of the gods. And the father of gods took his hand in his, and kissed his face and said to him, "At no time, my son, hast thou regarded me with due honour. Often hast thou vexed my bosom, wherein lies the disposition of the stars, with those busy darts of thine. Nevertheless, because thou hast grown up between these mine hands, I will accomplish thy desire." And straightway he bade Mercury call the gods together; and, the council-chamber being filled, sitting upon a high throne, "Ye gods," he said, "all ye whose names are in the white book of the Muses, ye know yonder lad. It seems good to me that his youthful heats should by some means be restrained. And that all occasion may be taken from him, I would even confine him in the bonds of marriage. He has chosen and embraced a mortal maiden. Let him have fruit of his love, and possess her for ever." Thereupon he bade Mercury produce Psyche in heaven; and holding out to her his ambrosial cup, "Take it," he said, "and live for ever; [91] nor shall Cupid ever depart from thee." And the gods sat down together to the marriage-feast. On the first couch lay the bridegroom, and Psyche in his bosom. His rustic serving-boy bare the wine to Jupiter; and Bacchus to the rest. The Seasons crimsoned all things with their roses. Apollo sang to the lyre, while a little Pan prattled on his reeds, and Venus danced very sweetly to the soft music. Thus, with due rites, did Psyche pass into the power of Cupid; and from them was born the daughter whom men call Voluptas. CHAPTER VI: EUPHUISM [92] So the famous story composed itself in the memory of Marius, with an expression changed in some ways from the original and on the whole graver. The petulant, boyish Cupid of Apuleius was become more like that "Lord, of terrible aspect," who stood at Dante's bedside and wept, or had at least grown to the manly earnestness of the Erôs of Praxiteles. Set in relief amid the coarser matter of the book, this episode of Cupid and Psyche served to combine many lines of meditation, already familiar to Marius, into the ideal of a perfect imaginative love, centered upon a type of beauty entirely flawless and clean--an ideal which never wholly faded from his thoughts, though he valued it at various times in different degrees. The human body in its beauty, as the highest potency of all the beauty of material objects, seemed to him just then to be matter no longer, but, having taken celestial fire, to assert itself as indeed the true, though visible, [93] soul or spirit in things. In contrast with that ideal, in all the pure brilliancy, and as it were in the happy light, of youth and morning and the springtide, men's actual loves, with which at many points the book brings one into close contact, might appear to him, like the general tenor of their lives, to be somewhat mean and sordid. The hiddenness of perfect things: a shrinking mysticism, a sentiment of diffidence like that expressed in Psyche's so tremulous hope concerning the child to be born of the husband she had never yet seen--"in the face of this little child, at the least, shall I apprehend thine"--in hoc saltem parvulo cognoscam faciem tuam: the fatality which seems to haunt any signal+ beauty, whether moral or physical, as if it were in itself something illicit and isolating: the suspicion and hatred it so often excites in the vulgar:--these were some of the impressions, forming, as they do, a constant tradition of somewhat cynical pagan experience, from Medusa and Helen downwards, which the old story enforced on him. A book, like a person, has its fortunes with one; is lucky or unlucky in the precise moment of its falling in our way, and often by some happy accident counts with us for something more than its independent value. The Metamorphoses of Apuleius, coming to Marius just then, figured for him as indeed The Golden Book: he felt a sort of personal gratitude to its writer, and saw in it doubtless [94] far more than was really there for any other reader. It occupied always a peculiar place in his remembrance, never quite losing its power in frequent return to it for the revival of that first glowing impression. Its effect upon the elder youth was a more practical one: it stimulated the literary ambition, already so strong a motive with him, by a signal example of success, and made him more than ever an ardent, indefatigable student of words, of the means or instrument of the literary art. The secrets of utterance, of expression itself, of that through which alone any intellectual or spiritual power within one can actually take effect upon others, to over-awe or charm them to one's side, presented themselves to this ambitious lad in immediate connexion with that desire for predominance, for the satisfaction of which another might have relied on the acquisition and display of brilliant military qualities. In him, a fine instinctive sentiment of the exact value and power of words was connate with the eager longing for sway over his fellows. He saw himself already a gallant and effective leader, innovating or conservative as occasion might require, in the rehabilitation of the mother-tongue, then fallen so tarnished and languid; yet the sole object, as he mused within himself, of the only sort of patriotic feeling proper, or possible, for one born of slaves. The popular speech was gradually departing from the form [95] and rule of literary language, a language always and increasingly artificial. While the learned dialect was yearly becoming more and more barbarously pedantic, the colloquial idiom, on the other hand, offered a thousand chance-tost gems of racy or picturesque expression, rejected or at least ungathered by what claimed to be classical Latin. The time was coming when neither the pedants nor the people would really understand Cicero; though there were some indeed, like this new writer, Apuleius, who, departing from the custom of writing in Greek, which had been a fashionable affectation among the sprightlier wits since the days of Hadrian, had written in the vernacular. The literary programme which Flavian had already designed for himself would be a work, then, partly conservative or reactionary, in its dealing with the instrument of the literary art; partly popular and revolutionary, asserting, so to term them, the rights of the proletariate of speech. More than fifty years before, the younger Pliny, himself an effective witness for the delicate power of the Latin tongue, had said,--"I am one of those who admire the ancients, yet I do not, like some others, underrate certain instances of genius which our own times afford. For it is not true that nature, as if weary and effete, no longer produces what is admirable." And he, Flavian, would prove himself the true master of the opportunity thus indicated. In [96] his eagerness for a not too distant fame, he dreamed over all that, as the young Caesar may have dreamed of campaigns. Others might brutalise or neglect the native speech, that true "open field" for charm and sway over men. He would make of it a serious study, weighing the precise power of every phrase and word, as though it were precious metal, disentangling the later associations and going back to the original and native sense of each,--restoring to full significance all its wealth of latent figurative expression, reviving or replacing its outworn or tarnished images. Latin literature and the Latin tongue were dying of routine and languor; and what was necessary, first of all, was to re-establish the natural and direct relationship between thought and expression, between the sensation and the term, and restore to words their primitive power. For words, after all, words manipulated with all his delicate force, were to be the apparatus of a war for himself. To be forcibly impressed, in the first place; and in the next, to find the means of making visible to others that which was vividly apparent, delightful, of lively interest to himself, to the exclusion of all that was but middling, tame, or only half-true even to him--this scrupulousness of literary art actually awoke in Flavian, for the first time, a sort of chivalrous conscience. What care for style! what patience of execution! what research for the significant [97] tones of ancient idiom--sonantia verba et antiqua! What stately and regular word-building--gravis et decora constructio! He felt the whole meaning of the sceptical Pliny's somewhat melancholy advice to one of his friends, that he should seek in literature deliverance from mortality--ut studiis se literarum a mortalitate vindicet. And there was everything in the nature and the training of Marius to make him a full participator in the hopes of such a new literary school, with Flavian for its leader. In the refinements of that curious spirit, in its horror of profanities, its fastidious sense of a correctness in external form, there was something which ministered to the old ritual interest, still surviving in him; as if here indeed were involved a kind of sacred service to the mother-tongue. Here, then, was the theory of Euphuism, as manifested in every age in which the literary conscience has been awakened to forgotten duties towards language, towards the instrument of expression: in fact it does but modify a little the principles of all effective expression at all times. 'Tis art's function to conceal itself: ars est celare artem:--is a saying, which, exaggerated by inexact quotation, has perhaps been oftenest and most confidently quoted by those who have had little literary or other art to conceal; and from the very beginning of professional literature, the "labour of the file"--a labour in the case of Plato, for instance, or Virgil, like [98] that of the oldest of goldsmiths as described by Apuleius, enriching the work by far more than the weight of precious metal it removed--has always had its function. Sometimes, doubtless, as in later examples of it, this Roman Euphuism, determined at any cost to attain beauty in writing--es kallos graphein+--might lapse into its characteristic fopperies or mannerisms, into the "defects of its qualities," in truth, not wholly unpleasing perhaps, or at least excusable, when looked at as but the toys (so Cicero calls them), the strictly congenial and appropriate toys, of an assiduously cultivated age, which could not help being polite, critical, self-conscious. The mere love of novelty also had, of course, its part there: as with the Euphuism of the Elizabethan age, and of the modern French romanticists, its neologies were the ground of one of the favourite charges against it; though indeed, as regards these tricks of taste also, there is nothing new, but a quaint family likeness rather, between the Euphuists of successive ages. Here, as elsewhere, the power of "fashion," as it is called, is but one minor form, slight enough, it may be, yet distinctly symptomatic, of that deeper yearning of human nature towards ideal perfection, which is a continuous force in it; and since in this direction too human nature is limited, such fashions must necessarily reproduce themselves. Among other resemblances to later growths of Euphuism, its archaisms on the one hand, and [99] its neologies on the other, the Euphuism of the days of Marcus Aurelius had, in the composition of verse, its fancy for the refrain. It was a snatch from a popular chorus, something he had heard sounding all over the town of Pisa one April night, one of the first bland and summer-like nights of the year, that Flavian had chosen for the refrain of a poem he was then pondering--the Pervigilium Veneris--the vigil, or "nocturn," of Venus. Certain elderly counsellors, filling what may be thought a constant part in the little tragi-comedy which literature and its votaries are playing in all ages, would ask, suspecting some affectation or unreality in that minute culture of form:--Cannot those who have a thing to say, say it directly? Why not be simple and broad, like the old writers of Greece? And this challenge had at least the effect of setting his thoughts at work on the intellectual situation as it lay between the children of the present and those earliest masters. Certainly, the most wonderful, the unique, point, about the Greek genius, in literature as in everything else, was the entire absence of imitation in its productions. How had the burden of precedent, laid upon every artist, increased since then! It was all around one:--that smoothly built world of old classical taste, an accomplished fact, with overwhelming authority on every detail of the conduct of one's [100] work. With no fardel on its own back, yet so imperious towards those who came labouring after it, Hellas, in its early freshness, looked as distant from him even then as it does from ourselves. There might seem to be no place left for novelty or originality,--place only for a patient, an infinite, faultlessness. On this question too Flavian passed through a world of curious art-casuistries, of self-tormenting, at the threshold of his work. Was poetic beauty a thing ever one and the same, a type absolute; or, changing always with the soul of time itself, did it depend upon the taste, the peculiar trick of apprehension, the fashion, as we say, of each successive age? Might one recover that old, earlier sense of it, that earlier manner, in a masterly effort to recall all the complexities of the life, moral and intellectual, of the earlier age to which it had belonged? Had there been really bad ages in art or literature? Were all ages, even those earliest, adventurous, matutinal days, in themselves equally poetical or unpoetical; and poetry, the literary beauty, the poetic ideal, always but a borrowed light upon men's actual life? Homer had said-- Hoi d' hote dê limenos polybentheos entos hikonto, Histia men steilanto, thesan d' en nêi melainê... Ek de kai autoi bainon epi phêgmini thalassês.+ And how poetic the simple incident seemed, told just thus! Homer was always telling [101] things after this manner. And one might think there had been no effort in it: that here was but the almost mechanical transcript of a time, naturally, intrinsically, poetic, a time in which one could hardly have spoken at all without ideal effect, or, the sailors pulled down their boat without making a picture in "the great style," against a sky charged with marvels. Must not the mere prose of an age, itself thus ideal, have counted for more than half of Homer's poetry? Or might the closer student discover even here, even in Homer, the really mediatorial function of the poet, as between the reader and the actual matter of his experience; the poet waiting, so to speak, in an age which had felt itself trite and commonplace enough, on his opportunity for the touch of "golden alchemy," or at least for the pleasantly lighted side of things themselves? Might not another, in one's own prosaic and used-up time, so uneventful as it had been through the long reign of these quiet Antonines, in like manner, discover his ideal, by a due waiting upon it? Would not a future generation, looking back upon this, under the power of the enchanted-distance fallacy, find it ideal to view, in contrast with its own languor--the languor that for some reason (concerning which Augustine will one day have his view) seemed to haunt men always? Had Homer, even, appeared unreal and affected in his poetic flight, to some of the people of his own age, [102] as seemed to happen with every new literature in turn? In any case, the intellectual conditions of early Greece had been--how different from these! And a true literary tact would accept that difference in forming the primary conception of the literary function at a later time. Perhaps the utmost one could get by conscious effort, in the way of a reaction or return to the conditions of an earlier and fresher age, would be but novitas, artificial artlessness, naïveté; and this quality too might have its measure of euphuistic charm, direct and sensible enough, though it must count, in comparison with that genuine early Greek newness at the beginning, not as the freshness of the open fields, but only of a bunch of field-flowers in a heated room. There was, meantime, all this:--on one side, the old pagan culture, for us but a fragment, for him an accomplished yet present fact, still a living, united, organic whole, in the entirety of its art, its thought, its religions, its sagacious forms of polity, that so weighty authority it exercised on every point, being in reality only the measure of its charm for every one: on the other side, the actual world in all its eager self-assertion, with Flavian himself, in his boundless animation, there, at the centre of the situation. From the natural defects, from the pettiness, of his euphuism, his assiduous cultivation of manner, he was saved by the consciousness that he had a matter to present, very real, [103] at least to him. That preoccupation of the dilettante with what might seem mere details of form, after all, did but serve the purpose of bringing to the surface, sincerely and in their integrity, certain strong personal intuitions, a certain vision or apprehension of things as really being, with important results, thus, rather than thus,--intuitions which the artistic or literary faculty was called upon to follow, with the exactness of wax or clay, clothing the model within. Flavian too, with his fine clear mastery of the practically effective, had early laid hold of the principle, as axiomatic in literature: that to know when one's self is interested, is the first condition of interesting other people. It was a principle, the forcible apprehension of which made him jealous and fastidious in the selection of his intellectual food; often listless while others read or gazed diligently; never pretending to be moved out of mere complaisance to people's emotions: it served to foster in him a very scrupulous literary sincerity with himself. And it was this uncompromising demand for a matter, in all art, derived immediately from lively personal intuition, this constant appeal to individual judgment, which saved his euphuism, even at its weakest, from lapsing into mere artifice. Was the magnificent exordium of Lucretius, addressed to the goddess Venus, the work of [104] his earlier manhood, and designed originally to open an argument less persistently sombre than that protest against the whole pagan heaven which actually follows it? It is certainly the most typical expression of a mood, still incident to the young poet, as a thing peculiar to his youth, when he feels the sentimental current setting forcibly along his veins, and so much as a matter of purely physical excitement, that he can hardly distinguish it from the animation of external nature, the upswelling of the seed in the earth, and of the sap through the trees. Flavian, to whom, again, as to his later euphuistic kinsmen, old mythology seemed as full of untried, unexpressed motives and interest as human life itself, had long been occupied with a kind of mystic hymn to the vernal principle of life in things; a composition shaping itself, little by little, out of a thousand dim perceptions, into singularly definite form (definite and firm as fine-art in metal, thought Marius) for which, as I said, he had caught his "refrain," from the lips of the young men, singing because they could not help it, in the streets of Pisa. And as oftenest happens also, with natures of genuinely poetic quality, those piecemeal beginnings came suddenly to harmonious completeness among the fortunate incidents, the physical heat and light, of one singularly happy day. It was one of the first hot days of March--"the sacred day"--on which, from Pisa, as from [105] many another harbour on the Mediterranean, the Ship of Isis went to sea, and every one walked down to the shore-side to witness the freighting of the vessel, its launching and final abandonment among the waves, as an object really devoted to the Great Goddess, that new rival, or "double," of ancient Venus, and like her a favourite patroness of sailors. On the evening next before, all the world had been abroad to view the illumination of the river; the stately lines of building being wreathed with hundreds of many-coloured lamps. The young men had poured forth their chorus-- Cras amet qui nunquam amavit, Quique amavit cras amet-- as they bore their torches through the yielding crowd, or rowed their lanterned boats up and down the stream, till far into the night, when heavy rain-drops had driven the last lingerers home. Morning broke, however, smiling and serene; and the long procession started betimes. The river, curving slightly, with the smoothly paved streets on either side, between its low marble parapet and the fair dwelling-houses, formed the main highway of the city; and the pageant, accompanied throughout by innumerable lanterns and wax tapers, took its course up one of these streets, crossing the water by a bridge up-stream, and down the other, to the haven, every possible standing-place, out of doors [106] and within, being crowded with sight-seers, of whom Marius was one of the most eager, deeply interested in finding the spectacle much as Apuleius had described it in his famous book. At the head of the procession, the master of ceremonies, quietly waving back the assistants, made way for a number of women, scattering perfumes. They were succeeded by a company of musicians, piping and twanging, on instruments the strangest Marius had ever beheld, the notes of a hymn, narrating the first origin of this votive rite to a choir of youths, who marched behind them singing it. The tire-women and other personal attendants of the great goddess came next, bearing the instruments of their ministry, and various articles from the sacred wardrobe, wrought of the most precious material; some of them with long ivory combs, plying their hands in wild yet graceful concert of movement as they went, in devout mimicry of the toilet. Placed in their rear were the mirror-bearers of the goddess, carrying large mirrors of beaten brass or silver, turned in such a way as to reflect to the great body of worshippers who followed, the face of the mysterious image, as it moved on its way, and their faces to it, as though they were in fact advancing to meet the heavenly visitor. They comprehended a multitude of both sexes and of all ages, already initiated into the divine secret, clad in fair linen, the females veiled, the males with shining [107] tonsures, and every one carrying a sistrum--the richer sort of silver, a few very dainty persons of fine gold--rattling the reeds, with a noise like the jargon of innumerable birds and insects awakened from torpor and abroad in the spring sun. Then, borne upon a kind of platform, came the goddess herself, undulating above the heads of the multitude as the bearers walked, in mystic robe embroidered with the moon and stars, bordered gracefully with a fringe of real fruit and flowers, and with a glittering crown upon the head. The train of the procession consisted of the priests in long white vestments, close from head to foot, distributed into various groups, each bearing, exposed aloft, one of the sacred symbols of Isis--the corn-fan, the golden asp, the ivory hand of equity, and among them the votive ship itself, carved and gilt, and adorned bravely with flags flying. Last of all walked the high priest; the people kneeling as he passed to kiss his hand, in which were those well-remembered roses. Marius followed with the rest to the harbour, where the mystic ship, lowered from the shoulders of the priests, was loaded with as much as it could carry of the rich spices and other costly gifts, offered in great profusion by the worshippers, and thus, launched at last upon the water, left the shore, crossing the harbour-bar in the wake of a much stouter vessel than itself with a crew of white-robed mariners, whose [108] function it was, at the appointed moment, finally to desert it on the open sea. The remainder of the day was spent by most in parties on the water. Flavian and Marius sailed further than they had ever done before to a wild spot on the bay, the traditional site of a little Greek colony, which, having had its eager, stirring life at the time when Etruria was still a power in Italy, had perished in the age of the civil wars. In the absolute transparency of the air on this gracious day, an infinitude of detail from sea and shore reached the eye with sparkling clearness, as the two lads sped rapidly over the waves--Flavian at work suddenly, from time to time, with his tablets. They reached land at last. The coral fishers had spread their nets on the sands, with a tumble-down of quaint, many-hued treasures, below a little shrine of Venus, fluttering and gay with the scarves and napkins and gilded shells which these people had offered to the image. Flavian and Marius sat down under the shadow of a mass of gray rock or ruin, where the sea-gate of the Greek town had been, and talked of life in those old Greek colonies. Of this place, all that remained, besides those rude stones, was--a handful of silver coins, each with a head of pure and archaic beauty, though a little cruel perhaps, supposed to represent the Siren Ligeia, whose tomb was formerly shown here--only these, and an ancient song, the very strain which Flavian [109] had recovered in those last months. They were records which spoke, certainly, of the charm of life within those walls. How strong must have been the tide of men's existence in that little republican town, so small that this circle of gray stones, of service now only by the moisture they gathered for the blue-flowering gentians among them, had been the line of its rampart! An epitome of all that was liveliest, most animated and adventurous, in the old Greek people of which it was an offshoot, it had enhanced the effect of these gifts by concentration within narrow limits. The band of "devoted youth,"--hiera neotês.+--of the younger brothers, devoted to the gods and whatever luck the gods might afford, because there was no room for them at home--went forth, bearing the sacred flame from the mother hearth; itself a flame, of power to consume the whole material of existence in clear light and heat, with no smouldering residue. The life of those vanished townsmen, so brilliant and revolutionary, applying so abundantly the personal qualities which alone just then Marius seemed to value, associated itself with the actual figure of his companion, standing there before him, his face enthusiastic with the sudden thought of all that; and struck him vividly as precisely the fitting opportunity for a nature like his, so hungry for control, for ascendency over men. Marius noticed also, however, as high spirits [110] flagged at last, on the way home through the heavy dew of the evening, more than physical fatigue in Flavian, who seemed to find no refreshment in the coolness. There had been something feverish, perhaps, and like the beginning of sickness, about his almost forced gaiety, in this sudden spasm of spring; and by the evening of the next day he was lying with a burning spot on his forehead, stricken, as was thought from the first, by the terrible new disease. NOTES 93. +Corrected from the Macmillan edition misprint "singal." 98. +Transliteration: es kallos graphein. Translation: "To write beautifully." 100. +Iliad 1.432-33, 437. Transliteration: Hoi d' hote dê limenos polybentheos entos hikonto, Histia men steilanto, thesan d' en nêi melainê... Ek de kai autoi bainon epi phêgmini thalassês. Etext editor's translation: When they had safely made deep harbor They took in the sail, laid it in their black ship... And went ashore just past the breakers. 109. +Transliteration: hiera neotês. Pater translates the phrase, "devoted youth." CHAPTER VII: A PAGAN END [111] FOR the fantastical colleague of the philosophic emperor Marcus Aurelius, returning in triumph from the East, had brought in his train, among the enemies of Rome, one by no means a captive. People actually sickened at a sudden touch of the unsuspected foe, as they watched in dense crowds the pathetic or grotesque imagery of failure or success in the triumphal procession. And, as usual, the plague brought with it a power to develop all pre-existent germs of superstition. It was by dishonour done to Apollo himself, said popular rumour--to Apollo, the old titular divinity of pestilence, that the poisonous thing had come abroad. Pent up in a golden coffer consecrated to the god, it had escaped in the sacrilegious plundering of his temple at Seleucia by the soldiers of Lucius Verus, after a traitorous surprise of that town and a cruel massacre. Certainly there was something which baffled all imaginable precautions and all medical science, in the suddenness [112] with which the disease broke out simultaneously, here and there, among both soldiers and citizens, even in places far remote from the main line of its march in the rear of the victorious army. It seemed to have invaded the whole empire, and some have even thought that, in a mitigated form, it permanently remained there. In Rome itself many thousands perished; and old authorities tell of farmsteads, whole towns, and even entire neighbourhoods, which from that time continued without inhabitants and lapsed into wildness or ruin. Flavian lay at the open window of his lodging, with a fiery pang in the brain, fancying no covering thin or light enough to be applied to his body. His head being relieved after a while, there was distress at the chest. It was but the fatal course of the strange new sickness, under many disguises; travelling from the brain to the feet, like a material resident, weakening one after another of the organic centres; often, when it did not kill, depositing various degrees of lifelong infirmity in this member or that; and after such descent, returning upwards again, now as a mortal coldness, leaving the entrenchments of the fortress of life overturned, one by one, behind it. Flavian lay there, with the enemy at his breast now in a painful cough, but relieved from that burning fever in the head, amid the rich-scented flowers--rare Paestum roses, and the like [113] --procured by Marius for his solace, in a fancied convalescence; and would, at intervals, return to labour at his verses, with a great eagerness to complete and transcribe the work, while Marius sat and wrote at his dictation, one of the latest but not the poorest specimens of genuine Latin poetry. It was in fact a kind of nuptial hymn, which, taking its start from the thought of nature as the universal mother, celebrated the preliminary pairing and mating together of all fresh things, in the hot and genial spring-time--the immemorial nuptials of the soul of spring itself and the brown earth; and was full of a delighted, mystic sense of what passed between them in that fantastic marriage. That mystic burden was relieved, at intervals, by the familiar playfulness of the Latin verse-writer in dealing with mythology, which, though coming at so late a day, had still a wonderful freshness in its old age.--"Amor has put his weapons by and will keep holiday. He was bidden go without apparel, that none might be wounded by his bow and arrows. But take care! In truth he is none the less armed than usual, though he be all unclad." In the expression of all this Flavian seemed, while making it his chief aim to retain the opulent, many-syllabled vocabulary of the Latin genius, at some points even to have advanced beyond it, in anticipation of wholly new laws of [114] taste as regards sound, a new range of sound itself. The peculiar resultant note, associating itself with certain other experiences of his, was to Marius like the foretaste of an entirely novel world of poetic beauty to come. Flavian had caught, indeed, something of the rhyming cadence, the sonorous organ-music of the medieval Latin, and therewithal something of its unction and mysticity of spirit. There was in his work, along with the last splendour of the classical language, a touch, almost prophetic, of that transformed life it was to have in the rhyming middle age, just about to dawn. The impression thus forced upon Marius connected itself with a feeling, the exact inverse of that, known to every one, which seems to say, You have been just here, just thus, before!--a feeling, in his case, not reminiscent but prescient of the future, which passed over him afterwards many times, as he came across certain places and people. It was as if he detected there the process of actual change to a wholly undreamed-of and renewed condition of human body and soul: as if he saw the heavy yet decrepit old Roman architecture about him, rebuilding on an intrinsically better pattern. Could it have been actually on a new musical instrument that Flavian had first heard the novel accents of his verse? And still Marius noticed there, amid all its richness of expression and imagery, that firmness of outline he had always relished so much in the composition of [115] Flavian. Yes! a firmness like that of some master of noble metal-work, manipulating tenacious bronze or gold. Even now that haunting refrain, with its impromptu variations, from the throats of those strong young men, came floating through the window. Cras amet qui nunquam amavit, Quique amavit cras amet! --repeated Flavian, tremulously, dictating yet one stanza more. What he was losing, his freehold of a soul and body so fortunately endowed, the mere liberty of life above-ground, "those sunny mornings in the cornfields by the sea," as he recollected them one day, when the window was thrown open upon the early freshness--his sense of all this, was from the first singularly near and distinct, yet rather as of something he was but debarred the use of for a time than finally bidding farewell to. That was while he was still with no very grave misgivings as to the issue of his sickness, and felt the sources of life still springing essentially unadulterate within him. From time to time, indeed, Marius, labouring eagerly at the poem from his dictation, was haunted by a feeling of the triviality of such work just then. The recurrent sense of some obscure danger beyond the mere danger of death, vaguer than that and by so much the more terrible, like the menace of some shadowy [116] adversary in the dark with whose mode of attack they had no acquaintance, disturbed him now and again through those hours of excited attention to his manuscript, and to the purely physical wants of Flavian. Still, during these three days there was much hope and cheerfulness, and even jesting. Half-consciously Marius tried to prolong one or another relieving circumstance of the day, the preparations for rest and morning refreshment, for instance; sadly making the most of the little luxury of this or that, with something of the feigned cheer of the mother who sets her last morsels before her famished child as for a feast, but really that he "may eat it and die." On the afternoon of the seventh day he allowed Marius finally to put aside the unfinished manuscript. For the enemy, leaving the chest quiet at length though much exhausted, had made itself felt with full power again in a painful vomiting, which seemed to shake his body asunder, with great consequent prostration. From that time the distress increased rapidly downwards. Omnia tum vero vitai claustra lababant;+ and soon the cold was mounting with sure pace from the dead feet to the head. And now Marius began more than to suspect what the issue must be, and henceforward could but watch with a sort of agonised fascination the rapid but systematic work of the destroyer, [117] faintly relieving a little the mere accidents of the sharper forms of suffering. Flavian himself appeared, in full consciousness at last--in clear-sighted, deliberate estimate of the actual crisis--to be doing battle with his adversary. His mind surveyed, with great distinctness, the various suggested modes of relief. He must without fail get better, he would fancy, might he be removed to a certain place on the hills where as a child he had once recovered from sickness, but found that he could scarcely raise his head from the pillow without giddiness. As if now surely foreseeing the end, he would set himself, with an eager effort, and with that eager and angry look, which is noted as one of the premonitions of death in this disease, to fashion out, without formal dictation, still a few more broken verses of his unfinished work, in hard-set determination, defiant of pain, to arrest this or that little drop at least from the river of sensuous imagery rushing so quickly past him. But at length delirium--symptom that the work of the plague was done, and the last resort of life yielding to the enemy--broke the coherent order of words and thoughts; and Marius, intent on the coming agony, found his best hope in the increasing dimness of the patient's mind. In intervals of clearer consciousness the visible signs of cold, of sorrow and desolation, were very painful. No longer battling with the disease, he seemed as it were to place himself [118] at the disposal of the victorious foe, dying passively, like some dumb creature, in hopeless acquiescence at last. That old, half-pleading petulance, unamiable, yet, as it might seem, only needing conditions of life a little happier than they had actually been, to become refinement of affection, a delicate grace in its demand on the sympathy of others, had changed in those moments of full intelligence to a clinging and tremulous gentleness, as he lay--"on the very threshold of death"--with a sharply contracted hand in the hand of Marius, to his almost surprised joy, winning him now to an absolutely self-forgetful devotion. There was a new sort of pleading in the misty eyes, just because they took such unsteady note of him, which made Marius feel as if guilty; anticipating thus a form of self-reproach with which even the tenderest ministrant may be sometimes surprised, when, at death, affectionate labour suddenly ceasing leaves room for the suspicion of some failure of love perhaps, at one or another minute point in it. Marius almost longed to take his share in the suffering, that he might understand so the better how to relieve it. It seemed that the light of the lamp distressed the patient, and Marius extinguished it. The thunder which had sounded all day among the hills, with a heat not unwelcome to Flavian, had given way at nightfall to steady rain; and [119] in the darkness Marius lay down beside him, faintly shivering now in the sudden cold, to lend him his own warmth, undeterred by the fear of contagion which had kept other people from passing near the house. At length about day-break he perceived that the last effort had come with a revival of mental clearness, as Marius understood by the contact, light as it was, in recognition of him there. "Is it a comfort," he whispered then, "that I shall often come and weep over you?"--"Not unless I be aware, and hear you weeping!" The sun shone out on the people going to work for a long hot day, and Marius was standing by the dead, watching, with deliberate purpose to fix in his memory every detail, that he might have this picture in reserve, should any hour of forgetfulness hereafter come to him with the temptation to feel completely happy again. A feeling of outrage, of resentment against nature itself, mingled with an agony of pity, as he noted on the now placid features a certain look of humility, almost abject, like the expression of a smitten child or animal, as of one, fallen at last, after bewildering struggle, wholly under the power of a merciless adversary. From mere tenderness of soul he would not forget one circumstance in all that; as a man might piously stamp on his memory the death-scene of a brother wrongfully condemned to die, against a time that may come. [120] The fear of the corpse, which surprised him in his effort to watch by it through the darkness, was a hint of his own failing strength, just in time. The first night after the washing of the body, he bore stoutly enough the tax which affection seemed to demand, throwing the incense from time to time on the little altar placed beside the bier. It was the recurrence of the thing--that unchanged outline below the coverlet, amid a silence in which the faintest rustle seemed to speak--that finally overcame his determination. Surely, here, in this alienation, this sense of distance between them, which had come over him before though in minor degree when the mind of Flavian had wandered in his sickness, was another of the pains of death. Yet he was able to make all due preparations, and go through the ceremonies, shortened a little because of the infection, when, on a cloudless evening, the funeral procession went forth; himself, the flames of the pyre having done their work, carrying away the urn of the deceased, in the folds of his toga, to its last resting-place in the cemetery beside the highway, and so turning home to sleep in his own desolate lodging. Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus Tam cari capitis?--+ What thought of others' thoughts about one could there be with the regret for "so dear a head" fresh at one's heart? NOTES 116. +Lucretius, Book VI.1153. 120. +Horace, Odes I.xxiv.1-2. PART THE SECOND CHAPTER VIII: ANIMULA VAGULA Animula, vagula, blandula Hospes comesque corporis, Quae nunc abibis in loca? Pallidula, rigida, nudula. The Emperor Hadrian to his Soul [123] FLAVIAN was no more. The little marble chest with its dust and tears lay cold among the faded flowers. For most people the actual spectacle of death brings out into greater reality, at least for the imagination, whatever confidence they may entertain of the soul's survival in another life. To Marius, greatly agitated by that event, the earthly end of Flavian came like a final revelation of nothing less than the soul's extinction. Flavian had gone out as utterly as the fire among those still beloved ashes. Even that wistful suspense of judgment expressed by the dying Hadrian, regarding further stages of being still possible for the soul in some dim journey hence, seemed wholly untenable, and, with it, almost all that remained of the religion of his childhood. Future extinction seemed just then [124] to be what the unforced witness of his own nature pointed to. On the other hand, there came a novel curiosity as to what the various schools of ancient philosophy had had to say concerning that strange, fluttering creature; and that curiosity impelled him to certain severe studies, in which his earlier religious conscience seemed still to survive, as a principle of hieratic scrupulousness or integrity of thought, regarding this new service to intellectual light. At this time, by his poetic and inward temper, he might have fallen a prey to the enervating mysticism, then in wait for ardent souls in many a melodramatic revival of old religion or theosophy. From all this, fascinating as it might actually be to one side of his character, he was kept by a genuine virility there, effective in him, among other results, as a hatred of what was theatrical, and the instinctive recognition that in vigorous intelligence, after all, divinity was most likely to be found a resident. With this was connected the feeling, increasing with his advance to manhood, of a poetic beauty in mere clearness of thought, the actually aesthetic charm of a cold austerity of mind; as if the kinship of that to the clearness of physical light were something more than a figure of speech. Of all those various religious fantasies, as so many forms of enthusiasm, he could well appreciate the picturesque; that was made easy by his natural Epicureanism, already prompting [125] him to conceive of himself as but the passive spectator of the world around him. But it was to the severer reasoning, of which such matters as Epicurean theory are born, that, in effect, he now betook himself. Instinctively suspicious of those mechanical arcana, those pretended "secrets unveiled" of the professional mystic, which really bring great and little souls to one level, for Marius the only possible dilemma lay between that old, ancestral Roman religion, now become so incredible to him and the honest action of his own untroubled, unassisted intelligence. Even the Arcana Celestia of Platonism--what the sons of Plato had had to say regarding the essential indifference of pure soul to its bodily house and merely occasional dwelling-place--seemed to him while his heart was there in the urn with the material ashes of Flavian, or still lingering in memory over his last agony, wholly inhuman or morose, as tending to alleviate his resentment at nature's wrong. It was to the sentiment of the body, and the affections it defined--the flesh, of whose force and colour that wandering Platonic soul was but so frail a residue or abstract--he must cling. The various pathetic traits of the beloved, suffering, perished body of Flavian, so deeply pondered, had made him a materialist, but with something of the temper of a devotee. As a consequence it might have seemed at first that his care for poetry had passed away, [126] to be replaced by the literature of thought. His much-pondered manuscript verses were laid aside; and what happened now to one, who was certainly to be something of a poet from first to last, looked at the moment like a change from poetry to prose. He came of age about this time, his own master though with beardless face; and at eighteen, an age at which, then as now, many youths of capacity, who fancied themselves poets, secluded themselves from others chiefly in affectation and vague dreaming, he secluded himself indeed from others, but in a severe intellectual meditation, that salt of poetry, without which all the more serious charm is lacking to the imaginative world. Still with something of the old religious earnestness of his childhood, he set himself--Sich im Denken zu orientiren--to determine his bearings, as by compass, in the world of thought--to get that precise acquaintance with the creative intelligence itself, its structure and capacities, its relation to other parts of himself and to other things, without which, certainly, no poetry can be masterly. Like a young man rich in this world's goods coming of age, he must go into affairs, and ascertain his outlook. There must be no disguises. An exact estimate of realities, as towards himself, he must have--a delicately measured gradation of certainty in things--from the distant, haunted horizon of mere surmise or imagination, to the actual [127] feeling of sorrow in his heart, as he reclined one morning, alone instead of in pleasant company, to ponder the hard sayings of an imperfect old Greek manuscript, unrolled beside him. His former gay companions, meeting him in the streets of the old Italian town, and noting the graver lines coming into the face of the sombre but enthusiastic student of intellectual structure, who could hold his own so well in the society of accomplished older men, were half afraid of him, though proud to have him of their company. Why this reserve?--they asked, concerning the orderly, self-possessed youth, whose speech and carriage seemed so carefully measured, who was surely no poet like the rapt, dishevelled Lupus. Was he secretly in love, perhaps, whose toga was so daintily folded, and who was always as fresh as the flowers he wore; or bent on his own line of ambition: or even on riches? Marius, meantime, was reading freely, in early morning for the most part, those writers chiefly who had made it their business to know what might be thought concerning that strange, enigmatic, personal essence, which had seemed to go out altogether, along with the funeral fires. And the old Greek who more than any other was now giving form to his thoughts was a very hard master. From Epicurus, from the thunder and lightning of Lucretius--like thunder and lightning some distance off, one might recline to enjoy, in a garden of roses--he had gone back to [128] the writer who was in a certain sense the teacher of both, Heraclitus of Ionia. His difficult book "Concerning Nature" was even then rare, for people had long since satisfied themselves by the quotation of certain brilliant, isolated, oracles only, out of what was at best a taxing kind of lore. But the difficulty of the early Greek prose did but spur the curiosity of Marius; the writer, the superior clearness of whose intellectual view had so sequestered him from other men, who had had so little joy of that superiority, being avowedly exacting as to the amount of devout attention he required from the student. "The many," he said, always thus emphasising the difference between the many and the few, are "like people heavy with wine," "led by children," "knowing not whither they go;" and yet, "much learning doth not make wise;" and again, "the ass, after all, would have his thistles rather than fine gold." Heraclitus, indeed, had not under-rated the difficulty for "the many" of the paradox with which his doctrine begins, and the due reception of which must involve a denial of habitual impressions, as the necessary first step in the way of truth. His philosophy had been developed in conscious, outspoken opposition to the current mode of thought, as a matter requiring some exceptional loyalty to pure reason and its "dry light." Men are subject to an illusion, he protests, regarding matters apparent to sense. [129] What the uncorrected sense gives was a false impression of permanence or fixity in things, which have really changed their nature in the very moment in which we see and touch them. And the radical flaw in the current mode of thinking would lie herein: that, reflecting this false or uncorrected sensation, it attributes to the phenomena of experience a durability which does not really belong to them. Imaging forth from those fluid impressions a world of firmly out-lined objects, it leads one to regard as a thing stark and dead what is in reality full of animation, of vigour, of the fire of life--that eternal process of nature, of which at a later time Goethe spoke as the "Living Garment," whereby God is seen of us, ever in weaving at the "Loom of Time." And the appeal which the old Greek thinker made was, in the first instance, from confused to unconfused sensation; with a sort of prophetic seriousness, a great claim and assumption, such as we may understand, if we anticipate in this preliminary scepticism the ulterior scope of his speculation, according to which the universal movement of all natural things is but one particular stage, or measure, of that ceaseless activity wherein the divine reason consists. The one true being--that constant subject of all early thought--it was his merit to have conceived, not as sterile and stagnant inaction, but as a perpetual energy, from the restless stream of which, [130] at certain points, some elements detach themselves, and harden into non-entity and death, corresponding, as outward objects, to man's inward condition of ignorance: that is, to the slowness of his faculties. It is with this paradox of a subtle, perpetual change in all visible things, that the high speculation of Heraclitus begins. Hence the scorn he expresses for anything like a careless, half-conscious, "use-and-wont" reception of our experience, which took so strong a hold on men's memories! Hence those many precepts towards a strenuous self-consciousness in all we think and do, that loyalty to cool and candid reason, which makes strict attentiveness of mind a kind of religious duty and service. The negative doctrine, then, that the objects of our ordinary experience, fixed as they seem, are really in perpetual change, had been, as originally conceived, but the preliminary step towards a large positive system of almost religious philosophy. Then as now, the illuminated philosophic mind might apprehend, in what seemed a mass of lifeless matter, the movement of that universal life, in which things, and men's impressions of them, were ever "coming to be," alternately consumed and renewed. That continual change, to be discovered by the attentive understanding where common opinion found fixed objects, was but the indicator of a subtler but all-pervading motion--the sleepless, ever-sustained, inexhaustible energy of the divine [131] reason itself, proceeding always by its own rhythmical logic, and lending to all mind and matter, in turn, what life they had. In this "perpetual flux" of things and of souls, there was, as Heraclitus conceived, a continuance, if not of their material or spiritual elements, yet of orderly intelligible relationships, like the harmony of musical notes, wrought out in and through the series of their mutations--ordinances of the divine reason, maintained throughout the changes of the phenomenal world; and this harmony in their mutation and opposition, was, after all, a principle of sanity, of reality, there. But it happened, that, of all this, the first, merely sceptical or negative step, that easiest step on the threshold, had alone remained in general memory; and the "doctrine of motion" seemed to those who had felt its seduction to make all fixed knowledge impossible. The swift passage of things, the still swifter passage of those modes of our conscious being which seemed to reflect them, might indeed be the burning of the divine fire: but what was ascertained was that they did pass away like a devouring flame, or like the race of water in the mid-stream--too swiftly for any real knowledge of them to be attainable. Heracliteanism had grown to be almost identical with the famous doctrine of the sophist Protagoras, that the momentary, sensible apprehension of the individual was the only standard of what is or is [132] not, and each one the measure of all things to himself. The impressive name of Heraclitus had become but an authority for a philosophy of the despair of knowledge. And as it had been with his original followers in Greece, so it happened now with the later Roman disciple. He, too, paused at the apprehension of that constant motion of things--the drift of flowers, of little or great souls, of ambitious systems, in the stream around him, the first source, the ultimate issue, of which, in regions out of sight, must count with him as but a dim problem. The bold mental flight of the old Greek master from the fleeting, competing objects of experience to that one universal life, in which the whole sphere of physical change might be reckoned as but a single pulsation, remained by him as hypothesis only--the hypothesis he actually preferred, as in itself most credible, however scantily realisable even by the imagination--yet still as but one unverified hypothesis, among many others, concerning the first principle of things. He might reserve it as a fine, high, visionary consideration, very remote upon the intellectual ladder, just at the point, indeed, where that ladder seemed to pass into the clouds, but for which there was certainly no time left just now by his eager interest in the real objects so close to him, on the lowlier earthy steps nearest the ground. And those childish days of reverie, [133] when he played at priests, played in many another day-dream, working his way from the actual present, as far as he might, with a delightful sense of escape in replacing the outer world of other people by an inward world as himself really cared to have it, had made him a kind of "idealist." He was become aware of the possibility of a large dissidence between an inward and somewhat exclusive world of vivid personal apprehension, and the unimproved, unheightened reality of the life of those about him. As a consequence, he was ready now to concede, somewhat more easily than others, the first point of his new lesson, that the individual is to himself the measure of all things, and to rely on the exclusive certainty to himself of his own impressions. To move afterwards in that outer world of other people, as though taking it at their estimate, would be possible henceforth only as a kind of irony. And as with the Vicaire Savoyard, after reflecting on the variations of philosophy, "the first fruit he drew from that reflection was the lesson of a limitation of his researches to what immediately interested him; to rest peacefully in a profound ignorance as to all beside; to disquiet himself only concerning those things which it was of import for him to know." At least he would entertain no theory of conduct which did not allow its due weight to this primary element of incertitude or negation, in the conditions of man's life. [134] Just here he joined company, retracing in his individual mental pilgrimage the historic order of human thought, with another wayfarer on the journey, another ancient Greek master, the founder of the Cyrenaic philosophy, whose weighty traditional utterances (for he had left no writing) served in turn to give effective outline to the contemplations of Marius. There was something in the doctrine itself congruous with the place wherein it had its birth; and for a time Marius lived much, mentally, in the brilliant Greek colony which had given a dubious name to the philosophy of pleasure. It hung, for his fancy, between the mountains and the sea, among richer than Italian gardens, on a certain breezy table-land projecting from the African coast, some hundreds of miles southward from Greece. There, in a delightful climate, with something of transalpine temperance amid its luxury, and withal in an inward atmosphere of temperance which did but further enhance the brilliancy of human life, the school of Cyrene had maintained itself as almost one with the family of its founder; certainly as nothing coarse or unclean, and under the influence of accomplished women. Aristippus of Cyrene too had left off in suspense of judgment as to what might really lie behind--flammantia moenia mundi: the flaming ramparts of the world. Those strange, bold, sceptical surmises, which had haunted the minds [135] of the first Greek enquirers as merely abstract doubt, which had been present to the mind of Heraclitus as one element only in a system of abstract philosophy, became with Aristippus a very subtly practical worldly-wisdom. The difference between him and those obscure earlier thinkers is almost like that between an ancient thinker generally, and a modern man of the world: it was the difference between the mystic in his cell, or the prophet in the desert, and the expert, cosmopolitan, administrator of his dark sayings, translating the abstract thoughts of the master into terms, first of all, of sentiment. It has been sometimes seen, in the history of the human mind, that when thus translated into terms of sentiment--of sentiment, as lying already half-way towards practice--the abstract ideas of metaphysics for the first time reveal their true significance. The metaphysical principle, in itself, as it were, without hands or feet, becomes impressive, fascinating, of effect, when translated into a precept as to how it were best to feel and act; in other words, under its sentimental or ethical equivalent. The leading idea of the great master of Cyrene, his theory that things are but shadows, and that we, even as they, never continue in one stay, might indeed have taken effect as a languid, enervating, consumptive nihilism, as a precept of "renunciation," which would touch and handle and busy itself with nothing. But in the reception of [136] metaphysical formulae, all depends, as regards their actual and ulterior result, on the pre-existent qualities of that soil of human nature into which they fall--the company they find already present there, on their admission into the house of thought; there being at least so much truth as this involves in the theological maxim, that the reception of this or that speculative conclusion is really a matter of will. The persuasion that all is vanity, with this happily constituted Greek, who had been a genuine disciple of Socrates and reflected, presumably, something of his blitheness in the face of the world, his happy way of taking all chances, generated neither frivolity nor sourness, but induced, rather, an impression, just serious enough, of the call upon men's attention of the crisis in which they find themselves. It became the stimulus towards every kind of activity, and prompted a perpetual, inextinguishable thirst after experience. With Marius, then, the influence of the philosopher of pleasure depended on this, that in him an abstract doctrine, originally somewhat acrid, had fallen upon a rich and genial nature, well fitted to transform it into a theory of practice, of considerable stimulative power towards a fair life. What Marius saw in him was the spectacle of one of the happiest temperaments coming, so to speak, to an understanding with the most depressing of theories; accepting the [137] results of a metaphysical system which seemed to concentrate into itself all the weakening trains of thought in earlier Greek speculation, and making the best of it; turning its hard, bare truths, with wonderful tact, into precepts of grace, and delicate wisdom, and a delicate sense of honour. Given the hardest terms, supposing our days are indeed but a shadow, even so, we may well adorn and beautify, in scrupulous self-respect, our souls, and whatever our souls touch upon--these wonderful bodies, these material dwelling-places through which the shadows pass together for a while, the very raiment we wear, our very pastimes and the intercourse of society. The most discerning judges saw in him something like the graceful "humanities" of the later Roman, and our modern "culture," as it is termed; while Horace recalled his sayings as expressing best his own consummate amenity in the reception of life. In this way, for Marius, under the guidance of that old master of decorous living, those eternal doubts as to the criteria of truth reduced themselves to a scepticism almost drily practical, a scepticism which developed the opposition between things as they are and our impressions and thoughts concerning them--the possibility, if an outward world does really exist, of some faultiness in our apprehension of it--the doctrine, in short, of what is termed "the subjectivity of knowledge." That is a consideration, indeed, [138] which lies as an element of weakness, like some admitted fault or flaw, at the very foundation of every philosophical account of the universe; which confronts all philosophies at their starting, but with which none have really dealt conclusively, some perhaps not quite sincerely; which those who are not philosophers dissipate by "common," but unphilosophical, sense, or by religious faith. The peculiar strength of Marius was, to have apprehended this weakness on the threshold of human knowledge, in the whole range of its consequences. Our knowledge is limited to what we feel, he reflected: we need no proof that we feel. But can we be sure that things are at all like our feelings? Mere peculiarities in the instruments of our cognition, like the little knots and waves on the surface of a mirror, may distort the matter they seem but to represent. Of other people we cannot truly know even the feelings, nor how far they would indicate the same modifications, each one of a personality really unique, in using the same terms as ourselves; that "common experience," which is sometimes proposed as a satisfactory basis of certainty, being after all only a fixity of language. But our own impressions!--The light and heat of that blue veil over our heads, the heavens spread out, perhaps not like a curtain over anything!--How reassuring, after so long a debate about the rival criteria of truth, to fall back upon direct sensation, to limit one's [139] aspirations after knowledge to that! In an age still materially so brilliant, so expert in the artistic handling of material things, with sensible capacities still in undiminished vigour, with the whole world of classic art and poetry outspread before it, and where there was more than eye or ear could well take in--how natural the determination to rely exclusively upon the phenomena of the senses, which certainly never deceive us about themselves, about which alone we can never deceive ourselves! And so the abstract apprehension that the little point of this present moment alone really is, between a past which has just ceased to be and a future which may never come, became practical with Marius, under the form of a resolve, as far as possible, to exclude regret and desire, and yield himself to the improvement of the present with an absolutely disengaged mind. America is here and now--here, or nowhere: as Wilhelm Meister finds out one day, just not too late, after so long looking vaguely across the ocean for the opportunity of the development of his capacities. It was as if, recognising in perpetual motion the law of nature, Marius identified his own way of life cordially with it, "throwing himself into the stream," so to speak. He too must maintain a harmony with that soul of motion in things, by constantly renewed mobility of character. Omnis Aristippum decuit color et status et res.-- [140] Thus Horace had summed up that perfect manner in the reception of life attained by his old Cyrenaic master; and the first practical consequence of the metaphysic which lay behind that perfect manner, had been a strict limitation, almost the renunciation, of metaphysical enquiry itself. Metaphysic--that art, as it has so often proved, in the words of Michelet, de s'égarer avec méthode, of bewildering oneself methodically:--one must spend little time upon that! In the school of Cyrene, great as was its mental incisiveness, logical and physical speculation, theoretic interests generally, had been valued only so far as they served to give a groundwork, an intellectual justification, to that exclusive concern with practical ethics which was a note of the Cyrenaic philosophy. How earnest and enthusiastic, how true to itself, under how many varieties of character, had been the effort of the Greeks after Theory--Theôria--that vision of a wholly reasonable world, which, according to the greatest of them, literally makes man like God: how loyally they had still persisted in the quest after that, in spite of how many disappointments! In the Gospel of Saint John, perhaps, some of them might have found the kind of vision they were seeking for; but not in "doubtful disputations" concerning "being" and "not being," knowledge and appearance. Men's minds, even young men's minds, at that late day, might well seem oppressed by the weariness of systems which [141] had so far outrun positive knowledge; and in the mind of Marius, as in that old school of Cyrene, this sense of ennui, combined with appetites so youthfully vigorous, brought about reaction, a sort of suicide (instances of the like have been seen since) by which a great metaphysical acumen was devoted to the function of proving metaphysical speculation impossible, or useless. Abstract theory was to be valued only just so far as it might serve to clear the tablet of the mind from suppositions no more than half realisable, or wholly visionary, leaving it in flawless evenness of surface to the impressions of an experience, concrete and direct. To be absolutely virgin towards such experience, by ridding ourselves of such abstractions as are but the ghosts of bygone impressions--to be rid of the notions we have made for ourselves, and that so often only misrepresent the experience of which they profess to be the representation--idola, idols, false appearances, as Bacon calls them later--to neutralise the distorting influence of metaphysical system by an all-accomplished metaphysic skill: it is this bold, hard, sober recognition, under a very "dry light," of its own proper aim, in union with a habit of feeling which on the practical side may perhaps open a wide doorway to human weakness, that gives to the Cyrenaic doctrine, to reproductions of this doctrine in the time of Marius or in our own, their gravity and importance. It was a [142] school to which the young man might come, eager for truth, expecting much from philosophy, in no ignoble curiosity, aspiring after nothing less than an "initiation." He would be sent back, sooner or later, to experience, to the world of concrete impressions, to things as they may be seen, heard, felt by him; but with a wonderful machinery of observation, and free from the tyranny of mere theories. So, in intervals of repose, after the agitation which followed the death of Flavian, the thoughts of Marius ran, while he felt himself as if returned to the fine, clear, peaceful light of that pleasant school of healthfully sensuous wisdom, in the brilliant old Greek colony, on its fresh upland by the sea. Not pleasure, but a general completeness of life, was the practical ideal to which this anti-metaphysical metaphysic really pointed. And towards such a full or complete life, a life of various yet select sensation, the most direct and effective auxiliary must be, in a word, Insight. Liberty of soul, freedom from all partial and misrepresentative doctrine which does but relieve one element in our experience at the cost of another, freedom from all embarrassment alike of regret for the past and of calculation on the future: this would be but preliminary to the real business of education--insight, insight through culture, into all that the present moment holds in trust for us, as we stand so briefly in its presence. From that maxim of [143] Life as the end of life, followed, as a practical consequence, the desirableness of refining all the instruments of inward and outward intuition, of developing all their capacities, of testing and exercising one's self in them, till one's whole nature became one complex medium of reception, towards the vision--the "beatific vision," if we really cared to make it such--of our actual experience in the world. Not the conveyance of an abstract body of truths or principles, would be the aim of the right education of one's self, or of another, but the conveyance of an art--an art in some degree peculiar to each individual character; with the modifications, that is, due to its special constitution, and the peculiar circumstances of its growth, inasmuch as no one of us is "like another, all in all." CHAPTER IX: NEW CYRENAICISM [144] SUCH were the practical conclusions drawn for himself by Marius, when somewhat later he had outgrown the mastery of others, from the principle that "all is vanity." If he could but count upon the present, if a life brief at best could not certainly be shown to conduct one anywhere beyond itself, if men's highest curiosity was indeed so persistently baffled--then, with the Cyrenaics of all ages, he would at least fill up the measure of that present with vivid sensations, and such intellectual apprehensions, as, in strength and directness and their immediately realised values at the bar of an actual experience, are most like sensations. So some have spoken in every age; for, like all theories which really express a strong natural tendency of the human mind or even one of its characteristic modes of weakness, this vein of reflection is a constant tradition in philosophy. Every age of European thought has had its Cyrenaics or Epicureans, under many disguises: even under the hood of the monk. [145] But--Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die!--is a proposal, the real import of which differs immensely, according to the natural taste, and the acquired judgment, of the guests who sit at the table. It may express nothing better than the instinct of Dante's Ciacco, the accomplished glutton, in the mud of the Inferno;+ or, since on no hypothesis does man "live by bread alone," may come to be identical with--"My meat is to do what is just and kind;" while the soul, which can make no sincere claim to have apprehended anything beyond the veil of immediate experience, yet never loses a sense of happiness in conforming to the highest moral ideal it can clearly define for itself; and actually, though but with so faint hope, does the "Father's business." In that age of Marcus Aurelius, so completely disabused of the metaphysical ambition to pass beyond "the flaming ramparts of the world," but, on the other hand, possessed of so vast an accumulation of intellectual treasure, with so wide a view before it over all varieties of what is powerful or attractive in man and his works, the thoughts of Marius did but follow the line taken by the majority of educated persons, though to a different issue. Pitched to a really high and serious key, the precept--Be perfect in regard to what is here and now: the precept of "culture," as it is called, or of a complete education--might at least save him from the vulgarity and heaviness [146] of a generation, certainly of no general fineness of temper, though with a material well-being abundant enough. Conceded that what is secure in our existence is but the sharp apex of the present moment between two hypothetical eternities, and all that is real in our experience but a series of fleeting impressions:--so Marius continued the sceptical argument he had condensed, as the matter to hold by, from his various philosophical reading:--given, that we are never to get beyond the walls of the closely shut cell of one's own personality; that the ideas we are somehow impelled to form of an outer world, and of other minds akin to our own, are, it may be, but a day-dream, and the thought of any world beyond, a day-dream perhaps idler still: then, he, at least, in whom those fleeting impressions--faces, voices, material sunshine--were very real and imperious, might well set himself to the consideration, how such actual moments as they passed might be made to yield their utmost, by the most dexterous training of capacity. Amid abstract metaphysical doubts, as to what might lie one step only beyond that experience, reinforcing the deep original materialism or earthliness of human nature itself, bound so intimately to the sensuous world, let him at least make the most of what was "here and now." In the actual dimness of ways from means to ends--ends in themselves desirable, yet for the most part distant and for him, certainly, below the [147] visible horizon--he would at all events be sure that the means, to use the well-worn terminology, should have something of finality or perfection about them, and themselves partake, in a measure, of the more excellent nature of ends--that the means should justify the end. With this view he would demand culture, paideia,+ as the Cyrenaics said, or, in other words, a wide, a complete, education--an education partly negative, as ascertaining the true limits of man's capacities, but for the most part positive, and directed especially to the expansion and refinement of the power of reception; of those powers, above all, which are immediately relative to fleeting phenomena, the powers of emotion and sense. In such an education, an "aesthetic" education, as it might now be termed, and certainly occupied very largely with those aspects of things which affect us pleasurably through sensation, art, of course, including all the finer sorts of literature, would have a great part to play. The study of music, in that wider Platonic sense, according to which, music comprehends all those matters over which the Muses of Greek mythology preside, would conduct one to an exquisite appreciation of all the finer traits of nature and of man. Nay! the products of the imagination must themselves be held to present the most perfect forms of life--spirit and matter alike under their purest and most perfect conditions--the most strictly appropriate [148] objects of that impassioned contemplation, which, in the world of intellectual discipline, as in the highest forms of morality and religion, must be held to be the essential function of the "perfect." Such manner of life might come even to seem a kind of religion--an inward, visionary, mystic piety, or religion, by virtue of its effort to live days "lovely and pleasant" in themselves, here and now, and with an all-sufficiency of well-being in the immediate sense of the object contemplated, independently of any faith, or hope that might be entertained as to their ulterior tendency. In this way, the true aesthetic culture would be realisable as a new form of the contemplative life, founding its claim on the intrinsic "blessedness" of "vision"--the vision of perfect men and things. One's human nature, indeed, would fain reckon on an assured and endless future, pleasing itself with the dream of a final home, to be attained at some still remote date, yet with a conscious, delightful home-coming at last, as depicted in many an old poetic Elysium. On the other hand, the world of perfected sensation, intelligence, emotion, is so close to us, and so attractive, that the most visionary of spirits must needs represent the world unseen in colours, and under a form really borrowed from it. Let me be sure then--might he not plausibly say?--that I miss no detail of this life of realised consciousness in the present! Here at least is a vision, a theory, [149] theôria,+ which reposes on no basis of unverified hypothesis, which makes no call upon a future after all somewhat problematic; as it would be unaffected by any discovery of an Empedocles (improving on the old story of Prometheus) as to what had really been the origin, and course of development, of man's actually attained faculties and that seemingly divine particle of reason or spirit in him. Such a doctrine, at more leisurable moments, would of course have its precepts to deliver on the embellishment, generally, of what is near at hand, on the adornment of life, till, in a not impracticable rule of conduct, one's existence, from day to day, came to be like a well-executed piece of music; that "perpetual motion" in things (so Marius figured the matter to himself, under the old Greek imageries) according itself to a kind of cadence or harmony. It was intelligible that this "aesthetic" philosophy might find itself (theoretically, at least, and by way of a curious question in casuistry, legitimate from its own point of view) weighing the claims of that eager, concentrated, impassioned realisation of experience, against those of the received morality. Conceiving its own function in a somewhat desperate temper, and becoming, as every high-strung form of sentiment, as the religious sentiment itself, may become, somewhat antinomian, when, in its effort towards the order of experiences it prefers, it is confronted with the traditional and popular [150] morality, at points where that morality may look very like a convention, or a mere stage-property of the world, it would be found, from time to time, breaking beyond the limits of the actual moral order; perhaps not without some pleasurable excitement in so bold a venture. With the possibility of some such hazard as this, in thought or even in practice--that it might be, though refining, or tonic even, in the case of those strong and in health, yet, as Pascal says of the kindly and temperate wisdom of Montaigne, "pernicious for those who have any natural tendency to impiety or vice," the line of reflection traced out above, was fairly chargeable.--Not, however, with "hedonism" and its supposed consequences. The blood, the heart, of Marius were still pure. He knew that his carefully considered theory of practice braced him, with the effect of a moral principle duly recurring to mind every morning, towards the work of a student, for which he might seem intended. Yet there were some among his acquaintance who jumped to the conclusion that, with the "Epicurean stye," he was making pleasure--pleasure, as they so poorly conceived it--the sole motive of life; and they precluded any exacter estimate of the situation by covering it with a high-sounding general term, through the vagueness of which they were enabled to see the severe and laborious youth in the vulgar company of Lais. Words like "hedonism"-- [151] terms of large and vague comprehension--above all when used for a purpose avowedly controversial, have ever been the worst examples of what are called "question-begging terms;" and in that late age in which Marius lived, amid the dust of so many centuries of philosophical debate, the air was full of them. Yet those who used that reproachful Greek term for the philosophy of pleasure, were hardly more likely than the old Greeks themselves (on whom regarding this very subject of the theory of pleasure, their masters in the art of thinking had so emphatically to impress the necessity of "making distinctions") to come to any very delicately correct ethical conclusions by a reasoning, which began with a general term, comprehensive enough to cover pleasures so different in quality, in their causes and effects, as the pleasures of wine and love, of art and science, of religious enthusiasm and political enterprise, and of that taste or curiosity which satisfied itself with long days of serious study. Yet, in truth, each of those pleasurable modes of activity, may, in its turn, fairly become the ideal of the "hedonistic" doctrine. Really, to the phase of reflection through which Marius was then passing, the charge of "hedonism," whatever its true weight might be, was not properly applicable at all. Not pleasure, but fulness of life, and "insight" as conducting to that fulness--energy, variety, and choice of experience, including [152] noble pain and sorrow even, loves such as those in the exquisite old story of Apuleius, sincere and strenuous forms of the moral life, such as Seneca and Epictetus--whatever form of human life, in short, might be heroic, impassioned, ideal: from these the "new Cyrenaicism" of Marius took its criterion of values. It was a theory, indeed, which might properly be regarded as in great degree coincident with the main principle of the Stoics themselves, and an older version of the precept "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might"--a doctrine so widely acceptable among the nobler spirits of that time. And, as with that, its mistaken tendency would lie in the direction of a kind of idolatry of mere life, or natural gift, or strength--l'idôlatrie des talents. To understand the various forms of ancient art and thought, the various forms of actual human feeling (the only new thing, in a world almost too opulent in what was old) to satisfy, with a kind of scrupulous equity, the claims of these concrete and actual objects on his sympathy, his intelligence, his senses--to "pluck out the heart of their mystery," and in turn become the interpreter of them to others: this had now defined itself for Marius as a very narrowly practical design: it determined his choice of a vocation to live by. It was the era of the rhetoricians, or sophists, as they were sometimes called; of men who came in some instances to [153] great fame and fortune, by way of a literary cultivation of "science." That science, it has been often said, must have been wholly an affair of words. But in a world, confessedly so opulent in what was old, the work, even of genius, must necessarily consist very much in criticism; and, in the case of the more excellent specimens of his class, the rhetorician was, after all, the eloquent and effective interpreter, for the delighted ears of others, of what understanding himself had come by, in years of travel and study, of the beautiful house of art and thought which was the inheritance of the age. The emperor Marcus Aurelius, to whose service Marius had now been called, was himself, more or less openly, a "lecturer." That late world, amid many curiously vivid modern traits, had this spectacle, so familiar to ourselves, of the public lecturer or essayist; in some cases adding to his other gifts that of the Christian preacher, who knows how to touch people's sensibilities on behalf of the suffering. To follow in the way of these successes, was the natural instinct of youthful ambition; and it was with no vulgar egotism that Marius, at the age of nineteen, determined, like many another young man of parts, to enter as a student of rhetoric at Rome. Though the manner of his work was changed formally from poetry to prose, he remained, and must always be, of the poetic temper: by which, I mean, among other things, that quite [154] independently of the general habit of that pensive age he lived much, and as it were by system, in reminiscence. Amid his eager grasping at the sensation, the consciousness, of the present, he had come to see that, after all, the main point of economy in the conduct of the present, was the question:--How will it look to me, at what shall I value it, this day next year?--that in any given day or month one's main concern was its impression for the memory. A strange trick memory sometimes played him; for, with no natural gradation, what was of last month, or of yesterday, of to-day even, would seem as far off, as entirely detached from him, as things of ten years ago. Detached from him, yet very real, there lay certain spaces of his life, in delicate perspective, under a favourable light; and, somehow, all the less fortunate detail and circumstance had parted from them. Such hours were oftenest those in which he had been helped by work of others to the pleasurable apprehension of art, of nature, or of life. "Not what I do, but what I am, under the power of this vision"--he would say to himself--"is what were indeed pleasing to the gods!" And yet, with a kind of inconsistency in one who had taken for his philosophic ideal the monochronos hêdonê+ of Aristippus--the pleasure of the ideal present, of the mystic now--there would come, together with that precipitate sinking of things into the past, a desire, after all, [155] to retain "what was so transitive." Could he but arrest, for others also, certain clauses of experience, as the imaginative memory presented them to himself! In those grand, hot summers, he would have imprisoned the very perfume of the flowers. To create, to live, perhaps, a little while beyond the allotted hours, if it were but in a fragment of perfect expression:--it was thus his longing defined itself for something to hold by amid the "perpetual flux." With men of his vocation, people were apt to say, words were things. Well! with him, words should be indeed things,--the word, the phrase, valuable in exact proportion to the transparency with which it conveyed to others the apprehension, the emotion, the mood, so vividly real within himself. Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur:+ Virile apprehension of the true nature of things, of the true nature of one's own impression, first of all!--words would follow that naturally, a true understanding of one's self being ever the first condition of genuine style. Language delicate and measured, the delicate Attic phrase, for instance, in which the eminent Aristeides could speak, was then a power to which people's hearts, and sometimes even their purses, readily responded. And there were many points, as Marius thought, on which the heart of that age greatly needed to be touched. He hardly knew how strong that old religious sense of responsibility, the conscience, as we call it, [156] still was within him--a body of inward impressions, as real as those so highly valued outward ones--to offend against which, brought with it a strange feeling of disloyalty, as to a person. And the determination, adhered to with no misgiving, to add nothing, not so much as a transient sigh, to the great total of men's unhappiness, in his way through the world:--that too was something to rest on, in the drift of mere "appearances." All this would involve a life of industry, of industrious study, only possible through healthy rule, keeping clear the eye alike of body and soul. For the male element, the logical conscience asserted itself now, with opening manhood--asserted itself, even in his literary style, by a certain firmness of outline, that touch of the worker in metal, amid its richness. Already he blamed instinctively alike in his work and in himself, as youth so seldom does, all that had not passed a long and liberal process of erasure. The happy phrase or sentence was really modelled upon a cleanly finished structure of scrupulous thought. The suggestive force of the one master of his development, who had battled so hard with imaginative prose; the utterance, the golden utterance, of the other, so content with its living power of persuasion that he had never written at all,--in the commixture of these two qualities he set up his literary ideal, and this rare blending of grace with an intellectual [157] rigour or astringency, was the secret of a singular expressiveness in it. He acquired at this time a certain bookish air, the somewhat sombre habitude of the avowed scholar, which though it never interfered with the perfect tone, "fresh and serenely disposed," of the Roman gentleman, yet qualified it as by an interesting oblique trait, and frightened away some of his equals in age and rank. The sober discretion of his thoughts, his sustained habit of meditation, the sense of those negative conclusions enabling him to concentrate himself, with an absorption so entire, upon what is immediately here and now, gave him a peculiar manner of intellectual confidence, as of one who had indeed been initiated into a great secret.--Though with an air so disengaged, he seemed to be living so intently in the visible world! And now, in revolt against that pre-occupation with other persons, which had so often perturbed his spirit, his wistful speculations as to what the real, the greater, experience might be, determined in him, not as the longing for love--to be with Cynthia, or Aspasia--but as a thirst for existence in exquisite places. The veil that was to be lifted for him lay over the works of the old masters of art, in places where nature also had used her mastery. And it was just at this moment that a summons to Rome reached him. NOTES 145. +Canto VI. 147. +Transliteration: paideia. Definition "rearing, education." 149. +Transliteration: theôria. Definition "a looking at ... observing ... contemplation." 154. +Transliteration: monochronos hêdonê. Pater's definition "the pleasure of the ideal present, of the mystic now." The definition is fitting; the unusual adjective monokhronos means, literally, "single or unitary time." 155. +Horace, Ars Poetica 311. +Etext editor's translation: "The subject once foreknown, the words will follow easily." CHAPTER X: ON THE WAY Mirum est ut animus agitatione motuque corporis excitetur. Pliny's Letters. [158] MANY points in that train of thought, its harder and more energetic practical details especially, at first surmised but vaguely in the intervals of his visits to the tomb of Flavian, attained the coherence of formal principle amid the stirring incidents of the journey, which took him, still in all the buoyancy of his nineteen years and greatly expectant, to Rome. That summons had come from one of the former friends of his father in the capital, who had kept himself acquainted with the lad's progress, and, assured of his parts, his courtly ways, above all of his beautiful penmanship, now offered him a place, virtually that of an amanuensis, near the person of the philosophic emperor. The old town-house of his family on the Caelian hill, so long neglected, might well require his personal care; and Marius, relieved a little by his preparations for travelling from a certain over-tension [159] of spirit in which he had lived of late, was presently on his way, to await introduction to Aurelius, on his expected return home, after a first success, illusive enough as it was soon to appear, against the invaders from beyond the Danube. The opening stage of his journey, through the firm, golden weather, for which he had lingered three days beyond the appointed time of starting--days brown with the first rains of autumn--brought him, by the byways among the lower slopes of the Apennines of Luna, to the town of Luca, a station on the Cassian Way; travelling so far mainly on foot, while the baggage followed under the care of his attendants. He wore a broad felt hat, in fashion not unlike a more modern pilgrim's, the neat head projecting from the collar of his gray paenula, or travelling mantle, sewed closely together over the breast, but with its two sides folded up upon the shoulders, to leave the arms free in walking, and was altogether so trim and fresh, that, as he climbed the hill from Pisa, by the long steep lane through the olive-yards, and turned to gaze where he could just discern the cypresses of the old school garden, like two black lines down the yellow walls, a little child took possession of his hand, and, looking up at him with entire confidence, paced on bravely at his side, for the mere pleasure of his company, to the spot where the road declined again [160] into the valley beyond. From this point, leaving the servants behind, he surrendered himself, a willing subject, as he walked, to the impressions of the road, and was almost surprised, both at the suddenness with which evening came on, and the distance from his old home at which it found him. And at the little town of Luca, he felt that indescribable sense of a welcoming in the mere outward appearance of things, which seems to mark out certain places for the special purpose of evening rest, and gives them always a peculiar amiability in retrospect. Under the deepening twilight, the rough-tiled roofs seem to huddle together side by side, like one continuous shelter over the whole township, spread low and broad above the snug sleeping-rooms within; and the place one sees for the first time, and must tarry in but for a night, breathes the very spirit of home. The cottagers lingered at their doors for a few minutes as the shadows grew larger, and went to rest early; though there was still a glow along the road through the shorn corn-fields, and the birds were still awake about the crumbling gray heights of an old temple. So quiet and air-swept was the place, you could hardly tell where the country left off in it, and the field-paths became its streets. Next morning he must needs change the manner of his journey. The light baggage-wagon returned, and he proceeded now more quickly, travelling [161] a stage or two by post, along the Cassian Way, where the figures and incidents of the great high-road seemed already to tell of the capital, the one centre to which all were hastening, or had lately bidden adieu. That Way lay through the heart of the old, mysterious and visionary country of Etruria; and what he knew of its strange religion of the dead, reinforced by the actual sight of the funeral houses scattered so plentifully among the dwelling-places of the living, revived in him for a while, in all its strength, his old instinctive yearning towards those inhabitants of the shadowy land he had known in life. It seemed to him that he could half divine how time passed in those painted houses on the hillsides, among the gold and silver ornaments, the wrought armour and vestments, the drowsy and dead attendants; and the close consciousness of that vast population gave him no fear, but rather a sense of companionship, as he climbed the hills on foot behind the horses, through the genial afternoon. The road, next day, passed below a town not less primitive, it might seem, than its rocky perch--white rocks, that had long been glistening before him in the distance. Down the dewy paths the people were descending from it, to keep a holiday, high and low alike in rough, white-linen smocks. A homely old play was just begun in an open-air theatre, with seats hollowed out of the turf-grown slope. Marius [162] caught the terrified expression of a child in its mother's arms, as it turned from the yawning mouth of a great mask, for refuge in her bosom. The way mounted, and descended again, down the steep street of another place, all resounding with the noise of metal under the hammer; for every house had its brazier's workshop, the bright objects of brass and copper gleaming, like lights in a cave, out of their dark roofs and corners. Around the anvils the children were watching the work, or ran to fetch water to the hissing, red-hot metal; and Marius too watched, as he took his hasty mid-day refreshment, a mess of chestnut-meal and cheese, while the swelling surface of a great copper water-vessel grew flowered all over with tiny petals under the skilful strokes. Towards dusk, a frantic woman at the roadside, stood and cried out the words of some philter, or malison, in verse, with weird motion of her hands, as the travellers passed, like a wild picture drawn from Virgil. But all along, accompanying the superficial grace of these incidents of the way, Marius noted, more and more as he drew nearer to Rome, marks of the great plague. Under Hadrian and his successors, there had been many enactments to improve the condition of the slave. The ergastula+ were abolished. But no system of free labour had as yet succeeded. A whole mendicant population, artfully exaggerating every symptom and circumstance of misery, still hung [163] around, or sheltered themselves within, the vast walls of their old, half-ruined task-houses. And for the most part they had been variously stricken by the pestilence. For once, the heroic level had been reached in rags, squints, scars--every caricature of the human type--ravaged beyond what could have been thought possible if it were to survive at all. Meantime, the farms were less carefully tended than of old: here and there they were lapsing into their natural wildness: some villas also were partly fallen into ruin. The picturesque, romantic Italy of a later time--the Italy of Claude and Salvator Rosa--was already forming, for the delight of the modern romantic traveller. And again Marius was aware of a real change in things, on crossing the Tiber, as if some magic effect lay in that; though here, in truth, the Tiber was but a modest enough stream of turbid water. Nature, under the richer sky, seemed readier and more affluent, and man fitter to the conditions around him: even in people hard at work there appeared to be a less burdensome sense of the mere business of life. How dreamily the women were passing up through the broad light and shadow of the steep streets with the great water-pots resting on their heads, like women of Caryae, set free from slavery in old Greek temples. With what a fresh, primeval poetry was daily existence here impressed--all the details of the threshing-floor and the vineyard; [164] the common farm-life even; the great bakers' fires aglow upon the road in the evening. In the presence of all this Marius felt for a moment like those old, early, unconscious poets, who created the famous Greek myths of Dionysus, and the Great Mother, out of the imagery of the wine-press and the ploughshare. And still the motion of the journey was bringing his thoughts to systematic form. He seemed to have grown to the fulness of intellectual manhood, on his way hither. The formative and literary stimulus, so to call it, of peaceful exercise which he had always observed in himself, doing its utmost now, the form and the matter of thought alike detached themselves clearly and with readiness from the healthfully excited brain.--"It is wonderful," says Pliny, "how the mind is stirred to activity by brisk bodily exercise." The presentable aspects of inmost thought and feeling became evident to him: the structure of all he meant, its order and outline, defined itself: his general sense of a fitness and beauty in words became effective in daintily pliant sentences, with all sorts of felicitous linking of figure to abstraction. It seemed just then as if the desire of the artist in him--that old longing to produce--might be satisfied by the exact and literal transcript of what was then passing around him, in simple prose, arresting the desirable moment as it passed, and prolonging its life a little.--To live in the concrete! To be sure, at least, of [165] one's hold upon that!--Again, his philosophic scheme was but the reflection of the data of sense, and chiefly of sight, a reduction to the abstract, of the brilliant road he travelled on, through the sunshine. But on the seventh evening there came a reaction in the cheerful flow of our traveller's thoughts, a reaction with which mere bodily fatigue, asserting itself at last over his curiosity, had much to do; and he fell into a mood, known to all passably sentimental wayfarers, as night deepens again and again over their path, in which all journeying, from the known to the unknown, comes suddenly to figure as a mere foolish truancy--like a child's running away from home--with the feeling that one had best return at once, even through the darkness. He had chosen to climb on foot, at his leisure, the long windings by which the road ascended to the place where that day's stage was to end, and found himself alone in the twilight, far behind the rest of his travelling-companions. Would the last zigzag, round and round those dark masses, half natural rock, half artificial substructure, ever bring him within the circuit of the walls above? It was now that a startling incident turned those misgivings almost into actual fear. From the steep slope a heavy mass of stone was detached, after some whisperings among the trees above his head, and rushing down through the stillness fell to pieces in a [166] cloud of dust across the road just behind him, so that he felt the touch upon his heel. That was sufficient, just then, to rouse out of its hiding-place his old vague fear of evil--of one's "enemies"--a distress, so much a matter of constitution with him, that at times it would seem that the best pleasures of life could but be snatched, as it were hastily, in one moment's forgetfulness of its dark, besetting influence. A sudden suspicion of hatred against him, of the nearness of "enemies," seemed all at once to alter the visible form of things, as with the child's hero, when he found the footprint on the sand of his peaceful, dreamy island. His elaborate philosophy had not put beneath his feet the terror of mere bodily evil; much less of "inexorable fate, and the noise of greedy Acheron." The resting-place to which he presently came, in the keen, wholesome air of the market-place of the little hill-town, was a pleasant contrast to that last effort of his journey. The room in which he sat down to supper, unlike the ordinary Roman inns at that day, was trim and sweet. The firelight danced cheerfully upon the polished, three-wicked lucernae burning cleanly with the best oil, upon the white-washed walls, and the bunches of scarlet carnations set in glass goblets. The white wine of the place put before him, of the true colour and flavour of the grape, and with a ring of delicate foam as it mounted in the cup, had a reviving edge or freshness he had [167] found in no other wine. These things had relieved a little the melancholy of the hour before; and it was just then that he heard the voice of one, newly arrived at the inn, making his way to the upper floor--a youthful voice, with a reassuring clearness of note, which completed his cure. He seemed to hear that voice again in dreams, uttering his name: then, awake in the full morning light and gazing from the window, saw the guest of the night before, a very honourable-looking youth, in the rich habit of a military knight, standing beside his horse, and already making preparations to depart. It happened that Marius, too, was to take that day's journey on horseback. Riding presently from the inn, he overtook Cornelius--of the Twelfth Legion--advancing carefully down the steep street; and before they had issued from the gates of Urbs-vetus, the two young men had broken into talk together. They were passing along the street of the goldsmiths; and Cornelius must needs enter one of the workshops for the repair of some button or link of his knightly trappings. Standing in the doorway, Marius watched the work, as he had watched the brazier's business a few days before, wondering most at the simplicity of its processes, a simplicity, however, on which only genius in that craft could have lighted.--By what unguessed-at stroke of hand, for instance, had the grains of precious metal associated themselves [168] with so daintily regular a roughness, over the surface of the little casket yonder? And the conversation which followed, hence arising, left the two travellers with sufficient interest in each other to insure an easy companionship for the remainder of their journey. In time to come, Marius was to depend very much on the preferences, the personal judgments, of the comrade who now laid his hand so brotherly on his shoulder, as they left the workshop. Itineris matutini gratiam capimus,+--observes one of our scholarly travellers; and their road that day lay through a country, well-fitted, by the peculiarity of its landscape, to ripen a first acquaintance into intimacy; its superficial ugliness throwing the wayfarers back upon each other's entertainment in a real exchange of ideas, the tension of which, however, it would relieve, ever and anon, by the unexpected assertion of something singularly attractive. The immediate aspect of the land was, indeed, in spite of abundant olive and ilex, unpleasing enough. A river of clay seemed, "in some old night of time," to have burst up over valley and hill, and hardened there into fantastic shelves and slides and angles of cadaverous rock, up and down among the contorted vegetation; the hoary roots and trunks seeming to confess some weird kinship with them. But that was long ago; and these pallid hillsides needed only the declining sun, touching the rock with purple, and throwing deeper shadow into [169] the immemorial foliage, to put on a peculiar, because a very grave and austere, kind of beauty; while the graceful outlines common to volcanic hills asserted themselves in the broader prospect. And, for sentimental Marius, all this was associated, by some perhaps fantastic affinity, with a peculiar trait of severity, beyond his guesses as to the secret of it, which mingled with the blitheness of his new companion. Concurring, indeed, with the condition of a Roman soldier, it was certainly something far more than the expression of military hardness, or ascêsis; and what was earnest, or even austere, in the landscape they had traversed together, seemed to have been waiting for the passage of this figure to interpret or inform it. Again, as in his early days with Flavian, a vivid personal presence broke through the dreamy idealism, which had almost come to doubt of other men's reality: reassuringly, indeed, yet not without some sense of a constraining tyranny over him from without. For Cornelius, returning from the campaign, to take up his quarters on the Palatine, in the imperial guard, seemed to carry about with him, in that privileged world of comely usage to which he belonged, the atmosphere of some still more jealously exclusive circle. They halted on the morrow at noon, not at an inn, but at the house of one of the young soldier's friends, whom they found absent, indeed, in consequence of the [170] plague in those parts, so that after a mid-day rest only, they proceeded again on their journey. The great room of the villa, to which they were admitted, had lain long untouched; and the dust rose, as they entered, into the slanting bars of sunlight, that fell through the half-closed shutters. It was here, to while away the time, that Cornelius bethought himself of displaying to his new friend the various articles and ornaments of his knightly array--the breastplate, the sandals and cuirass, lacing them on, one by one, with the assistance of Marius, and finally the great golden bracelet on the right arm, conferred on him by his general for an act of valour. And as he gleamed there, amid that odd interchange of light and shade, with the staff of a silken standard firm in his hand, Marius felt as if he were face to face, for the first time, with some new knighthood or chivalry, just then coming into the world. It was soon after they left this place, journeying now by carriage, that Rome was seen at last, with much excitement on the part of our travellers; Cornelius, and some others of whom the party then consisted, agreeing, chiefly for the sake of Marius, to hasten forward, that it might be reached by daylight, with a cheerful noise of rapid wheels as they passed over the flagstones. But the highest light upon the mausoleum of Hadrian was quite gone out, and it was dark, before they reached the Flaminian Gate. The [171] abundant sound of water was the one thing that impressed Marius, as they passed down a long street, with many open spaces on either hand: Cornelius to his military quarters, and Marius to the old dwelling-place of his fathers. NOTES 162. +E-text editor's note: ergastula were the Roman agrarian equivalent of prison-workhouses. 168. +Apuleius, The Golden Ass, I.17. CHAPTER XI: "THE MOST RELIGIOUS CITY IN THE WORLD" [172] MARIUS awoke early and passed curiously from room to room, noting for more careful inspection by and by the rolls of manuscripts. Even greater than his curiosity in gazing for the first time on this ancient possession, was his eagerness to look out upon Rome itself, as he pushed back curtain and shutter, and stepped forth in the fresh morning upon one of the many balconies, with an oft-repeated dream realised at last. He was certainly fortunate in the time of his coming to Rome. That old pagan world, of which Rome was the flower, had reached its perfection in the things of poetry and art--a perfection which indicated only too surely the eve of decline. As in some vast intellectual museum, all its manifold products were intact and in their places, and with custodians also still extant, duly qualified to appreciate and explain them. And at no period of history had the material Rome itself been better worth seeing--lying there not less consummate than that world of [173] pagan intellect which it represented in every phase of its darkness and light. The various work of many ages fell here harmoniously together, as yet untouched save by time, adding the final grace of a rich softness to its complex expression. Much which spoke of ages earlier than Nero, the great re-builder, lingered on, antique, quaint, immeasurably venerable, like the relics of the medieval city in the Paris of Lewis the Fourteenth: the work of Nero's own time had come to have that sort of old world and picturesque interest which the work of Lewis has for ourselves; while without stretching a parallel too far we might perhaps liken the architectural finesses of the archaic Hadrian to the more excellent products of our own Gothic revival. The temple of Antoninus and Faustina was still fresh in all the majesty of its closely arrayed columns of cipollino; but, on the whole, little had been added under the late and present emperors, and during fifty years of public quiet, a sober brown and gray had grown apace on things. The gilding on the roof of many a temple had lost its garishness: cornice and capital of polished marble shone out with all the crisp freshness of real flowers, amid the already mouldering travertine and brickwork, though the birds had built freely among them. What Marius then saw was in many respects, after all deduction of difference, more like the modern Rome than the enumeration of particular losses [174] might lead us to suppose; the Renaissance, in its most ambitious mood and with amplest resources, having resumed the ancient classical tradition there, with no break or obstruction, as it had happened, in any very considerable work of the middle age. Immediately before him, on the square, steep height, where the earliest little old Rome had huddled itself together, arose the palace of the Caesars. Half-veiling the vast substruction of rough, brown stone--line upon line of successive ages of builders--the trim, old-fashioned garden walks, under their closely-woven walls of dark glossy foliage, test of long and careful cultivation, wound gradually, among choice trees, statues and fountains, distinct and sparkling in the full morning sunlight, to the richly tinted mass of pavilions and corridors above, centering in the lofty, white-marble dwelling-place of Apollo himself. How often had Marius looked forward to that first, free wandering through Rome, to which he now went forth with a heat in the town sunshine (like a mist of fine gold-dust spread through the air) to the height of his desire, making the dun coolness of the narrow streets welcome enough at intervals. He almost feared, descending the stair hastily, lest some unforeseen accident should snatch the little cup of enjoyment from him ere he passed the door. In such morning rambles in places new to him, [175] life had always seemed to come at its fullest: it was then he could feel his youth, that youth the days of which he had already begun to count jealously, in entire possession. So the grave, pensive figure, a figure, be it said nevertheless, fresher far than often came across it now, moved through the old city towards the lodgings of Cornelius, certainly not by the most direct course, however eager to rejoin the friend of yesterday. Bent as keenly on seeing as if his first day in Rome were to be also his last, the two friends descended along the Vicus Tuscus, with its rows of incense-stalls, into the Via Nova, where the fashionable people were busy shopping; and Marius saw with much amusement the frizzled heads, then à la mode. A glimpse of the Marmorata, the haven at the river-side, where specimens of all the precious marbles of the world were lying amid great white blocks from the quarries of Luna, took his thoughts for a moment to his distant home. They visited the flower-market, lingering where the coronarii pressed on them the newest species, and purchased zinias, now in blossom (like painted flowers, thought Marius), to decorate the folds of their togas. Loitering to the other side of the Forum, past the great Galen's drug-shop, after a glance at the announcements of new poems on sale attached to the doorpost of a famous bookseller, they entered the curious [176] library of the Temple of Peace, then a favourite resort of literary men, and read, fixed there for all to see, the Diurnal or Gazette of the day, which announced, together with births and deaths, prodigies and accidents, and much mere matter of business, the date and manner of the philosophic emperor's joyful return to his people; and, thereafter, with eminent names faintly disguised, what would carry that day's news, in many copies, over the provinces--a certain matter concerning the great lady, known to be dear to him, whom he had left at home. It was a story, with the development of which "society" had indeed for some time past edified or amused itself, rallying sufficiently from the panic of a year ago, not only to welcome back its ruler, but also to relish a chronique scandaleuse; and thus, when soon after Marius saw the world's wonder, he was already acquainted with the suspicions which have ever since hung about her name. Twelve o'clock was come before they left the Forum, waiting in a little crowd to hear the Accensus, according to old custom, proclaim the hour of noonday, at the moment when, from the steps of the Senate-house, the sun could be seen standing between the Rostra and the Graecostasis. He exerted for this function a strength of voice, which confirmed in Marius a judgment the modern visitor may share with him, that Roman throats and Roman chests, namely, must, in some peculiar way, be differently [177] constructed from those of other people. Such judgment indeed he had formed in part the evening before, noting, as a religious procession passed him, how much noise a man and a boy could make, though not without a great deal of real music, of which in truth the Romans were then as ever passionately fond. Hence the two friends took their way through the Via Flaminia, almost along the line of the modern Corso, already bordered with handsome villas, turning presently to the left, into the Field-of-Mars, still the playground of Rome. But the vast public edifices were grown to be almost continuous over the grassy expanse, represented now only by occasional open spaces of verdure and wild-flowers. In one of these a crowd was standing, to watch a party of athletes stripped for exercise. Marius had been surprised at the luxurious variety of the litters borne through Rome, where no carriage horses were allowed; and just then one far more sumptuous than the rest, with dainty appointments of ivory and gold, was carried by, all the town pressing with eagerness to get a glimpse of its most beautiful woman, as she passed rapidly. Yes! there, was the wonder of the world--the empress Faustina herself: Marius could distinguish, could distinguish clearly, the well-known profile, between the floating purple curtains. For indeed all Rome was ready to burst into gaiety again, as it awaited with much real [178] affection, hopeful and animated, the return of its emperor, for whose ovation various adornments were preparing along the streets through which the imperial procession would pass. He had left Rome just twelve months before, amid immense gloom. The alarm of a barbarian insurrection along the whole line of the Danube had happened at the moment when Rome was panic-stricken by the great pestilence. In fifty years of peace, broken only by that conflict in the East from which Lucius Verus, among other curiosities, brought back the plague, war had come to seem a merely romantic, superannuated incident of bygone history. And now it was almost upon Italian soil. Terrible were the reports of the numbers and audacity of the assailants. Aurelius, as yet untried in war, and understood by a few only in the whole scope of a really great character, was known to the majority of his subjects as but a careful administrator, though a student of philosophy, perhaps, as we say, a dilettante. But he was also the visible centre of government, towards whom the hearts of a whole people turned, grateful for fifty years of public happiness--its good genius, its "Antonine"--whose fragile person might be foreseen speedily giving way under the trials of military life, with a disaster like that of the slaughter of the legions by Arminius. Prophecies of the world's impending conflagration were easily credited: "the secular fire" would descend from [179] heaven: superstitious fear had even demanded the sacrifice of a human victim. Marcus Aurelius, always philosophically considerate of the humours of other people, exercising also that devout appreciation of every religious claim which was one of his characteristic habits, had invoked, in aid of the commonwealth, not only all native gods, but all foreign deities as well, however strange.--"Help! Help! in the ocean space!" A multitude of foreign priests had been welcomed to Rome, with their various peculiar religious rites. The sacrifices made on this occasion were remembered for centuries; and the starving poor, at least, found some satisfaction in the flesh of those herds of "white bulls," which came into the city, day after day, to yield the savour of their blood to the gods. In spite of all this, the legions had but followed their standards despondently. But prestige, personal prestige, the name of "Emperor," still had its magic power over the nations. The mere approach of the Roman army made an impression on the barbarians. Aurelius and his colleague had scarcely reached Aquileia when a deputation arrived to ask for peace. And now the two imperial "brothers" were returning home at leisure; were waiting, indeed, at a villa outside the walls, till the capital had made ready to receive them. But although Rome was thus in genial reaction, with much relief, [180] and hopefulness against the winter, facing itself industriously in damask of red and gold, those two enemies were still unmistakably extant: the barbarian army of the Danube was but over-awed for a season; and the plague, as we saw when Marius was on his way to Rome, was not to depart till it had done a large part in the formation of the melancholy picturesque of modern Italy--till it had made, or prepared for the making of the Roman Campagna. The old, unaffected, really pagan, peace or gaiety, of Antoninus Pius--that genuine though unconscious humanist--was gone for ever. And again and again, throughout this day of varied observation, Marius had been reminded, above all else, that he was not merely in "the most religious city of the world," as one had said, but that Rome was become the romantic home of the wildest superstition. Such superstition presented itself almost as religious mania in many an incident of his long ramble,--incidents to which he gave his full attention, though contending in some measure with a reluctance on the part of his companion, the motive of which he did not understand till long afterwards. Marius certainly did not allow this reluctance to deter his own curiosity. Had he not come to Rome partly under poetic vocation, to receive all those things, the very impress of life itself, upon the visual, the imaginative, organ, as upon a mirror; to reflect them; to transmute them [181] into golden words? He must observe that strange medley of superstition, that centuries' growth, layer upon layer, of the curiosities of religion (one faith jostling another out of place) at least for its picturesque interest, and as an indifferent outsider might, not too deeply concerned in the question which, if any of them, was to be the survivor. Superficially, at least, the Roman religion, allying itself with much diplomatic economy to possible rivals, was in possession, as a vast and complex system of usage, intertwining itself with every detail of public and private life, attractively enough for those who had but "the historic temper," and a taste for the past, however much a Lucian might depreciate it. Roman religion, as Marius knew, had, indeed, been always something to be done, rather than something to be thought, or believed, or loved; something to be done in minutely detailed manner, at a particular time and place, correctness in which had long been a matter of laborious learning with a whole school of ritualists--as also, now and again, a matter of heroic sacrifice with certain exceptionally devout souls, as when Caius Fabius Dorso, with his life in his hand, succeeded in passing the sentinels of the invading Gauls to perform a sacrifice on the Quirinal, and, thanks to the divine protection, had returned in safety. So jealous was the distinction between sacred and profane, that, in the matter [182] of the "regarding of days," it had made more than half the year a holiday. Aurelius had, indeed, ordained that there should be no more than a hundred and thirty-five festival days in the year; but in other respects he had followed in the steps of his predecessor, Antoninus Pius--commended especially for his "religion," his conspicuous devotion to its public ceremonies--and whose coins are remarkable for their reference to the oldest and most hieratic types of Roman mythology. Aurelius had succeeded in more than healing the old feud between philosophy and religion, displaying himself, in singular combination, as at once the most zealous of philosophers and the most devout of polytheists, and lending himself, with an air of conviction, to all the pageantries of public worship. To his pious recognition of that one orderly spirit, which, according to the doctrine of the Stoics, diffuses itself through the world, and animates it--a recognition taking the form, with him, of a constant effort towards inward likeness thereto, in the harmonious order of his own soul--he had added a warm personal devotion towards the whole multitude of the old national gods, and a great many new foreign ones besides, by him, at least, not ignobly conceived. If the comparison may be reverently made, there was something here of the method by which the catholic church has added the cultus of the saints to its worship of the one Divine Being. [183] And to the view of the majority, though the emperor, as the personal centre of religion, entertained the hope of converting his people to philosophic faith, and had even pronounced certain public discourses for their instruction in it, that polytheistic devotion was his most striking feature. Philosophers, indeed, had, for the most part, thought with Seneca, "that a man need not lift his hands to heaven, nor ask the sacristan's leave to put his mouth to the ear of an image, that his prayers might be heard the better."--Marcus Aurelius, "a master in Israel," knew all that well enough. Yet his outward devotion was much more than a concession to popular sentiment, or a mere result of that sense of fellow-citizenship with others, which had made him again and again, under most difficult circumstances, an excellent comrade. Those others, too!--amid all their ignorances, what were they but instruments in the administration of the Divine Reason, "from end to end sweetly and strongly disposing all things"? Meantime "Philosophy" itself had assumed much of what we conceive to be the religious character. It had even cultivated the habit, the power, of "spiritual direction"; the troubled soul making recourse in its hour of destitution, or amid the distractions of the world, to this or that director--philosopho suo--who could really best understand it. And it had been in vain that the old, grave [184] and discreet religion of Rome had set itself, according to its proper genius, to prevent or subdue all trouble and disturbance in men's souls. In religion, as in other matters, plebeians, as such, had a taste for movement, for revolution; and it had been ever in the most populous quarters that religious changes began. To the apparatus of foreign religion, above all, recourse had been made in times of public disquietude or sudden terror; and in those great religious celebrations, before his proceeding against the barbarians, Aurelius had even restored the solemnities of Isis, prohibited in the capital since the time of Augustus, making no secret of his worship of that goddess, though her temple had been actually destroyed by authority in the reign of Tiberius. Her singular and in many ways beautiful ritual was now popular in Rome. And then--what the enthusiasm of the swarming plebeian quarters had initiated, was sure to be adopted, sooner or later, by women of fashion. A blending of all the religions of the ancient world had been accomplished. The new gods had arrived, had been welcomed, and found their places; though, certainly, with no real security, in any adequate ideal of the divine nature itself in the background of men's minds, that the presence of the new-comer should be edifying, or even refining. High and low addressed themselves to all deities alike without scruple; confusing them together when they prayed, and in the old, [185] authorised, threefold veneration of their visible images, by flowers, incense, and ceremonial lights--those beautiful usages, which the church, in her way through the world, ever making spoil of the world's goods for the better uses of the human spirit, took up and sanctified in her service. And certainly "the most religious city in the world" took no care to veil its devotion, however fantastic. The humblest house had its little chapel or shrine, its image and lamp; while almost every one seemed to exercise some religious function and responsibility. Colleges, composed for the most part of slaves and of the poor, provided for the service of the Compitalian Lares--the gods who presided, respectively, over the several quarters of the city. In one street, Marius witnessed an incident of the festival of the patron deity of that neighbourhood, the way being strewn with box, the houses tricked out gaily in such poor finery as they possessed, while the ancient idol was borne through it in procession, arrayed in gaudy attire the worse for wear. Numerous religious clubs had their stated anniversaries, on which the members issued with much ceremony from their guild-hall, or schola, and traversed the thoroughfares of Rome, preceded, like the confraternities of the present day, by their sacred banners, to offer sacrifice before some famous image. Black with the perpetual smoke of lamps and incense, oftenest old and [186] ugly, perhaps on that account the more likely to listen to the desires of the suffering--had not those sacred effigies sometimes given sensible tokens that they were aware? The image of the Fortune of Women--Fortuna Muliebris, in the Latin Way, had spoken (not once only) and declared; Bene me, Matronae! vidistis riteque dedicastis! The Apollo of Cumae had wept during three whole nights and days. The images in the temple of Juno Sospita had been seen to sweat. Nay! there was blood--divine blood--in the hearts of some of them: the images in the Grove of Feronia had sweated blood! From one and all Cornelius had turned away: like the "atheist" of whom Apuleius tells he had never once raised hand to lip in passing image or sanctuary, and had parted from Marius finally when the latter determined to enter the crowded doorway of a temple, on their return into the Forum, below the Palatine hill, where the mothers were pressing in, with a multitude of every sort of children, to touch the lightning-struck image of the wolf-nurse of Romulus--so tender to little ones!--just discernible in its dark shrine, amid a blaze of lights. Marius gazed after his companion of the day, as he mounted the steps to his lodging, singing to himself, as it seemed. Marius failed precisely to catch the words. And, as the rich, fresh evening came on, there was heard all over Rome, far above a whisper, [187] the whole town seeming hushed to catch it distinctly, the lively, reckless call to "play," from the sons and daughters of foolishness, to those in whom their life was still green--Donec virenti canities abest!--Donec virenti canities abest!+ Marius could hardly doubt how Cornelius would have taken the call. And as for himself, slight as was the burden of positive moral obligation with which he had entered Rome, it was to no wasteful and vagrant affections, such as these, that his Epicureanism had committed him. NOTES 187. +Horace, Odes I.ix.17. Translation: "So long as youth is fresh and age is far away." CHAPTER XII: THE DIVINITY THAT DOTH HEDGE A KING But ah! Maecenas is yclad in claye, And great Augustus long ygoe is dead, And all the worthies liggen wrapt in lead, That matter made for poets on to playe.+ [188] MARCUS AURELIUS who, though he had little relish for them himself, had ever been willing to humour the taste of his people for magnificent spectacles, was received back to Rome with the lesser honours of the Ovation, conceded by the Senate (so great was the public sense of deliverance) with even more than the laxity which had become its habit under imperial rule, for there had been no actual bloodshed in the late achievement. Clad in the civic dress of the chief Roman magistrate, and with a crown of myrtle upon his head, his colleague similarly attired walking beside him, he passed up to the Capitol on foot, though in solemn procession along the Sacred Way, to offer sacrifice to the national gods. The victim, a goodly sheep, whose image we may still see between the pig and the ox of the [189] Suovetaurilia, filleted and stoled almost like some ancient canon of the church, on a sculptured fragment in the Forum, was conducted by the priests, clad in rich white vestments, and bearing their sacred utensils of massive gold, immediately behind a company of flute-players, led by the great choir-master, or conductor, of the day, visibly tetchy or delighted, according as the instruments he ruled with his tuning-rod, rose, more or less adequately amid the difficulties of the way, to the dream of perfect music in the soul within him. The vast crowd, including the soldiers of the triumphant army, now restored to wives and children, all alike in holiday whiteness, had left their houses early in the fine, dry morning, in a real affection for "the father of his country," to await the procession, the two princes having spent the preceding night outside the walls, at the old Villa of the Republic. Marius, full of curiosity, had taken his position with much care; and stood to see the world's masters pass by, at an angle from which he could command the view of a great part of the processional route, sprinkled with fine yellow sand, and punctiliously guarded from profane footsteps. The coming of the pageant was announced by the clear sound of the flutes, heard at length above the acclamations of the people--Salve Imperator!--Dii te servent!--shouted in regular time, over the hills. It was on the central [190] figure, of course, that the whole attention of Marius was fixed from the moment when the procession came in sight, preceded by the lictors with gilded fasces, the imperial image-bearers, and the pages carrying lighted torches; a band of knights, among whom was Cornelius in complete military, array, following. Amply swathed about in the folds of a richly worked toga, after a manner now long since become obsolete with meaner persons, Marius beheld a man of about five-and-forty years of age, with prominent eyes--eyes, which although demurely downcast during this essentially religious ceremony, were by nature broadly and benignantly observant. He was still, in the main, as we see him in the busts which represent his gracious and courtly youth, when Hadrian had playfully called him, not Verus, after the name of his father, but Verissimus, for his candour of gaze, and the bland capacity of the brow, which, below the brown hair, clustering thickly as of old, shone out low, broad, and clear, and still without a trace of the trouble of his lips. You saw the brow of one who, amid the blindness or perplexity of the people about him, understood all things clearly; the dilemma, to which his experience so far had brought him, between Chance with meek resignation, and a Providence with boundless possibilities and hope, being for him at least distinctly defined. That outward serenity, which he valued so [191] highly as a point of manner or expression not unworthy the care of a public minister--outward symbol, it might be thought, of the inward religious serenity it had been his constant purpose to maintain--was increased to-day by his sense of the gratitude of his people; that his life had been one of such gifts and blessings as made his person seem in very deed divine to them. Yet the cloud of some reserved internal sorrow, passing from time to time into an expression of fatigue and effort, of loneliness amid the shouting multitude, might have been detected there by the more observant--as if the sagacious hint of one of his officers, "The soldiers can't understand you, they don't know Greek," were applicable always to his relationships with other people. The nostrils and mouth seemed capable almost of peevishness; and Marius noted in them, as in the hands, and in the spare body generally, what was new to his experience--something of asceticism, as we say, of a bodily gymnastic, by which, although it told pleasantly in the clear blue humours of the eye, the flesh had scarcely been an equal gainer with the spirit. It was hardly the expression of "the healthy mind in the healthy body," but rather of a sacrifice of the body to the soul, its needs and aspirations, that Marius seemed to divine in this assiduous student of the Greek sages--a sacrifice, in truth, far beyond the demands of their very saddest philosophy of life. [192] Dignify thyself with modesty and simplicity for thine ornaments!--had been ever a maxim with this dainty and high-bred Stoic, who still thought manners a true part of morals, according to the old sense of the term, and who regrets now and again that he cannot control his thoughts equally well with his countenance. That outward composure was deepened during the solemnities of this day by an air of pontifical abstraction; which, though very far from being pride--nay, a sort of humility rather--yet gave, to himself, an air of unapproachableness, and to his whole proceeding, in which every minutest act was considered, the character of a ritual. Certainly, there was no haughtiness, social, moral, or even philosophic, in Aurelius, who had realised, under more trying conditions perhaps than any one before, that no element of humanity could be alien from him. Yet, as he walked to-day, the centre of ten thousand observers, with eyes discreetly fixed on the ground, veiling his head at times and muttering very rapidly the words of the "supplications," there was something many spectators may have noted as a thing new in their experience, for Aurelius, unlike his predecessors, took all this with absolute seriousness. The doctrine of the sanctity of kings, that, in the words of Tacitus, Princes are as Gods--Principes instar deorum esse--seemed to have taken a novel, because a literal, sense. For Aurelius, indeed, the old legend of his descent from Numa, from [193] Numa who had talked with the gods, meant much. Attached in very early years to the service of the altars, like many another noble youth, he was "observed to perform all his sacerdotal functions with a constancy and exactness unusual at that age; was soon a master of the sacred music; and had all the forms and ceremonies by heart." And now, as the emperor, who had not only a vague divinity about his person, but was actually the chief religious functionary of the state, recited from time to time the forms of invocation, he needed not the help of the prompter, or ceremoniarius, who then approached, to assist him by whispering the appointed words in his ear. It was that pontifical abstraction which then impressed itself on Marius as the leading outward characteristic of Aurelius; though to him alone, perhaps, in that vast crowd of observers, it was no strange thing, but a matter he had understood from of old. Some fanciful writers have assigned the origin of these triumphal processions to the mythic pomps of Dionysus, after his conquests in the East; the very word Triumph being, according to this supposition, only Thriambos-the Dionysiac Hymn. And certainly the younger of the two imperial "brothers," who, with the effect of a strong contrast, walked beside Aurelius, and shared the honours of the day, might well have reminded people of the delicate Greek god of flowers and wine. This [194] new conqueror of the East was now about thirty-six years old, but with his scrupulous care for all the advantages of his person, and a soft curling beard powdered with gold, looked many years younger. One result of the more genial element in the wisdom of Aurelius had been that, amid most difficult circumstances, he had known throughout life how to act in union with persons of character very alien from his own; to be more than loyal to the colleague, the younger brother in empire, he had too lightly taken to himself, five years before, then an uncorrupt youth, "skilled in manly exercises and fitted for war." When Aurelius thanks the gods that a brother had fallen to his lot, whose character was a stimulus to the proper care of his own, one sees that this could only have happened in the way of an example, putting him on his guard against insidious faults. But it is with sincere amiability that the imperial writer, who was indeed little used to be ironical, adds that the lively respect and affection of the junior had often "gladdened" him. To be able to make his use of the flower, when the fruit perhaps was useless or poisonous:--that was one of the practical successes of his philosophy; and his people noted, with a blessing, "the concord of the two Augusti." The younger, certainly, possessed in full measure that charm of a constitutional freshness of aspect which may defy for a long time extravagant or erring habits of life; a physiognomy, [195] healthy-looking, cleanly, and firm, which seemed unassociable with any form of self-torment, and made one think of the muzzle of some young hound or roe, such as human beings invariably like to stroke--a physiognomy, in effect, with all the goodliness of animalism of the finer sort, though still wholly animal. The charm was that of the blond head, the unshrinking gaze, the warm tints: neither more nor less than one may see every English summer, in youth, manly enough, and with the stuff which makes brave soldiers, in spite of the natural kinship it seems to have with playthings and gay flowers. But innate in Lucius Verus there was that more than womanly fondness for fond things, which had made the atmosphere of the old city of Antioch, heavy with centuries of voluptuousness, a poison to him: he had come to love his delicacies best out of season, and would have gilded the very flowers. But with a wonderful power of self-obliteration, the elder brother at the capital had directed his procedure successfully, and allowed him, become now also the husband of his daughter Lucilla, the credit of a "Conquest," though Verus had certainly not returned a conqueror over himself. He had returned, as we know, with the plague in his company, along with many another strange creature of his folly; and when the people saw him publicly feeding his favourite horse Fleet with almonds and sweet grapes, wearing the animal's image in gold, and [196] finally building it a tomb, they felt, with some un-sentimental misgiving, that he might revive the manners of Nero.--What if, in the chances of war, he should survive the protecting genius of that elder brother? He was all himself to-day: and it was with much wistful curiosity that Marius regarded him. For Lucius Verus was, indeed, but the highly expressive type of a class,--the true son of his father, adopted by Hadrian. Lucius Verus the elder, also, had had the like strange capacity for misusing the adornments of life, with a masterly grace; as if such misusing were, in truth, the quite adequate occupation of an intelligence, powerful, but distorted by cynical philosophy or some disappointment of the heart. It was almost a sort of genius, of which there had been instances in the imperial purple: it was to ascend the throne, a few years later, in the person of one, now a hopeful little lad at home in the palace; and it had its following, of course, among the wealthy youth at Rome, who concentrated no inconsiderable force of shrewdness and tact upon minute details of attire and manner, as upon the one thing needful. Certainly, flowers were pleasant to the eye. Such things had even their sober use, as making the outside of human life superficially attractive, and thereby promoting the first steps towards friendship and social amity. But what precise place could there be for Verus and his peculiar charm, [197] in that Wisdom, that Order of divine Reason "reaching from end to end, strongly and sweetly disposing all things," from the vision of which Aurelius came down, so tolerant of persons like him? Into such vision Marius too was certainly well-fitted to enter, yet, noting the actual perfection of Lucius Verus after his kind, his undeniable achievement of the select, in all minor things, felt, though with some suspicion of himself, that he entered into, and could understand, this other so dubious sort of character also. There was a voice in the theory he had brought to Rome with him which whispered "nothing is either great nor small;" as there were times when he could have thought that, as the "grammarian's" or the artist's ardour of soul may be satisfied by the perfecting of the theory of a sentence, or the adjustment of two colours, so his own life also might have been fulfilled by an enthusiastic quest after perfection--say, in the flowering and folding of a toga. The emperors had burned incense before the image of Jupiter, arrayed in its most gorgeous apparel, amid sudden shouts from the people of Salve Imperator! turned now from the living princes to the deity, as they discerned his countenance through the great open doors. The imperial brothers had deposited their crowns of myrtle on the richly embroidered lapcloth of the god; and, with their chosen guests, sat down to a public feast in the temple [198] itself. There followed what was, after all, the great event of the day:--an appropriate discourse, a discourse almost wholly de contemptu mundi, delivered in the presence of the assembled Senate, by the emperor Aurelius, who had thus, on certain rare occasions, condescended to instruct his people, with the double authority of a chief pontiff and a laborious student of philosophy. In those lesser honours of the ovation, there had been no attendant slave behind the emperors, to make mock of their effulgence as they went; and it was as if with the discretion proper to a philosopher, and in fear of a jealous Nemesis, he had determined himself to protest in time against the vanity of all outward success. The Senate was assembled to hear the emperor's discourse in the vast hall of the Curia Julia. A crowd of high-bred youths idled around, or on the steps before the doors, with the marvellous toilets Marius had noticed in the Via Nova; in attendance, as usual, to learn by observation the minute points of senatorial procedure. Marius had already some acquaintance with them, and passing on found himself suddenly in the presence of what was still the most august assembly the world had seen. Under Aurelius, ever full of veneration for this ancient traditional guardian of public religion, the Senate had recovered all its old dignity and independence. Among its members many [199] hundreds in number, visibly the most distinguished of them all, Marius noted the great sophists or rhetoricians of the day, in all their magnificence. The antique character of their attire, and the ancient mode of wearing it, still surviving with them, added to the imposing character of their persons, while they sat, with their staves of ivory in their hands, on their curule chairs--almost the exact pattern of the chair still in use in the Roman church when a Bishop pontificates at the divine offices--"tranquil and unmoved, with a majesty that seemed divine," as Marius thought, like the old Gaul of the Invasion. The rays of the early November sunset slanted full upon the audience, and made it necessary for the officers of the Court to draw the purple curtains over the windows, adding to the solemnity of the scene. In the depth of those warm shadows, surrounded by her ladies, the empress Faustina was seated to listen. The beautiful Greek statue of Victory, which since the days of Augustus had presided over the assemblies of the Senate, had been brought into the hall, and placed near the chair of the emperor; who, after rising to perform a brief sacrificial service in its honour, bowing reverently to the assembled fathers left and right, took his seat and began to speak. There was a certain melancholy grandeur in the very simplicity or triteness of the theme: as it were the very quintessence of all the old [200] Roman epitaphs, of all that was monumental in that city of tombs, layer upon layer of dead things and people. As if in the very fervour of disillusion, he seemed to be composing--Hôsper epigraphas chronôn kai holôn ethnôn+--the sepulchral titles of ages and whole peoples; nay! the very epitaph of the living Rome itself. The grandeur of the ruins of Rome,--heroism in ruin: it was under the influence of an imaginative anticipation of this, that he appeared to be speaking. And though the impression of the actual greatness of Rome on that day was but enhanced by the strain of contempt, falling with an accent of pathetic conviction from the emperor himself, and gaining from his pontifical pretensions the authority of a religious intimation, yet the curious interest of the discourse lay in this, that Marius, for one, as he listened, seemed to forsee a grass-grown Forum, the broken ways of the Capitol, and the Palatine hill itself in humble occupation. That impression connected itself with what he had already noted of an actual change even then coming over Italian scenery. Throughout, he could trace something of a humour into which Stoicism at all times tends to fall, the tendency to cry, Abase yourselves! There was here the almost inhuman impassibility of one who had thought too closely on the paradoxical aspect of the love of posthumous fame. With the ascetic pride which lurks under all Platonism, [201] resultant from its opposition of the seen to the unseen, as falsehood to truth--the imperial Stoic, like his true descendant, the hermit of the middle age, was ready, in no friendly humour, to mock, there in its narrow bed, the corpse which had made so much of itself in life. Marius could but contrast all that with his own Cyrenaic eagerness, just then, to taste and see and touch; reflecting on the opposite issues deducible from the same text. "The world, within me and without, flows away like a river," he had said; "therefore let me make the most of what is here and now."--"The world and the thinker upon it, are consumed like a flame," said Aurelius, "therefore will I turn away my eyes from vanity: renounce: withdraw myself alike from all affections." He seemed tacitly to claim as a sort of personal dignity, that he was very familiarly versed in this view of things, and could discern a death's-head everywhere. Now and again Marius was reminded of the saying that "with the Stoics all people are the vulgar save themselves;" and at times the orator seemed to have forgotten his audience, and to be speaking only to himself. "Art thou in love with men's praises, get thee into the very soul of them, and see!--see what judges they be, even in those matters which concern themselves. Wouldst thou have their praise after death, bethink thee, that they who shall come hereafter, and with whom thou [202] wouldst survive by thy great name, will be but as these, whom here thou hast found so hard to live with. For of a truth, the soul of him who is aflutter upon renown after death, presents not this aright to itself, that of all whose memory he would have each one will likewise very quickly depart, until memory herself be put out, as she journeys on by means of such as are themselves on the wing but for a while, and are extinguished in their turn.--Making so much of those thou wilt never see! It is as if thou wouldst have had those who were before thee discourse fair things concerning thee. "To him, indeed, whose wit hath been whetted by true doctrine, that well-worn sentence of Homer sufficeth, to guard him against regret and fear.-- Like the race of leaves The race of man is:-- The wind in autumn strows The earth with old leaves: then the spring the woods with new endows.+ Leaves! little leaves!--thy children, thy flatterers, thine enemies! Leaves in the wind, those who would devote thee to darkness, who scorn or miscall thee here, even as they also whose great fame shall outlast them. For all these, and the like of them, are born indeed in the spring season--Earos epigignetai hôrê+: and soon a wind hath scattered them, and thereafter the [203] wood peopleth itself again with another generation of leaves. And what is common to all of them is but the littleness of their lives: and yet wouldst thou love and hate, as if these things should continue for ever. In a little while thine eyes also will be closed, and he on whom thou perchance hast leaned thyself be himself a burden upon another. "Bethink thee often of the swiftness with which the things that are, or are even now coming to be, are swept past thee: that the very substance of them is but the perpetual motion of water: that there is almost nothing which continueth: of that bottomless depth of time, so close at thy side. Folly! to be lifted up, or sorrowful, or anxious, by reason of things like these! Think of infinite matter, and thy portion--how tiny a particle, of it! of infinite time, and thine own brief point there; of destiny, and the jot thou art in it; and yield thyself readily to the wheel of Clotho, to spin of thee what web she will. "As one casting a ball from his hand, the nature of things hath had its aim with every man, not as to the ending only, but the first beginning of his course, and passage thither. And hath the ball any profit of its rising, or loss as it descendeth again, or in its fall? or the bubble, as it groweth or breaketh on the air? or the flame of the lamp, from the beginning to the end of its brief story? [204] "All but at this present that future is, in which nature, who disposeth all things in order, will transform whatsoever thou now seest, fashioning from its substance somewhat else, and therefrom somewhat else in its turn, lest the world grow old. We are such stuff as dreams are made of--disturbing dreams. Awake, then! and see thy dream as it is, in comparison with that erewhile it seemed to thee. "And for me, especially, it were well to mind those many mutations of empire in time past; therein peeping also upon the future, which must needs be of like species with what hath been, continuing ever within the rhythm and number of things which really are; so that in forty years one may note of man and of his ways little less than in a thousand. Ah! from this higher place, look we down upon the ship-wrecks and the calm! Consider, for example, how the world went, under the emperor Vespasian. They are married and given in marriage, they breed children; love hath its way with them; they heap up riches for others or for themselves; they are murmuring at things as then they are; they are seeking for great place; crafty, flattering, suspicious, waiting upon the death of others:--festivals, business, war, sickness, dissolution: and now their whole life is no longer anywhere at all. Pass on to the reign of Trajan: all things continue the same: and that life also is no longer anywhere at all. [205] Ah! but look again, and consider, one after another, as it were the sepulchral inscriptions of all peoples and times, according to one pattern.--What multitudes, after their utmost striving--a little afterwards! were dissolved again into their dust. "Think again of life as it was far off in the ancient world; as it must be when we shall be gone; as it is now among the wild heathen. How many have never heard your names and mine, or will soon forget them! How soon may those who shout my name to-day begin to revile it, because glory, and the memory of men, and all things beside, are but vanity--a sand-heap under the senseless wind, the barking of dogs, the quarrelling of children, weeping incontinently upon their laughter. "This hasteth to be; that other to have been: of that which now cometh to be, even now somewhat hath been extinguished. And wilt thou make thy treasure of any one of these things? It were as if one set his love upon the swallow, as it passeth out of sight through the air! "Bethink thee often, in all contentions public and private, of those whom men have remembered by reason of their anger and vehement spirit--those famous rages, and the occasions of them--the great fortunes, and misfortunes, of men's strife of old. What are they all now, and the dust of their battles? Dust [206] and ashes indeed; a fable, a mythus, or not so much as that. Yes! keep those before thine eyes who took this or that, the like of which happeneth to thee, so hardly; were so querulous, so agitated. And where again are they? Wouldst thou have it not otherwise with thee? Consider how quickly all things vanish away--their bodily structure into the general substance; the very memory of them into that great gulf and abysm of past thoughts. Ah! 'tis on a tiny space of earth thou art creeping through life--a pigmy soul carrying a dead body to its grave. "Let death put thee upon the consideration both of thy body and thy soul: what an atom of all matter hath been distributed to thee; what a little particle of the universal mind. Turn thy body about, and consider what thing it is, and that which old age, and lust, and the languor of disease can make of it. Or come to its substantial and causal qualities, its very type: contemplate that in itself, apart from the accidents of matter, and then measure also the span of time for which the nature of things, at the longest, will maintain that special type. Nay! in the very principles and first constituents of things corruption hath its part--so much dust, humour, stench, and scraps of bone! Consider that thy marbles are but the earth's callosities, thy gold and silver its faeces; this silken robe but a worm's bedding, and thy [207] purple an unclean fish. Ah! and thy life's breath is not otherwise, as it passeth out of matters like these, into the like of them again. "For the one soul in things, taking matter like wax in the hands, moulds and remoulds--how hastily!--beast, and plant, and the babe, in turn: and that which dieth hath not slipped out of the order of nature, but, remaining therein, hath also its changes there, disparting into those elements of which nature herself, and thou too, art compacted. She changes without murmuring. The oaken chest falls to pieces with no more complaining than when the carpenter fitted it together. If one told thee certainly that on the morrow thou shouldst die, or at the furthest on the day after, it would be no great matter to thee to die on the day after to-morrow, rather than to-morrow. Strive to think it a thing no greater that thou wilt die--not to-morrow, but a year, or two years, or ten years from to-day. "I find that all things are now as they were in the days of our buried ancestors--all things sordid in their elements, trite by long usage, and yet ephemeral. How ridiculous, then, how like a countryman in town, is he, who wonders at aught. Doth the sameness, the repetition of the public shows, weary thee? Even so doth that likeness of events in the spectacle of the world. And so must it be with thee to the end. For the wheel of the world hath ever the same [208] motion, upward and downward, from generation to generation. When, when, shall time give place to eternity? "If there be things which trouble thee thou canst put them away, inasmuch as they have their being but in thine own notion concerning them. Consider what death is, and how, if one does but detach from it the appearances, the notions, that hang about it, resting the eye upon it as in itself it really is, it must be thought of but as an effect of nature, and that man but a child whom an effect of nature shall affright. Nay! not function and effect of nature, only; but a thing profitable also to herself. "To cease from action--the ending of thine effort to think and do: there is no evil in that. Turn thy thought to the ages of man's life, boyhood, youth, maturity, old age: the change in every one of these also is a dying, but evil nowhere. Thou climbedst into the ship, thou hast made thy voyage and touched the shore. Go forth now! Be it into some other life: the divine breath is everywhere, even there. Be it into forgetfulness for ever; at least thou wilt rest from the beating of sensible images upon thee, from the passions which pluck thee this way and that like an unfeeling toy, from those long marches of the intellect, from thy toilsome ministry to the flesh. "Art thou yet more than dust and ashes and bare bone--a name only, or not so much as [209] that, which, also, is but whispering and a resonance, kept alive from mouth to mouth of dying abjects who have hardly known themselves; how much less thee, dead so long ago! "When thou lookest upon a wise man, a lawyer, a captain of war, think upon another gone. When thou seest thine own face in the glass, call up there before thee one of thine ancestors--one of those old Caesars. Lo! everywhere, thy double before thee! Thereon, let the thought occur to thee: And where are they? anywhere at all, for ever? And thou, thyself--how long? Art thou blind to that thou art--thy matter, how temporal; and thy function, the nature of thy business? Yet tarry, at least, till thou hast assimilated even these things to thine own proper essence, as a quick fire turneth into heat and light whatsoever be cast upon it. "As words once in use are antiquated to us, so is it with the names that were once on all men's lips: Camillus, Volesus, Leonnatus: then, in a little while, Scipio and Cato, and then Augustus, and then Hadrian, and then Antoninus Pius. How many great physicians who lifted wise brows at other men's sick-beds, have sickened and died! Those wise Chaldeans, who foretold, as a great matter, another man's last hour, have themselves been taken by surprise. Ay! and all those others, in their pleasant places: those who doated on a Capreae like [210] Tiberius, on their gardens, on the baths: Pythagoras and Socrates, who reasoned so closely upon immortality: Alexander, who used the lives of others as though his own should last for ever--he and his mule-driver alike now!--one upon another. Well-nigh the whole court of Antoninus is extinct. Panthea and Pergamus sit no longer beside the sepulchre of their lord. The watchers over Hadrian's dust have slipped from his sepulchre.--It were jesting to stay longer. Did they sit there still, would the dead feel it? or feeling it, be glad? or glad, hold those watchers for ever? The time must come when they too shall be aged men and aged women, and decease, and fail from their places; and what shift were there then for imperial service? This too is but the breath of the tomb, and a skinful of dead men's blood. "Think again of those inscriptions, which belong not to one soul only, but to whole families: Eschatos tou idiou genous:+ He was the last of his race. Nay! of the burial of whole cities: Helice, Pompeii: of others, whose very burial place is unknown. "Thou hast been a citizen in this wide city. Count not for how long, nor repine; since that which sends thee hence is no unrighteous judge, no tyrant, but Nature, who brought thee hither; as when a player leaves the stage at the bidding of the conductor who hired him. Sayest thou, 'I have not played five acts'? True! but in [211] human life, three acts only make sometimes an entire play. That is the composer's business, not thine. Withdraw thyself with a good will; for that too hath, perchance, a good will which dismisseth thee from thy part." The discourse ended almost in darkness, the evening having set in somewhat suddenly, with a heavy fall of snow. The torches, made ready to do him a useless honour, were of real service now, as the emperor was solemnly conducted home; one man rapidly catching light from another--a long stream of moving lights across the white Forum, up the great stairs, to the palace. And, in effect, that night winter began, the hardest that had been known for a lifetime. The wolves came from the mountains; and, led by the carrion scent, devoured the dead bodies which had been hastily buried during the plague, and, emboldened by their meal, crept, before the short day was well past, over the walls of the farmyards of the Campagna. The eagles were seen driving the flocks of smaller birds across the dusky sky. Only, in the city itself the winter was all the brighter for the contrast, among those who could pay for light and warmth. The habit-makers made a great sale of the spoil of all such furry creatures as had escaped wolves and eagles, for presents at the Saturnalia; and at no time had the winter roses from Carthage seemed more lustrously yellow and red. NOTES 188. +Spenser, Shepheardes Calendar, October, 61-66. 200. +Transliteration: Hôsper epigraphas chronôn kai holôn ethnôn. Pater's Translation: "the sepulchral titles of ages and whole peoples." 202. +Homer, Iliad VI.146-48. 202. +Transliteration: Earos epigignetai hôrê. Translation: "born in springtime." Homer, Iliad VI.147. 210. +Transliteration: Eschatos tou idiou genous. Translation: "He was the last of his race." CHAPTER XIII: THE "MISTRESS AND MOTHER" OF PALACES AFTER that sharp, brief winter, the sun was already at work, softening leaf and bud, as you might feel by a faint sweetness in the air; but he did his work behind an evenly white sky, against which the abode of the Caesars, its cypresses and bronze roofs, seemed like a picture in beautiful but melancholy colour, as Marius climbed the long flights of steps to be introduced to the emperor Aurelius. Attired in the newest mode, his legs wound in dainty fasciae of white leather, with the heavy gold ring of the ingenuus, and in his toga of ceremony, he still retained all his country freshness of complexion. The eyes of the "golden youth" of Rome were upon him as the chosen friend of Cornelius, and the destined servant of the emperor; but not jealously. In spite of, perhaps partly because of, his habitual reserve of manner, he had become "the fashion," even among those who felt instinctively the irony which lay beneath that remarkable self-possession, as of one taking all things with a [213] difference from other people, perceptible in voice, in expression, and even in his dress. It was, in truth, the air of one who, entering vividly into life, and relishing to the full the delicacies of its intercourse, yet feels all the while, from the point of view of an ideal philosophy, that he is but conceding reality to suppositions, choosing of his own will to walk in a day-dream, of the illusiveness of which he at least is aware. In the house of the chief chamberlain Marius waited for the due moment of admission to the emperor's presence. He was admiring the peculiar decoration of the walls, coloured like rich old red leather. In the midst of one of them was depicted, under a trellis of fruit you might have gathered, the figure of a woman knocking at a door with wonderful reality of perspective. Then the summons came; and in a few minutes, the etiquette of the imperial household being still a simple matter, he had passed the curtains which divided the central hall of the palace into three parts--three degrees of approach to the sacred person--and was speaking to Aurelius himself; not in Greek, in which the emperor oftenest conversed with the learned, but, more familiarly, in Latin, adorned however, or disfigured, by many a Greek phrase, as now and again French phrases have made the adornment of fashionable English. It was with real kindliness that Marcus Aurelius looked upon Marius, as [214] a youth of great attainments in Greek letters and philosophy; and he liked also his serious expression, being, as we know, a believer in the doctrine of physiognomy--that, as he puts it, not love only, but every other affection of man's soul, looks out very plainly from the window of the eyes. The apartment in which Marius found himself was of ancient aspect, and richly decorated with the favourite toys of two or three generations of imperial collectors, now finally revised by the high connoisseurship of the Stoic emperor himself, though destined not much longer to remain together there. It is the repeated boast of Aurelius that he had learned from old Antoninus Pius to maintain authority without the constant use of guards, in a robe woven by the handmaids of his own consort, with no processional lights or images, and "that a prince may shrink himself almost into the figure of a private gentleman." And yet, again as at his first sight of him, Marius was struck by the profound religiousness of the surroundings of the imperial presence. The effect might have been due in part to the very simplicity, the discreet and scrupulous simplicity, of the central figure in this splendid abode; but Marius could not forget that he saw before him not only the head of the Roman religion, but one who might actually have claimed something like divine worship, had he cared to do so. Though the fantastic pretensions of Caligula had brought some contempt [215] on that claim, which had become almost a jest under the ungainly Claudius, yet, from Augustus downwards, a vague divinity had seemed to surround the Caesars even in this life; and the peculiar character of Aurelius, at once a ceremonious polytheist never forgetful of his pontifical calling, and a philosopher whose mystic speculation encircled him with a sort of saintly halo, had restored to his person, without his intending it, something of that divine prerogative, or prestige. Though he would never allow the immediate dedication of altars to himself, yet the image of his Genius--his spirituality or celestial counterpart--was placed among those of the deified princes of the past; and his family, including Faustina and the young Commodus, was spoken of as the "holy" or "divine" house. Many a Roman courtier agreed with the barbarian chief, who, after contemplating a predecessor of Aurelius, withdrew from his presence with the exclamation:--"I have seen a god to-day!" The very roof of his house, rising into a pediment or gable, like that of the sanctuary of a god, the laurels on either side its doorway, the chaplet of oak-leaves above, seemed to designate the place for religious veneration. And notwithstanding all this, the household of Aurelius was singularly modest, with none of the wasteful expense of palaces after the fashion of Lewis the Fourteenth; the palatial dignity being felt only in a peculiar sense of order, the absence [216] of all that was casual, of vulgarity and discomfort. A merely official residence of his predecessors, the Palatine had become the favourite dwelling-place of Aurelius; its many-coloured memories suiting, perhaps, his pensive character, and the crude splendours of Nero and Hadrian being now subdued by time. The window-less Roman abode must have had much of what to a modern would be gloom. How did the children, one wonders, endure houses with so little escape for the eye into the world outside? Aurelius, who had altered little else, choosing to live there, in a genuine homeliness, had shifted and made the most of the level lights, and broken out a quite medieval window here and there, and the clear daylight, fully appreciated by his youthful visitor, made pleasant shadows among the objects of the imperial collection. Some of these, indeed, by reason of their Greek simplicity and grace, themselves shone out like spaces of a purer, early light, amid the splendours of the Roman manufacture. Though he looked, thought Marius, like a man who did not sleep enough, he was abounding and bright to-day, after one of those pitiless headaches, which since boyhood had been the "thorn in his side," challenging the pretensions of his philosophy to fortify one in humble endurances. At the first moment, to Marius, remembering the spectacle of the emperor in ceremony, it was almost bewildering to be in [217] private conversation with him. There was much in the philosophy of Aurelius--much consideration of mankind at large, of great bodies, aggregates and generalities, after the Stoic manner--which, on a nature less rich than his, might have acted as an inducement to care for people in inverse proportion to their nearness to him. That has sometimes been the result of the Stoic cosmopolitanism. Aurelius, however, determined to beautify by all means, great or little, a doctrine which had in it some potential sourness, had brought all the quickness of his intelligence, and long years of observation, to bear on the conditions of social intercourse. He had early determined "not to make business an excuse to decline the offices of humanity--not to pretend to be too much occupied with important affairs to concede what life with others may hourly demand;" and with such success, that, in an age which made much of the finer points of that intercourse, it was felt that the mere honesty of his conversation was more pleasing than other men's flattery. His agreeableness to his young visitor to-day was, in truth, a blossom of the same wisdom which had made of Lucius Verus really a brother--the wisdom of not being exigent with men, any more than with fruit-trees (it is his own favourite figure) beyond their nature. And there was another person, still nearer to him, regarding whom this wisdom became a marvel, of equity--of charity. [218] The centre of a group of princely children, in the same apartment with Aurelius, amid all the refined intimacies of a modern home, sat the empress Faustina, warming her hands over a fire. With her long fingers lighted up red by the glowing coals of the brazier Marius looked close upon the most beautiful woman in the world, who was also the great paradox of the age, among her boys and girls. As has been truly said of the numerous representations of her in art, so in life, she had the air of one curious, restless, to enter into conversation with the first comer. She had certainly the power of stimulating a very ambiguous sort of curiosity about herself. And Marius found this enigmatic point in her expression, that even after seeing her many times he could never precisely recall her features in absence. The lad of six years, looking older, who stood beside her, impatiently plucking a rose to pieces over the hearth, was, in outward appearance, his father--the young Verissimus--over again; but with a certain feminine length of feature, and with all his mother's alertness, or license, of gaze. Yet rumour knocked at every door and window of the imperial house regarding the adulterers who knocked at them, or quietly left their lovers' garlands there. Was not that likeness of the husband, in the boy beside her, really the effect of a shameful magic, in which the blood of the murdered gladiator, his true father, had been an ingredient? Were the tricks for [219] deceiving husbands which the Roman poet describes, really hers, and her household an efficient school of all the arts of furtive love? Or, was the husband too aware, like every one beside? Were certain sudden deaths which happened there, really the work of apoplexy, or the plague? The man whose ears, whose soul, those rumours were meant to penetrate, was, however, faithful to his sanguine and optimist philosophy, to his determination that the world should be to him simply what the higher reason preferred to conceive it; and the life's journey Aurelius had made so far, though involving much moral and intellectual loneliness, had been ever in affectionate and helpful contact with other wayfarers, very unlike himself. Since his days of earliest childhood in the Lateran gardens, he seemed to himself, blessing the gods for it after deliberate survey, to have been always surrounded by kinsmen, friends, servants, of exceptional virtue. From the great Stoic idea, that we are all fellow-citizens of one city, he had derived a tenderer, a more equitable estimate than was common among Stoics, of the eternal shortcomings of men and women. Considerations that might tend to the sweetening of his temper it was his daily care to store away, with a kind of philosophic pride in the thought that no one took more good-naturedly than he the "oversights" of his neighbours. For had not Plato taught (it was not [220] paradox, but simple truth of experience) that if people sin, it is because they know no better, and are "under the necessity of their own ignorance"? Hard to himself, he seemed at times, doubtless, to decline too softly upon unworthy persons. Actually, he came thereby upon many a useful instrument. The empress Faustina he would seem at least to have kept, by a constraining affection, from becoming altogether what most people have believed her, and won in her (we must take him at his word in the "Thoughts," abundantly confirmed by letters, on both sides, in his correspondence with Cornelius Fronto) a consolation, the more secure, perhaps, because misknown of others. Was the secret of her actual blamelessness, after all, with him who has at least screened her name? At all events, the one thing quite certain about her, besides her extraordinary beauty, is her sweetness to himself. No! The wise, who had made due observation on the trees of the garden, would not expect to gather grapes of thorns or fig-trees: and he was the vine, putting forth his genial fruit, by natural law, again and again, after his kind, whatever use people might make of it. Certainly, his actual presence never lost its power, and Faustina was glad in it to-day, the birthday of one of her children, a boy who stood at her knee holding in his fingers tenderly a tiny silver trumpet, one of his birthday gifts.--"For my [221] part, unless I conceive my hurt to be such, I have no hurt at all,"--boasts the would-be apathetic emperor:--"and how I care to conceive of the thing rests with me." Yet when his children fall sick or die, this pretence breaks down, and he is broken-hearted: and one of the charms of certain of his letters still extant, is his reference to those childish sicknesses.--"On my return to Lorium," he writes, "I found my little lady--domnulam meam--in a fever;" and again, in a letter to one of the most serious of men, "You will be glad to hear that our little one is better, and running about the room--parvolam nostram melius valere et intra cubiculum discurrere." The young Commodus had departed from the chamber, anxious to witness the exercises of certain gladiators, having a native taste for such company, inherited, according to popular rumour, from his true father--anxious also to escape from the too impressive company of the gravest and sweetest specimen of old age Marius had ever seen, the tutor of the imperial children, who had arrived to offer his birthday congratulations, and now, very familiarly and affectionately, made a part of the group, falling on the shoulders of the emperor, kissing the empress Faustina on the face, the little ones on the face and hands. Marcus Cornelius Fronto, the "Orator," favourite teacher of the emperor's youth, afterwards his most trusted counsellor, and now the undisputed occupant of the sophistic throne, whose equipage, [222] elegantly mounted with silver, Marius had seen in the streets of Rome, had certainly turned his many personal gifts to account with a good fortune, remarkable even in that age, so indulgent to professors or rhetoricians. The gratitude of the emperor Aurelius, always generous to his teachers, arranging their very quarrels sometimes, for they were not always fair to one another, had helped him to a really great place in the world. But his sumptuous appendages, including the villa and gardens of Maecenas, had been borne with an air perfectly becoming, by the professor of a philosophy which, even in its most accomplished and elegant phase, presupposed a gentle contempt for such things. With an intimate practical knowledge of manners, physiognomies, smiles, disguises, flatteries, and courtly tricks of every kind--a whole accomplished rhetoric of daily life--he applied them all to the promotion of humanity, and especially of men's family affection. Through a long life of now eighty years, he had been, as it were, surrounded by the gracious and soothing air of his own eloquence--the fame, the echoes, of it--like warbling birds, or murmuring bees. Setting forth in that fine medium the best ideas of matured pagan philosophy, he had become the favourite "director" of noble youth Yes! it was the one instance Marius, always eagerly on the look-out for such, had yet seen of [223] a perfectly tolerable, perfectly beautiful, old age--an old age in which there seemed, to one who perhaps habitually over-valued the expression of youth, nothing to be regretted, nothing really lost, in what years had taken away. The wise old man, whose blue eyes and fair skin were so delicate, uncontaminate and clear, would seem to have replaced carefully and consciously each natural trait of youth, as it departed from him, by an equivalent grace of culture; and had the blitheness, the placid cheerfulness, as he had also the infirmity, the claim on stronger people, of a delightful child. And yet he seemed to be but awaiting his exit from life--that moment with which the Stoics were almost as much preoccupied as the Christians, however differently--and set Marius pondering on the contrast between a placidity like this, at eighty years, and the sort of desperateness he was aware of in his own manner of entertaining that thought. His infirmities nevertheless had been painful and long-continued, with losses of children, of pet grandchildren. What with the crowd, and the wretched streets, it was a sign of affection which had cost him something, for the old man to leave his own house at all that day; and he was glad of the emperor's support, as he moved from place to place among the children he protests so often to have loved as his own. For a strange piece of literary good fortune, at the beginning of the present century, has set [224] free the long-buried fragrance of this famous friendship of the old world, from below a valueless later manuscript, in a series of letters, wherein the two writers exchange, for the most part their evening thoughts, especially at family anniversaries, and with entire intimacy, on their children, on the art of speech, on all the various subtleties of the "science of images"--rhetorical images--above all, of course, on sleep and matters of health. They are full of mutual admiration of each other's eloquence, restless in absence till they see one another again, noting, characteristically, their very dreams of each other, expecting the day which will terminate the office, the business or duty, which separates them--"as superstitious people watch for the star, at the rising of which they may break their fast." To one of the writers, to Aurelius, the correspondence was sincerely of value. We see him once reading his letters with genuine delight on going to rest. Fronto seeks to deter his pupil from writing in Greek.--Why buy, at great cost, a foreign wine, inferior to that from one's own vineyard? Aurelius, on the other hand, with an extraordinary innate susceptibility to words--la parole pour la parole, as the French say--despairs, in presence of Fronto's rhetorical perfection. Like the modern visitor to the Capitoline and some other museums, Fronto had been struck, pleasantly struck, by the family likeness [225] among the Antonines; and it was part of his friendship to make much of it, in the case of the children of Faustina. "Well! I have seen the little ones," he writes to Aurelius, then, apparently, absent from them: "I have seen the little ones--the pleasantest sight of my life; for they are as like yourself as could possibly be. It has well repaid me for my journey over that slippery road, and up those steep rocks; for I beheld you, not simply face to face before me, but, more generously, whichever way I turned, to my right and my left. For the rest, I found them, Heaven be thanked! with healthy cheeks and lusty voices. One was holding a slice of white bread, like a king's son; the other a crust of brown bread, as becomes the offspring of a philosopher. I pray the gods to have both the sower and the seed in their keeping; to watch over this field wherein the ears of corn are so kindly alike. Ah! I heard too their pretty voices, so sweet that in the childish prattle of one and the other I seemed somehow to be listening--yes! in that chirping of your pretty chickens--to the limpid+ and harmonious notes of your own oratory. Take care! you will find me growing independent, having those I could love in your place:--love, on the surety of my eyes and ears." "Magistro meo salutem!" replies the Emperor, "I too have seen my little ones in your sight of them; as, also, I saw yourself in reading your [226] letter. It is that charming letter forces me to write thus:" with reiterations of affection, that is, which are continual in these letters, on both sides, and which may strike a modern reader perhaps as fulsome; or, again, as having something in common with the old Judaic unction of friendship. They were certainly sincere. To one of those children Fronto had now brought the birthday gift of the silver trumpet, upon which he ventured to blow softly now and again, turning away with eyes delighted at the sound, when he thought the old man was not listening. It was the well-worn, valetudinarian subject of sleep, on which Fronto and Aurelius were talking together; Aurelius always feeling it a burden, Fronto a thing of magic capacities, so that he had written an encomium in its praise, and often by ingenious arguments recommends his imperial pupil not to be sparing of it. To-day, with his younger listeners in mind, he had a story to tell about it:-- "They say that our father Jupiter, when he ordered the world at the beginning, divided time into two parts exactly equal: the one part he clothed with light, the other with darkness: he called them Day and Night; and he assigned rest to the night and to day the work of life. At that time Sleep was not yet born and men passed the whole of their lives awake: only, the quiet of the night was ordained for them, instead of sleep. But it came to pass, little by little, [227] being that the minds of men are restless, that they carried on their business alike by night as by day, and gave no part at all to repose. And Jupiter, when he perceived that even in the night-time they ceased not from trouble and disputation, and that even the courts of law remained open (it was the pride of Aurelius, as Fronto knew, to be assiduous in those courts till far into the night) resolved to appoint one of his brothers to be the overseer of the night and have authority over man's rest. But Neptune pleaded in excuse the gravity of his constant charge of the seas, and Father Dis the difficulty of keeping in subjection the spirits below; and Jupiter, having taken counsel with the other gods, perceived that the practice of nightly vigils was somewhat in favour. It was then, for the most part, that Juno gave birth to her children: Minerva, the mistress of all art and craft, loved the midnight lamp: Mars delighted in the darkness for his plots and sallies; and the favour of Venus and Bacchus was with those who roused by night. Then it was that Jupiter formed the design of creating Sleep; and he added him to the number of the gods, and gave him the charge over night and rest, putting into his hands the keys of human eyes. With his own hands he mingled the juices wherewith Sleep should soothe the hearts of mortals--herb of Enjoyment and herb of Safety, gathered from a grove in Heaven; and, from the meadows of [228] Acheron, the herb of Death; expressing from it one single drop only, no bigger than a tear one might hide. 'With this juice,' he said, 'pour slumber upon the eyelids of mortals. So soon as it hath touched them they will lay themselves down motionless, under thy power. But be not afraid: they shall revive, and in a while stand up again upon their feet.' Thereafter, Jupiter gave wings to Sleep, attached, not, like Mercury's, to his heels, but to his shoulders, like the wings of Love. For he said, 'It becomes thee not to approach men's eyes as with the noise of chariots, and the rushing of a swift courser, but in placid and merciful flight, as upon the wings of a swallow--nay! with not so much as the flutter of the dove.' Besides all this, that he might be yet pleasanter to men, he committed to him also a multitude of blissful dreams, according to every man's desire. One watched his favourite actor; another listened to the flute, or guided a charioteer in the race: in his dream, the soldier was victorious, the general was borne in triumph, the wanderer returned home. Yes!--and sometimes those dreams come true! Just then Aurelius was summoned to make the birthday offerings to his household gods. A heavy curtain of tapestry was drawn back; and beyond it Marius gazed for a few moments into the Lararium, or imperial chapel. A patrician youth, in white habit, was in waiting, with a little chest in his hand containing incense for the [229] use of the altar. On richly carved consoles, or side boards, around this narrow chamber, were arranged the rich apparatus of worship and the golden or gilded images, adorned to-day with fresh flowers, among them that image of Fortune from the apartment of Antoninus Pius, and such of the emperor's own teachers as were gone to their rest. A dim fresco on the wall commemorated the ancient piety of Lucius Albinius, who in flight from Rome on the morrow of a great disaster, overtaking certain priests on foot with their sacred utensils, descended from the wagon in which he rode and yielded it to the ministers of the gods. As he ascended into the chapel the emperor paused, and with a grave but friendly look at his young visitor, delivered a parting sentence, audible to him alone: Imitation is the most acceptable-- Make sure that those to whom you come nearest be the happier by your* It was the very spirit of the scene and the hour--the hour Marius had spent in the imperial house. How temperate, how tranquillising! what humanity! Yet, as he left the eminent company concerning whose ways of life at home he had been so youthfully curious, and sought, after his manner, to determine the main trait in all this, he had to confess that it was a sentiment of mediocrity, though of a mediocrity for once really golden. NOTES 225. +"Limpid" is misprinted "Limped." CHAPTER XIV: MANLY AMUSEMENT DURING the Eastern war there came a moment when schism in the empire had seemed possible through the defection of Lucius Verus; when to Aurelius it had also seemed possible to confirm his allegiance by no less a gift than his beautiful daughter Lucilla, the eldest of his children--the domnula, probably, of those letters. The little lady, grown now to strong and stately maidenhood, had been ever something of the good genius, the better soul, to Lucius Verus, by the law of contraries, her somewhat cold and apathetic modesty acting as counterfoil to the young man's tigrish fervour. Conducted to Ephesus, she had become his wife by form of civil marriage, the more solemn wedding rites being deferred till their return to Rome. The ceremony of the Confarreation, or religious marriage, in which bride and bridegroom partook together of a certain mystic bread, was celebrated accordingly, with due pomp, early in the spring; Aurelius himself [231] assisting, with much domestic feeling. A crowd of fashionable people filled the space before the entrance to the apartments of Lucius on the Palatine hill, richly decorated for the occasion, commenting, not always quite delicately, on the various details of the rite, which only a favoured few succeeded in actually witnessing. "She comes!" Marius could hear them say, "escorted by her young brothers: it is the young Commodus who carries the torch of white-thornwood, the little basket of work-things, the toys for the children:"--and then, after a watchful pause, "she is winding the woollen thread round the doorposts. Ah! I see the marriage-cake: the bridegroom presents the fire and water." Then, in a longer pause, was heard the chorus, Thalassie! Thalassie! and for just a few moments, in the strange light of many wax tapers at noonday, Marius could see them both, side by side, while the bride was lifted over the doorstep: Lucius Verus heated and handsome--the pale, impassive Lucilla looking very long and slender, in her closely folded yellow veil, and high nuptial crown. As Marius turned away, glad to escape from the pressure of the crowd, he found himself face to face with Cornelius, an infrequent spectator on occasions such as this. It was a relief to depart with him--so fresh and quiet he looked, though in all his splendid equestrian array in honour of the ceremony--from the garish heat [232] of the marriage scene. The reserve which had puzzled Marius so much on his first day in Rome, was but an instance of many, to him wholly unaccountable, avoidances alike of things and persons, which must certainly mean that an intimate companionship would cost him something in the way of seemingly indifferent amusements. Some inward standard Marius seemed to detect there (though wholly unable to estimate its nature) of distinction, selection, refusal, amid the various elements of the fervid and corrupt life across which they were moving together:--some secret, constraining motive, ever on the alert at eye and ear, which carried him through Rome as under a charm, so that Marius could not but think of that figure of the white bird in the market-place as undoubtedly made true of him. And Marius was still full of admiration for this companion, who had known how to make himself very pleasant to him. Here was the clear, cold corrective, which the fever of his present life demanded. Without it, he would have felt alternately suffocated and exhausted by an existence, at once so gaudy and overdone, and yet so intolerably empty; in which people, even at their best, seemed only to be brooding, like the wise emperor himself, over a world's disillusion. For with all the severity of Cornelius, there was such a breeze of hopefulness--freshness and hopefulness, as of new morning, about him. [233] For the most part, as I said, those refusals, that reserve of his, seemed unaccountable. But there were cases where the unknown monitor acted in a direction with which the judgment, or instinct, of Marius himself wholly concurred; the effective decision of Cornelius strengthening him further therein, as by a kind of outwardly embodied conscience. And the entire drift of his education determined him, on one point at least, to be wholly of the same mind with this peculiar friend (they two, it might be, together, against the world!) when, alone of a whole company of brilliant youth, he had withdrawn from his appointed place in the amphitheatre, at a grand public show, which after an interval of many months, was presented there, in honour of the nuptials of Lucius Verus and Lucilla. And it was still to the eye, through visible movement and aspect, that the character, or genius of Cornelius made itself felt by Marius; even as on that afternoon when he had girt on his armour, among the expressive lights and shades of the dim old villa at the roadside, and every object of his knightly array had seemed to be but sign or symbol of some other thing far beyond it. For, consistently with his really poetic temper, all influence reached Marius, even more exclusively than he was aware, through the medium of sense. From Flavian in that brief early summer of his existence, he had derived a powerful impression of the [234] "perpetual flux": he had caught there, as in cipher or symbol, or low whispers more effective than any definite language, his own Cyrenaic philosophy, presented thus, for the first time, in an image or person, with much attractiveness, touched also, consequently, with a pathetic sense of personal sorrow:--a concrete image, the abstract equivalent of which he could recognise afterwards, when the agitating personal influence had settled down for him, clearly enough, into a theory of practice. But of what possible intellectual formula could this mystic Cornelius be the sensible exponent; seeming, as he did, to live ever in close relationship with, and recognition of, a mental view, a source of discernment, a light upon his way, which had certainly not yet sprung up for Marius? Meantime, the discretion of Cornelius, his energetic clearness and purity, were a charm, rather physical than moral: his exquisite correctness of spirit, at all events, accorded so perfectly with the regular beauty of his person, as to seem to depend upon it. And wholly different as was this later friendship, with its exigency, its warnings, its restraints, from the feverish attachment to Flavian, which had made him at times like an uneasy slave, still, like that, it was a reconciliation to the world of sense, the visible world. From the hopefulness of this gracious presence, all visible things around him, even the commonest objects of everyday life--if they but [235] stood together to warm their hands at the same fire--took for him a new poetry, a delicate fresh bloom, and interest. It was as if his bodily eyes had been indeed mystically washed, renewed, strengthened. And how eagerly, with what a light heart, would Flavian have taken his place in the amphitheatre, among the youth of his own age! with what an appetite for every detail of the entertainment, and its various accessories:--the sunshine, filtered into soft gold by the vela, with their serpentine patterning, spread over the more select part of the company; the Vestal virgins, taking their privilege of seats near the empress Faustina, who sat there in a maze of double-coloured gems, changing, as she moved, like the waves of the sea; the cool circle of shadow, in which the wonderful toilets of the fashionable told so effectively around the blazing arena, covered again and again during the many hours' show, with clean sand for the absorption of certain great red patches there, by troops of white-shirted boys, for whom the good-natured audience provided a scramble of nuts and small coin, flung to them over a trellis-work of silver-gilt and amber, precious gift of Nero, while a rain of flowers and perfume fell over themselves, as they paused between the parts of their long feast upon the spectacle of animal suffering. During his sojourn at Ephesus, Lucius Verus had readily become a patron, patron or protégé, [236] of the great goddess of Ephesus, the goddess of hunters; and the show, celebrated by way of a compliment to him to-day, was to present some incidents of her story, where she figures almost as the genius of madness, in animals, or in the humanity which comes in contact with them. The entertainment would have an element of old Greek revival in it, welcome to the taste of a learned and Hellenising society; and, as Lucius Verus was in some sense a lover of animals, was to be a display of animals mainly. There would be real wild and domestic creatures, all of rare species; and a real slaughter. On so happy an occasion, it was hoped, the elder emperor might even concede a point, and a living criminal fall into the jaws of the wild beasts. And the spectacle was, certainly, to end in the destruction, by one mighty shower of arrows, of a hundred lions, "nobly" provided by Aurelius himself for the amusement of his people.--Tam magnanimus fuit! The arena, decked and in order for the first scene, looked delightfully fresh, re-inforcing on the spirits of the audience the actual freshness of the morning, which at this season still brought the dew. Along the subterranean ways that led up to it, the sound of an advancing chorus was heard at last, chanting the words of a sacred song, or hymn to Diana; for the spectacle of the amphitheatre was, after all, a [237] religious occasion. To its grim acts of blood-shedding a kind of sacrificial character still belonged in the view of certain religious casuists, tending conveniently to soothe the humane sensibilities of so pious an emperor as Aurelius, who, in his fraternal complacency, had consented to preside over the shows. Artemis or Diana, as she may be understood in the actual development of her worship, was, indeed, the symbolical expression of two allied yet contrasted elements of human temper and experience--man's amity, and also his enmity, towards the wild creatures, when they were still, in a certain sense, his brothers. She is the complete, and therefore highly complex, representative of a state, in which man was still much occupied with animals, not as his flock, or as his servants after the pastoral relationship of our later, orderly world, but rather as his equals, on friendly terms or the reverse,--a state full of primeval sympathies and antipathies, of rivalries and common wants--while he watched, and could enter into, the humours of those "younger brothers," with an intimacy, the "survivals" of which in a later age seem often to have had a kind of madness about them. Diana represents alike the bright and the dark side of such relationship. But the humanities of that relationship were all forgotten to-day in the excitement of a show, in which mere cruelty to animals, their useless suffering and death, formed [238] the main point of interest. People watched their destruction, batch after batch, in a not particularly inventive fashion; though it was expected that the animals themselves, as living creatures are apt to do when hard put to it, would become inventive, and make up, by the fantastic accidents of their agony, for the deficiencies of an age fallen behind in this matter of manly amusement. It was as a Deity of Slaughter--the Taurian goddess who demands the sacrifice of the shipwrecked sailors thrown on her coasts--the cruel, moonstruck huntress, who brings not only sudden death, but rabies, among the wild creatures that Diana was to be presented, in the person of a famous courtesan. The aim at an actual theatrical illusion, after the first introductory scene, was frankly surrendered to the display of the animals, artificially stimulated and maddened to attack each other. And as Diana was also a special protectress of new-born creatures, there would be a certain curious interest in the dexterously contrived escape of the young from their mother's torn bosoms; as many pregnant animals as possible being carefully selected for the purpose. The time had been, and was to come again, when the pleasures of the amphitheatre centered in a similar practical joking upon human beings. What more ingenious diversion had stage manager ever contrived than that incident, itself a practical epigram never to be forgottten, [239] when a criminal, who, like slaves and animals, had no rights, was compelled to present the part of Icarus; and, the wings failing him in due course, had fallen into a pack of hungry bears? For the long shows of the amphitheatre were, so to speak, the novel-reading of that age--a current help provided for sluggish imaginations, in regard, for instance, to grisly accidents, such as might happen to one's self; but with every facility for comfortable inspection. Scaevola might watch his own hand, consuming, crackling, in the fire, in the person of a culprit, willing to redeem his life by an act so delightful to the eyes, the very ears, of a curious public. If the part of Marsyas was called for, there was a criminal condemned to lose his skin. It might be almost edifying to study minutely the expression of his face, while the assistants corded and pegged him to the bench, cunningly; the servant of the law waiting by, who, after one short cut with his knife, would slip the man's leg from his skin, as neatly as if it were a stocking--a finesse in providing the due amount of suffering for wrong-doers only brought to its height in Nero's living bonfires. But then, by making his suffering ridiculous, you enlist against the sufferer, some real, and all would-be manliness, and do much to stifle any false sentiment of compassion. The philosophic emperor, having no great taste for sport, and asserting here a personal scruple, had greatly changed all [240] that; had provided that nets should be spread under the dancers on the tight-rope, and buttons for the swords of the gladiators. But the gladiators were still there. Their bloody contests had, under the form of a popular amusement, the efficacy of a human sacrifice; as, indeed, the whole system of the public shows was understood to possess a religious import. Just at this point, certainly, the judgment of Lucretius on pagan religion is without reproach-- Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum. And Marius, weary and indignant, feeling isolated in the great slaughter-house, could not but observe that, in his habitual complaisance to Lucius Verus, who, with loud shouts of applause from time to time, lounged beside him, Aurelius had sat impassibly through all the hours Marius himself had remained there. For the most part indeed, the emperor had actually averted his eyes from the show, reading, or writing on matters of public business, but had seemed, after all, indifferent. He was revolving, perhaps, that old Stoic paradox of the Imperceptibility of pain; which might serve as an excuse, should those savage popular humours ever again turn against men and women. Marius remembered well his very attitude and expression on this day, when, a few years later, certain things came to pass in Gaul, under his full authority; and that attitude and expression [241] defined already, even thus early in their so friendly intercourse, and though he was still full of gratitude for his interest, a permanent point of difference between the emperor and himself--between himself, with all the convictions of his life taking centre to-day in his merciful, angry heart, and Aurelius, as representing all the light, all the apprehensive power there might be in pagan intellect. There was something in a tolerance such as this, in the bare fact that he could sit patiently through a scene like this, which seemed to Marius to mark Aurelius as his inferior now and for ever on the question of righteousness; to set them on opposite sides, in some great conflict, of which that difference was but a single presentment. Due, in whatever proportions, to the abstract principles he had formulated for himself, or in spite of them, there was the loyal conscience within him, deciding, judging himself and every one else, with a wonderful sort of authority:--You ought, methinks, to be something quite different from what you are; here! and here! Surely Aurelius must be lacking in that decisive conscience at first sight, of the intimations of which Marius could entertain no doubt--which he looked for in others. He at least, the humble follower of the bodily eye, was aware of a crisis in life, in this brief, obscure existence, a fierce opposition of real good and real evil around him, the issues of which he must by no [242] means compromise or confuse; of the antagonisms of which the "wise" Marcus Aurelius was unaware. That long chapter of the cruelty of the Roman public shows may, perhaps, leave with the children of the modern world a feeling of self-complacency. Yet it might seem well to ask ourselves--it is always well to do so, when we read of the slave-trade, for instance, or of great religious persecutions on this side or on that, or of anything else which raises in us the question, "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?"--not merely, what germs of feeling we may entertain which, under fitting circumstances, would induce us to the like; but, even more practically, what thoughts, what sort of considerations, may be actually present to our minds such as might have furnished us, living in another age, and in the midst of those legal crimes, with plausible excuses for them: each age in turn, perhaps, having its own peculiar point of blindness, with its consequent peculiar sin--the touch-stone of an unfailing conscience in the select few. Those cruel amusements were, certainly, the sin of blindness, of deadness and stupidity, in the age of Marius; and his light had not failed him regarding it. Yes! what was needed was the heart that would make it impossible to witness all this; and the future would be with the forces that could beget a heart like that. [243] His chosen philosophy had said,--Trust the eye: Strive to be right always in regard to the concrete experience: Beware of falsifying your impressions. And its sanction had at least been effective here, in protesting--"This, and this, is what you may not look upon!" Surely evil was a real thing, and the wise man wanting in the sense of it, where, not to have been, by instinctive election, on the right side, was to have failed in life. END OF VOL. I 
14867	----	Faith--Tendency of Ancient and Modern Theories to Lower the General Estimate of Man--The Dignity with which the New Testament Invests Him--The Ethical Tendency of the Doctrine of Evolution--The Opinion Expressed on the Subject by Goldwin Smith--Peschel's Frank Admission--The Pessimistic Tendency of all Anti-Biblical Theories of Man's Origin, Life, and Destiny--Buddha, Schopenhauer, and the Agnostics--The more Hopeful Influence of the Bible--The Tendency of all Heathen Religions and all Anti-Christian Philosophies toward Fatalism--Pantheism and the Philosophy of Spinoza Agreeing in this Respect with the Hindu Vedantism--The Late Samuel Johnson's "Piety of Pantheism," and His Definition of Fatalism--What Saves the Scriptural Doctrine of Fore-ordination from Fatalism--The Province of Faith and of Trust. LECTURE X. THE DIVINE SUPREMACY OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH 338 The Claim that Christianity is the only True Religion--The Peculiar Tendencies of Modern Times to Deny this Supremacy and Monopoly--It is not Enough in Such Times to Simply Ignore the Challenge--The Unique Claim must be Defended--First: Christianity is Differentiated from all Other Religions by the Fact of a Divine Sacrifice for Sin--Mohammedanism, though Founded on a Belief in the True God and Partly on the Old Testament Teachings, Offers no Saviour--No Idea of Fatherhood is Found in any Non-Christian Faith--The Gloom of Buddhism and the Terror of Savage Tribes--Hinduism a System of Self-Help Merely--The Recognized Grandeur of the Principle of Self-Sacrifice as Reflected from Christ--Augustine Found a Way of Life only in His Divine Sacrifice--Second: No Other Faith than Christianity is Made Effectual by the Power of a Divine and Omnipotent Spirit--The Well-Attested Fact of Radical Transformations of Character--Other Systems have Made Converts only by Warlike Conquest or by Such Motives as might Appeal to the Natural Heart--Christianity Rises above all Other Systems in the Divine Personality of Christ--The Contrast in this Respect between Him and the Authors of the Non-Christian Systems--His Attractions and His Power Acknowledged by all Classes of Men--The Inferiority of Socrates as Compared with Christ--Bushnell's Tribute to the Perfection of this Divine Personality--Its Power Attested in the Life of Paul--The Adaptation of Christianity to all the Circumstances and Conditions of Life--Abraham and the Vedic Patriarchs, Moses and Manu, David's Joy and Gratitude, and the Gloom of Hindu or Buddhist Philosophy--Only Christianity Brings Man to True Penitence and Humility--The Recognized Beauty and the Convincing Lesson of the Prodigal Son--The Contrast between Mohammed's Blasphemous Suras, which Justify his Lust, and the Deep Contrition of David in the Fifty-first Psalm--The Moral Purity of the Old and New Testaments as Contrasted with all Other Sacred Books--The Scriptures Pure though Written in Ages of Corruption and Surrounded by Immoral Influences--Christ Belongs to no Land or Age--The Gospel Alone is Adapted to all Races and all Time as the Universal Religion of Mankind--Only Christianity Recognizes the True Relation between Divine Help and Human Effort--It Encourages by Omnipotent Co-operation--The All-Comprehensive Presentation of the Gospel. APPENDIX 381 ORIENTAL RELIGIONS AND CHRISTIANITY LECTURE I. THE NEED OF UNDERSTANDING THE FALSE RELIGIONS It is said that the very latest among the sciences is the Science of Religion. Without pausing to inquire how far it admits of scientific treatment, certain reasons which may be urged for the study of the existing religions of the world will be considered in this lecture. It must be admitted in the outset that those who have been the pioneers in this field of research have not, as a rule, been advocates of the Christian faith. The anti-Christian theory that all religions may be traced to common causes, that common wants and aspirations of mankind have led to the development of various systems according to environment, has until recently been the chief spur to this class of studies. Accordingly, the religions of the world have been submitted to some preconceived philosophy of language, or ethnology, or evolution, with the emphasis placed upon such facts as seemed to comport with this theory. Meanwhile there has been an air of broad-minded charity in the manner in which the apologists of Oriental systems have treated the subject. They have included Christ in the same category with Plato and Confucius, and have generally placed Him at the head; and this supposed breadth of sentiment has given them a degree of influence with dubious and wavering Christians, as well as with multitudes who are without faith of any kind. In this country the study of comparative religion has been almost entirely in the hands of non-evangelical writers. We have had "The Ten Great Religions," from the pen of Rev. James Freeman Clarke; "The Oriental Religions," written with great labor by the late Samuel Johnson; and Mr. Moncure D. Conway's "Anthology," with its flowers, gathered from the sacred books of all systems, and so chosen as to carry the implication that they all are equally inspired. Many other works designed to show that Christianity was developed from ancient sun myths, or was only a plagiarism upon the old mythologies of India, have been current among us. But strangely enough, the Christian Church has seemed to regard this subject as scarcely worthy of serious consideration. With the exception of a very able work on Buddhism,[1] and several review articles on Hinduism, written by Professor S.H. Kellogg, very little has been published from the Christian standpoint.[2] The term "heathenism" has been used as an expression of contempt, and has been applied with too little discrimination. There is a reason, perhaps, why these systems have been underestimated. It so happened that the races among whom the modern missionary enterprise has carried on its earlier work were mostly simple types of pagans, found in the wilds of America, in Greenland and Labrador, in the West Indies, on the African coast, or in the islands of the Pacific; and these worshippers of nature or of spirits gave a very different impression from that which the Apostles and the Early Church gained from their intercourse with the conquering Romans or the polished and philosophic Greeks. Our missionary work has been symbolized, as Sir William W. Hunter puts it, by a band of half-naked savages listening to a missionary seated under a palm-tree, and receiving his message with child-like and unquestioning faith. But in the opening of free access to the great Asiatic nations, higher grades of men have been found, and with these we now have chiefly to do. The pioneer of India's missions, the devoted Ziegenbalg, had not been long in his field before he learned the mistake which the churches in Europe had made in regard to the religion and philosophy of the Hindus. He laid aside all his old notions when he came to encounter the metaphysical subtleties of Hindu thought, when he learned something of the immense Hindu literature, the voluminous ethics, the mystical and weird mythologies, the tremendous power of tradition and social customs--when, in short, he found his way hedged up by habits of thought wholly different from his own; and he resolved to know something of the religion which the people of India already possessed. For the benefit of others who might follow him he wrote a book on Hinduism and its relations to Christianity, and sent it to Europe for publication. But so strong were the preconceived notions which prevailed among his brethren at home, that his manuscript, instead of being published, was suppressed. "You were not sent to India to study Hinduism," wrote Franke, "but to preach the Gospel." But Ziegenbalg certainly was not wanting in his estimate of the chief end in view, and his success was undoubtedly far greater for the intelligent plan upon which he labored. The time came when a change had passed over the society which had sent him forth. Others, less friendly than he to the Gospel of Christ, had studied Hinduism, and had paraded it as a rival of Christianity; and in self-defence against this flank movement, the long-neglected work of Ziegenbalg was brought forth from obscurity and published. It is partly in self-defence against similar influences, that the Christian Church everywhere is now turning increased attention to the study of Comparative Religion. In Great Britain a wider interest has been felt in the subject than in this country. And yet, even there the Church has been far behind the enemies of evangelical truth in comparing Christianity with false systems. Dr. James Stalker, of Glasgow, said a few months since that, whereas it might be expected that the advocates of the true faith would be the first to compare and contrast it with the false systems of the world, the work had been left rather to those who were chiefly interested in disparaging the truth and exalting error. Yet something has been done. Such men as Sir Monier Williams, Sir William Muir, Professors Rawlinson, Fairbairn, and Legge, Bishop Carpenter, Canon Hardwick, Doctors Caird, Dodds, Mitchell, and others, have given the false systems of the East a thorough and candid treatment from the Christian standpoint. The Church Missionary Society holds a lectureship devoted to the study of the non-Christian religions as a preparation for missionary work. And the representatives of that Society in the Punjab have instituted a course of study on these lines for missionaries recently arrived, and have offered prizes for the best attainments therein. Though we are later in this field of investigation, yet here also there is springing up a new interest, and it is safe to predict that within another decade the real character of the false religions will be more generally understood. The prejudice which has existed in regard to this subject has taken two different forms: First, there has been the broad assumption upon which Franke wrote to Ziegenbalg, that all knowledge of heathenism is worse than useless. Good men are asking, "Is not such a study a waste of energy, when we are charged with proclaiming the only saving truth? Is not downright earnestness better than any possible knowledge of philosophies and superstitions?" And we answer, "Yes: by all means, if only the one is possible." Another view of the subject is more serious. May there not, after all, be danger in the study of false systems? Will there not be found perplexing parallels which will shake our trust in the positive and exclusive supremacy of the Christian faith? Now, even if there were at first some risks to a simple, child-like confidence, yet a timid attitude involves far greater risks: it amounts to a half surrender, and it is wholly out of place in this age of fearless and aggressive discussion, when all truth is challenged, and every form of error must be met. Moreover, in a thorough study there is no danger. Sir Monier Williams tells us that at first he was surprised and a little troubled, but in the end he was more than ever impressed with the transcendent truths of the Christian faith. Professor S.H. Kellogg assures us that the result of his careful researches in the Oriental systems is a profounder conviction of the great truths of the Gospel as divine. And even Max Müller testifies that, while making every allowance for whatever is good in the ethnic faiths, he has been the more fully convinced of the great superiority of Christianity. Really, those are in danger who receive only the superficial and misleading representations of heathenism which one is sure to meet in our magazine literature, or in works like "Robert Elsmere" and "The Light of Asia." One cannot fail to mark the different light in which we view the mythologies of the Greeks and Romans. If their religious beliefs and speculations had remained a secret until our time, if the high ethical precepts of Seneca and Marcus Aurelius had only now been proclaimed, and Socrates had just been celebrated in glowing verse as the "Light of Greece," there would be no little commotion in the religious world, and thousands with only weak and troubled faith might be disturbed. But simply because we thoroughly understand the mythology of Greece and Rome, we have no fear. We welcome all that it can teach us. We cordially acknowledge the virtues of Socrates and assign him his true place. We enrich the fancy and awaken the intellectual energies of our youth by classical studies, and Christianity shines forth with new lustre by contrast with the heathen systems which it encountered in the Roman Empire ages ago. And yet that was no easy conquest. The early church, when brought face to face with the culture of Greece and the self-assertion of Roman power, when confronted with profound philosophies like those of Plato and Aristotle, with the subtleties of the Stoics, and with countless admixtures of Persian mysticism, had, humanly speaking, quite as formidable a task as those that are presented in the heathen systems of to-day. Very few of the champions of modern heathenism can compare with Celsus, and there are no more subtle philosophies than those of ancient Greece. Evidently, the one thing needed to disenchant the false systems of our time is a clear and accurate knowledge of their merits and demerits, and of their true relation to Christianity. It will be of advantage, for one thing, if we learn to give credit to the non-Christian religions for the good which they may fairly claim. There has existed a feeling that they had no rights which Christian men were bound to respect. They have been looked upon as systems of unmixed evil, whose enormities it were impossible to exaggerate. And all such misconceptions and exaggerations have only led to serious reactions. Anti-Christian writers have made great capital of the alleged misrepresentations which zealous friends of missions have put upon heathenism; and there is always great force in any appeal for fair play, on whichever side the truth may lie. Where the popular Christian idea has presented a low view of some system, scarcely rising above the grade of fetichism, the apologists have triumphantly displayed a profound philosophy. Where the masses of Christian people have credited whole nations with no higher notions of worship than a supreme trust in senseless stocks and stones, some skilful defender has claimed that the idols were only the outward symbols of an indwelling conception of deity, and has proceeded with keen relish to point out a similar use of symbols in the pictures and images of the Christian Church. From one extreme many people have passed to another, and in the end have credited heathen systems with greater merit than they possess. A marked illustration of this fact is found in the influence which was produced by Sir Edwin Arnold's "Light of Asia." Sentimental readers, passing from surprise to credulity, were ready to invest the "gentle Indian Saint" with Christian conceptions which no real Buddhist ever thought of. Mr. Arnold himself is said to have expressed surprise that people should have given to his poem so serious an interpretation, or should have imagined for a moment that he intended to compare Buddhism with the higher and purer teachings of the New Testament. In considering some of the reasons which may be urged for the study of false systems, we will first proceed from the standpoint of the candidate for the work of missions. And here there is a broad and general reason which seems too obvious to require much argument. The skilful general or the civil engineer is supposed, of course, to survey the field of contemplated operations ere he enters upon his work. The late Dr. Duff, in urging the importance of a thorough understanding of the systems which a missionary expects to encounter, illustrated his point by a reference to the great Akbar, who before entering upon the conquest of India, twice visited the country in disguise, that he might gain a complete knowledge of its topography, its strongholds, and its points of weakness, and the best methods of attack. While all religious teachers must understand their tasks, the need of special preparation is particularly urgent in the foreign missionary, owing to his change of environment. Many ideas and methods to which he has been trained, and which would serve him well among a people of his own race, might be wholly out of place in India or China, Ram Chandra Bose, M.A.--himself a converted Brahman--has treated with great discrimination the argument frequently used, that the missionary "need only to proclaim the Glad Tidings." He says: "That the simple story of Christ and him crucified is, after all, the truth on which the regeneration of the Christian and the non-Christian lands must hang, no one will deny. This story, ever fresh, is inherently fitted to touch the dead heart into life, and to infuse vitality into effete nationalities and dead civilizations. But a great deal of rubbish has to be removed in heathen lands, ere its legitimate consequences can be realized. And a patient, persistent study of the false religions, and the complicated systems of philosophy associated with them, enables the missionary to throw out of the way those heaps of prejudices and errors which make it impossible for the story of the cross to reach and influence the heart."[3] It has been very wisely said that "any fragment of truth which lies in a heathen mind unacknowledged is an insuperable barrier against conviction: recognized and used, it might prove a help; neglected and ignored, it is insurmountable."[4] The late Dr. Mullens learned by careful observation, that the intellectual power of the Hindus had been so warped by false reasoning, that "they could scarcely understand how, when two principles are contradictory, one must be given up as false. They are prepared to receive both sides of a contradiction as true, and they feel at liberty to adopt that which seems the most comfortable. And nothing but a full exposure of evil, with a clear statement of the antagonistic truth, will suffice to awaken so perverted an intellect."[5] The missionary has often been surprised to find that the idea which he supposed was clearly understood, was wholly warped by the medium of Hindu thought, as a rod is apparently warped when plunged into a stream, or as a beautiful countenance is distorted by the waves and irregularities of an imperfect mirror. To the preacher, sin, for example, is an enormity in the sight of God; but to his Hindu listener it may be only a breach of custom, or a ceremonial uncleanness. The indwelling of the Holy Spirit, as it is set forth in Paul's Epistles, is to the missionary a union in which his personality is still maintained in blest fellowship with God, while to his audience it may be only that out and out pantheism in which the deity within us supplants all individual personality, and not only excludes all joy, but all responsibility. Professor W.G.T. Shedd has clearly pointed out the fact that the modern missionary has a harder task in dealing with the perversions of the heathen mind than that to which the Apostles of the Early Church were called, owing to the prevalence in India and elsewhere of that pantheism which destroys the sense of moral responsibility. He says: "The Greek and Roman theism left the human will free and responsible, and thus the doctrine of sin could be taught. But the pantheistic systems of the East destroy free will, by identifying God and man; and hence it is impossible to construct the doctrine of sin and atonement except by first refuting the pantheistic ethics. The missionary can get no help from _conscience_ in his preaching, when this theory of God and the world has the ground. But St. Paul appealed confidently 'to every man's conscience in the sight of God,' and called upon the ethics and theology of the Greek and Roman philosophers for a corroboration. The early Apologists, Tertullian and others, did the same thing." The testimonies which have been given within the last few years, by the most intelligent and observing missionaries in Eastern lands, are of such peculiar significance and force, that I shall be justified in quoting a few at some length. Rev. George William Knox, D.D., of Tokio, Japan, in accepting an election to an honorary membership of the American Society of Comparative Religion, wrote, December 17, 1890: "I am deeply in sympathy with the objects of the Society, as indeed every missionary must be. We have practical demonstrations of the value of research into the ethnic religions. Even at home the value of such research has already been great, but in these non-Christian lands it is indispensable. It is true that non-Christian systems, as found among the people, rarely exhibit the forms or the doctrines which we learn from books, but I presume the same would be said by an intelligent Asiatic, were he to study our sacred books and then compare results with much of the religion which calls itself Christian in the West. And yet for the study even of the most debased forms of Christianity in South America or Mexico, let us say, we must needs begin with our sacred books. And so it is with debased Buddhism in Japan. The Buddhism of Ceylon and of the books is unknown to this people, and when it is used as the basis of argument or exposition we do not hit the mark. Yet, after all, our debt is immeasurable to the societies and scholars that have made accessible the sources that have yielded at last such systems as are dominant here. "The study of non-Christian systems is essential to the missionary, even though he does not refer to them in his preaching, but contents himself with delivering the Gospel message. And that is the rule with missionaries, so far as I know. But a knowledge of the native systems is imperative, that we may properly present our own. Otherwise we waste time in teaching over again that which is already fully known, or we so speak that our truth takes on the form of error, or we so underestimate the thought of those whom we address, that the preaching of the wisdom of God sounds in their ears the preaching of foolishness. The adaptation of preaching to the hearers of Asiatic lands is a task that may well make us thankful for every help that may be furnished us.... The missionary is far too apt to come from the West with exalted notions of his own superiority, and with a feeling of condescending pity for men who, perhaps, have pondered the deep things of the universe far more than he. Let him really master a philosophy like the Confucian, and he will better illustrate the Christian grace of humility, and be so much the better prepared for his work. His study will show him how astonishing is the light that has shone upon those men whom he has thought of as wholly in darkness. It will thus show him the true way of approach, and enable him to follow the lines of least resistance. It will also reveal to him what is the essential character of the divine message which he himself bears. He will separate that peculiar and spiritual truth which is the Word of Life, and will bring it as glad tidings of great joy. Surely no man can study these ethnic faiths, no matter with what appreciation of their measure of truth, and rejoicing in it, without a constantly growing conviction that the one power that converts men and establishes God's kingdom on earth is the Word that is eternal, the Son of God. He gathers in Himself all the truth of all the religions, and He adds that divine Salvation and Life for which all the nations have waited, and without which the highest and deepest thought remains unable to bring men into living communion with the God and Father of us all." Rev. Martyn Clark, D.D., Missionary of the Church Missionary Society at Umritsur, India, has given thorough study to the Sanscrit, and has thereby been enabled to expose the fallacies and misrepresentations which the Arya Somaj, in its bitter controversy with the Gospel, has put forth as to the real character of the Vedic literature. No man is better able to judge of the importance of a correct understanding of the errors of the non-Christian systems than he. In a letter accepting an honorary membership of the above-named Society he says: "The object of the Society is one in which I am deeply interested, and I shall at all times do what I can to further its aims. I am convinced that there is much that is helpful to the cause of Christ to be learned in this field of research." Rev. H. Blodgett, D.D., veteran Missionary of the American Board in Peking, in accepting a similar honor, says: "My interest in these studies has been deep and growing. It is high time that such a society as you represent should be formed. The study of Comparative Religion has long enough been in the hands of those who hold all religions to be the outcome of the natural powers of the human mind, unaided by a revelation from God. It is time that those who believe in the revelation from God in the Old Testament, and in the New Testament founded upon the Old, should study the great ethnic religions in the light derived from the Bible." Rev. James S. Dennis, D.D., long a Missionary of the Presbyterian Mission in Beyrout, Syria, says in the same connection: "The great missionary movement of our age has brought us face to face with problems and conflicts which are far more deep and serious than those which confront evangelistic efforts in our own land, and it is of the highest importance that the Church at home should know as fully as possible the peculiar and profound difficulties of work in foreign fields. These ancient religions of the East are behind intrenchments, and they are prepared to make a desperate resistance. Those who have never come into close contact with their adherents, and discovered by experience the difficulty of dislodging them and convincing them of the truth of the Gospel, may very properly misunderstand the work of the foreign missionary and wonder at his apparent failure, or at least his slow progress. But I wonder at the success attained in the foreign field, and consider it far more glorious and remarkable than it is generally accounted to be. A fuller acquaintance with the strength, and resources, and local éclat, and worldly advantages of these false religions, will give the Church at home greater patience and faith in the great work of evangelizing the nations."[6] A specific reason for the study of the non-Christian religions is found in the changes which our intercourse with Eastern nations has already wrought. With our present means of intercommunication we are brought face to face with them, and the contact of our higher vitality has aroused them from the comparative slumber of ages. Even our missionary efforts have given new vigor to the resistance which must be encountered. We have trained up a generation of men to a higher intellectual activity, and to a more earnest spirit of inquiry, and they are by no means all won over to the Christian faith. And there are thousands in India whom a Government education has left with no real faith of any kind, but whose pride of race and venerable customs is raised to a higher degree than ever. They have learned something of Christianity; they have also studied their own national systems; they have become especially familiar with all that our own sceptics have written against Christianity; still further, they have added to their intellectual equipment all that Western apologists have said of the superiority of the Oriental faiths. They are thus armed at every point, and they are using our own English tongue and all our facilities for publication. How is the young missionary, who knows nothing of their systems or the real points of comparison, to deal with such men? It is very true that not all ranks of Hindus are educated; there are millions who know nothing of any religion beyond the lowest forms of superstition, and to these we owe the duty of a simple and plain presentation of Christ and Him crucified; but in every community where the missionary is likely to live there are men of the higher class just named; and besides, professional critics and opposers are now employed to harass the bazaar preacher with perplexing questions, which are soon heard from the lips of the common people. A young missionary recently wrote of the surprise which he felt when a low caste man, almost without clothing, met him with arguments from Professor Huxley. Missionary Boards have sometimes sent out a specialist, and in some sense a champion, who should deal with the more intelligent classes of the heathen. But such a plan is fraught with disadvantages. What is needed is a thorough preparation in all missionaries, and that involves an indispensable knowledge of the forces to be met. The power of the press is no longer a monopoly of Christian lands. The Arya Somaj, of India, is now using it, both in the vernacular and in the English, in its bitter and often scurrilous attacks. One of its tracts recently sent to me contained an English epitome of the arguments of Thomas Paine. The secular papers of Japan present in almost every issue some discussion on the comparative merits of Christianity, Buddhism, Evolution, and Theosophy, and many of the young native ministry who at first received the truth unquestioningly as a child receives it from his mother, are now calling for men whom they can follow as leaders in their struggle with manifold error.[7] Even Mohammedans are at last employing the press instead of the sword. Newspapers in Constantinople are exhorting the faithful to send forth missionaries to "fortify Africa against the whiskey and gunpowder of Christian commerce, by proclaiming the higher ethical principles of the Koran." Great institutions of learning are also maintained as the special propaganda of the Oriental religions. El Azar, established at Cairo centuries ago, now numbers ten thousand students, and these when trained go forth to all Arabic speaking countries.[8] The Sanskrit colleges and monasteries of Benares number scarcely less than four thousand students,[9] who are being trained in the Sankhyan or the Vedanta philosophy, that they may go back to their different provinces and maintain with new vigor the old faiths against the aggressions of Christianity. And in Kioto, the great religious centre of Japan, we find over against the Christian college of the American Board of Missions, a Buddhist university with a Japanese graduate of Oxford as its president. In a great school at Tokio, also, Buddhist teachers, aided by New England Unitarians, are maintaining the superiority of Buddhism over Western Christianity as a religion for Japan.[10] Another reason why the missionary should study the false systems is found in the greatly diversified forms which these systems present in different lands and different ages. And just here it will be seen that a partial knowledge will not meet the demand. It might be even misleading. Buddhism, for example, has assumed an endless variety of forms--now appearing as a system of the baldest atheism, and now presenting an approximate theism. Gautama was certainly atheistic, and he virtually denied the existence of the human soul. But in the northern development of his system, theistic conceptions sprang up. A sort of trinity had appeared by the seventh century A.D., and by the tenth century a supreme and celestial Buddha had been discovered, from whom all other Buddhas were emanations. To-day there are at least twelve Buddhist sects in Japan, of which some are mystical, others pantheistic, while two hold a veritable doctrine of salvation by faith.[11] China has several types of Buddhism, and Mongolia, Thibet, Nepaul, Ceylon, Burmah, and Siam present each some special features of the system. How important that one should understand these differences in order to avoid blundering, and to wisely adapt his efforts! In India, under the common generic name of Hinduism, there are also many sects: worshippers of Vishnu, worshippers of Siva, worshippers of Krishna. There are Sikhs, and Jains, and devil worshippers; among the Dravidian and other pre-Aryan tribes there are victims of every conceivable superstition. Now, a missionary must know something of these faiths if he would fight with "weapons of precision." Paul, in becoming all things to all men, knew at least the differences between them. He preached the gospel with a studied adaptation. He tells us that he so strove as to win, and "not as those who beat the air." How alert were the combatants in the arena from which his simile is borrowed! How closely each athlete scanned his man, watched his every motion, knew if possible his every thought and impulse! Much more, in winning the souls of darkened and misguided men, should we learn the inmost workings of their minds, their habits of thought, and the nature of the errors which are to be dislodged. But how shall the false systems of religions be studied? First, there should be a spirit of entire candor. Truth is to be sought always, and at any cost; but in this case there is everything to be gained and nothing to be lost by the Christian teacher, and he can well afford to be just. Our divine Exemplar never hesitated to acknowledge that which was good in men of whatever nationality or creed. He could appreciate the faith of Roman or Syro-Phoenician. He could see merit in a Samaritan as well as in a Jew, and could raise even a penitent publican to the place of honor. It was only the Pharisees who hesitated to admit the truth, until they could calculate the probable effect of their admissions. The very best experience of missionaries has been found in the line of Christ's example. "The surest way to bring a man to acknowledge his errors," says Bishop Bloomfield, "is to give him full credit for whatever he had learned of the truth."[12] "What should we think," says a keen observer of the work of missions--"what should we think of an engineer who, in attempting to rear a light-house on a sandbar, should fail to acknowledge as a godsend any chance outcropping of solid rock to which he might fasten his stays?"[13] But in urging the duty of candor, I assume that an absolute freedom from bias is impossible on either side. It is sometimes amusing to witness the assurance with which professed agnostics assume that they, and they alone, look upon questions of comparative religion with an unbiased and judicial mind. They have no belief, they say, in any religion, and are therefore entirely without prejudice. But are they? Has the man who has forsaken the faith of his fathers and is deeply sensible of an antagonism between him and the great majority of those about him--has he no interest in trying to substantiate his position, and justify his hostility to the popular faith? Of all men he is generally the most prejudiced and the most bitter. We freely admit that we set out with a decided preference for one religious system above all others, but we insist that candor is possible, though an absolutely indifferent judgment is out of the question. Paul, who quoted to the Athenians their own poet, was fair-minded, and yet no man ever arraigned heathenism so terribly as he, and none was so intensely interested in the faith which he preached. Archbishop Trench, in discussing the exaggerations from which a careful study of the Oriental religions would doubtless save us, says, "There is one against which we are almost unwilling to say a word. I mean the exaggeration of those who, in a deep devotion to the truth as it is in Christ Jesus, count themselves bound, by their allegiance to Him, to take up a hostile attitude to everything not distinctly and avowedly Christian, as though any other position were a treachery to his cause, and a surrender of his exclusive right to the authorship of all the good which is in the world. In this temper we may dwell only on the guilt and misery and defilements, the wounds and bruises and putrefying sores of the heathen world; or if aught better is brought under our eye, we may look askant and suspiciously upon it, as though all recognition of it were a disparagement of something better. And so we may come to regard the fairest deeds of unbaptized men as only more splendid sins. We may have a short but decisive formula by which to try and by which to condemn them. These deeds, we may say, were not of faith, and therefore they could not please God; the men that wrought them knew not Christ, and therefore their work was worthless--hay, straw, and stubble, to be utterly burned up in the day of the trial of every man's work. "Yet there is indeed a certain narrowness of view, out of which alone the language of so sweeping a condemnation could proceed. Our allegiance to Christ, as the one fountain of light and life for the world, demands that we affirm none to be good but Him, allow no goodness save that which has proceeded from Him; but it does not demand that we deny goodness, because of the place where we find it, because we meet it, a garden tree, in the wilderness. It only requires that we claim this for Him who planted, and was willing that it should grow there; whom it would itself have gladly owned as its author, if, belonging to a happier time, it could have known Him by his name, whom in part it knew by his power. "We do not make much of a light of nature when we admit a righteousness in those to whom in the days of their flesh the Gospel had not come. We only affirm that the Word, though not as yet dwelling among us, yet being the 'light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world,' had also lighted them. Some glimpses of his beams gilded their countenances, and gave to these whatever brightness they wore; and in recognizing this brightness we are ascribing honor to Him, and not to them; glorifying the grace of God, and not the virtues of man."[14] In marked contrast with this, and tending to an extreme, is the following, from the pen of Bishop Beveridge. It is quoted by Max Müller, in the opening volume of "The Sacred Books of the East," as a model of candor. "The general inclinations which are naturally implanted in my soul to some religion, it is impossible for me to shift off; but there being such a multiplicity of religions in the world, I desire now seriously to consider with myself which of them all to restrain these my general inclinations to. And the reason of this my inquiry is not, that I am in the least dissatisfied with that religion I have already embraced; but because 'tis natural for all men to have an overbearing opinion and esteem for that particular religion they are born and bred-up in. That, therefore, I may not seem biased by the prejudice of education, I am resolved to prove and examine them all; that I may see and hold fast to that which is best.... Indeed, there was never any religion so barbarous and diabolical, but it was preferred above all other religions whatsoever by them that did profess it; otherwise they would not have professed it.... And why, say they, may you not be mistaken as well as we? Especially when there are, at least, six to one against your Christian religion; all of which think they serve God aright; and expect happiness thereby as well as you.... And hence it is that in my looking out for the truest religion, being conscious to myself how great an ascendancy Christianity holds over me beyond the rest, as being that religion whereunto I was born and baptized; that the supreme authority has enjoined and my parents educated me in; that which everyone I meet withal highly approves of, and which I myself have, by a long-continued profession, made almost natural to me; I am resolved to be more jealous and suspicious of this religion than of the rest, and be sure not to entertain it any longer without being convinced by solid and substantial arguments of the truth and certainty of it. That, therefore, I may make diligent and impartial inquiry into all religions and so be sure to find out the best, I shall for a time look upon myself as one not at all interested in any particular religion whatsoever, much less in the Christian religion; but only as one who desires, in general, to serve and obey Him that made me in a right manner, and thereby to be made partaker of that happiness my nature is capable of."[15] Second, in studying the false systems it is important to distinguish between religion and ethics. In the sphere of ethics the different faiths of men may find much common ground, while in their religious elements they may be entirely true or utterly false. The teachings of Confucius, though agnostic, presented a moral code which places the relations of the family and state on a very firm basis. And the very highest precepts of Buddhism belong to the period in which it was virtually atheistic. Many great and noble truths have been revealed to mankind through the conscience and the understanding, and these truths have found expression in the proverbs or ethical maxims of all races. To this extent God has nowhere left himself without witness. But all this is quite apart from a divinely revealed religion which may be cherished or be wholly lost. The golden rule is found not only in the New Testament, but negatively at least in the Confucian classics;[16] and the Shastras of the Hindus present it in both the positive and the negative form. And the still higher grace of doing good to those who injure us, was proclaimed by Laotze, five hundred years before Christ preached the Sermon on the Mount. The immense superiority of the ethical standard in Christianity, lies in its harmony and completeness. Confucius taught the active virtues of life, Laotze those of a passive kind; Christianity inculcates both. In heathenism ethical truths exist in fragments--mere half truths, like the broken and scattered remains of a temple once beautiful but now destroyed. They hold no relation to any high religious purpose, because they have no intelligent relation to God. Christian ethics begin with our relations to God as supreme, and they embrace the present life and the world to come. The symmetry of the divine precept, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself," finds no counterpart in the false religions of the world. Nowhere else, not even in Buddhism, is found the perfect law of love. The great secret of power in Christianity is God's unspeakable love to men in Christ; and the reflex of that love is the highest and purest ever realized in human hearts. Thirdly, the false systems should be studied by the Christian missionary, not for their own sakes so much as for an ulterior purpose, and they should be studied in constant comparison with the religion which it is his business to proclaim. His aim is not that of a savant. Let us not disguise it: he is mainly endeavoring to gain a more thorough preparation for his own great work. The professional scholar at Oxford or Leipsic might condemn this acknowledged bias--this pursuit of truth as a means and not as an end--but if he would be entirely frank, he would often find himself working in the interest of a linguistic theory, or a pet hypothesis of social science. It was in this spirit that Spencer and Darwin have searched the world for facts to support their systems.[17] I repeat, it is enough for the missionary that he shall be thoroughly candid. He may exercise the burning zeal of Paul for the Gospel which he proclaims, if he will also exercise his clear discrimination, his scrupulous fairness, his courtesy, and his tact. Let him not forget that he is studying religions comparatively; he should proceed with the Bible in one hand, and should examine the true and the false together. Contrasts will appear step by step as he advances, and the great truths of Christianity will stand out in brighter radiance, for the shadows of the background. If the question be asked, when and where shall the missionary candidate study the false systems, I answer at once; before he leaves his native land; and I assign three principal reasons. First: The study of a new and difficult language should engross his attention when he reaches his field. This will prove one of the most formidable tasks of his life, and it will demand resolute, concentrated, and prolonged effort. Second: In gaining access to the people, studying their ways and winning their confidence, the missionary will find great advantage in having gained some previous knowledge of their habits of thought and the intricacies of their beliefs. Third: The means and appliances of study are far greater here at home than on the mission fields. A very serious difficulty with most missionaries is the want of books on special topics; they have no access to libraries, and if one has imagined that he can best understand the faiths of the people by personal contact with them, he will soon learn with surprise how little he can gain from them, and how little they themselves know of their own systems. Those who do know have learned for the purpose of baffling the missionary instead of helping him. The accumulation and the arrangement of anything like a systematic knowledge of heathen systems has cost the combined effort of many missionaries and many Oriental scholars; and now, after three generations have pursued these studies, it is still felt that very much is to be learned from literatures yet to be translated. Such as there are, are best found in the home libraries. Let us for a few moments consider the question how far those who are not to become missionaries may be profited by a study of false systems. To a large extent, the considerations already urged will apply to them also, but there are still others which are specially important to public teachers here at home. Dean Murray, in an able article published in the "Homiletic Review" of September, 1890, recommended to active and careworn pastors a continued study of the Greek classics, as calculated to refresh and invigorate the mind, and increase its capacity for the duties of whatever sphere. All that he said of the Greek may also be said of the Hindu classics, with the added consideration that in the latter we are dealing with the living issues of the day. Sir Monier Williams, in comparing the two great Epics of the Hindus with those of Homer, names many points of superiority in the former.[18] It is safe to say that no poems of any other land have ever exercised so great a spell over so many millions of mankind as the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, of India, and no other production is listened to with such delight as the story of Rama as it is still publicly read at the Hindu festivals. Of philosophies, no system of India has approached so near to veritable divine revelation as that of Plato, but in variety and subtlety, and in their far-reaching influence upon human life, the Indian schools, especially the Vedanta, are scarcely excelled to this day. And they are _applied_ philosophies; they constitute the religion of the people. Max Müller has said truly that no other line of investigation is so fascinating as that which deals with the long and universal struggle of mankind to find out God, and to solve the mystery of their relations to him. Unfortunately, human history has dealt mainly with wars and intrigues, and the rise and fall of dynasties; but compared with these coarse and superficial elements, how much more interesting and instructive to trace in all races of men the common and ceaseless yearnings after some solution of life's mysteries! One is stirred with a deeper, broader sympathy for mankind when he witnesses this universal sense of dependence, this fear and trembling before the powers of an unseen world, this pitiful procession of unblest millions ever trooping on toward the goal of death and oblivion. And from this standpoint, as from no other, may one measure the greatness and glory of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. To my mind there is nothing more pathetic than the spectacle of world-wide fetichism. It is not to be contemplated with derision, but with profoundest sympathy. We all remember the pathos of Scott's picture of his Highland heroine, with brain disordered by unspeakable grief, beguiling her woes with childish ornaments of "gaudy broom" and plumes from the eagle's wing. But sadder far is the spectacle of millions of men made for fellowship with God, building their hopes on the divinity dwelling in an amulet of tiger's teeth or serpent's fangs or curious shells. And it ought to enlarge our natures with a Christ-like sympathy when we contemplate those dark and desperate faiths which are but nightmares of the soul, which see in all the universe only malevolent spirits to be appeased, which, looking heavenward for a father's face, see, as Richter expressed it, "only a death's head with bottomless, empty sockets" instead of a loving smile.[19] And what a field do the greater but equally false systems present for the study of the human mind and heart! How was it that the simple nature worship of the Indo-Aryans grew into the vast deposit of modern Hinduism, and developed those social customs which have become walls of adamant? How could Buddhism grow out of such a soil and finally cast its spell over so many peoples? What were the elements of power which enabled the great sage of China to rear a social and political fabric which has survived for so many centuries? How was it that Islam gained its conquests, and what is the secret of that dominion which it still holds? These surely are questions worthy of those who are called to deal with human thought and human destiny. And when by comparison we find the grand differentials which raise Christianity infinitely above them all, we shall have gained the power of presenting its truths more clearly and more convincingly to the minds and hearts of men. There are some specific advantages flowing from the study of other religions of which I will give little more than an enumeration. 1. It impresses us with the universality of some more or less distinct conception of God. I am aware that from time to time explorers imagine that they have found a race of men who have no notion of God, but in almost every instance subsequent investigation has found a religious belief. Such mistakes were made concerning the aborigines of Australia, the Dyaks of Borneo, the Papuans, the Patagonians, and even the American Indians. The unity of the race finds a new and striking proof in the universality of religion. 2. The study of false systems brings to light an almost unanimous testimony for the existence of a vague primeval monotheism, and thus affords a strong presumptive corroboration of the Scriptural doctrine of man's apostasy from the worship of the true God. 3. The clearest vindication of the severities of the Old Testament Theocracy, in its wars of extermination against the Canaanites and Phoenicians, is to be found in a careful study of the foul and cruel types of heathenism which those nations carried with them wherever their colonies extended. A religion which enjoined universal prostitution, and led thus to sodomy and the burning of young children in the fires of Moloch, far exceeded the worst heathenism of Africa or the islands of the Pacific. The Phoenician settlements on the Mediterranean have not even yet recovered from the moral blight of that religion; and had such a cultus been allowed to spread over all Europe and the world, not even a second Deluge could have cleansed the earth of its defilement. The extermination of the Canaanites, when considered as a part of one great scheme for establishing in that same Palestine a purer and nobler faith, and sending forth thence, not Phoenician corruption, but the Gospel of Peace to all lands, becomes a work of mercy to the human race. 4. The ethics of the heathen will be found to vindicate the doctrines of the Bible. This is a point which should be more thoroughly understood. It has been common to parade the high moral maxims of heathen systems as proofs against the exclusive claims of Christianity. But when carefully considered, the lofty ethical truths found in all sacred books and traditions, corroborate the doctrines of the Scriptures. They condemn the nations "who hold the truth in unrighteousness." They enforce the great doctrine that by their own consciences all mankind are convicted of sin, and are in need of a vicarious righteousness,--a full and free salvation by a divine power. My own experience has been, and it is corroborated by that of many others, that very many truths of the Gospel, when seen from the stand-point of heathenism, stand out with a clearness never seen before. Many prudential reasons like those which we have given for the study of false systems by missionaries, pertain also to those who remain at home. Both are concerned in the same cause, and both encounter the same assailments of our common faith. We are all missionaries in an important sense: we watch the conflict from afar, but we are concerned in all its issues. The bulletins of its battle-fields are no longer confined to missionary literature; they are found in the daily secular press, and they are discussed with favorable or unfavorable comments in the monthly magazines. The missionary enterprise has come to attract great attention: it has many friends, and also many foes, here at home; it is misrepresented by scoffers at our doors. The high merits of heathen systems, set forth with every degree of exaggeration, pass into the hands of Christian families, in books and magazines and secular papers. Apostles of infidelity are sent out to heathen countries to gather weapons against the truth. Natives of various Oriental lands, once taught in our mission schools perhaps, but still heathen, are paraded on our lecture platforms, where they entertain us with English and American arguments in support of their heathen systems and against Christianity. Young pastors, in the literary clubs of their various communities, are surprised by being called to discuss plausible papers on Buddhism, which some fellow-member has contributed, and they are expected to defend the truth. Or some young parishioner has been fascinated by a plausible Theosophist, or has learned from Robert Elsmere that there are other religions quite as pure and sacred as our own. Or some chance lecturer has disturbed the community with a discourse on the history of religious myths. And when some anxious member of a church learns that his religious instructor has no help for him on such subjects, that they lie wholly outside of his range, there is apt to be something more than disappointment: there is a loss of confidence. It is an unfortunate element in the case that error is more welcome in some of our professedly neutral papers than the truth: an article designed to show that Christianity was borrowed from Buddhism or was developed from fetichism will sometimes be welcomed as new sensation, while a reply of half the length may be rejected. There is something ominous in these facts. Whether the secular press (not all papers are thus unfair) are influenced by partisan hatred of the truth or simply by a reckless regard for whatever is most popular, the facts are equally portentous. And if it be true that such publications are what the people most desire, the outlook for our country is dark indeed. The saddest consideration is that the power of the secular press is so vast and far reaching. When Celsus wrote, books were few. When Voltaire, Hume, and Thomas Paine made their assailments on the Christian faith, the means of spreading the blight of error were comparatively few. But now the accumulated arguments of German infidels for the last half-century may be thrown into a five-cent Sunday paper, whose issue will reach a quarter of a million of copies, which perhaps a million of men and women may read. These articles are copied into a hundred other papers, and they are read in the villages and hamlets; they are read on the ranches and in the mining camps where no sermon is ever heard. It is perfectly evident that in an age like this we cannot propagate Christianity under glass. It must grow in the open field where the free winds of heaven shall smite and dissipate every cloud of error that may pass over it, and where its roots shall only strike the deeper for the questionings and conflicts that may often befall it. Error cannot be overcome either by ignoring it or by the cheap but imbecile scolding of an ignorant pulpit. I cannot express the truth on this point more forcibly than by quoting the trenchant words of Professor Ernest Naville, in his lectures on "Modern Atheism." After having admitted that one, who can keep himself far from the strifes and struggles of modern thought, will find solitude, prayer, and calm activity, pursued under the guidance of conscience, most conducive to unquestioning faith and religious peace, he says: "But we are not masters of our own ways, and the circumstances of the present times impose on us special duties. The barriers which separate the school and the world are everywhere thrown down; everywhere shreds of philosophy, and very often of very bad philosophy, scattered fragments of theological science, and very often of a deplorable theological science, are insinuating themselves into the current literature. There is not a literary review, there is scarcely a political journal, which does not speak on occasion, or without occasion, of the problems relating to our eternal interests. The most sacred beliefs are attacked every day in the organs of public opinion. At such a juncture can men, who preserve faith in their own souls, remain like dumb dogs, or keep themselves shut up in the narrow limits of the schools? Assuredly not. We must descend to the common ground and fight with equal weapons the great battles of thought. For this purpose it is necessary to state questions which run the risk of startling sincerely religious persons. But there is no help for it if we are to combat the adversaries on their own ground; and because it is thus only that we can prove to all that the torrent of negations is but a passing rush of waters, which, fret as they may in their channels, shall be found to have left not so much as a trace of their passage upon the Rock of Ages." The fact that Professor Naville's lectures were delivered in Geneva and Lausanne, to audiences which together numbered over two thousand five hundred people, affords abundant proof that the people are prepared to welcome the relief afforded by a clear and really able discussion of these burning questions. In the ordinary teaching of the pulpit they would be out of place, but every public teacher should be able to deal with them on suitable occasions. In a single concluding word, the struggle of truth and error has become world-wide. There are no ethnic religions now. There is Christianity in Calcutta, and there is Buddhism in Boston. The line of battle is the parallel that belts the globe. It is not a time for slumber or for mere pious denunciation. There must be no blundering: the warfare must be waged with weapons of precision, and then victory is sure. It is well if our missionary effort of a century has drawn the fire of the enemy; it is well if the time has come to hold up the truth face to face with error, and to fight out and over again the conflict of Elijah and the Priests of Baal. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: _The Light of Asia and the Light of the World_. Macmillan & Co.] [Footnote 2: The late Professor Moffat, of Princeton Theological Seminary, published a _Comparative History of Religions_, but its field was too broad for a thorough treatment.] [Footnote 3: _Methodist Quarterly_.] [Footnote 4: Quoted in _Manual of India Missions_.] [Footnote 5: _Manual of India Missions._] [Footnote 6: Similar views, though in briefer terms, have been presented by Rev. William A.P. Martin, D.D., of Peking; Rev. John L. Nevins, D.D., of Chefou; Rev. A.P. Happer, D.D., and Rev. B.C. Henry, D.D., of Canton; Professor John Wortabet, M.D., of Beyrout; Rev. Jacob Chamberlain, D.D., Missionary of the Reformed Church in Madras; Rev. Z.J. Jones, D.D., Missionary of the American M.E. Church at Bareilly, India; Rev. K.C. Chattergee and Ram Chandra Bose, both converts from high caste Hinduism and both eminent ministers of the Gospel in India; and Rev. E.W. Blyden, D.D., the accomplished African scholar of Liberia.] [Footnote 7: The _Japan Mail_ of September 30, 1891, in reviewing the progress of religious and philosophic discussion as carried on by the native press of the Empire, says: "The Buddhist literature of the season shows plainly the extent to which the educated members of the (Buddhist) priesthood are seeking to enlarge their grasp by contact with Western philosophy and religious thought. We happen to know that a prominent priest of the Shinsu sect is deeply immersed in Comte's humanitarianism. In _Kyogaku-roushu_ (a native paper) are published instalments of Spencer's philosophy. Another paper, the _Hauseikwai_, has an article urging the desirability of a general union of all the (Buddhist) sects, such as Colonel Olcott brought about in India between the northern and the southern Buddhists."] [Footnote 8: _Leaves from an Egyptian Note-book._] [Footnote 9: Papers of Rev. Mr. Hewlett in the _Indian Evangelical Review_.] [Footnote 10: In an address given in Tokio, by Rev. Mr. Knapp, of Boston, Buddhists in Japan were advised to build their religion of the future upon their own foundations, and not upon the teachings of Western propagandists.] [Footnote 11: _The Twelve Buddhist Sects of Japan_, by Bunyiu Nanjio, Oxon.] [Footnote 12: Quoted in _Manual of India Missions_.] [Footnote 13: Quoted in _Manual of India Missions_.] [Footnote 14: _Hulsean Lectures_, 1846.] [Footnote 15: Private Thoughts on Religion, Part I., Article 2.] [Footnote 16: Confucius not only taught that men should not do to others what they would not have done to them, but when one of his disciples asked him to name one word which should represent the whole duty of man, he replied "Reciprocity."] [Footnote 17: Whoever will read the Preface of Mr. Spencer's work on Sociology will be surprised at the means which have been used in collecting and verifying supposed facts; a careful perusal of the book will show that all classes of testimony have been accepted, so far as they were favorable. Adventurers, reporters, sailors, and that upon the briefest and most casual observation, have been deemed capable of interpreting the religious beliefs of men. Even Peschel doubts many of their conclusions.] [Footnote 18: See _Indian Wisdom_.] [Footnote 19: Archbishop Trench, after speaking in his Hulsean lectures of the advantages which we may gain from an earnest study of the struggles of thoughtful men, who amid heathen darkness have groped after a knowledge of the true God, and of the gratitude which we ought to feel who have received a more sure word of prophecy, adds in words of rare beauty: "And perhaps it shall seem to us as if that star in the natural heavens which guided those Eastern sages from their distant home, was but the symbol of many a star which, in the world's mystical night, such as, being faithfully followed, availed to lead humble and devout hearts from far-off regions of superstition and error, till they knelt beside the cradle of the Babe of Bethlehem, and saw all their weary wanderings repaid in a moment, and all their desires finding a perfect fulfilment in Him."] LECTURE II. THE METHODS OF THE EARLY CHRISTIAN CHURCH IN DEALING WITH HEATHENISM The coincidences of our present conquest of the non-Christian races with that to which the Apostolic Church was called are numerous and striking. Not even one hundred years ago was the struggle with heathen error so similar to that of the early Church. To a great extent the missionary efforts of the mediæval centuries encountered only crude systems, which it was comparatively easy to overcome. The rude tribes of Northern Europe were converted by the Christianity of the later Roman Empire, even though they were conquerors. Their gods of war and brute force did not meet all the demands of life. As a source of hope and comfort, their religion had little to be compared with the Christian faith, and as to philosophy they had none. They had inherited the simple nature worship which was common to all branches of the Aryan race, and they had expanded it into various ramifications of polytheism; but they had not fortified it with subtle speculations like those of the Indo-Aryans, nor had their mythologies become intrenched in inveterate custom, and the national pride which attends an advanced civilization. At a later day Christian missionaries in Britain found the Norse religion of the Saxons, Jutes, and Angles, scarcely holding the confidence of either rulers or subjects. They had valued their gods chiefly for the purposes of war, and they had not always proved reliable. The king of Northumbria, like Clovis of France, had vowed to exchange his deities for the God of the Christians if victory should be given him on a certain battle-field; and when he had assembled his thanes to listen to a discussion between the missionary Paulinus and the priests of Woden on the comparative merits of their respective faiths, the high priest frankly admitted his dissatisfaction with a religion which he had found utterly disappointing and useless; and when other chief counsellors had given the same testimony, and a unanimous vote had been taken to adopt the Christian faith, he was the first to commence the destruction of the idols.[20] The still earlier missionaries among the Druid Celts of Britain and France, though they found in Druidism a more elaborate faith than that of the Norsemen, encountered no such resistance as we find in the great religious systems of our day. Where can we point to so easy a conquest as that of Patrick in Ireland, or that of the Monks of Iona among the Picts and Scots? The Druids claimed that they already had many things in common with the Christian doctrines,[21] and what was a still stronger element in the case, they made common cause with the Christians against the wrongs inflicted on both by pagan Rome. The Roman emperors were not more determined to extirpate the hated and, as they thought, dangerous influences of Christianity, than they were to destroy every vestige of Druidism as their only hope of conquering the invincible armies of Boadicea. And thus the mutual experience of common sufferings opened a wide door for the advancement of Christian truth. The conquests of Welsh and Irish missionaries in Burgundy, Switzerland, and _Germany_, encountered no elaborate book religions, and no profound philosophies. They had to deal with races of men who were formidable only with weapons of warfare, and who, intent chiefly on conquest and migration, had few institutions and no written historic records. The peaceful sceptre of the truth was a new force in their experience, and the sympathetic and self-denying labors of a few missionaries tamed the fierce Vikings to whom Britain had become a prey, and whose incursions even the armies of Charlemagne could not resist. How different is our struggle with the races now under the sceptre of Islam, for example--inflated as they are with the pride of wide conquest, and looking contemptuously upon that Christian faith which it was their early mission to sweep away as a form of idolatry! How different is our task in India, which boasts the antiquity of the noble Sanskrit and its sacred literature, and claims, as the true representative of the Aryan race, to have given to western nations their philosophy, their religion, and their civilization! How much more difficult is our encounter with Confucianism, which claims to have laid the foundations of the most stable structure of social and political institutions that the world has ever known, and which to-day, after twenty-five centuries of trial, appeals to the intellectual pride of all intelligent classes in a great empire of four hundred millions! And finally, how different is our task with Buddhism, so mystical and abstruse, so lofty in many of its precepts, and yet so cold and thin, so flexible and easily adapted, and therefore so varied and many sided! The religious systems with which we are now confronted find their counterparts only in the heathenism with which the early Church had to deal many centuries ago; and for this reason the history of those early struggles is full of practical instruction for us now. How did the early Church succeed in its great conquest? What methods were adopted, and with what measures of success? In one respect there is a wide difference in the two cases. The Apostles were attempting to convert their conquerors. They belonged to the vanquished race; they were of a despised nationality. The early fathers also were subjects of Pagan powers. Insomuch as the Roman emperors claimed divine honors, there was an element of treason in their propagandism. The terrible persecutions which so long devastated the early Church found their supposed justification in the plea of self-defence against a system which threatened to subvert cherished and time-honored institutions. Candid writers, like Archdeacon Farrar, admit that Christianity did hasten the overthrow of the Roman Empire. But we find no conquering powers in our pathway. Christianity and Christian civilization have become dominant in the earth. The weakness of the Christian Church in its conquests now is not in being baffled and crippled by tyranny and persecution, but rather in the temptation to arrogance and the abuse of superior power, in the overbearing spirit shown in the diplomacy of Christian nations and the unscrupulous aggressions of their commerce. There is also a further contrast in the fact that in the early days the advantages of frugality and simple habits of life were on the side of the missionaries. Roman society especially was beginning to suffer that decay which is the inevitable consequence of long-continued luxury, while the Church observed temperance in all things and excelled in the virtues which always tend to moral and social victory.[22] On the other hand, we who are the ambassadors to the heathen of to-day, are ourselves exposed to the dangers which result from wealth and excessive luxury. Our grade of life, our scale of expenditure, even the style in which our missionaries live, excites the amazement of the frugal heathen to whom they preach. And as for the Church at home, it is hardly safe for a Persian or a Chinaman to see it. Everyone who visits this wonderful eldorado carries back such romantic impressions as excite in others, not so much the love of the Gospel as the love of mammon. When the Church went forth in comparative poverty, and with an intense moral earnestness, to preach righteousness, temperance, and the judgment to come; when those who were wealthy gave all to the poor--like Anthony of Egypt, Jerome, Ambrose, and Francis of Assisi--and in simple garments bore the Gospel to those who were surfeited with luxuries and pleasures, and were sick of a life of mere indulgence, then the truth of the Gospel conquered heathenism with all that the world could give. But whether a Church in the advanced civilization of our land and time, possessed of enormous wealth, enjoying every luxury, and ever anxious to gain more and more of this present world, can convert heathen races who deem themselves more frugal, more temperate, and less worldly than we, is a problem which remains to be solved. We have rare facilities, but we have great drawbacks. God's grace can overcome even our defects, and He has promised success. But in the proud intellectual character of the systems encountered respectively by the ancient and by the modern Church, there are remarkable parallels. The supercilious pride of Brahminism, or the lofty scorn of Mohammedanism, is quite equal to that self-sufficient Greek philosophy in whose eyes the Gospel was the merest foolishness. And the immovable self-righteousness of the Stoics has its counterpart in the Confucianism of the Chinese literati. A careful comparison of the six schools of Hindu philosophy with the various systems of Greece and Rome, will fill the mind with surprise at the numerous correspondences--one might almost say identities. And that surprise is the greater from the fact that no proof exists that either has been borrowed from the other. The atomic theory of creation advanced by Lucretius is found also in the Nyaya philosophy of the Hindus. The pessimism of Pliny and Marcus Aurelius was much more elaborately worked out by Gautama. The Hindus had their categories and their syllogisms as well as Aristotle. The conception of a dual principle in deity which the early Church traced in all the religious systems of Egypt, Phoenicia, and Assyria, and whose influence poisoned the life of the Phoenician colonies, and was so corrupting to the morals of Greece and Rome, was also elaborated by the Sankhya philosophy of Kapila, and it has plunged Hindu society into as deep a degradation as could be found in Pompeii or Herculaneum.[23] The Indian philosophy partook far more of the pantheistic element than that of Greece. Plato and Aristotle had clearer conceptions of the personality of the deity and of the distinct and responsible character of the human soul than any school of Hindu philosophers--certainly clearer than the Vedantists, and their ethics involved a stronger sense of sin. German philosophy has borrowed its pantheism from India rather than from Greece, and in its most shadowy developments it has never transcended the ancient Vedantism of Vyasa. As in the early centuries, so in our time, different systems of religion have been commingled and interwoven into protean forms of error more difficult to understand and dislodge than any one of the faiths and philosophies of which they were combined. As the Alexandrian Jews intertwined the teachings of Judaism and Platonism; as Manichæans and Gnostics corrupted the truths of the Old and New Testaments with ideas borrowed from Persian mysticism; as various eclectic systems gathered up all types of thought which the wide conquests of the Roman Empire brought together, and mingled them with Christian teachings; so now the increased intercommunication, and the quickened intellectual activity of our age have led to the fusion of different systems, ancient and modern, in a negative and nerveless religion of humanity. We now have in the East not only Indian, but Anglo-Indian, speculations. The unbelieving Calcutta graduate has Hegel and Spinoza interwoven with his Vedantism, and the eclectic leader of the Brahmo Somaj, while placing Christ at the head of the prophets and recognizing the authority of all sacred bibles of the races, called on Christians, Hindus, Buddhists and Mohammedans to unite in one theistic church of the New Dispensation in India. Not even the old Gnostics could present so striking an admixture as that of the Arya Somaj. It has appropriated many of those Christian ethics which have been learned from a century of contact with missionaries and other Christian residents. It has approved the more humane customs and reforms of Christendom, denouncing caste, and the degradation of woman. It has repudiated the corrupt rites and the degrading superstitions of Hinduism. At the same time its hatred of the Christian faith is most bitter and intense. And there are other alliances, not a few, between the East and the West. In India and Japan the old Buddhism is compounded with American Spiritualism and with modern Evolution, under a new application of the ancient name of Theosophy. In Japan representatives of advanced Unitarianism are exhorting the Japanese Buddhists to build the religion of the future on their old foundations, and to avoid the propagandists of western Christianity. The bland and easy-going catholicity which professes so much in our day, which embraces all faiths and unfaiths in one sweet emulsion of meaningless negations, which patronizes the Christ and His doctrines, and applies the nomenclature of Christianity to doctrines the very opposite of its teachings, finds a counterpart in the smooth and vapid compromises of the old Gnostics. "Gnosticism," says Uhlhorn, "combined Greek philosophies, Jewish theology, and ancient Oriental theosophy, thus forming great systems of speculative thought, all with the object of displaying the world's development. From a pantheistic First Cause, Gnosticism traced the emanation of a series of æons--beings of Light. The source of evil was supposed to be matter, which in this material world holds light in captivity. To liberate the light and thus redeem the world, Christ came, and thus Christianity was added as the crowning and victorious element in this many-sided system of speculation. But Christ was regarded not so much as a Saviour of individual souls as an emancipator of a disordered kosmos, and the system which seemed to accord great honor to Christianity threatened to destroy its life and power." So, according to some of our Modern Systems, men are to find their future salvation in the grander future of the race.[24] Not only do we encounter mixtures of truth and error, but we witness similar attempts to prove that whatever is best in Christianity was borrowed from heathenism. Porphyry and others maintained that Pythagoras and Theosebius had anticipated many of the attributes and deeds of Christ, and Philostratus was prompted by the wife of Severus to write a history of Appolonius of Tyana which should match the life of Christ. And in precisely the same way it has been variously claimed in our time that the story of Christ's birth, childhood, and ministry were borrowed from Buddha and from Krishna, and that the whole conception of his vicarious suffering for the good of men is a clever imitation of Prometheus Bound. Now, in the earlier conflict it was important to know the facts on both sides in order to meet these allegations of Porphyry, Marinus, and others, and it is equally important to understand the precise ground on which similar charges are made with equal assurance now.[25] The very same old battles are to be fought over again, both with philosophy and with legend. And it is very evident that, with so many points of similarity between the early struggle of Christianity with heathenism and that of our own time, it is quite worth our labor to inquire what were the general methods then pursued. Then victory crowned the efforts of the Church. That which humanly speaking seemed impossible, was actually accomplished. From our finite standpoint, no more preposterous command was ever given than that which Christ gave to his little company of disciples gathered in the mountains of Galilee, or that last word before his ascension on Mt. Olivet, in which He placed under their responsible stewardship, not only Jerusalem, but all Judea and Samaria, and the "uttermost parts of the earth." The disciples were without learning or social influence, or political power. They had no wealth and few facilities, and so far as they knew there were no open doors. They were hated by their Jewish countrymen, ridiculed by the ubiquitous and cultured Greeks, and frowned upon by the conquering powers of Rome. How then did they succeed? How was it that in three or four centuries they had virtually emptied the Roman Pantheon of its heathen deities, and had gained the sceptre of the empire and the world? It is easy to misapprehend the forces which won the victory. The disciples first chosen to found the Church were fishermen, but that affords no warrant for the belief that only untutored men were employed in the early Church, or for the inference that the Salvation Army are to gain the conquest now. They were inspired; these are not; and a few only were chosen, with the very aim of setting at naught the intolerant wisdom of the Pharisees. But when the Gospel was to be borne to heathen races, to the great nations whose arrogance was proportionate to their learning and their power, a very different man was selected. Saul of Tarsus had almost every needed qualification seen from a human point of view. Standing, as he must, between the stiff bigotry of Judaism and the subtleties of Greek philosophy, he was fortunately familiar with both. He was a man of rare courtesy, and yet of matchless courage. Whether addressing a Jewish governor or the assembled philosophers and counsellors of Athens, he evinced an unfailing tact. He knew how to conciliate even a common mob of heathen idolators and when to defy a high priest, or plead the immunities of his Roman citizenship before a Roman proconsul. In tracing the methods of the early Church in dealing with heathenism, we begin, therefore, with Paul; for although he was differentiated from all modern parallels by the fact that he was inspired and endowed with miraculous power, yet that does not invalidate the force of those general principles of action which he illustrated. He was the first and greatest of all missionaries, and through all time it will be safe and profitable to study his characteristics and his methods. He showed the value of thorough training in his own faith, and of a full understanding of all the errors he was to contend with. He could reason with Jews out of their own Scriptures, or substantiate his position with Greeks by citing their own poets. He was certainly uncompromising in maintaining the sovereignty of the one God, Jehovah, but he was not afraid to admit that in their blind way the heathen were also groping after the same supreme Father of all. The unknown God at Athens he accepted as an adumbration of Him whom he proclaimed, and every candid reader must admit that in quoting the words of Aratus, which represent Zeus as the supreme creator whose offspring we are, he conveys the impression of a real resemblance, if not a partial and obscured identity. The essential principle here is that Paul frankly acknowledged whatever glimpses of truth he found in heathen systems, and made free use of them in presenting the fuller and clearer knowledge revealed in the Gospel. No man ever presented a more terrible arraignment of heathenism than that which he makes in the first chapter of his epistle to the Romans, and yet, with marvellous discrimination he proceeds, in the second chapter, to show how much of truth God has imparted to the understandings and the consciences of all men. And he seems to imply the Holy Spirit's regenerative work through Christ's atonement, when he maintains that whoever shall, "by patient continuance in well doing, seek glory and immortality," to him shall "eternal life" be given; but "tribulation and anguish upon every soul of man that doeth evil, to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile." Peter was not prepared to be a missionary till he had been divested of his Jewish narrowness by witnessing the power of grace in the Roman centurion at Cesarea. That widened out his horizon immensely. He saw that God in his ultimate plan was no respecter of persons or of races. There has been great difference of opinion as to whether the annual worship of the supreme God of Heaven in the great imperial temple at Peking is in any degree a relic of the worship of the true God once revealed to mankind. Such Chinese scholars as Martin and Legge and Douglass think that it is; others deny it. Some men raise a question whether the Allah of the Mohammedan faith is identical with the Jehovah of the Old Testament. Sales, the profoundest expositor of Islam, considers him the same. Moslems themselves have no doubt of it: the intent of the Koran is that and nothing else; Old Testament teachings are interwoven with almost every sura of its pages. I think that Paul would have conceded this point at once, and would the more successfully have urged the claims of Jesus, whom the Koran presents as the only sinless prophet. Of course Mohammedans do not recognize the Triune God as we now apprehend Him, from the New Testament standpoint; neither did ancient believers of Israel fully conceive of God as He has since been more fully revealed in the person and the sacrifice of his Son--Jesus Christ. Both the teachings and the example of Paul seem to recognize the fact that conceptions of God, sometimes clear and sometimes dim, may exist among heathen nations; and many of the great Christian fathers evidently took the same view. They admitted that Plato's noble teachings were calculated to draw the soul toward God, though they revealed no real access to Him such as is found in Christ. Archbishop Trench, in his Hulsean lectures on "Christ the Desire of the Nations," dwells approvingly upon Augustine's well-known statement, that he had been turned from vice to an inspiring conception of God by reading the "Hortensius" of Cicero. Augustine's own reference to the fact is found in the fourth book of his "Confessions," where he says: "In the ordinary course of study I fell upon a certain book of Cicero whose speech almost all admire--not so his heart. This book contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is called 'Hortensius.' But this book altered my affections and turned my prayers to Thyself, O Lord, and made me have other purposes and desires. Every vain hope at once became worthless to me, and I longed with an incredible burning desire for an immortality of wisdom, and began now to arise that I might return to Thee. For not to sharpen my tongue did I employ that book: nor did it infuse into me its style, but its matter." The "Hortensius" of Cicero has not survived till our time, and we know not what it contained; but we cannot fail to notice this testimony of a mature and eminent saint to the spiritual benefit which he had received at the age of thirty-one, from reading the works of a heathen philosopher. And a most interesting proof is here furnished for the freedom with which the Spirit of God works upon the hearts of men, and the great variety of means and agencies which He employs,--and that beyond the pale of the Christian Church, and even beyond the actual knowledge of the historic Christ. It would be interesting to know whether the regeneration of Augustine occurred just then, when he says in such strong language, that this book altered his affections and turned his prayers unto God, and made him "long with an indescribable burning desire for an immortality of wisdom." All men are saved, if at all, by the blood of Christ through the renewing of the Holy Ghost; but what was the position of such men as Augustine and Cornelius of Cesarea before they fully and clearly saw Jesus as the actual Messiah, and as the personal representative of that Grace of God in which they had already reposed a general faith, is at least an interesting question. Not less positive is the acknowledgment which Augustine makes of the benefits which he had received from Plato. And he mentions many others, as Virgininus, Lactantius, Hilary, and Cyprian, who, like himself, having once been heathen and students of heathen philosophy, had, as he expresses it, "spoiled the Egyptians, bringing away with them rich treasures from the land of bondage, that they might adorn therewith the true tabernacle of the Christian faith." Augustine seems to have been fond of repeating both this argument and this his favorite illustration. In his "Doctrine of Christ" he expands it more fully than in his "Confessions." He says: "Whatever those called philosophers, and especially the Platonists, may have said conformable to our faith, is not only not to be dreaded, but is to be claimed from them as unlawful possessors, to our use. For, as the Egyptians not only had idols and heavy burdens which the people of Israel were to abhor and avoid, but also vessels and ornaments of gold and silver and apparel which that people at its departure from Egypt privily assumed for a better use, not on its own authority but at the command of God, the very Egyptians unwittingly furnishing the things which themselves used not well; so all the teaching of the Gentiles not only hath feigned and superstitious devices, and heavy burdens of a useless toil, which we severally, as under the leading of Christ we go forth out of the fellowship of the Gentiles, ought to abhor and avoid, but it also containeth liberal arts, fitter for the service of truth, and some most useful moral precepts; as also there are found among them some truths concerning the worship of the One God Himself, as it were their gold and silver which they did not themselves form, but drew from certain veins of Divine Providence running throughout, and which they perversely and wrongfully abuse to the service of demons. These, the Christian, when he severs himself from their wretched fellowship, ought to take from them for the right use of preaching of the Gospel. For what else have many excellent members of our faith done? See we not how richly laden with gold and silver and apparel that most persuasive teacher and most blessed martyr, Cyprian, departed out of Egypt? Or Lactantius, or Victorinus, Optatus, Hilary, not to speak of the living, and Greeks innumerable? And this, Moses himself, that most faithful servant of God, first did, of whom it is written, that 'he was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.'" Let us for a moment pause and see of what these treasures of Egypt consisted, and especially what Plato taught concerning God. Like Socrates, he ridiculed the absurd but popular notion that the gods could be full of human imperfections, could make war upon each other, could engage in intrigues, and be guilty of base passions. And he earnestly maintained that it was demoralizing to children and youth to hold up such beings as objects of worship. Such was his condemnation of what he considered false gods. He was equally opposed to the idea that there is no God. "All things," he says, "are from God, and not from some spontaneous and unintelligent cause." "Now, that which is created," he adds, "must of necessity be created by some cause--but how can we find out the Father and maker of all this universe? If the world indeed be fair, and the artificer good, then He must have looked to that which is external--for the world is the fairest of creatures, as He is the best of causes." Plato's representation of the mercy of God, of his providential care, of his unmixed goodness, of his eternal beauty and holiness--are well-nigh up to the New Testament standard. So is also his doctrine of the immortality of the soul. The fatal deficiency is that he does not _know_. He has received no divine revelation. "We will wait," he said in another passage, "for one, be it a god or a god-inspired man, to teach us our religious duties, and as Athene in Homer says to Diomede, to take away the darkness from our eyes." And in still another place he adds: "We must lay hold of the best human opinion in order that, borne by it as on a raft, we may sail over the dangerous sea of life, unless we can find a stronger boat, _or some word of God which will more surely and safely carry us_."[26] There is a deep pathos in the question which I have just quoted, "How can we find out the Father and maker of all this universe?" And in the last sentence quoted, Plato seems to have felt his way to the very threshold of the revelation of Christ.[27] Augustine shows a discrimination on this subject too important to be overlooked, when he declares that while the noble philosophy of the Platonists turned his thoughts away from his low gratifications to the contemplation of an infinite God, it left him helpless. He was profited both by what philosophy taught him and by what it could not teach: it created wants which it could not satisfy. In short, he was prepared by its very deficiencies to see in stronger contrast the all-satisfying fulness of the Gospel of Eternal Life. Plato could tell him nothing of any real plan of redemption, and he confesses with tender pathos that he found no Revealer, no divine sacrifice for sin, no uplifted Cross, no gift of the transforming Spirit, no invitation to the weary, no light of the Resurrection.[28] Now, just here is the exact truth; and Augustine has conferred a lasting benefit upon the Christian Church by this grand lesson of just discrimination. He and other Christian fathers knew where to draw the lines carefully and wisely with respect to heathen errors. We often have occasion to complain of the sharpness of the controversies of the early Church, but it could scarcely be otherwise in an age like that. It was a period of transitions and of rude convulsions. The foundations of the great deep of human error were being broken up. It was no time for flabby, jelly-fish convictions. The training which the great leaders had received in philosophy and rhetoric had made them keen dialectics. They had something of Paul's abhorrence of heathen abominations, for they saw them on every hand. They saw also the specious admixtures of Gnosticism, and they met them squarely. Tertullian's controversy with Marcion, Augustine's sharp issue with Pelasgius, Ambrose's bold and uncompromising resistance to Arianism, Origen's able reply to Celsus, all show that the great leaders of the Church were not men of weak opinions. The discriminating concessions which they made, therefore, were not born of an easy-going indifferentism and the soft and nerveless charity that regards all religions alike. They found a medium between this pretentious extreme and the opposite evil of ignorant and narrow prejudgment; and nothing is more needed in the missionary work of our day than that intelligent and well-poised wisdom which considers all the facts and then draws just distinctions; which will not compensate for conscious ignorance with cheap misrepresentation or wholesale denunciation. 1. Now, first of all, in considering the methods of the early Church and its secret of power in overcoming the errors of heathenism, it must be borne in mind that the victory was mainly due to the _moral earnestness_ which characterized that period. In this category we must place the influence which sprang from the martyrdom of thousands who surrendered life rather than relinquish their faith. That this martyr spirit did not always produce a true symmetry of Christian character cannot be denied. The tide of fanaticism swept in, sometimes, with the current of true religious zeal, and inconsistencies and blemishes marred even the saintliest self-sacrifice; but there was no resisting the mighty logic of the spirit of martyrdom as a whole. The high and the low, the wise and the unlettered, the rich and the poor, the old and the young, strong men and delicate women, surrendered themselves to the most cruel tortures for the love of Christ. This spectacle, while it may have served only to enrage a Nero and urge him on to even more Satanic cruelty, could not be wholly lost upon the more thoughtful Marcus Aurelius and others like him. It was impossible to resist the moral force of so calm and resolute a surrender unto torture and death. Moreover, an age which produced such relinquishment of earthly possessions as was shown by men like Anthony and Ambrose, who were ready to lay down the emoluments of high political position and distribute their large fortunes for the relief of the poor; and such women as Paula and others of high position, who were ready to sacrifice all for Christ and retire into seclusion and voluntary poverty--an age which could produce such characters and could show their steady perseverance unto the end, could not fail to be an age of resistless moral power; and it would be safe to say that no heathen system could long stand against the sustained and persistent force of such influences. Were the Christian Church of to-day moved by even a tithe of that high self-renunciation, to say nothing of braving the fires of martyrdom, if it possessed in even partial degree the same sacrifice of luxury and ease, and the same consecration of effort and of influence, the conquest of benighted nations would be easy and rapid. The frugality of the early Christians, the simplicity of life which the great body of the Church observed, and to which even wealthy converts more or less conformed, was also, doubtless, a strong factor in the great problem of winning the heathen to Christ. Probably in no age could Christian simplicity find stronger contrasts than were presented by the luxury and extravagance, the unbridled indulgence and profligacy, which characterized the later periods of the Roman Empire. Universal conquest of surrounding nations had brought untold wealth. The Government had hastened the process of decay by lavish distribution to the people of those resources which obviated the necessity of unremitting toil. It had devoted large expenditures to popular amusements, and demagogues had squandered the public funds for the purpose of securing their own preferment. Over against the moral earnestness of the persecuted Christian Church, there was in the nation itself and the heathenism which belonged to it, an utter want of character or conviction. These conditions of the conquest, as I have already indicated, do not find an exact counterpart with us now. There is more of refined Christian culture than existed in the early Church; probably there is also more of organized Christian effort. In many points the comparison is in our favor, but earnestness, and the spiritual power which attends it, are on a lower grade. There is no escape from the conviction that just here lies the reason why the Christian Church, with all her numbers, her vast material resources, and her unlimited opportunities, cannot achieve a greater success. 2. But, on the intellectual side, and as relating to the methods of direct effort, there are many points in which imitation of the early example is entirely practicable. And first, the wise discrimination which was exercised by Augustine and other Christian leaders is entirely practicable now. There has prevailed in our time an indiscriminate carelessness in the use of terms in dealing with this subject. The strong language which the Old Testament employed against the abominations of Baalism, we have seemed to regard as having equal force against the ethics of Confucius or Gautama. "Heathenism" is the one brand which we have put upon all the non-Christian religions. I wish it were possible to exchange the term for a better.[29] Baalism was undoubtedly the most besotted, cruel, and diabolical religion that has ever existed on the earth. When we carefully study it we are not surprised at the strong language of denunciation which the Old Testament employs. But as I have already shown, we find in the New Testament a different spirit exercised toward the types of error which our Saviour and his disciples were called to meet. There is only gentleness in our Lord's dealings with those who were without the Jewish Church. His strongest denunciations were reserved for hypocrites who knew the truth and obeyed it not. He declared that the men of Nineveh would rise up in judgment against those who rejected the clear message of God's own Son. The man who goes forth to the great mission fields with the feeling that it is his province to assail as strongly as possible the deeply-rooted convictions of men, instead of winning them to a more excellent way, is worse than one who beats the air; he is doing positive harm; he is trifling with precious souls. He does not illustrate the spirit of Christ. The wisest of the early Fathers sometimes differed widely from each other in their methods; some were denunciatory, others were even too ready to excuse. The great African controversialist, Tertullian, was unsparing in his anathemas, not only against heathen customs, which were vile indeed, but against the teachings of the noblest philosophy. He had witnessed the former; he had not candidly studied the latter. With a blind zeal, which has too often been witnessed in the history of good causes, he denounced Plato, Aristotle, and even Socrates with a violence which marred the character of so great a man. On the other hand, Justin Martyr and Clement of Alexandria were perhaps excessively broad. Of two noted Alexandrines, Archdeacon Farrar says: "They were philosophers in spirit; they could enforce respect by their learning and their large, rounded sympathy, where rhetorical denunciation and ecclesiastical anathemas would only have been listened to with a frown of anger, or a look of disdain. Pagan youths would have listened to Clement when he spoke of Plato as 'the truly noble and half-inspired,' while they would have looked on Tertullian as an ignorant railer, who could say nothing better of Socrates than to call him the 'Attic buffoon,' and of Aristotle than to characterize him as the 'miserable Aristotle.'" Tatian and Hermes also looked upon Greek philosophy as an invention of the devil. Irenæus was more discriminating. He opposed the broad and lax charity of the Alexandrines, but he read the Greek philosophy, and when called to the bishopric of Lyons, he set himself to the study of the Gallic Druidism, believing that a special adaptation would be called for in that remote mission field.[30] Basil was an earnest advocate of the Greek philosophy as giving a broader character to Christian education. There were among the Fathers many different types of men, some philosophically inclined, others better able to use practical arguments. Some were more successful in appealing to the signs of the times, the clear evidences of that corruption and decay to which heathenism had led. They pointed to the degradation of women, the prevalence of vice, the inordinate indulgence in pleasures, the love of excitement, the cruel frenzy of the gladiatorial shows, the unrest and pessimism and despair of all society. One of the most remarkable appeals of this kind is found in a letter of Cyprian to his friend Donatus. "He bids him seat himself in fancy on some mountain top and gaze down upon what he has abandoned (for he is a Christian), on the roads blocked by brigands, the sea beset by pirates, the camps desolated by the horrors of many wars, on the world reeking with bloodshed, and the guilt which, in proportion to its magnitude, was extolled as a glory. Then, if he would turn his gaze to the cities, he would behold a sight more gloomy than all solitudes. In the gladiatorial games men were fattened for mutual slaughter, and publicly murdered to delight the mob. Even innocent men were urged to fight in public with wild beasts, while their mothers and sisters paid large sums to witness the spectacle. In the theatres parricide and infanticide were dealt with before mixed audiences, and all pollution and crimes were made to claim reverence because presented under the guise of religious mythology. In the homes was equal corruption; in the forum bribery and intrigue ran rife; justice was subverted, and innocence was condemned to prison, torture, and death. Luxury destroyed character, and wealth became an idol and a curse."[31] Arguments of this kind were ready enough to hand whenever Christian teachers were disposed to use them, and their descriptions found a real corroboration in society as it actually appeared on every hand. None could question the counts in the indictment. 3. While the Christian Fathers and the missionaries differed in their estimates of heathenism, and in their methods of dealing with it, one thing was recognized by all whom we designate as the great leaders, namely, the imperative necessity of a thorough knowledge of it. They understood both the low superstition of the masses and the loftier teaching of the philosophers. On the other hand, they had the same estimate of the incomparable Gospel of Christ that we have; they realized that it was the wisdom of God and the power of God unto salvation as clearly as the best of us, but they did not claim that it was to be preached blindly and without adaptation. The verities of the New Testament teachings, the transforming power of the Holy Ghost, the necessity for a new birth and for the preternatural influence of grace, both in regeneration and in sanctification, were as strongly maintained as they have ever been in any age of the Church; but the Fathers were careful to know whether they were casting the good seed upon stony places, or into good ground where it would spring up and bear fruit. The liberal education of that day was, in fact, an education along the old lines of heathen philosophy, poetry, history, and rhetoric; and a broad training was valued as highly as it has been in any subsequent period. It was thoroughly understood that disciplined intellect, other things being equal, may expect a degree of influence which can never fall to the lot of ignorance, however sanctified its spirit. There has never been a stronger type of men than the Christian Fathers. They were learned men, for the age in which they lived, and their learning had special adaptations to the work assigned them. Many of them, like Cyprian, Clement, Hilary, Martin of Tours, had been born and educated in heathenism; while others, like Basil, Gregory, Origen, Athanasius, Jerome, and Augustine, though born under Gospel influences, studied heathen philosophy and poetry at the instance of their Christian parents. 4. Some of the leaders familiarized themselves with the speculations of the day, not merely for the sake of a wider range of knowledge, but that they might the more successfully refute the assailants of the faith, many of whom were men of great power. They were fully aware that it behooved them to know their ground, for their opponents studied the points of comparison carefully. The infidel Celsus studied Christianity and its relation to the Old Testament histories and prophecies, and he armed himself with equal assiduity with all the choicest weapons drawn from Greek philosophy. How was such a man to be met? His able attack on Christianity remained fifty years unanswered. To reply adequately was not an easy task. Doubtless there were many, then as now, who thought that the most comfortable way of dealing with such things was to let them alone. But a wiser policy prevailed. Origen was requested to prepare an answer, and, although such work was not congenial to him, he did so because he felt that the cause of the truth demanded it. His reply outlived the attack which it was designed to meet, and in all subsequent ages it has been a bulwark of defence.[32] Origen was not of a pugnacious spirit--it was well that he was not--but with wide and thorough preparation he summoned all his energies to meet the foe. Archdeacon Farrar says of him, that he had been trained in the whole circle of science. He could argue with the pupils of Plato, or those of Zeno, on equal terms, and he deems it fortunate that one who was called, as he was, to be a teacher at Alexandria, where men of all nations and all creeds met, had a cosmopolitan training and a cosmopolitan spirit. No less resolute was the effort of Ambrose in resisting the errors of Arianism, and he also adapted himself to the work in hand. He had not been afraid of Platonism. On the other hand, we are told that Plato, next to his Bible, constituted a part of his daily reading, and that, too, in the period of his ripest Christian experience, and when he carried his studies and his prayers far into the hours of the night. But in dealing with Arianism he needed a special understanding of all its intricacies, and when among its advocates and supporters he encountered a powerful empress as well as her ablest advocates, he had need of all the powers within him--that power of moral earnestness which had led him to give all his property to the poor--that power of strong faith, which prepared him, if need be, to lay down his life--the power of a disciplined intellect, and a thorough knowledge of the whole issue. 5. The early Fathers not only studied the heathen philosophies of Plato and Aristotle, but they learned to employ them, and their successors continued to employ them, even to the Middle Ages, and the period of the Reformation. As an intellectual framework, under which truth should be presented in logical order, it became a strong resource of the early Christian teachers. Let me refer you on this point to the clear statements of Professor Shedd.[33] He has well said that "when Christianity was revealed in its last and beautiful form by the incarnation of the Eternal World, it found the human mind already occupied by human philosophy. Educated men were Platonists, or Stoics, or Epicureans. During the age of Apologetics, which extended from the end of the apostolic age to the death of Origen, the Church was called to grapple with these systems, to know as far as possible what they contained, and to discriminately treat their contents, rejecting some things, utilizing others." "We shall see," he continues, "that Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero exerted more influence than all other philosophic minds united upon the greatest of Christian Fathers, upon the greatest of the School men, and upon the greatest of the theologians of the Reformation, Calvin and Melancthon; and if we look at European philosophy, as it has been unfolded in England, Germany, and France, we can perceive that all the modern philosophic schools have discussed the principles of human reason in very much the same manner in which Plato and Aristotle discussed them twenty-two centuries ago." I need hardly say, in closing, that it is not necessary to borrow from the heathen systems of to-day as extensively as the Fathers did from the systems of Greece and Rome, and it would be discordant with good taste to illustrate our sermons with quotations from the Hindu poets as lavishly as good Jeremy Taylor graced his discourses with gems from the poets of Greece. But I think that we may so far heed the wise examples furnished by Church history as to face the false systems of our time with a candid and discriminating spirit, and by a more adequate knowledge to disenchant the bugbears with which their apologists would alarm the Church. We are entering upon the broadest and most momentous struggle with heathen error that the world has ever witnessed. Again, in this later age, philosophy and multiform speculation are becoming the handmaids of Hindu pantheism and Buddhist occultism, as well as of Christian truth. The resources of the East and the West are combined and subsidized by the enemy as well as by the Church. As in old Rome and Alexandria, so now in London and Calcutta all currents of human thought flow together, and truth is in full grapple with error. It is no time to be idle or to take refuge in pious ignorance, much less to fear heathen systems as so many haunted houses which superstitious people dare not enter--as if the Gospel were not as potent a talisman now as it was ages ago. Let us fearlessly enter these abodes of darkness, throw open the shutters, and let in the light of day, and the hobgoblins will flee. Let us explore every dark recess, winnow out the miasma and the mildew with the pure air of heaven, and the Sun of Righteousness shall fill the world. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 20: _The Norsemen_, Maclear.] [Footnote 21: The Druid bard Taliesen says: "Christ, the Word from the beginning, was from the beginning our teacher, and we never lost His teaching. Christianity was a new thing in Asia, but there never was a time when the Druids of Britain held not its doctrines."--_St. Paul in Britain_, p. 86.] [Footnote 22: Uhlhorn's _Conflict of Christianity with Heathenism_.] [Footnote 23: The same dualism of the male and the female principle is found in the Shinto of Japan. See Chamberlain's translation of the _Kojiki_.] [Footnote 24: The late George Eliot has given expression to this grim solace, and Mr. John Fiske, in his _Destiny of Man_, claims that the goal of all life, from the first development of the primordial cell, is the perfected future man.] [Footnote 25: Voltaire found great delight in the so-called _Ezour Veda_, a work which claimed to be an ancient Veda containing the essential truths of the Bible. The distinguished French infidel was humbled, however, when it turned out that the book was the pious fraud of a Jesuit missionary who has hoped thus to win the Hindus to Christianity.] [Footnote 26: Quoted by Uhlhorn in _The Conflict of Christianity with Heathenism_, p. 70. He also quotes Seneca as saying: "Oh, if one only might have a guide to truth!"] [Footnote 27: Plato showed by his writings and his whole life that he was a true seeker after the knowledge of God, whom he identified with the highest good. Though he believed in an efficient creatorship, he held that matter is eternal. Ideas are also eternal, but the world is generated. He was not a Pantheist, as he clearly placed God outside of, or above, the universe. He regarded the soul of man as possessed of reason, moral sensibility, and appetite. On the doctrine of future immortality Plato was most emphatic. He also believed that the soul in a previous state had been pure and sinless, but had fallen. He taught that recovery from this fallen condition is to be accomplished by the pursuit of philosophy and the practice of virtue (not as merit but as discipline), by contemplating the highest ideal which is the character of God, and by thinking of eternity. Plato regarded suffering as disciplinary when properly improved. True philosophy may raise the soul above the fear of death. This was proved by Socrates. Both Socrates and Plato seemed to believe in a good demon (spirit) whose voice was a salutary and beneficent guide. As to eschatology, Plato looked forward to a heaven where the virtuous soul shall dwell in the presence of God, and in the enjoyment of pure delights. Aristotle's idea of God was scarcely less exalted than that of Plato. He expressed it thus: "The principle of life is in God; for energy of mind constitutes life, and God is this energy. He, the first mover, imparts motion and pursues the work of creation as something that is loved. His course of life must be similar to what is most excellent in our own short career. But he exists forever in this excellence, whereas this is impossible for us. His pleasure consists in the exercise of his essential energy, and on this account vigilance, wakefulness, and perception are most agreeable to him. Again, the more we examine God's nature the more wonderful does it appear to us. He is an eternal and most excellent being. He is indivisible, devoid of parts, and having no magnitude, for God imparts motion through infinite time, and nothing finite, as magnitude is, can have an infinite capacity. He is a being devoid of passions and unalterable."--Quoted in _Indian Wisdom_, p. 125.] [Footnote 28: "Those pages present not the image of this piety, the tears of confession, Thy sacrifice, a troubled spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, the salvation of the people, the Bridal city, the earnest of the Holy Ghost, the cup of our redemption. No man sings there, 'Shall not my soul be submitted unto God? for of Him cometh my salvation, for He is my God and my salvation, my guardian, I shall no more be grieved.' No one there hears Him call 'Come unto me all ye that labor.'"--_Confessions_, Bk. vii., xxi. "But having then read those books of the Platonists, and thence being taught to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible things, understood by the things which are made; and though cast back, I perceived what that was which, through the darkness of my mind, I was hindered from contemplating, being assured 'that Thou wert and wert infinite, and yet not diffused in space, finite or infinite, and that Thou truly art who art the same ever, in no part nor motion varying; and that all other things are from Thee.... Of these things I was assured, yet too insecure to enjoy Thee. I prated as one skilled, but I had not sought Thy way in Christ our Saviour; I had proved to be not skilled but killed."--_Confessions_, Bk. vii., xx.] [Footnote 29: We may judge of the bearing of the common term heathen as applied to non-Christian nations, when we consider that the Greeks and Romans characterized all foreigners as "barbarians," that Mohammedans call all Christians "infidels," and the Chinese greet them as "foreign devils." The missionary enterprise as a work of conciliation should illustrate a broader spirit.] [Footnote 30: _The Celts_, Maclear.] [Footnote 31: _Lives of the Fathers_, Farrar.] [Footnote 32: "Christianity," says Max Müller, "enjoyed no privileges and claimed no immunities when it boldly confronted and confounded the most ancient and the most powerful religions of the world. Even at present it craves no mercy and it receives no mercy from those whom our missionaries have to meet face to face in every part of the world; and unless our religion has ceased to be what it was, its defenders should not shrink from this new trial of its strength, but should encourage rather than depreciate the study of comparative theology."--_Science of Religion_, p. 22.] [Footnote 33: _History of Christian Theology_, Vol. I., p. 52.] LECTURE III. THE SUCCESSIVE DEVELOPMENTS OP HINDUISM The religious systems of India, like its flora, display luxuriant variety and confusion. Hinduism is only another banyan-tree whose branches have become trunks, and whose trunks have produced new branches, until the whole has become an intellectual and moral jungle of vast extent. The original stock was a monotheistic nature worship, which the Hindu ancestors held in common with other branches of the Aryan family when dwelling together on the high table-lands of Central Asia, or, as some are now claiming, in Eastern Russia. Wherever may have been that historic "cradle" in which the infancy of our race was passed, it seems certain from similarities of language, that this Aryan family once dwelt together, and had a common worship, and called the supreme deity by a common name. It was a worship of the sky, and at length of various powers of nature, _Surya_, the sun: _Agni_, fire: _Indra_, rain, etc. It is maintained by many authors, in India as well as in Europe, that these designations were only applied as names of one and the same potential deity. This is the ground held by the various branches of the modern Somaj of India. Yet we must not suppose that the monotheism of the early Aryans was all that we understand by that term; it is enough that the power addressed was _one_ and personal. Even henotheism, the last name which Professor Max Müller applies to the early Aryan faith, denotes oneness in this sense. The process of differentiation and corruption advanced more rapidly among the Indo-Aryans than in the Iranian branch of the same race, and in all lands changes were wrought to some extent by differences of climate and by environment.[34] The Norsemen, for example, struggling with the wilder and sterner forces of storm and wintry tempest, would naturally differ in custom, and finally in faith, from the gentle Hindu under his Indian sky; yet there were common elements traceable in the earliest traditions of these races, and the fact that religions are not wholly dependent upon local conditions is shown by both Christianity and Buddhism, which have flourished most conspicuously and permanently in lands where they were not indigenous. "In the Vedas," says Sir Monier Williams, "unity in the conception of deity soon diverged into various ramifications. Only a few of the hymns appear to contain the simple conception of one divine, self-existent, omnipresent Being, and even in these, the idea of one God, present in all nature, is somewhat nebulous and undefined." One of the earliest deifications that we can trace was that of _Varuna_, who represented the overhanging sky. The hymns addressed to Varuna are not only the earliest, but they are the loftiest and most spiritual in their aspirations. They find in him an element of holiness before which sin is an offence; and in some vague sense he is the father of all things, like the Zeus whom Paul recognized in the poetry of Greece. But, as already stated, this vague conception of God as one, was already in a transition toward separate impressions of the different powers of nature. If the idea of God was without any very clear personality and more or less obscure, it is not strange that it should come to be thus specialized as men thought of objects having a manifestly benign influence--as the life-quickening sun or the reviving rain. It is not strange that, without a knowledge of the true God, they should have been filled with awe when gazing upon the dark vault of night, and should have rendered adoration to the moon and her countless retinue of stars. If there must be idolatry, let it be that sublime nature worship of the early Aryans, though even that was sure to degenerate into baser forms. One might suppose that the worship of the heavenly bodies would remain the purest and noblest; and yet the sun-worship of the Assyrians and the Phoenicians became unspeakably vile in its sensuousness, and finally the most wicked and abominable of all heathen systems. India in her darkest days never sank so low, and when her degradation came it was through other conceptions than those of nature worship. In the early Vedic hymns are to be found many sublime passages which seem to suggest traces of those common traditions concerning the creation--the Fall of man and the Deluge, which we believe to have been the earliest religious heritage of mankind. They contrast strongly with the later and degrading cosmogonies of degenerate heathen systems, and especially with the grotesque fancies of the subsequent Hindu mythology. In the Xth Mandala of the Rig Veda we find the following account of primeval chaos, which reminds one of the Mosaic Genesis: "In the beginning there was neither aught nor naught, There was neither sky nor atmosphere above. What then enshrouded all the teeming universe? In the receptacle of what was it contained? Was it enveloped in the gulph profound of water? There was then neither death nor immortality. There was then neither day nor night, nor light nor darkness. Only the _Existing One_ breathed calmly self-contained, Naught else but him there was, naught else above, beyond; Then first came darkness hid in darkness, gloom in gloom, Next all was water, chaos indiscreet In which the _One_ lay void, shrouded in nothingness, Then turning inward by self-developed force Of inner fervor and intense abstraction grew." In the early Vedic period many of the corruptions of later times were unknown. There was no distinct doctrine of caste, no transmigration, no mist of pantheism, no idol-worship, no widow-burning, and no authorized infanticide. The abominable tyranny which was subsequently imposed upon woman was unknown; the low superstitions of the aboriginal tribes had not been adopted; nor, on the other hand, had philosophy and speculation taken possession of the Hindu mind. The doctrine of the Trimurti and the incarnations had not appeared.[35] The faith of the Hindus in that early period may be called _Aryanism_, or _Vedism_. It bore sway from the Aryan migration, somewhere about one thousand five hundred, or two thousand, years before Christ, to about eight hundred years before Christ.[36] By that time the priestly class had gained great power over all other ranks. They had begun to work over the Vedas to suit their own purposes, selecting from them such portions as could be framed into an elaborate ritual--known as the Brahmanas. The period during which they continued this ritualistic development is known as the Brahmana period. This extended from about eight hundred to five hundred B.C.[37] These, however, are only the approximate estimates of modern scholarship: such a thing as ancient history is unknown to the Hindu race. This Brahmana period was marked by the intense and overbearing sacerdotalism of the Brahmans, and by an extreme development of the doctrine of caste. Never was priestly tyranny carried to greater length than by these lordly Brahmans of India. One of the chief abuses of their system was their depravation of sacrifice. The earliest conception of sacrifice represented in the Vedas is that of a vicarious offering of Parusha, a Divine being. Very obscure references to this are found in the oldest of the four Vedas, dating probably not later than 1200 B.C. It is brought out still more clearly in a Brahmana which was probably composed in the seventh century B.C. It is there said that the "Lord of creatures offered himself a sacrifice for the Gods." Principal Fairbairn finds Vedic authority for the idea that the creation of the world was accomplished by the self-sacrifice of deity; and Manu ascribes the creation of mankind to the austerities of the gods. Sir Monier Williams, the late Professor Banergea, and many others, have regarded these references to a Divine sacrifice for the benefit of gods and men as dim traces of a revelation once made to mankind of a promised atonement for the sins of the world.[38] But so far as the actual observances of the early Hindus were concerned, they seem to have made their offerings rather in the spirit of Cain than in the faith of Abel. They simply fed the gods with their gifts, and regaled them with soma juice, poured forth in libations; the savor of melted butter also was supposed to be specially grateful. Still there is reason to believe that the piacular idea of sacrifice was never wholly lost, but that the Hindus, in common with all other races, found occasion--especially when great calamities befell them--to appease the gods with the blood of sacrifice. In the early days human sacrifices were offered, and occasionally at least down to a late period.[39] It was a convenient policy of the priesthood, however, to hypothecate the claim for a human victim by accepting the substitution of a goodly number of horses or cows. A famous tradition is given, in the Aitareya Brahmana, of a prince[40] who had been doomed to sacrifice by a vow of his father, but who bought as a substitute the son of a holy Brahman--paying the price of a hundred cows. When none could be found to bind the lad on the altar, the pious father offered to perform the task for another hundred cows. Then there was no one found to slay the victim, and the father offered for still another hundred to do even that. As the victim was of high caste the gods interposed, and the Brahman was still the possessor of a son plus the cattle. The incident will illustrate the greed of the priesthood and the depravation of sacrifice. It had become a system of bargaining and extortion. The sacrifices fed the priesthood more substantially than the gods. There was great advantage in starting with the human victim as the unit of value, and it is easy to see how substitution of animals became immensely profitable. The people were taught that it was possible, if one were rich enough in victims, even to bankrupt heaven. Even demons by the value of their offerings might demand the sceptre of Indra.[41] Hand in hand with this growth of the sacrificial system was the development of caste; the former was done away by the subsequent protest of Buddhism and the philosophic schools; but the latter has remained through all the stages of Hindu history.[42] Such was _Brahmanism_. Its thraldom has never been equalled. The land was deluged with the blood of slain beasts. All industries were paralyzed with discouragement. Social aspiration was blighted, patriotism and national spirit were weakened, and India was prepared for those disastrous invasions which made her the prey of all northern races. It was in protest against these evils that Gautama and many able philosophers arose about 500 B.C. Already the intellectual classes had matched the Brahmans by drawing upon Vedic authority for their philosophy. As the Brahmans had produced a ritual from the Vedas, so the philosophers framed a sort of philosophic Veda in the _Upanishads_. Men had begun to ask themselves the great questions of human life and destiny, "Whence am I? What is this mysterious being of which I am conscious?" They had begun to reason about nature, the origin of matter, the relation of mortals to the Infinite. The school of the Upanishads regarded themselves as an aristocracy of intellect, and held philosophy as their esoteric and peculiar prerogative. It was maintained that two distinct kinds of revelation had been made to men. First, that simple kind which was designed for priests and the common masses, for all those who regarded only effects and were satisfied with sacerdotal assumption and merit-making. But, secondly, there was a higher knowledge which concerned itself with the origin of the world and the hidden causes of things. Even to this day the Upanishads are the Vedas of the thinking classes of India.[43] As the Brahmanas gave first expression to the doctrine of caste, so in the Upanishads we find the first development of pantheism and the doctrine of transmigration. The conclusion had already been reached that "There is only one Being who exists: He is within this universe and yet outside this universe: whoe'er beholds all living creatures as in Him, and Him the universal spirit, as in all, thenceforth regards no creature with contempt." The language of Hindu speculation exhausts its resources in similes by which to represent personal annihilation. Man's origin and relations are accounted for very tersely by such illustrations as these: "As the web issues from the spider, as little sparks proceed from fire, so from the One Soul proceed all breathing animals, all worlds, all the gods, all beings." Then as to destiny: "These rivers proceed from the east toward the west, thence from the ocean they rise in the form of vapor, and dropping again, they flow toward the south and merge into the ocean. And as the flowing rivers are merged into the sea, losing their names and forms, so the wise, freed from name and form, pass into the Divine spirit, which is greater than the great."[44] Another favorite illustration is that of the moon's reflection in the water-jar, which disappears the moment the moon itself is hidden. "If the image in the water has no existence separate from that of the moon," says the Hindu, "how can it be shown that the human soul exists apart from God?" The Mundaka Upanishad, based upon the Atharva Veda (one of the latest,--the Upanishad being later still), contains this account of the universe: "As the spider spins and gathers back (its thread); as plants sprout on the earth; as hairs grow on a living person; so is this universe here produced from the imperishable nature. By contemplation the vast one germinates; from him food (or body) is produced; and thence successively, breath, mind, real (elements) worlds, and immortality resulting from (good) deeds. "The Omniscient is profound contemplation consisting in the knowledge of him who knows all; and from that, the (manifested) vast one, as well as names, forms, and food proceed; and this is truth."[45] It is a great blemish upon the Upanishads, that while there are subtle, and in some respects sublime, utterances to be found here and there, the great mass is fanciful and often puerile, and in many instances too low and prurient to bear translation into the English language. This is clearly alleged by Mr. Bose, and frankly admitted by Max Müller.[46] In the common protest which finally broke down the system of Brahmanical sacrifice, and for a time relaxed the rigors of caste tyranny, Buddhism then just appearing (say 500 B.C.), joined hand in hand with the philosophies. Men were tired of priestcraft, and by a natural reaction they went to an opposite extreme; they were tired of religion itself. Buddha became an undoubted atheist or agnostic, and six distinct schools of philosophy arose on the basis of the Upanishads--some of which were purely rationalistic, some were conservative, others radical. Some resembled the Greek "Atomists" in their theory,[47] and others fought for the authority, and even the supreme divinity, of the Vedas.[48] All believed in the eternity of matter, and the past eternity of the soul; all accepted the doctrine of transmigration, and maintained that the spiritual nature can only act through a material body. All were pessimistic, and looked for relief only in absorption. But the progress of Hindu thought was marked by checks and counter-checks. As the tyranny of the priesthood had led to the protest of philosophy, so the extreme and conflicting speculations of philosophic rationalism probably gave rise to the conservatism of the Code of Manu. No adequate idea of the drift of Hindu thought can be gained without assigning due influence to this all-important body of laws. They accomplished more in holding fast the power of the Brahmans, and enabling them to stem the tide of intellectual rebellion, and finally to regain the sceptre from the hand of Buddhism, than all other literatures combined. Their date cannot be definitely known. They were composed by different men and at different times. They probably followed the Upanishads, but antedated the full development of the philosophic schools. Many of the principles of Manu's Code had probably been uttered as early as the seventh century B.C.[49] The ferment of rationalistic thought was even then active, and demanded restraint. The one phrase which expresses the whole spirit of the laws of Manu is intense conservatism. They stand for the definite authority of dogma; they re-assert in strong terms the authority of the Vedas; they establish and fortify by all possible influences, the institution of caste. They enclose as in an iron framework, all domestic, social, civil, and religious institutions. They embrace not only the destiny of men upon the earth, but also the rewards and punishments of the future life. Whatever they touched was petrified. Abuses which had crept in through the natural development of human depravity--for example, the oppression of woman--the laws of Manu stamped with inflexible and irreversible authority. The evils which grow up in savage tribes are bad enough, the tyranny of mere brute force is to be deplored, but worst of all is that which is sanctioned by statute, and made the very corner-stone of a great civilization. Probably no other system of laws ever did so much to rivet the chains of domestic tyranny.[50] The Code of Manu has been classified as, 1st, sacred knowledge and religion; 2d, philosophy; 3d, social rules and caste organization; 4th, criminal and civil laws; 5th, systems of penance; 6th, eschatology, or the doctrine of future rewards. No uninspired or non-Vedic production has equal authority in India. We can only judge of its date by its relative place among other books. It applies Vedic names to the gods, though it mentions Brahma and Vishnu, but it makes no reference to the Trimurti. Pantheism was evidently in existence and was made prominent in the code. The influence of Manu over the jurisprudence of India was a matter of growth. At first the code appears to have been a guide in customs and observances, but as it gained currency it acquired the force of law, and extended its sway over all the tribes of India. It was not, however, maintained as a uniform code throughout the land, but its principles were found underlying the laws of all the provinces. Its very merits were finally fruitful of evil. Human weal was sacrificed to the over-shadowing power of a system of customs cunningly wrought and established by Brahmanical influence. The author was evidently a Brahman, and the whole work was prepared and promulgated in the interests of Brahmanism as against all freedom of thought. Its support of the Vedas was fanatical. Thus: "A Brahman by retaining the Rig Veda in his memory incurs no guilt, though he should destroy the three worlds." Again: "When there is contradiction of two precepts in the Veda, both are declared to be law; both have been justly promulgated by known sages as valid law." The laws of Manu make no mention of the doctrine of _Bakti_ or faith, and there is no reference to the worship of the _Sakti_; both of these were of later date. The doctrine of transmigration, however, is fully stated, and as a consequence of this the hells described in the code, though places of torture, resolve themselves into merely temporary purgatories, while the heavens become only the steps on the road to a union with deity. There is reason to believe that the practice of employing idols to represent deity was unknown at the time the code was compiled. There is no allusion to public services or to teaching in the temples, the chief rites of religion were of a domestic kind, and the priests of that age were nothing more than domestic chaplains. Manu's theory of creation was this: "The Self-Existent, having willed to produce various beings from his own substance, first with a thought created the waters and placed on them a productive seed or egg. Then he himself was born in that egg in the form of Brahma. Next he caused the egg to divide itself, and out of its two divisions there came the heaven above and the earth beneath. Afterward, having divided his own substance he became half male, half female. From that female was produced Viraj, from whom was created the secondary progenitor of all beings. Then from the Supreme Soul he drew forth Manu's intellect." This mixed cosmogony is supposed to indicate a diversity of authorship. It will be seen that this is much less philosophical than the theory of creation quoted above from the Mundaka Upanishad.[51] If we compare Manu's account with the description of the "Beginning" found in one of the hymns of the Rig Veda,[52] we shall see that there has been a downward trend of Hinduism from the simple and sublime conceptions of the early poets to that which is grotesque, and which has probably been worked over to suit the purposes of the Brahmans. No mythological legend was too absurd if it promoted the notion of the divine origin of the Manus (sages) and the Brahmans. Manu makes much of the Vedic passage which refers to the origin of caste.[53] He maintained that this distinction of caste was as much a law of nature and divine appointment as the separation of different classes of animals. The prominence accorded to the Brahmans was nothing short of divine. "Even when Brahmans employ themselves in all sorts of inferior occupations (as poverty often compels them to do) they must under all circumstances be honored, for they are to be regarded as supreme divinities." "A Brahman's own power is stronger than the power of the king, therefore by his own might he may chastise his foes." "He who merely assails a Brahman with intent to kill him, will continue in hell for a hundred years, and he who actually strikes him must endure a thousand years." It is always the truth that is mingled with the errors of any system which constitutes its life and gives it perpetuity, and there is much in the Code of Manu to be admired. Like the Confucian ethics, it laid its foundations in the respect due from childhood to parents, and in guarding the sanctities of the home. It aimed at fairness between ruler and subject, in an age when over most of the Asiatic continent the wildest caprice of rulers was the law of their respective realms. Manu taught the duty of kings toward their subjects in most emphatic terms. They were to regard themselves as servants, or rather as fathers, of the people; and rules were prescribed for their entire conduct. They were the representatives of deity in administering the affairs of mortals, and must realize their solemn responsibility.[54] It must ever be acknowledged that the Hindu laws respecting property were characterized by wisdom and equity. Taxation was not subject to caprice or injustice; where discriminations occurred they were in favor of the poor, and the heaviest burdens were laid where they should be laid, upon the rich. There were wise adaptations, calculated to develop the industry and self-help of the weakest classes, and care was taken that they never should become oppressive. No political or civic tyranny could be allowed; but that of the priesthood in its relations to all ranks, and that of the householder toward his wife and toward all women, were quite sufficient. In this last regard we scarcely know which was the greater--the heartless wickedness of the Code, or its blind and bigoted folly. How it was that laws could be framed which indicated such rare sagacity, which in many other respects were calculated to build up the very highest civilization, and which, at the same time, failed to foresee that this oppression of woman must result in the inevitable degeneracy of succeeding generations of men, must ever remain a mystery.[55] We have glanced at the purer and simpler Aryanism of the early period, at the bigoted, tyrannical Brahmanism, with its ritual, its sacrifices, its caste. We have merely alluded to the rationalistic reaction of the philosophers and the Buddhists. We shall now see that the Brahman power is not broken, but that it will regain all and more than it has lost, that it will prove elastic enough to embrace all that has gone before; that while Buddhism will be banished, many of its elements will be retained, and the whole woven into one marvellous texture which we will call _Hinduism_.[56] Even during the period of Buddhism's greatest triumphs, say, two or three centuries before Christ, changes of great moment were going on in the Brahmanical faith. The old sacrificial system had lost its power, but the flexible and inexhaustible resources of Brahmanical cunning were by no means dormant. In the border wars of the Aryans, with rival invaders on the one hand, and with the conquered but ever restless aborigines on the other, great and popular heroes had sprung up. The exploits of these heroes had been celebrated in two great epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, and the popularity of these poems was immense. The heroes were of the soldier caste, and gave to that caste a prestige which seemed to the Brahmans formidable and dangerous.[57] The divine prerogatives of their order were all in jeopardy. The remedy chosen by the Brahmans was a bold and desperate one. These heroes must be raised out of the soldier caste by making them divine. As such they would hold a nearer relation to the divine Brahmans than to the soldiers. The legends were therefore worked over--Brahmanized--so to speak.[58] Rama, who had overcome certain chieftains of Ceylon, and Krishna, who had won great battles in Rajputana, were raised to the rank of gods and demi-gods. By an equal exaggeration the hostile chiefs of rival invaders were transformed to demons, and the black, repulsive hill tribes, who were involved as allies in these conflicts, were represented as apes. As a part of this same Brahmanizing process, the doctrine of the Trimurti was developed, and also the doctrine of incarnation. Most conspicuous were the incarnations of Vishnu; Rama and Krishna were finally placed among the ten incarnations of that deity. This was a skilful stroke of policy, for it was now no longer the heroes of the soldier caste who had won victory for the Aryans; it was Vishnu, the preserver, the care-taker, and sympathizer with all the interests of mankind. The development of the doctrines of the Trimurti and of incarnation undoubtedly followed both the rise of Buddhism and the promulgation of the Laws of Manu. Meanwhile the Brahmans were shrewd enough to adapt themselves to certain other necessities. The influence of Buddhism was still a force which was not to be disregarded. It had demonstrated one thing which had never been recognized before, and that was the need of a more human and sympathetic element in the divine objects of worship. Men were weary of worshipping gods who had no kindly interest in humanity. They were weary of a religion which had no other element than that of fear or of bargaining with costly sacrifices. They longed for something which had the quality of mercy. Buddha had demonstrated the value of this element, and by an adroit stroke of policy the Brahmans adopted Gautama as the ninth avatar of Vishnu. Meanwhile they adopted the heroic Krishna as the god of sympathy--the favorite of the lower masses who were not too critical toward his vices. We have now reached the fully developed form of _Hinduism_.[59] The Brahmans had embraced every element that could give strength to their broad, eclectic, and all-embracing system.[60] The doctrine of the Trimurti had become a strong factor, as it furnished a sort of framework, and gave stability. As compared with the early Aryanism, it removed the idea of deity from merely natural forces to that of abstract thoughts, principles, and emotions, as active and potent in the world. At the same time it retained the old Vedic deities under new names and with new functions, and it did not abate its professed regard for Vedic authority. The Brahmans had rendered their system popular in a sense with the intellectual classes by adopting all the philosophies. They had stopped the mouth of Buddhist protest by embracing the Buddha among their incarnations. They had shown an advance in the succession of incarnations from the early embodiments of brute force, the fish, the tortoise, the boar, up to heroes, and from these to the ninth avatar, the Buddha, as a moralist and philosopher.[61] They left on record the prediction that a tenth should come--and he is yet to come--who, in a still higher range of moral and spiritual power, should redeem and renovate the earth, and establish a kingdom of righteousness. Meanwhile, in this renaissance of the Hindu faith, this wide, politic, self-adapting system, we find not only Buddhism, Philosophy, the early Aryanism, and the stiff cultus of Brahmanism, but there is also a large infusion of the original superstitions of the Dravidians, Kohls, Santals, and other nature worshippers of the hill tribes. Much of the polytheism of the modern Hindus--the worship of hills, trees, apes, cattle, the sun, the moon, unseen spirits, serpents, etc.--has been adopted from these simple tribes, so that the present system embraces all that has ever appeared on the soil of India--even Mohammedanism to some extent; and as some contend, very much also has been incorporated from the early teachings of the so-called St. Thomas Christians of Malabar. Such is the immense composite which is called Hinduism. It continued its development through the early centuries of the Christian era, and down even to the Middle Ages. Since then there has been disintegration instead of growth. The Brahmans have not only retained the Aryan deities, and extended Vishnu's incarnate nature over the epic heroes, but in the Puranas they have woven into the alleged lives of the incarnate gods the most grotesque mythologies and many revolting vices. It may be interesting to trace for a moment the influence of the different lines of Hindu literature upon the general development of national character. Of course, the early Vedic literature has never lost its influence as the holy and inspired source of all knowledge to the Hindu race; but we have seen how much more potential were the Brahmanas and the Upanishad philosophy drawn from the Vedas, than were those sacred oracles themselves; how the Brahmanas riveted the chains of priestcraft and caste, and how the philosophies invigorated the intellect of the people at a time when they were most in danger of sinking into the torpor of ignorance and base subserviency to ritual and sacrifice; how it gave to the better classes the courage to rise up in rebellion and throw off every yoke, and think for themselves. We have seen how Buddhism by its protest against sacerdotalism crippled for a time the power of the Brahmans and raised a representative of the soldier caste to the chief place as a teacher of men; how its inculcation of pity to man and beast banished the slaughter and cruelty of wholesale and meaningless sacrifice, and how its example of sympathy changed Hinduism itself, and brought it into nearer relations with humanity. Driven from India, though it was, it left an immense deposit of influence and of power. We have seen how, as a counter-check to philosophy and Buddhism, the Code of Manu reasserted the authority of the Vedas, and riveted anew the chains of caste, and how it compensated for its oppressiveness by many wholesome and benign regulations--accomplishing more, perhaps, than all other literatures combined to maintain the stability of Hinduism, through its many vicissitudes, and in spite of the heterogeneous elements which it received and incorporated. Scarcely less important was the influence of the great epics--the Ramayana and the Mahabharata--with their doctrine of Trimurti and the incarnations of Vishnu in the national heroes. This conciliated the soldier caste, subsidized the most popular characters in Hindu tradition, at the same time that it made them tenfold more glorious than before. The Epics widened out the field of Hindu mythology immensely. Never before had there been such a boundless range for the imagination. The early Brahmans had cramped all intellectual growth, and held mankind by the leash of priestly ritual. The philosophies had been too strait and lofty for any but the higher class; Manu's laws had been a stern school-master to keep the people under curbs and restraints; even the Brahmans themselves were the slaves of their own ritual. But all the people could understand and admire Rama's wonderful victories over the demon Ravana. All could appreciate the devotion of the lovely Sita, and weep when she was kidnapped and borne away, like Grecian Helen, to the demon court in Ceylon; and they could be thrilled with unbounded joy when she was restored--the truest and loveliest of wives--to be the sharer of a throne. The Epics took such hold of the popular heart that any fact, any theory, any myth that could be attached to them found ready credence. The Mahabharata especially became a general texture upon which any philosophy, or all the philosophies, might be woven at will. And for a long period, extending from three or four centuries B.C. onward far into the Christian era, it was ever ready to receive modifications from the fertile brain and skilful hand of any devout Brahman. A striking example of this was the introduction of the Bhagavad Gita. When this was composed, somewhere about the second or third century of our era, there was no little conflict between the different schools of philosophy; and its unknown author attempted to unite them all in a poem which should harmonize their contradictions and exalt the virtues of each, and at the same time reiterate all the best maxims of Hinduism. Some centuries later, the pronounced Vedantist Sancarakarya revamped the poem and gave its philosophy a more pantheistic character; later still the demigod Krishna was raised to full rank as the supreme Vishnu--the Creator and Upholder of all things.[62] It is important to notice that in the trend of Hindu literature through so many ages there has been no upward movement, but rather a decline. Nowhere do we find hymns of so pure and lofty a tone as in the early Vedas. No philosophy of the later times has equalled that of the Upanishads and the six Darsanas. No law-giver like Manu has appeared for twenty-four centuries. No Sanskrit scholarship has equalled that of the great grammarian Panini, who lived in the fourth century B.C. And although no end of poetry has succeeded the great Epics, it has shown deterioration. The Puranas, written at a later day, reveal only a reckless zeal to exalt the incarnate deities. They may properly be called histories of the incarnations of Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, and glorifications of Krishna. And the very nature of the subjects with which they deal gives free scope to an unbridled imagination and to the most reckless exaggeration. If anything more were wanting to insure their extravagance, it may be found in the fact that they were inspired by the rivalry of the respective worshippers of different gods. The Puranas mark the development of separate sects, each of which regarded its particular deity as the supreme and only god. The worshippers of Vishnu and the worshippers of Siva were in sharp rivalry, and they have continued their separation to this day.[63] Those who came to worship Vishnu as incarnate in Krishna, gained an advantage in the popular element associated with a favorite hero. Yet this was matched by the influence of the Sankhya philosophy, which assigned to Siva a male and female dualism, a doctrine which finally plunged Hinduism into deepest degradation. It brought about a new development known as Saktism, and the still later and grosser literature of the Tantras. In these, Hinduism reached its lowest depths. The modern "Aryas" discard both the Tantras and the Puranas, and assert that the popular incarnations of Vishnu were only good men. They take refuge from the corruptions of modern Hinduism in the purer teachings of the early Vedas. _The Contrasts of Hinduism and Christianity._ Hinduism has some elements in common with Christianity which it is well to recognize. It is theistic; it is a religion, as distinguished from the agnostic and ethical systems of India and China.[64] Hinduism always recognized a direct divine revelation which it regards with profound reverence; and through all its variations and corruptions it has inculcated in the minds of the Indian races a deeply religious feeling. It has been claimed that it has made the Hindus the most devotional people in the world. Like Christianity, Hinduism appeals to man's intellectual nature, and it is inwrought with profound philosophy. It does not, however, like some modern systems, teach that divine truth has been revealed to man by natural processes; rather it regards the early revelation as having suffered obscuration.[65] It also has its trinity, its incarnations, and its predictions of a Messiah who shall restore the truth and establish righteousness. The Hindu traditions maintain that mankind descended from a single pair;[66] that the first estate of the race was one of innocence; that man was one of the last products of creation; that in the first ages he was upright, and consequently happy. "The beings who were thus created by Brahma are said to have been endowed with righteousness and perfect faith; they abode wherever they pleased, unchecked by any impediment; their hearts were free from guile; they were pure, made exempt from toil by observance of sacred institutes. In their sanctified minds Hari dwelt; they were filled with perfect wisdom by which they contemplated the glory of Vishnu." Hartwell has pointed out the fact that the early Hindu traditions here unite with the Scriptural account in virtually denying all those theories of evolution which trace the development of man from lower animals.[67] But compared with Christianity, its contrasts are far greater than its resemblances. First, as to the nature of God, there is an infinite difference between the cold and unconscious Brahman, slumbering for ages without thought or emotion or any moral attribute, and the God of Israel, whose power and wisdom and goodness, whose mercy and truth and tender compassion, are so constantly set forth in the Bible. The latter compares Himself to a Father who cares for his children, and who has redeemed the world by an infinite sacrifice. Even in the most popular emanation of Brahman--even in Vishnu--there is nothing of a fatherly spirit, no appeal as to children, no kindly remonstrance against sin, no moral instruction, or effort to encourage and establish character, no promise of reward, no enkindling of immortal hope. Second, there is a striking contrast in the comparative estimates which Hinduism and Christianity place upon the human soul. Unlike Buddhism, Hinduism does recognize the existence of a soul, but it is only a temporary emanation, like the moon's reflection in the water. It resembles its source as does the moon's image, but coldly and in a most unsatisfactory sense; there is no capacity for fellowship, and the end is absorption.[68] On the other hand, Christianity teaches us that we are created in God's image, but not that we _are_ his image. We are separate, though dependent, and if reunited to him through Christ we shall dwell in his presence forever. Third, the two systems are in strong contrast in the comparative hopes which they hold out for the future. The doctrine of transmigration casts a gloom over all conscious being; it presents an outlook so depressing as to make life a burden, and the acme of all possible attainment is individual extinction, or what amounts to the same thing, absorption into deity. The logic of it is that it would be better still not to have been born at all. Christianity promises an immediate transfer to a life of unalloyed blessedness, and an endless growth of all our powers and capacities; but why should Hinduism urge the cultivation of that whose real destiny is "effacement?" Hinduism finds the explanation of life's mysteries and inscrutable trials in the theory of sins committed in a previous existence. Christianity, while recognizing the same trials, relieves them with the hope of solutions in a future life of compensating joy. The one turns to that which is past, unchangeable and hopeless, and finds only sullen despair; the other anticipates an inheritance richer than eye hath seen, or ear heard, or heart conceived. Fourth, Hinduism has no Saviour and no salvation. It is not a religion in the highest sense of _rescue_ and reconciliation. It avails us of no saving power higher than our own unaided effort. It implies the ruin of sin, but provides no remedy. It presents no omnipotent arm stretched forth to save. Its fatalism places man under endless disabilities, and then bids him to escape from the nexus if he can; but it reveals no divine helper, no sacrifice, no mediator, no regenerating Spirit. It has no glad tidings to proclaim, no comfort in sorrow, no victory over the sting of death, no resurrection unto Life. Though at a period subsequent to the preaching of the Gospel in India--perhaps the seventh or eighth century A.D.--a doctrine of faith (_Bakti_) was engrafted upon Hinduism, yet it had no hint of a Saviour from sin and death.[69] Fifth, in Hinduism there is no liberty for the free action of the human spirit. Though the life of a Brahman is intensely religious, yet it is cramped with exactions which are not only abortive but positively belittling. The code of Brahmanism never deals with general principles in the regulation of conduct, but fills the whole course of life with punctilious minutiæ of observances. Instead of prescribing, as Christ did, an all-comprehensive law of supreme love to God and love to our neighbor as ourselves, it loads the mind with petty exactions, puerile precepts, inane prohibitions. "Unlike Christianity, which is all spirit and life," says Dr. Duff, "Hinduism is all letter and death." Repression takes the place of inspiration and the encouragement of hope. There are a thousand subtle principles in Hinduism whose influence is felt in society and in the state, and to which the faith and power of the Gospel present the very strongest contrasts. For example, while Christianity has raised woman to a position of respect and honor, and made her influence felt as something sacred and potential in the family and in all society, Hinduism has brought her down even from the place which she occupied among the primitive Aryans, to an ever-deepening degradation. It has made her life a burden and a curse. Pundita Ramabai, in her plea for high-caste Hindu women, quotes a prayer of a child widow in which she asks, "O Father of the world, hast Thou not created us? or has perchance some other God made us? Dost Thou only care for men? O Almighty One, hast Thou not power to make us other than we are, that we too may have some part in the blessings of life?" Even in this last decade of the nineteenth century the priesthood of Bengal are defending against all humane legislation those old customs which render the girlhood of Hindu women a living death.[70] In its broad influence Christianity has raised the once savage tribes of Europe to the highest degree of culture, and made them leaders and rulers of the world; but Hinduism has so weakened and humbled the once conquering Aryans that they have long been an easy prey to every invading race. Christianity shows in its sacred Book a manifest progress from lower to higher moral standards--from the letter to the spirit, from the former sins that were winked at to the perfect example of Christ, from the narrow exclusiveness of Judaism to the broad and all-embracing spirit of the Gospel, from prophecy to fulfilment, from types and shadows to the full light of Redemption; the sacred books of Hinduism have degenerated from the lofty aspirations of the Vedic nature-worship to the vileness of Saktism, from the noble praises of Varuna to the low sensuality of the Tantras, from Vedic conceptions of the creation, sublime as the opening of St. John's Gospel, to the myths of the divine turtle or the boar, or the escapades of the supreme and "adorable Krishna."[71] Christianity breaks down all barriers which divide and alienate mankind, and establishes a universal brotherhood in Christ; Hinduism has raised the most insurmountable barriers and developed the most inexorable social tyranny ever inflicted on the human race. The Hebrew economy also recognized a priestly class, but they were chosen from among their brethren and were only a distinct family; they made no claim to divine lineage, and they were guiltless of social tyranny. Christianity enjoins a higher and purer ethic than it has ever found in the natural moral standards of any people; it aims at perfection; it treats the least infraction as a violation of the whole law; it regards even corrupt thoughts as sins; it bids us be holy even as He is holy in whose sight the heavens are unclean. Hinduism, on the other hand, is below the ethical standard of respectable Hindu society. The better classes are compelled to apologize for it by asserting that that which is debasing in men may be sinless in the gods. The offences of Krishna and Arjuna would not be condoned in mortals; the vile orgies of the "left-handed worshippers" of Siva would not be tolerated but for their religious character. The murders committed by the Thugs in honor of Kali were winked at only because a goddess demanded them. The naked processions of Chaitanya's followers would be dispersed by the police anywhere but in India. It is the peculiar distinction of India that it has been the theatre of nearly all the great religions. Brahmanism, Buddhism, and Mohammedanism have all made trial of their social and political power and have failed. Last of all came Christianity. The systems which preceded it had had centuries of opportunity; and yet Christianity has done more for the elevation of Hindu society in the last fifty years than they had accomplished in all the ages of their dominion. Neither Buddhism nor Mohammedanism had made any serious impression on caste; neither had been able to mitigate the wrongs which Brahmanism had heaped upon woman--Mohammedanism had rather increased them. The horrors of the satti and the murder of female infants--those bitterest fruits of priestly tyranny--were left unchecked until the British Government, inspired by missionary influence and a general Christian sentiment, branded them as infamous and made them crimes. But now even the native sentiment of the better classes in India is greatly changed by these higher influences, and the conventional morality is rising above the teachings of the national religion. Widow-burning and infanticide belong almost wholly to the past. Child-marriage is coming into disrepute, and caste, though not destroyed, is crippled, and its preposterous assumptions are falling before the march of social progress. Perhaps the very highest tribute which Hinduism has paid to Christianity is seen in the fact that the modern Arya Somaj has borrowed its ethics and some of its religious doctrines, and is promulgating them under Vedic labels and upon Vedic authority.[72] It has renounced those corruptions of Hinduism which can no longer bear the light--such as enforced widowhood and the general oppression of woman. It denounces the incarnations of Vishnu as mere inventions, and therefore cuts up by the roots the whole Krishna cult and dissipates the glory of the Bhagavad Gita. It abhors polytheism, and not only proclaims the supremacy of one only true God, self-existent, the creator and upholder of all things, but it maintains that such was the teaching of the Vedas. But although this modern eclectic system adopts the whole ethical outcome of Christian civilization in India for its own purposes, it shows a most uncompromising hostility to Christianity. Though it claims to be positively theistic, it seems ready to enter into alliance with any form of atheism or agnosticism, Eastern or Western, against the spread of Christian influence in India. In speaking of the movement of revived Aryanism I assume that with the more intelligent and progressive classes of India the old Hinduism is dead. Of course, millions of men still adhere to the old corruptions. Millions in the remoter districts would retain the festival of Juggernaut, the hook-swinging, even infanticide and widow-burning, if they dared. The revolting orgies of Kali and Doorga, and the vilest forms of Siva worship, even the murderous rites of the Thugs, might be revived by the fanatical, if foreign influence were withdrawn; but, taking India as a whole, these things are coming to be discarded. The people are ashamed of them; they dare not undertake to defend them in the open day of the present civilization. All intelligent Hindus are persuaded to accept the situation, and look to the future instead of the past. The country is full of new influences which must be counted as factors. British rule is there, and is there to stay. Education has come--good, bad, and indifferent. English University training is bringing forward a host of acute thinkers of native blood. But the forces of Western infidelity are also there, grappling with Western Christianity on Indian soil, and before the eyes of the conquered and still sullen people. The vilest of English books and the worst of French novels in English translations are in the markets. All the worst phases of European commerce are exhibited. The opium monopoly, the liquor traffic, and all the means and methods of unscrupulous money-getting, with the wide-spread example of drinking habits, and unbounded luxury and extravagance. And, in opinions, the war of aggression is no longer on one side only. While the foreigner speaks and writes of superstition, of heathenism, of abominable rites now passing away, the native Hindu press is equally emphatic in its condemnation of what it calls the swinish indulgence of the Anglo-Saxon, his beer-drinking and his gluttony, his craze for money and material power, his disgust at philosophy and all intellectual aspiration, his half-savage love for the chase and the destruction of animal life. Educated Hindus throw back against the charge of idolatry our idolatry of pelf, which, as they claim, eclipses every other thought and aspiration, leads to dishonesty, over-reaching, and manifold crime, and sinks noble ethics to the low level of expediency or self-interest; the conquest is not yet won. A hundred varieties of creed have sprung up beneath this banyan-tree which I have called Hinduism. There are worshippers of Vishnu, of Siva, of Kali, of Krishna as Bacchus, and of Krishna as the supreme and adorable God. There are Sikhs, and Jains, and Buddhists; Theosophists, Vedantic Philosophers, Mohammedans, Brahmos, Parsees, Evolutionists, and Agnostics; Devil-worshippers, and worshippers of ghosts and serpents; but in considering these as forces to be met by Christian influence, we must regard them all as in virtual alliance with each other. They are all one in pride of race and of venerable custom. They are all one in their hatred of foreign dominion, and of the arrogance and overbearing assumption of the European.[73] The Hindu religions, therefore, however divided, and however weak and moribund they may be taken singly, find a real vitality in the union of common interests, in the sentiments of patriotism, in the pride of their philosophy, in the glory of their ancient history as the true and original Aryans, compared with whom Western nations are mere offshoots. Their religious faith is mixed and involved with patriotism, politics, and race prejudice, and on the other hand Christianity in India is handicapped by political and commercial interest and a hated domination. On both sides these combined influences must be considered in estimating the future issues of the great conflict. The question is not how Christianity and Hinduism would fare in a conflict pure and simple, unembarrassed by complications, but how Christianity with its drawbacks is likely to succeed against Hinduism with its manifold intrenchments. But, while weighing well the obstacles, how great are the encouragements! What an auspicious fact that even a hostile organization has appropriated the Christian cultus bodily, and can find no better weapons than its blessed truths. Christianity is felt as a silent power, even though under other names. It is, after all, the leaven that is working all-powerfully in India to-day. There was a period in the process of creation when light beamed dimly upon the earth, though the sun, its source, had not yet appeared. So through the present Hinduism there is a haze of Christian truth, though the Sun of Righteousness is not yet acknowledged as its source. But the Spirit of God broods over the waters, and the true Light of the world will break on India. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 34: The fact that environment has to a certain extent affected the religions of mankind is entirely overworked, when men like Buckle make it formative and controlling.] [Footnote 35: Instead of the later and universal pessimism, there was in the Vedic religion a simple but joyous sense of life.] [Footnote 36: _Hinduism_, p. 31.] [Footnote 37: _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i., p. 15.] [Footnote 38: _Aryan Witness_, p. 204; also _Hinduism_, p. 36.] [Footnote 39: Ibid., p. 37.] [Footnote 40: A son of Hariscandra. _Hinduism_, p. 37.] [Footnote 41: This is in strong contrast with the Old Testament precepts, which everywhere had greater respect to the heart of the offerer than to the gifts.] [Footnote 42: The Brahmans had found certain grades of population marked by color lines, shaded off from the negroid aborigines to the Dravidians, and from them to the more recent and nobler Aryans, and they were prompt also to seize upon a mere poetic and fanciful expression found in the Rig Veda, which seemed to give countenance to their fourfold caste distinction by representing one class as having sprung from the head of Brahma, another from the shoulders, the third from his thighs, and a fourth from his feet. Altogether they founded a social system which has been the wonder of the ages, and which has given to the _Brahmans_ the prestige of celestial descent. The _Kshatreych_ or soldier caste stands next, and as it has furnished many military leaders and monarchs who disputed the arrogant claims of the Brahmans, conflicts of the upper castes have not been infrequent. The _Vaishya_, or farmer caste, has furnished the principal groundwork of many admixtures and subdivisions, until at the present time there are endless subcastes, to each of which a particular kind of employment is assigned. The _Sudras_ are still the menials, but there are different grades of degradation even among them.] [Footnote 43: _Hindu Philosophy_, Bose, p. 47.] [Footnote 44: _Indian Wisdom_ on the Brahmanas and Upanishads. Also _Hindu Philosophy_, Bose.] [Footnote 45: _Colebrook's Essays_, foot-note, p. 85.] [Footnote 46: See _Introduction to the Sacred Books of the East_, vol. i.] [Footnote 47: Vaiseshika Philosophy, in _Indian Wisdom_.] [Footnote 48: Mimansa Philosophy. Ibid.] [Footnote 49: Sir Monier Williams assigns the Code of Manu _in its present form_ to the sixth century B.C. _Indian Wisdom_, p. 215. Other Oriental scholars consider it older.] [Footnote 50: These tendencies were more intensely emphasized in some of the later codes, which, however, were only variations of the greater one of Manu.] [Footnote 51: See p. 82.] [Footnote 52: Quoted on p. 76.] [Footnote 53: See note, p. 80.] [Footnote 54: Sir Monier Williams declares that some of Mann's precepts are worthy of Christianity. _Indian Wisdom_, p. 212.] [Footnote 55: It should be set down to the credit of the Code of Manu that with all its relentless cruelty toward woman it nowhere gives countenance to the atrocious custom of widow-burning which soon afterward became an important factor in the Hindu system and desolated the homes of India for more than two thousand years. There would seem to be some dispute as to whether or not widow-burning is sanctioned in the Rig Veda. Colebrooke, in his _Essays_ (Vol. I., p, 135), quotes one or two passages which authorize the rite, but Sir Monier Williams (_Indian Wisdom_, p. 259, note) has shown that changes were made in this text at a much later day for the purpose of gaining Vedic authority for a cruel system, of which even so late a work as the Code of Manu makes no mention, and (page 205 Ibid.) he quotes another passage from the Rig Veda which directs a widow to ascend the pyre of her husband as a token of attachment, but to leave it before the burning is begun.] [Footnote 56: As the spread of Buddhism had owed much to the political triumph of King Ashoka, so the revival of Hinduism was greatly indebted to the influence of a new dynasty about a century B.C.] [Footnote 57: _Indian Wisdom_, p. 314.] [Footnote 58: Ibid., p. 317.] [Footnote 59: Brahmanism and Hinduism are often used interchangeably, but all confusion will be avoided by confining the former to that intense sacerdotalism which prevailed during the Brahmana period, while the latter is used more comprehensively, or is referred particularly to the later and fully developed system.] [Footnote 60: _Hinduism_, pp. 12, 13.] [Footnote 61: The Brahmans were careful, however, to brand the Buddha, while admitting him as an avatar. Their theory was that Vishnu appeared in Gautama for the purpose of deluding certain demons into despising the worship of the gods, and thus securing their destruction. This affords an incidental proof that Gautama was regarded as an atheist.--See _Indian Wisdom_, p. 335.] [Footnote 62: See _Aryan Witness_, closing chapter; also _Christ and Other Masters_, p. 198, notes 1, 2, and 3.] [Footnote 63: See _Brahmanism and Hinduism_, Monier Williams.] [Footnote 64: Hardwick traces similarities between Hindu traditions and Christianity in such points as these: 1, The primitive state of man; 2, his fall by transgression; 3, his punishment in the Deluge; 4, the rite of sacrifice; 5, the primitive hope of restoration.--_Christ and Other Masters_, p. 209.] [Footnote 65: The Hindus hold that "truth was originally deposited with men, but gradually slumbered and was forgotten; the knowledge of it returns like a recollection."--_Humboldt's Kosmos_, ii., p. 112.] [Footnote 66: _Professor Wilson's Lectures_, p. 52.] [Footnote 67: _Vishnu Puranas_, p. 45, note 4.] [Footnote 68: Buddhism is still more disheartening, since it denies the separate conscious existence of the ego. There cannot be divine fellowship, therefore, but only the current of thoughts and emotions like the continuous flame of a burning candle. Not our souls will survive, but our Karma.] [Footnote 69: _Christ and Other Masters_, p. 182.] [Footnote 70: Yet in spite of Manu and the inveteracy of old custom, there gleams here and there in Hindu literature and history a bright ideal of woman's character and rank; while the _Ramayana_ has its model Sita, the _Mahabharata_, i., 3028, has this peerless sketch: "A wife is half the man, his truest friend; A loving wife is a perpetual spring Of virtue, pleasure, wealth; a faithful wife Is his best aid in seeking heavenly bliss; A sweetly-speaking wife is a companion In solitude; a father in advice; A mother in all seasons of distress; A rest in passing through life's wilderness." This, however, is a pathetic outburst: the tyranny of the ages remains.] [Footnote 71: Even in the later development of the doctrine of faith (Bakti) Hinduism fails to connect with it any moral purification or elevation. See quotations from Elphinstone and Wilson in _Christ and Other Masters_, p. 234.] [Footnote 72: See a recent _Catechism_ published by the Arya Somaj.] [Footnote 73: The following hymn, quoted from the Arya _Catechism_, reveals the proud spirit of revived Aryanism: "We are the sons of brave Aryas of yore, Those sages in learning, those heroes in war. They were the lights of great nations before, And shone in that darkness like morning's bright star, A beacon of warning, a herald from far. Have we forgotten our Rama and Arjun, Yudistar or Bishma or Drona the Wise? Are not we sons of the mighty Duryodani? Where did Shankar and great Dayananda arise? 'In India, in India!' the echo replies. Ours the glory of giving the world Its science, religion, its poetry and art. We were the first of the men who unfurled The banner of freedom on earth's every part, Brought tidings of peace and of love to each heart."] LECTURE IV. THE BHAGAVAD GITA AND THE NEW TESTAMENT No other portion of Hindu literature has made so great an impression on Western minds as the Bhagavad Gita, "The Lord's Lay," or the "Song of the Adorable." It has derived its special importance from its supposed resemblance to the New Testament. And as it claims to be much older than the oldest of the Gospels or the Epistles, it carries the inference that the latter may have borrowed something from it. A plausible translation has been published in Boston by Mr. Mohini M. Chatterji, who devoutly believes this to be the revealed word of the Supreme Creator and Upholder of the universe.[74] He admits that at a later day "the same God, worshipped alike by Hindus and Christians, appeared again in the person of Jesus Christ," and that "in the Bible He revealed Himself to Western nations, as the Bhagavad Gita had proclaimed Him to the people of the East." And he draws the inference that "If the Scriptures of the Brahmans and the Scriptures of the Jews and Christians, widely separated as they are by age and nationality, are but different names for one and the same truth, who can then say that the Scriptures contradict each other? A careful and reverent collation of the two sets of Scriptures will show forth the conscious and intelligent design of revelation." The fact that the Bhagavad Gita is thoroughly pantheistic, while the Bible emphasizes the personality of God in fellowship with the distinct personality of human souls, seems to interpose no serious difficulty in Mr. Chatterji's view, since he says "'The Lord's Lay' is for philosophic minds, and therefore deals more at length with the mysteries of the being of God." "In the Bhagavad Gita," he says, "consisting of seven hundred and seventy verses, the principal topic is the being of God, while scarcely the same amount of exposition is given to it in the whole Bible;" and he adds, "The explanation of this remarkable fact is found in the difference between the genius of the Hebrew and the Brahman race, and also in the fact that the teachings of Jesus Christ were addressed to 'the common people.'"[75] The air of intellectual superiority which is couched in these words is conspicuous. Mr. Chatterji also finds an inner satisfaction in what he considers the broad charity of the Brahmanical Scriptures. He quotes a passage from the Narada Pancharata which speaks of the Buddha as "the preserver of revelation for those outside of the Vedic authority." And he concludes that when one such revealer is admitted there can be no reason for excluding others; therefore Christianity also should be allowed a place. He declares on Vedic authority that whosoever receives the true knowledge of God, however revealed, attains eternal life. And for a parallel to this he quotes the saying of Christ, that "this is eternal life that they might know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." "The Brahmanical Scriptures," he says, "are of one accord in teaching that when the heart is purified God is seen; so also Jesus Christ declares that the pure in heart are blessed, for they shall see God." Our translator discards the often-repeated theory that the Christian Scriptures have copied the wise sayings of Krishna; and it is very significant that an argument to which superficial apologists constantly resort is discarded by this real Hindu, as he supports the theory that as both were direct revelations from Vishnu, there was in his view no need of borrowing. His contention is that God, who "at sundry times and in divers manners" has spoken to men in different ages, made known his truth, and essentially the same truth, both on the plains of India and in Judea. And he reminds Hindus and Christians alike, that this knowledge of truth carries with itself an increased responsibility. He says: "The man who sees the wonderful workings of the Spirit among the nations of the earth, bringing each people to God by ways unknown to others, is thereby charged with a duty. To him with terrible precision applies the warning given by Gamaliel to the Pharisees, 'Take heed to yourselves what ye intend to do ... lest ye be found to fight even against God.' If one be a Brahman, let him reflect when opposing the religion of Jesus what it is that he fights. The truths of Christianity are the same as those on which his own salvation depends. How can he be a lover of truth, which is God, if he knows not his beloved under such a disguise? And if he penetrates behind the veil, which should tend only to increase the ardor of his love, he cannot hate those who in obedience to the same truth are preaching the Gospel of Christ to all nations. Indeed he ought to rejoice at his brothers' devotion to the self-same God, and to see that he is rendering service to Him by helping others to carry out the behests given to them by the Divine Master. If, on the other hand, he be a Christian, let him remember that while he is commanded to preach repentance and remission of sins in the Saviour Jesus, he is also warned against 'teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.'" All this seems like charity, but really it is laxity. And here is the very essence of Hinduism. Its chief characteristic, that which renders it so hard to combat, is its easy indifference to all distinctions. To reason with it is like grasping a jelly-fish. Its pantheism, which embraces all things, covers all sides of all questions. It sees no difficulties even between things which are morally opposites. Contradictions are not obstacles, and both sides of a dilemma may be harmonized. And to a great extent this same vagueness of conviction characterizes all the heathen systems of the East. The Buddhists and the Shintoists in Japan justify their easy-going partnership by the favorite maxim that, while "there are many paths by which men climb the sides of Fusyama, yet upon reaching the summit they all behold the same glorious moon." The question whether all do in fact reach the summit is one which does not occur to an Oriental to ask. This same pantheistic charity is seen in the well-known appeal of the late Chunder Sen, which as an illustration is worth repeating here: "Cheshub Chunder Sen, servant of God, called to be an apostle of the Church of the New Dispensation, which is in the holy city of Calcutta; to all the great nations of the world and to the chief religious sects in the East and West, to the followers of Moses and of Jesus, of Buddha, Confucius, Zoroaster, Mohammed, Nanak, and of the various Hindu sects; grace be to you and peace everlasting. Whereas sects, discords, and strange schisms prevail in our father's family; and whereas this setting of brother against brother has proved the prolific source of evil, it has pleased God to send into the world a message of peace and reconciliation. This New Dispensation He has vouchsafed to us in the East, and we have been commanded to bear witness to the nations of the earth ... Thus saith the Lord: 'I abominate sects and desire love and concord ... I have at sundry times spoken through my prophets and my many dispensations. There is unity. There is one music but many instruments, one body but many members, one spirit but many gifts, one blood but many nations, one Church but many churches. Let Asia and Europe and America and all nations prove this New Dispensation and the true fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of men.'" This remarkable production--so Pauline in style and so far from Paul in doctrine--seems to possess everything except definite and robust conviction. And its limp philosophy was not sufficient to withhold even Chunder Sen himself from the abandonment of his principles not long afterward. This sweet perfume of false charity, with which he thus gently sprayed the sects and nations of mankind, lost its flavor ere the ink of his message was fairly dry; while he who in similar language announced his call to an Apostleship eighteen centuries ago, is still turning the world upside down. "Charity" is the watchword of indifferentism in the West as well as in the East; and the East and the West are joining hands in their effort to soothe the world into slumber with all its sins and woes unhealed. Some months ago an advanced Unitarian from Boston delivered a farewell address to the Buddhists of Japan, in which he presented three great Unitarians of New England--Channing, Emerson, and Parker--in a sort of transfiguration of gentleness and charity. He maintained that the lives of these men had been an unconscious prophecy of that mild and gentle Buddhism which he had found in Japan, but of which they had died without the sight.[76] Thus the transcendentalism of New England joins hands with the Buddhism and the Shintoism of Japan, and the Brahmanism of Calcutta, and all are in accord with Mr. Chatterji and the Bhagavad Gita. Even the Theosophists profess their sympathy with the Sermon on the Mount, and claim Christ as an earlier prophet. The one refrain of all is "Charity." All great teachers are avatars of Vishnu. The globe is belted with this multiform indifferentism, and I am sorry to say that it is largely the gospel of the current literature and of the daily press. In it all there is no Saviour and no salvation. Religions are all ethnic and local, while the _ignis fatuus_ of a mystic pantheism pervades the world. Mr. Chatterji's preface closes with a prayer to the "merciful Father of humanity to remove from all races of men every unbrotherly feeling in the sacred name of religion, which is but one." The prayer were touching and beautiful on the assumption that there were no differences between truth and error. And there are thousands, even among us, who are asking, "Why may not Christians respond to this broad charity, and admit this Hindu eclectic poem to an equal place with the New Testament?" More or less indifferent to all religions, and failing to understand the real principles on which they severally rest, they are ready to applaud a challenge like that which we are considering, and to contrast it with the alleged narrowness and intolerance of Christian Theism. I have dwelt thus at length upon Mr. Chatterji's introduction, and have illustrated it by references to similar specious claims of other faiths, in order that I might bring into clearer view the main issue which this book now presents to the American public. It is the softest, sweetest voice yet given to that gospel of false charity which is the fashion of our times. Emerson and others caught it from afar and discoursed to a generation now mostly gone of the gentle maxims of Confucius, Krishna, and Gautama. But now Krishna is among us in the person of his most devout apostle, and a strange hand of fellowship is stretched out toward us from the land of the Vedas. It behooves us to inquire, first, into the pantheistic philosophy which underlies these sayings, and to ask for their meaning as applied in real life; and second, we shall need to know something of Krishna, and whether he speaks as one having authority. It should be borne in mind that pantheism sacrifices nothing whatever by embracing all religions, since even false religions are a worship of Vishnu in their way, while Christianity by its very nature would sacrifice everything. According to pantheism all things that exist, and all events that transpire, are expressions of the Divine will. The one only existent Being embraces all causes and all effects, all truth and all falsehood. He is no more the source of good than of evil. "I am immortality," says Krishna. "I am also death." Man with all his thoughts and acts is but the shadow of God, and moves as he is moved upon. Arjuna's divine counsellor says to him: "The soul, existing from eternity, devoid of qualities, imperishable, abiding in the body, yet supreme, acts not nor is by any act polluted. He who perceives that actions are performed by Prakriti alone, and that the soul is not an actor, sees the truth aright." Now, if this reasoning be correct, it is not we that sin; not we that worship; and in the last analysis all religions are alike; they are only the varied expressions of the thought of God. As He manifests his power in nature in a thousand forms, producing some objects that are beautiful to the eye and others that are repulsive, so in his spiritual manifestations He displays a like variety. The ignorance and degradation of fetichism are His, as well as the highest revelations of spiritual truth. A certain class of evolutionists tell us that God contrived the serpent's poison-fang and the mother's tender instinct with "the same creative indifference." And the broad pantheism which overrides the distinctions of eternal right and wrong, and divests God of all moral discriminations, puts Vedantism and Fetichism, Christianity and Witchcraft, upon the same basis. The Bhagavad Gita and the Gospel both enjoin the brotherhood of men, but what are the meanings which they give to this term? What are their aims, respectively? One is endeavoring to enforce the rigid and insurmountable barriers of caste; the other commends a mission of love which shall regard neither Jew nor Greek, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free. It will become apparent, I think, that there may be parallels or similarities which relate to mere phrases while their meanings are wide apart. Judging from Mr. Chatterji's own stand-point, his work has been well done. He has shown a careful study not only of his own literatures and philosophies, but also of the scriptures of the Old and New Testament--in this respect setting us an example worthy to be followed by Christian scholars. Such a man has in the outset an immense advantage over those who know nothing of the enemies' positions, but regard them only with disdain. Before the high court of public opinion, as represented by our current literature, mere ex-parte assumption will go to the wall, even though it has the better cause, while adroit error, intelligently put and courteously commended, will win the day. This is a lesson which the Christian Church greatly needs to learn. Mr. Chatterji's work is the more formidable for its charming graces of style. He has that same facility and elegance in the use of the English language for which so many of his countrymen, Sheshadri, Bose, Banergea, Chunder Sen, Mozoomdar, and others have been distinguished. He is a model of courtesy, and he seems sincere. But turning from the translator to the book itself, we shall now inquire who was Krishna, Arjuna's friend, what was the origin of the "Lord's Lay," and what are its real merits as compared with the New Testament? Krishna and Arjuna--like Rama Chandra--were real human heroes who distinguished themselves in the wars of the Indo-Aryans with rival tribes who contested the dominion of Northern India. They did not live three thousand years before Christ, as our translator declares, for they belonged to the soldier caste, and according to the consensus of Oriental scholarship the system of caste did not exist till about the beginning of the Brahmanic period--say eight hundred years before Christ. Krishna was born in the Punjab, near Merut, and it was near there that his chief exploits were performed. The legends represent him as a genial but a reckless forester, brave on the battle-field, but leading a life of low indulgence. The secret of his power lay in his sympathy. His worship, even as a heroic demi-god, brought a new and welcome element into Hinduism as contrasted with the remorselessness of Siva or the cold indifference of Brahma. It was the dawn of a doctrine of faith, and in this character it was probably of later date than the rise of Buddhism. Indeed, the Brahmans learned this lesson of the value of Divine sympathy from the Buddha. The supernatural element ascribed to Krishna, as well as to Rama, was a growth, and had its origin in the jealousy of the Brahmans toward the warrior caste. His exaltation as the Supreme was an after-thought of the inventive Brahmans. As stated in a former lecture, these heroes had acquired great renown; and their exploits were the glory and delight of the dazzled populace. In raising them to the rank of deities, and as such appropriating them as kindred to the divine Brahmans, the shrewd priesthood saved the prestige of their caste and aggrandized their system by a fully developed doctrine of incarnations. Thus, by a growth of centuries, the Krishna cult finally crowned the Hindu system. The Mahabharata, in which the Bhagavad Gita was incorporated by some author whose name is unknown, is an immense literary mosaic of two hundred and twenty thousand lines. It is heterogeneous, grotesque, inconsistent, and often contradictory--qualities which are scarcely considered blemishes in Hindu literature. The Bhagavad Gita was incorporated as a part of this great epic probably as late as the second or third century of our era, and by that time Krishna had come to be regarded as divine, though his full and extravagant deification as the "Adorable One" probably did not appear till the author of "Narada Pancharata" of the eighth century had added whatever he thought the original author should have said five centuries before. As it now stands the poem very cleverly weaves into one fabric many lofty aphorisms borrowed from the Upanishads and the later philosophic schools, upon the groundwork of a popular story of which Arjuna is the hero. Arjuna and his four brothers are about to engage in a great battle with their cousins for the possession of an hereditary throne. The divine Krishna, once himself a hero, becomes Arjuna's charioteer, that in that capacity he may act as his counsellor. As the battle array is formed, Arjuna is seized with misgivings at the thought of slaughtering his kindred for the glory of a sceptre. "I cannot--will not fight," he says; "I seek not victory, I seek no kingdom; what shall we do with regal pomp and power? what with enjoyments, or with life itself, when we have slaughtered all our kindred here?" Krishna then enters upon a long discourse upon the duties of caste and the indwelling of the Infinite, showing that the soul, which is a part of deity, cannot be slain though the body may be hewn to pieces. "The wise," he says, "grieve not for the departed nor for those who yet survive. Never was the time when I was not, nor thou, nor yonder chiefs, and never shall be the time when all of us shall not be. As the embodied soul in this corporeal frame moves swiftly on through boyhood, youth, and age, so will it pass through other forms hereafter; be not grieved thereat.... As men abandon old and threadbare clothes to put on others new, so casts the embodied soul its worn-out frame to enter other forms. No dart can pierce it; flame cannot consume it, water wet it not, nor scorching breezes dry it--indestructible, eternal, all-pervading, deathless."[77] It may seem absurd to Western minds that a long discourse, which constitutes a volume of intricate pantheistic philosophy, should be given to a great commander just at the moment when he is planning his attack and is absorbed with the most momentous responsibilities; it seems to us strangely inconsistent also to expatiate elaborately upon the merits of the Yoga philosophy, with its asceticism and its holy torpor, when the real aim is to arouse the soul to ardor for the hour of battle. But these infelicities are no obstacle to the Hindu mind, and the consistency of the plot is entirely secondary to the doctrine of caste and of philosophy which the author makes Krishna proclaim. Gentle as many of its precepts are, the Bhagavad Gita, or the "Lord's Lay," is a battle-song uttered by the Supreme Being while the contending hosts awaited the signal for fratricidal carnage. The grotesqueness which characterizes all Hindu literature is not wanting in this story of Krishna and Arjuna, as given in the great poem of which the Bhagavad Gita forms a part. The five sons of Pandu are representatives of the principle of righteousness, while the hundred brothers of the rival branch are embodiments of evil. Yet, when the victory had been gained and the sceptre was given to the sons of Pandu, they despised it and courted death, though the "Adorable One" had urged them on to strife. Bishma, the leader of the hostile force, in a personal encounter with Arjuna, had been filled so full of darts that he could neither stand nor lie down. Every part of his body was bristling with arrows, and for fifty-eight days he lingered, leaning on their sharp points. Meanwhile the eldest of the victors, finding his throne only a "delusion and a snare," and being filled with remorse, was urged by Krishna to visit his unfortunate adversary and receive instruction and comfort. Bishma, lying upon his bed of spikes, edified him with a series of long and tedious discourses on pantheistic philosophy, after which he asked the tender-hearted Krishna for permission to depart. He is no longer the embodiment of evil: the cruel arrows with which the ideal of goodness had pierced him fall away, the top of his head opens, and his spirit soars to heaven shining like a meteor. How strange a reversal is here! How strange that he who had been the representative of all evil should have been transformed by his suffering, and should have been made to instruct and comfort the man of success. Mr. Chatterji falls into a fatal inconsistency when, in spite of his assumption that this poem is the very word of Krishna spoken at a particular time, in a particular place, he informs us that "all Indian authorities agree in pronouncing it to be the essence of all sacred writings. They call it an Upanishad--a term applied to the wisdom, as distinguished from the ceremonial, part of the Vedas, and to no book less sacred." More accurately he might have said that it is a compend of all Hindu literatures, the traditional as well as the inspired, and with a much larger share of the former than of the latter. Pantheism, which is its quintessence, did not exist in the early Vedic times. Krishna was not known as a god even in the period of the Buddha.[78] And the Epics, which are so largely drawn upon, are later still. And it is upon the basis of the Epics, and the still later Puranas, that the common people of India still worship him as the god of good-fellowship and of lust. The masses longed for a god of human sympathies, even though he were a Bacchus. In the Bhagavad Gita as we now have it, with its many changes, Krishna has become the supreme God, though according to Lassen his actual worship as such was not rendered earlier than the sixth century; and Professor Banergea claims that it "was not at its zenith till the eighth century, and that it then borrowed much from Christian, or at least Hebrew, sources." Webber and Lorinser have maintained a similar view. Krishna as the Supreme and Adorable One has never found favor except with the pantheists, and to this day the worship of the real Krishna as a Bacchus is the most popular of all Hindu festivals, and naturally it is the most demoralizing. We are now prepared to assume that the pantheistic groundwork of the poem on the one hand, and its borrowed Christian conceptions and Christian nomenclature on the other, will explain its principal alleged parallels with the New Testament. With his great familiarity with our Bible, and his rare ability in adjusting shades of thought and expression, Mr. Chatterji has presented no less than two hundred and fourteen passages which he matches with texts from the Bible. Many of these are so adroitly worded that one not familiar with the peculiarities of Hindu philosophy might be stumbled by the comparisons. Mr. R.C. Bose tells us that this poem has wrought much evil among the foreign population of India; and in this country there are thousands of even cultivated people with whom this new translation will have great influence. Men with unsettled minds who have turned away with contempt from the crudities of spiritualism, who are disgusted with the rough assailments of Ingersoll, and who find only homesickness and desolation on the bleak and wintry moor of agnostic science, may yet be attracted by a book which is so elevated and often sublime in its philosophy, and so chaste in its ethical precepts, and which, like Christianity, has bridged the awful chasm between unapproachable deity and our human conditions and wants by giving to the world a God-man. If the original author and the various expositors of the Bhagavad Gita have not borrowed from the Christian revelation, they have rendered an undesigned tribute to the great Christian doctrine of a divine and human mediator: they have given striking evidence of a felt want in all humanity of a _God with men_. If it was a deeply conscious want of the human heart which led the heathen of distant India to grope their way from the cheerless service of remorseless deities to one who could be touched with a feeling of their infirmities, and could walk these earthly paths as a counsellor by their side, how striking is the analogy to essential Christian truth! Let us examine some of the alleged parallels. They may be divided into three classes: 1. Those which are merely fanciful. Nine-tenths of the whole number are of this class. They are such as would never occur to a Hindu on hearing the gospel truth. Only one who had examined the two records in the keen search for parallels, and whose wish had been the father of his thought, would have seen any resemblance. I shall not occupy much time with these. 2. Those resemblances which are only accidental. It may be an accident of similar circumstances or similar causes; it may be a chance resemblance in the words employed, while there is no resemblance in the thoughts expressed. 3. Those coincidences which spring from natural causes. For an example of these, the closing chapter of the Apocalypse speaks of Christ as "the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End." It is a natural expression to indicate his supreme power and glory as Creator and final Judge of all things. In a similar manner Krishna is made to say, "I am Beginning, Middle, End, Eternal Time, the Birth and the Death of all. I am the symbol A among the characters. I have created all things out of one portion of myself." There are two meanings in Krishna's words. He is in all things pantheistically, and he is the first and best of all things. In the tenth chapter he names with great particularity sixty-six classes of things in which he is always the first: the first of elephants, horses, trees, kings, heroes, etc. "Among letters I am the vowel A." "Among seasons I am spring." "Of the deceitful I am the dice." The late Dr. Mullens calls attention to the fact that the Orphic Hymns declare "Zeus to be the first and Zeus the last. Zeus is the head and Zeus the centre." In these three similar forms of description one common principle of supremacy rules. The difference is that in the Christian revelation and in the Orphic Hymns there is dignity, while in Krishna's discourse there is frivolous and vulgar particularity. Let us notice a few examples of the alleged parallels more particularly. In Chapter IX. Krishna says: "Whatever thou doest, whatever thou eatest, whatever thou offerest in sacrifice, etc., commit that to me." This is compared with 1 Corinthians x. 31: "Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." Also to Colossians x. 17: "Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus." Even if there were no pantheistic differential at the foundation of these utterances, it would not be at all strange if exhortations to an all-embracing devotion should thus in each case be made to cover all the daily acts of life. But aside from this there is a wide difference in the fundamental ideas which these passages express. Paul's thought is that of loving devotion to an infinite Friend and Saviour; it is such an offering of loyalty and love as one conscious being can make to another and a higher. But Krishna identifies the giver with the receiver, and Arjuna is taught to regard the gift itself as an act of God. The phrase "commit that to me" is equivalent to "ascribe that to me." In the context we read: "Of those men, who thinking of me in identity (with themselves), worship me, for them always resting in me, I bear the burden of acquisition and preservation of possessions. Even those the devotees of other gods, who worship in faith, they worship me in ignorance." In other words, the worshipper is to make no difference between himself and the Infinite. He is to refer all his daily acts to the Infinite as the real actor, his own personal ego being ignored. This is not Paul's idea; it is the very reverse of it. It could give comfort only to the evil-doer who desired to shift his personal responsibility. Let us consider another alleged resemblance. In the fifth chapter Krishna declares that whoever knows him "attains rest." This is presented as a parallel to the words in Christ's prayer: "This is life eternal that they might know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." In both passages the knowledge of God is made the chief blessing to be sought, but in the one case knowledge means only a recognition of the Infinite Ego as existing in one's personal ego: it is a mere acceptance of that philosophic theory of life. Thus one of the Upanishads declares that "whoever sees all things in God, and God in all things, sees the truth aright;" his philosophy is correct. On the other hand, what Christ meant was not the recognition of a pantheistic theory, but a real heart-knowledge of the Father's character, a loving experience of his divine mercy, his fatherly love, his ineffable glory. The one was cold philosophy, the other was experience, fellowship, gratitude, filial love. What pantheism taught was that God cannot be known practically--that He is without limitations or conditions that we can distinguish Him from our finiteness only by divesting our conception of Him of all that we are wont to predicate of ourselves. He is subject to no such limitations as good or evil. In Chapter IX., Krishna says: "As air existing in space goes everywhere and is unlimited, so are all things in me.... I am the Vedic rite, I am the sacrifice, I am food, I am sacred formula, I am immortality, I am also death; also the latent cause and the manifest effect." To know the God of the Bhagavad Gita is to know that he cannot be known. "God is infinite in attributes," says Mr. Chatterji, "and yet devoid of attributes. This is the God whom the Bhagavad Gita proclaims." By a similar contradiction the more the devout worshipper knows of God the less he knows, because the process of knowledge is a process of "effacement;" the closer the gradual union becomes the fainter is the self-personality, till at length it fades away entirely, and is merged and lost as a drop in the illimitable sea. This is the so-called "rest" which Krishna promises as the reward of knowing him. It is rest in the sense of extinction; it is death; while that which Christ promises is eternal Life with unending and rapturous activity, with ever-growing powers of fellowship and of love. Take another alleged parallel. Chapter VI. commends the man who has reached such a measure of indifference that "his heart is _even_ in regard to friends and to foes, to the righteous and to evil-doers;" and this is held up as a parallel to the Sermon on the Mount, which commends love to enemies that we may be children of the heavenly Father who sendeth rain upon the just and upon the unjust. In the one case the apathy of the ascetic, the extinction of susceptibility, the ignoring of moral distinctions, the crippling and deadening of our noblest powers; in the other the use of these powers in all ways of beneficence toward those who injure us, even as God, though his heart is by no means "even" as between the righteous and the wicked, stills shows kindness to both. Now, in view of the great plausibility of the parallels which are thus presented to the public--parallels whose subtle fallacy the mass of readers are almost sure to overlook--one can hardly exaggerate the importance of thoroughly sifting the philosophy that underlies them, and especially on the part of those who are, or are to become, the defenders of the truth.[79] But turning from particular parallels to a broader comparison, there is a general use of expressions in the New Testament in regard to which every Christian teacher should aim at clear views and careful discriminations; for example, when we are said to be "temples of the Holy Ghost," or when Christ is said to be "formed in us the hope of glory," or it is "no longer we that live, but Christ that liveth in us." It cannot be denied that defenders of the Bhagavad Gita, and of the whole Indo-pantheistic philosophy, might make out a somewhat plausible case along these lines. I recall an instance in which an honored pastor had made such extravagant use of these New Testament expressions that some of his co-presbyters raised the question of a trial for pantheism. But it is one thing to employ strong terms of devotional feeling, as is often done, especially in prayer, and quite another to frame theories and philosophies, and present them as accurate statements of truth. The New Testament nowhere speaks of the indwelling Spirit in such a sense as implies an obliteration or absorption of the conscious individual ego, while "effacement" instead of fellowship is a favorite expression in the Bhagavad Gita. Paul in his most ecstatic language never gives any hint of extinction, but, on the contrary, he magnifies the conception of a separate, conscious, ever-growing personality, living and rejoicing in Divine fellowship for evermore. In the New Testament the expressions of our union with Christ are often reversed: instead of speaking of Christ as abiding in the hearts and lives of his people, they are sometimes said to abide in Him, and that not in the sense of absorption. Paul speaks of the "saints in Christ," of his own "bonds in Christ," of being "baptized in Christ," of becoming "a new creature in Christ," of true Christians as being one body in Christ, of their lives being "hid with Christ in God." Believers are spoken of as being "buried with Christ," "dead with Christ." Every form of expression is used to represent fellowship, intimacy, spiritual union with Him, but always in a rational and practical sense, and with full implication of our distinct and separate personality. The essential hope of the Gospel is that those who believe in Christ shall never die, that even their mortal bodies shall be raised in his image, and that they shall be like Him and shall abide in his presence. On the other hand, "The essence of this pantheistic system," says Mr. Chatterji, "is the denial of real existence to the individual spirit, and the insistance upon its true identity with God" (Chapter IV.). It only remains to be said that, whatever may be the similarities of expression between this Bible of pantheism and that of Christianity, however they may agree in the utterance of worthy ethical maxims, that which most broadly differentiates the Christian faith from Hindu philosophy is the salient presentation of great fundamental truths which are found in the Word of God alone. 1. The doctrine that God in Christ is "made sin" for the redemption of sinful man--that He is "the end of the law for righteousness" for them that believe; this is indeed Divine help: this is salvation. Divinity does not here become the mere charioteer of human effort, for the purpose of coaching it in the duties of caste and prompting it to fight out its destiny by its own valor. Christ is our expiation, takes our place, for our sakes becomes poor that we through his poverty may become rich. What a boon to all fakirs and merit-makers of the world if they could feel that that law of righteousness which they are striving to work out by mortifications and self-tortures had been achieved for them by the Son of God, and that salvation is a free gift! This is something that can be apprehended alike by the philosopher and by the unlettered masses of men. 2. Another great truth found in our Scriptures is that the pathway by which the human soul returns to God is not the way of knowledge in the sense of philosophy, but the way of intelligent confidence and loving trust. "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made." Man by wisdom has never known God. This has been the vain effort of Hindu speculation for ages. The author of the Nyaya philosophy assumed that all evil springs from misapprehension, and that the remedy is to be found in correct methods of investigation, guided by skilfully arranged syllogisms. This has been in all ages the chief characteristic of speculative Hinduism. And the Bhagavad Gita furnishes one of its very best illustrations. Of its eighteen chapters, fifteen are devoted to "Eight Knowledge." And by knowledge is meant abstract speculation. It is a reaching after oneness with the deity by introspection and metaphysical analysis. "Even if thou wert the greatest evil-doer among all the unrighteous," says Krishna, "thou shalt cross over all sins even by the ark of knowledge." "Oh, Arjuna, as blazing fire reduces fuel to ashes, so the fire of knowledge turns all action into ashes." But in the first place a knowledge of the infinite within us is unattainable, and in the second place it could not avail us even if attainable. It is not practical knowledge; it is not a belief unto righteousness. Faith is not an act of the brain merely, but of the whole moral nature. The wisdom of self must be laid aside, self-righteousness cast into the dust, the pride and rebellion of the will surrendered, and the whole man become as a little child. This is the way of knowledge that can be made experimental; this is the knowledge that is unto eternal life. 3. Another great differential of the New Testament is found in its true doctrine of divine co-operation with the human will. Our personality is not destroyed that the absolute may take its place, but the two act together. "For men of renunciation," says the Bhagavad Gita, "whose hearts are at rest from desire and anger, and knowing the only self, there is on both sides of death effacement (of the individual) in the supreme spirit." In such a person, therefore, even on this side of death, there is a cessation of the individual in the supreme. Over against this the Gospel presents the doctrine of co-operative grace, which instead of crippling our human energies arouses them to their highest and best exertion. "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." The divine acts with and through the human, but does not destroy it. It imparts the greatest encouragement, the truest inspiration. 4. We notice but one more out of many points of contrast between the doctrines of the Hindu and the Christian Bibles, viz., the difference between ascetic inaction and the life of Christian activity as means of religious growth. I am aware that in the earlier chapters of the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna urges Arjuna to valiant activity on the battle-field, but that is for a special purpose, viz., the establishment of caste distinctions. It is wholly foreign to Hindu philosophy; it is even contradictory. The author of the poem, who seems to be aware of the inconsistency of arousing Arjuna to the mighty activities of the battle-field, and at the same time indoctrinating him in the spirit of a dead and nerveless asceticism, struggles hard with the awkward task of bridging the illogical chasm with three chapters of mystification. But we take the different chapters as they stand, and in their obvious meaning. "The man of meditation is superior to the man of action," says Chapter I., 46, "therefore, Arjuna, become a man of meditation." How the man of meditation is to proceed is told in Chapter VI., 10-14. "Let him who has attained to meditation always strive to reduce his heart to rest in the Supreme, dwelling in a secret place alone, with body and mind under control, devoid of expectation as well as of acceptance. Having placed in a clean spot one's seat, firm, not very high nor very low, formed of the skins of animals, placed upon cloth and cusa grass upon that, sitting on that seat, strive for meditation, for the purification of the heart, making the mind one-pointed, and reducing to rest the action of the thinking principle as well as that of the senses and organs. Holding the body, neck, and head straight and unmoved, perfectly determined, and not working in any direction, but as if beholding the end of his own nose, with his heart in supreme peace, devoid of fear, with thought controlled and heart in me as the supreme goal, he remains." How different from all this is that prayer of Christ, "I pray not that Thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that Thou shouldst keep them from the evil." Or those various words spoken to his disciples: "Let your light so shine before men that others seeing your good works shall glorify your Father which is in heaven." "Work while the day lasts, for the night cometh in which no man can work." Who can imagine Paul spending all those years of opportunity in sitting on a leopard skin, watching the end of his nose instead of turning the world upside down! In that true sense in which Christ lived within him, He filled every avenue of his being with the aggressive spirit of God's own love for dying men. The same spirit which brought Christ from heaven to earth sent Paul out over the earth. He was not even content to work on old foundations, but regarding himself as under sentence of death he longed to make the most of his votive life, to bear the torch of the truth into all realms of darkness. He was none the less a philosopher because he preferred the simple logic of God's love, nor did he hesitate to confront the philosophy of Athens or the threatenings of Roman tyrants. He was ready for chains and imprisonment, for perils of tempests or shipwreck, or robbers, or infuriate mobs, or death itself. No Hindu fakir was ever more conscious of the struggle with inward corruption than he, and at times he could cry out, "Oh, wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" but he did not seek relief in idleness and inanity, but in what Dr. Chalmers called "the expulsive power of new affections," in new measures of Christlike devotion to the cause of truth and humanity. In a word, Christ and his kingdom displaced the power of evil. He could do all things through Christ who strengthened him. Nor was the peace which he felt and which he commended to others the peace of mere negative placidity and indifference. It was loving confidence and trust. "Be careful for nothing"--we hear him saying to his friends at Philippi--"be careful for nothing; but in all things by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make known your requests unto God: and the peace of God, which passeth understanding, shall keep your minds and hearts through Christ Jesus." And yet to show how this consists with devout activity, he commends, in immediate connection with it, the cultivation of every active virtue known to men. Thus, "_Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on these things._" FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 74: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1889.] [Footnote 75: The author seems to overlook the fact that the chief excellence of an evangel to lost men is that it appeals to the masses.] [Footnote 76: Address published in the _Japan Mail_, 1890.] [Footnote 77: There is scarcely another passage in all Hindu literature which is so full of half-truths as this, or which turns the sublime powers of the human soul to so unworthy a purpose.] [Footnote 78: In an enumeration of Hindu gods made in Buddha's time Krishna does not appear.] [Footnote 79: Never before has there been so much danger as now that the lines of truth will be washed out by the flood-tides of sentimental and semi Christian substitutes and makeshifts. As with commodities, so with religion, dilution and adulteration are the order of the day and a little Christianity is made to flavor a thousand shams.] LECTURE V. BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY New interest has recently been awakened in old controversies concerning the relations of Christianity and Buddhism. The so-called Theosophists and Esoteric Buddhists are reviving exploded arguments against Christianity as means of supporting their crude theories. The charge of German sceptics, that Christianity borrowed largely from Buddhism, is made once more the special stock in trade of these new and fanatical organizations. To this end books, tracts, and leaflets are scattered broadcast, and especially in the United States and Great Britain. Professor Max Müller says, in a recent article published in _Longman's New Review_: "Who has not suffered lately from Theosophy and Esoteric Buddhism? Journals are full of it, novels overflow with it, and one is flooded with private and confidential letters to ask what it all really means. Many people, no doubt, are much distressed in their minds when they are told that Christianity is but a second edition of Buddhism. 'Is it really true?' they ask. 'Why did you not tell us all this before? Surely, you must have known it, and were only afraid to tell it.' Then follow other questions: 'Does Buddhism really count more believers than any other religion?' 'Is Buddhism really older than Christianity, and does it really contain many things which are found in the Bible?'" And the learned professor proceeds to show that there is no evidence that Christianity has borrowed from Buddhism. In this country these same ideas are perhaps more widely circulated than in England. They are subsidizing the powerful agency of the secular press, particularly the Sunday newspapers, and thousands of the people are confronting these puzzling questions. There is occasion, therefore, for a careful and candid review of Buddhism by all leaders of thought and defenders of truth. In the brief time allotted me, I can only call attention to a few salient points of a general character. In the outset, a distinction should be drawn between Buddhist history and Buddhist legend, for just at this point the danger of misrepresentation lies. It is true that the Buddha lived before the time of Christ, and therefore anything of the nature of real biography must be of an earlier date than the teachings of Jesus; but whether the _legends_ antedate His life and doctrines is quite another question. The Buddhist apologists all assume that they do, and it is upon the legends that most of the alleged parallelisms in the two records are based. How, then, shall we draw the line between history and legend? The concensus of the best scholarship accepts those traditions in which the northern and southern Buddhist records agree, which the Council of Patna, B.C. 242, adopted as canonical, and which are in themselves credible and consistent with the teachings of Gautama himself. According to this standard of authority Gautama was born about the sixth century B.C., as the son and heir of a rajah of the Sakya tribe of Aryans, living about eighty miles north by northwest of Benares. His mother, the principal wife of Kajah Suddhodana, had lived many years without offspring, and she died not long after the birth of this her only son, Siddartha. In his youth he was married and surrounded by all the allurements and pleasures of an Oriental court. He, too, appears to have remained without an heir till he was twenty-nine years of age, when, upon the birth of a son, certain morbid tendencies came to a climax, and he left his palace secretly and sought true comfort in a life of asceticism. For six years he tried diligently the resources of Hindu self-mortification, but becoming exhausted by his austerities, almost unto death, he abandoned that mode of life, having apparently become atheistic. He renounced the idea of merit-making as a means of spiritual attainment, and he was sorely tempted, no doubt, to return to his former life of ease. But he withstood the temptation and resolved to forego earthly pleasure, and teach mankind what he conceived to be the way of life, through self-control. He had tried pleasure; next he had tried extreme asceticism; he now struck out what he called "The Middle Path," as between self-indulgence on the one hand, and extreme bodily mortification as a thing of merit on the other. This middle ground still demanded abstinence as favorable to the highest mental and moral conditions, but it was not carried to such extremes as to weaken the body or the mind, or impair the fullest operation of every faculty.[80] There can be no doubt that Gautama's relinquishment of Hinduism marked a great and most trying crisis. It involved the loss of all confidence in him on the part of his disciples, for when he began again to take necessary food they all forsook him as a failure. It was while sitting under the shade of an Indian fig-tree (Boddhi-tree) that this struggle occurred and his victory was gained. There his future course was resolved upon; there was the real birth-place of Buddhism as a system. He thenceforth began to preach the law, or what he regarded as the way of self-emancipation, and therefore the way of life. He first sought his five followers, who had abandoned him, and succeeded in winning them back. He gathered at length a company of about sixty disciples, whom he trained and sent forth as teachers of his new doctrines. Yet, still influenced by the old Hindu notions of the religious life, he formed his disciples into an order of mendicants, and in due time he established an order of nuns. It was when Gautama rose up from his meditation and his high resolve under the Bo-tree, that he began his career as "The Enlightened." He was now a Buddha, and claimed to have attained Nirvana. All that has been written of his having left his palace with the purpose of becoming a saviour of mankind, is the sheer assumption of the later legends and their apologists. Buddhism was an after-thought, only reached after six years of bootless asceticism. There is no evidence that when Siddartha left his palace he had any thought of benefiting anybody but himself. He entered upon the life of the recluse with the same motives and aims that have influenced thousands of other monks and anchorets of all lands and ages--some of them princes like himself. Nevertheless, for the noble decision which was finally reached we give him high credit. It seems to have been one of the noblest victories ever gained by man over lower impulses and desires. The passions of youth were not yet dead within him; worldly ambition may be supposed to have been still in force; but he chose the part of a missionary to his fellow-men, and there is no evidence that he ever swerved from his purpose. He had won a great victory over himself, and that fact constituted a secret of great power. Gautama was about thirty-five years of age when he became a Buddha, and for forty-five years after that he lived to preach his doctrines and to establish the monastic institution which has survived to our time. He died a natural death from indigestion at the age of eighty--greatly venerated by his disciples, and the centre of what had already become a wide-spread system in a large district of India. The legends of Buddhism are a very different thing from the brief sketch which I have given, and which is based upon the earlier Buddhist literature. These sprang up after Gautama's death, and their growth extended through many centuries--many centuries even of the Christian era. The legends divide the life of the Buddha into three periods: 1. That of his pre-existent states. 2. That part of his life which extended from his birth to his enlightenment under the Bo-tree. 3. The forty-five years of his Buddhaship. The legends have no more difficulty in dealing with the particular experiences of the pre-existent states than in enriching and adorning the incidents of his earthly life; and both are doubtless about equally authentic. Gautama discarded the idea of a divine revelation; he rejected the authority of the Vedas totally. He denied that he was divine, but distinctly claimed to be a plain and earnest man. All that he knew, he had discovered by insight and self-conquest. To assume that he was pre-existently divine and omniscient subverts the whole theory of his so-called "discovery," and is at variance with the idea of a personal conquest. The chief emphasis and force of his teachings lay in the assumption that he did simply what other men might do; for his mission was that of a teacher and exempler merely. He was a saviour only in that he taught men how to save themselves. The pre-existent states are set forth in the "Jatakas," or Birth Stories of Ceylon, which represent him as having been born five hundred and thirty times after he became a Bodisat (a predestined Buddha). As a specimen of his varied experience while becoming fitted for Buddaship, we read that he was born eighty-three times as an ascetic, fifty-eight as a monarch, forty-three as a deva, twenty-four as a Brahman, eighteen as an ape; as a deer ten, an elephant six, a lion ten; at least once each as a thief, a gambler, a frog, a hare, a snipe. He was also embodied in a tree. But as a Bodisat he could not be born in hell, nor as vermin, nor as a woman! Says Spence Hardy, with a touch of irony: "He could descend no lower than a snipe." Northern legends represent Buddha as having "incarnated" for the purpose of bringing relief to a distressed world. He was miraculously conceived--his mother's side in the form of a white elephant. All nature manifested its joy on the occasion. The ocean bloomed with flowers; all beings from many worlds showed their wonder and sympathy. Many miracles were wrought even during his childhood, and every part of his career was filled with marvels. At his temptation under the Bo-tree, Mara (Satan) came to him mounted on an elephant sixteen miles high and surrounded by an encircling army of demons eleven miles deep.[81] Finding him proof against his blandishments, he hurled mountains of rocks against him, and assailed him with fire and smoke and ashes and filth--all of which became as zephyrs on his cheek or as presents of fragrant flowers. Last of all, he sent his three daughters to seduce him. Their blandishments are set forth at great length in the "Romantic Legend." In the Northern Buddhist literature--embracing both the "Romantic Legend"[82] and the "Lalita Vistara"--many incidents of Buddha's childhood are given which show a seeming coincidence with the life of Christ. It is claimed that his birth was heralded by angelic hosts, that an aged sage received him into his arms and blessed him, that he was taken to the temple for consecration, that a jealous ruler sought to destroy him, that in his boyhood he astonished the doctors by his wisdom, that he was baptized, or at least took a bath, that he was tempted, transfigured, and finally received up into heaven. These will be noticed farther on; it is only necessary to say here that the legends giving these details are first at variance with the early canonical history, and second, that they are of such later dates as to place most of them probably within the Christian era. _The Four Peculiar and Characteristic Doctrines of Buddhism._ 1. Its peculiar conception of the soul. 2. Its doctrine of Trishna and Upadana. 3. Its theory of Kharma. 4. Its doctrine of Nirvana. 1. The Skandas, five in number, constitute in their interaction what all others than Buddhists regard as the soul. They consist of material properties; the senses; abstract ideas; tendencies or propensities; and the mental powers. The soul is the result of the combined action of these, as the flame of a candle proceeds from the combustion of its constituent elements. The flame is never the same for two consecutive moments. It seems to have a perpetuated identity, but that is only an illusion, and the same unreality pertains to the soul. It is only a succession of thoughts, emotions, and conscious experiences. We are not the same that we were an hour ago. In fact, there is no such thing as being--there is only a constant _becoming_. We are ever passing from one point to another throughout our life; and this is true of all beings and all things in the universe. How it is that the succession of experiences is treasured up in memory is not made clear. This is a most subtle doctrine, and it has many points of contact with various speculations of modern times. It has also a plausible side when viewed in the light of experience, but its gaps and inconsistencies are fatal, as must be seen when it is thoroughly examined. 2. The second of the cardinal doctrines is that of Trishna. Trishna is that inborn element of desire whose tendency is to lead men into evil. So far, it is a misfortune or a form of original sin. Whatever it may have of the nature of guilt hangs upon the issues of a previous life. Upadana is a further stage in the same development. It is Trishna ripened into intense craving by our own choice and our own action. It then becomes uncontrollable and is clearly a matter of guilt. Now, the momentum of this Upadana is such that it cannot be arrested by death. Like the demons of Gadara it must again become incarnate, even though it should enter the body of a brute. And this transitional something, this restless moral or immoral force which must work out its natural results somehow and somewhere, and that in embodied form projects into future being a residuum which is known as Kharma. 3. What, then, is Kharma? Literally it means "the doing." It is a man's record, involving the consequences and liabilities of his acts. It is a score which must be settled. A question naturally arises, how the record of a soul can survive when the soul itself has been "blown out." The illustration of the candle does not quite meet the case. If the flame were something which when blown out immediately seized upon some other substance in which the work of combustion proceeded, it would come nearer to a parallel. One candle may light another before itself is extinguished, but it does not do it by an inherent necessity. But this flame of the soul, this Kharma, must enter some other body of god, or man, or beast. Again, the question arises, How can responsibility be transferred from one to another? How can the heavy load of a man's sin be laid upon some new-born infant, while the departing sinner has himself no further concern in his evil Kharma, but sinks into non-existence the moment his "conformations" are touched with dissolution? Buddhism acknowledges a mystery here; no real explanation can be given, and none seems to have been attempted by Buddhist writers. To be consistent, Gautama, in denying the existence of God and of the soul as an entity, should have taught the materialistic doctrine of annihilation. This, however, he could not do in the face of that deep-rooted idea of transmigration which had taken entire possession of the Hindu mind. Gautama was compelled therefore to bridge a most illogical chasm as best he could. Kharma without a soul to cling to is something in the air. It alights like some winged seed upon a new-born set of Skandas with its luckless boon of ill desert, and it involves the fatal inconsistency of investing with permanent character that which is itself impermanent. But the question may be asked, "Do we not admit a similar principle when we speak of a man's influence as something that survives him?" We answer, "No." Influence is a simple radiation of impressions. A man may leave an influence which men are free to accept or not, but it is quite a different thing if he leaves upon a successor the moral liabilities of a bankrupt character. Gautama's own Kharma, for example, ceased to exist upon his entering Nirvana; there was no re-birth; but his influence lives forever, and has extended to millions of his fellow-men. The injustice involved in the doctrine of Kharma is startling. The new-born soul that inherits its unsettled score has no memory or consciousness that connects it with himself; it is not heredity; it is not his father's character that invests him. This Kharma may have crossed the ocean from the death-bed of some unknown man of another race. The doctrine is the more astonishing when we consider that no Supreme Being is recognized as claiming this retribution. There is no God; it is a vague law of eternal justice, a law without a law-giver or a judge. There can therefore be no pardon, no commutation of sentence, no such thing as divine pity or help. The only way in which one can disentangle himself is by breaking forever the connection between spirit and matter which binds him with the shackles of conscious being. 4. Nirvana. No doctrine of Buddhism has been so much in dispute as this. It has been widely maintained that Nirvana means extinction. But T.W. Rhys Davids and others have held that it is "the destruction of malice, passion, and delusion," and that it may be attained in this life. The definition is quoted from comparatively recent Pali translations.[83] Gautama, therefore, reached Nirvana forty-five years before his death. It is claimed, however, that insomuch as it cuts off Kharma, or re-birth, it involves entire extinction of being upon the dissolution of the body.[84] It is held by still others that Nirvana is a return to the original and all-pervading Boddhi-essence. This theory, which is really a concession to the Brahmanical doctrine of absorption into the infinite Brahma, has a wide following among the modern Buddhists in China and Japan. It is a form of Buddhist pantheism. As to the teaching of Gautama on this subject, Professor Max Müller, while admitting that the meta-physicians who followed the great teacher plainly taught that the entire personal entity of an arhat (an enlightened one) would become extinct upon the death of the body, yet reasons, in his lecture on Buddhistic Nihilism, that the Buddha himself could not have taught a doctrine so disheartening. At the same time he quotes the learned and judicial Bishop Bigandet as declaring, after years of study and observation in Burmah, that such is the doctrine ascribed to the great teacher by his own disciples. Gautama is quoted as closing one of his sermons in these words: "Mendicants, that which binds the teacher to existence is cut off, but his body still remains. While his body still remains he shall be seen by gods and men, but after the termination of life, upon the dissolution of the body, neither gods nor men shall see him." T.W. Rhys Davids expresses the doctrine of Nirvana tersely and correctly when he says: "Utter death, with no new life to follow, is, then, a result of, but it is not, Nirvana."[85] Professor Oldenberg suggests, with much plausibility, that the Buddha was more reticent in regard to the doctrine of final extinction in the later periods of his life; that the depressing doctrine had been found a stumbling-block, and that he came to assume an agnostic position on the question. In his "Buddha,"[86] Professor Oldenberg, partly in answer to the grounds taken by Professor Max Müller in his lecture on Buddhistic Nihilism, has very fully discussed the question whether the ego survives in Nirvana in any sense. He claims that certain new translations of Pali texts have given important evidence on the subject, and he sums up with the apparent conclusion that the Buddha, moved by the depressing influence which the grim doctrine of Nirvana, in the sense of extinction, was producing upon his disciples, assumed a position of reticence as to whether the ego survives or not. The venerable Malukya (see p. 275) is said to have plied the Master with questions. "Does the perfect Buddha live on beyond death, or does he not? It pleases me not that all this should remain unanswered, and I do not think it right. May it please the Master to answer me if he can. But when anyone does not understand a matter, then a straightforward man says, 'I do not know that.'" The Buddha replies somewhat evasively that he has not undertaken to decide such questions, because they are not for spiritual edification. The question, What is Nirvana? has been the object of more extensive discussion than its importance demands. Practically, the millions of Buddhists are not concerned with the question. They find no attraction in either view. They desire neither extinction nor unconscious absorption into the Boddhi essence (or Brahm). What they anticipate is an improved transmigration, a better birth. The more devout may indulge the hope that their next life will be spent in one of the Buddhist heavens; others may aspire to be men of high position and influence. The real heaven to which the average Buddhist looks forward is apt to be something very much after his own heart, or at least something indicated by the estimate which he himself places upon his own character and life. There may be many transmigrations awaiting him, but he is chiefly concerned for the next in order. The very last object to excite his interest is that far-off shadow called Nirvana. In estimating the conflict of Christianity with Buddhism we must not take counsel merely of our own sense of the absurdity of Gautama's teachings; we are to remember that in Christian lands society is made up of all kinds of people; that outside of the Christian Church there are thousands, and even millions, who, with respect to faith, are in utter chaos and darkness. The Church therefore cannot view this subject from its own stand-point merely. Let us glance at certain features of Buddhism which render it welcome to various classes of men who dwell among us in Western lands. First of all, the system commends itself to many by its intense individualism. Paul's figure of the various parts of the human frame as illustrating the body of Christ, mutual in the interdependence of all its members, would be wholly out of place in Buddhism. Even the Buddhist monks are so many units of introverted self-righteousness. And individualism differently applied is the characteristic of our age, and therefore a bond of sympathy is supplied. "Every man for himself," appeals to modern society in many ways. Again, Gautama magnified the human intellect and the power of the human will. "O Ananda," he said, "be lamps unto yourselves; depend upon no other." He claimed to have thought out, and thought through every problem of existence, to have penetrated every secret of human nature in the present, and in the life to come, and his example was commended to all, that they might follow in their measure. So also our transcendental philosophers have glorified the powers and possibilities of humanity, and have made genius superior to saintliness.[87] There are tens of thousands who in this respect believe in a religion of humanity, and who worship, if they worship at all, the goddess of reason. All such have a natural affinity for Buddhism. Another point in common between this system and the spirit of our age is its broad humanitarianism--beneficence to the lower grades of life. When love transcends the bounds of the human family it does not rise up toward God, it descends toward the lower orders of the animal world. "Show pity toward everything that exists," is its motto, and the insect and the worm hold a larger relative place in the Buddhist than in the Christian view. The question "Are ye not of more value than many sparrows?" might be doubtful in the Buddhist estimate, for the teacher himself, in his pre-existent states, had often been incarnate in inferior creatures. It is by no means conceded that Jesus, in asking his disciples this question, had less pity for the sparrows than the Buddha, or that his beneficence was less thoughtful of the meanest thing that glides through the air or creeps upon the earth; but the spirit of Christianity is more discriminating, and its love rises up to heaven, where, beginning with God, it descends through every grade of being. Yet it is quite in accordance with the spirit and aim of thousands to magnify the charity that confines itself to bodily wants and distresses, to sneer at the relief which religion may bring to the far greater anguish of the spirit, and to look upon love and loyalty to God as superstition. Is it any wonder that such persons have a warm side toward Buddhism? Again, this system has certain points in common with our modern evolution theories. It is unscientific enough certainly in its speculations, but it gets on without creatorship or divine superintendence, and believes in the inflexible reign of law, though without a law-giver. It assigns long ages to the process of creation, if we may call it creation, and in development through cycles it sees little necessity for the work of God. It can also join hands cordially with many social theories of the day. The pessimism of Buddhists, ancient or modern, finds great sympathy in the crowded populations of the Western as well as the Eastern world. And, almost as a rule, Esoteric Buddhism, American Buddhism, Neo-Buddhism, or whatever we may call it, is a cave of Adullam to which all types of religious apostates and social malcontents resort. The thousands who have made shipwreck of faith, who have become soured at the unequal allotments of Providence, who have learned to hate all who are above them and more prosperous than they, are just in the state of mind to take delight in Buddha's sermon at Kapilavastu, as rehearsed by Sir Edwin Arnold. There all beings met--gods, devas, men, beasts of the field, and fowls of the air--to make common cause against the relentless fate that rules the world, and to bewail the sufferings and death which fill the great charnel-house of existence, while Buddha voiced their common complaint and stood before them as the only pitying friend that the universe had found. It was the first great Communist meeting of which we have any record.[88] The wronged and suffering universe was there, and all "took the promise of his piteous speech, So that their lives, prisoned in the shape of ape, Tiger or deer, shagged bear, jackal or wolf, Foul-feeding kite, pearled dove or peacock gemmed, Squat toad or speckled serpent, lizard, bat, Yea, or fish fanning the river waves, Touched meekly at the skirts of brotherhood With man, who hath less innocence than these: And in mute gladness knew their bondage broke Whilst Buddha spoke these things before the king." There was no mention of sin, but only of universal misfortune! In contrast with the deep shadows of a brooding and all-embracing pessimism like this, we need only to hint at that glow of hope and joy with which the Sun of Righteousness has flooded the world, and the fatherly love and compassion with which the Old Testament and the New are replete, the divine plan of redemption, the psalms of praise and thanksgiving, the pity of Christ's words and acts, and his invitations to the weary and heavy-laden. In one view it is strange that pessimism should have comfort in the fellowship of pessimism, but so it is; there is luxury even in the sympathy of hate, and so Buddhist pessimism is a welcome guest among us, though our Communistic querulousness is more bitter. Once more, Buddhist occultism has found congenial fellowship in American spiritualism. Of late we hear less of spirit-rappings and far more of Theosophy. But this is only the same crude system with other names, and rendered more respectable by the cast-off garments of old Indian philosophy. There is a disposition in the more intellectual circles to assume a degree of disdain toward the crudeness of spiritualism and its vulgar familiarity with departed spirits, who must ever be disturbed by its beck and call; but it is confidently expected that the thousands, nay, as some say, millions, of American spiritualists will gladly welcome the name and the creed of Buddha.[89] It will be idle therefore to assume that the old sleepy system of Gautama has no chance in this wide-awake republic of the West.[90] I have already called attention to the special tactics of Buddhists just now in claiming that Christianity, having been of later origin, has borrowed its principal facts and its teachings. Let us examine the charge. It is a real tribute to the character of Christ that so many sects of false religionists have in all ages claimed Him either as a follower or as an incarnation of their respective deities. Others have acknowledged his teachings as belonging to their particular style and grade. The bitter and scathing calumny of Celsus, in the first centuries of our era, did not prevent numerous attempts to prove the identity of Christ's teachings with some of the most popular philosophies of the heathen world. Porphyry claimed that many of Christ's virtues were copied from Pythagoras. With like concession Mohammedanism included Jesus as one of the six great prophets, and confessedly the only sinless one among them all. Many a fanatic in the successive centuries has claimed to be a new incarnation of the Son of God. Hindus have named Him as an incarnation of Vishnu for the Western, as was Krishna for the Eastern World. As was indicated in the opening of this lecture, the Theosophists are making special claim to Him,[91] and are reviving the threadbare theory that He was a follower of Buddha. So strong an effort is made to prove that Christianity has borrowed both its divine leader and its essential doctrines from India, that a moment's attention may well be given to the question here. One allegation is that the Evangelists copied the Buddhist history and legends in their account of Christ's early life. Another is that the leaders of the Alexandrian Church worked over the gospel story at a later day, having felt more fully the influence of India at that great commercial centre. The two theories are inconsistent with each other, and both are inconsistent with the assumption that Christ Himself was a Buddhist, and taught the Buddhist doctrines, since this supposition would have obviated the need of any manipulation or fraud at any point. In replying as briefly as possible I shall endeavor to cover both allegations. In strong contrast with these cheap assertions of Alexandrian corruption and plagiarism is the frank admission of such keen critics as Renan, Weiss, Volkmar, Schenkel, and Hitzig,[92] that the gospel record as we have it, was written during a generation in which some of the companions of Jesus still lived. Renan says of Mark's Gospel that "it is full of minute observations, coming doubtless from an eye-witness," and he asserts that Matthew, Mark, and Luke were written "in substantially their present form by the men whose names they bear." These Gospels were the work of men who knew Jesus. Matthew was one of the Twelve; John in his Epistle speaks of himself as an eye-witness. They were written in a historic age and were open to challenge. They were nowhere contradicted in contemporary history. They fit their environment. How is it with the authenticity of Buddhist literature? Oldenberg says, "For the _when_ of things men of India have never had a proper organ," and Max Müller declares to the same effect, that "the idea of a faithful, literal translation seems altogether foreign to Oriental minds." He also informs us that there is not a single manuscript in India which is a thousand years old, and scarcely one that can claim five hundred years. For centuries after Gautama's time nothing was written; all was transmitted by word of mouth. Buddhists themselves say that the Pali canonical texts were written about 88 B.C.[93] Any fair comparison of the two histories should confine itself to the writings which are regarded as canonical respectively, and whose dates can be fixed. No more importance should be attached to the later Buddhist legends than to the "Apocryphal Gospels," or to the absurd "Christian Legends" which appeared in the middle ages. The Buddhist Canon was adopted by the Council of Patna 242 B.C. The legends which are generally compared with the canonical story of Christ are not included in that Canon, or at most very few of them. They are drawn from certain poetical books written much later, and holding about the same relation to the Buddhist Canon that the "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained" of Milton bear to the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. Who would think of quoting "Paradise Lost" in any sober comparison of Biblical truth with the teachings of other religions?[94] Even the canonical literature, that which is supposed to contain the true history and teachings of Buddha, is far from authoritative, owing to the acknowledged habit--acknowledged even by the author of the "Dhammapada" of adding commentaries, notes, etc., to original teachings. Not only was this common among Buddhist writers, but even more surprising liberties were taken with the narrative. For example: The legend describing Buddha's leave-taking of his harem is clearly borrowed from an earlier story of Yasa, a wealthy young householder of Benares, who, becoming disgusted with his harem, left his sleeping dancing girls and fled to the Buddha for instruction. Davids and Oldenberg, in translating this legend from the "Mahavagga," say in a note, "A well-known incident in the life of Buddha has evidently been shaped after the model of this story;" and they declare that "_nowhere in the 'Pali Pitakas' is this scene of Buddha's leave-taking mentioned_." As another evidence of the way in which fact and fiction have been mixed and manipulated for a purpose, one of the legends, which has often been presented as a parallel to the story of Christ, represents the Buddha as repelling the temptation of Mara by quoting texts of "scripture," and the scripture referred to was the "Dhammapada." But the "Dhammapada" was compiled hundreds of years after Buddha's death. Besides, there were no "scriptures" of any kind in his day, for nothing was written till two or three centuries later; and worse still, Buddha is made to quote his own subsequent teachings; for the "Dhammapada" claims to consist of the sacred words of the "enlightened one." Most of the legends of Buddhism were wholly written after the beginning of the Christian era, and it cannot be shown that any were written in their present form until two or three centuries of that era had elapsed. T.W. Rhys Davids says of the "Lalita Vistara" which contains a very large proportion of them, and one form of which is said to have been translated into Chinese in the first century A.D., "that there is no real proof that it existed in its present form before the year 600 A.D." The "Romantic Legend" cannot be traced farther back than the third century A.D. Oldenberg says: "No biography of Buddha has come down to us from ancient times, from the age of the Pali texts, and we can safely say that no such biography was in existence then." Beal declares that the Buddhist legend, as found in the various Epics of Nepaul, Thibet, and China, "is not framed after _any_ Indian model of any date, but is to be found worked out, so to speak, among northern peoples, who were ignorant of, or indifferent to, the pedantic stories of the Brahmans. In the southern and primitive records the terms of the legend are wanting. _Buddha is not born of a royal family; he is not tempted before his enlightenment; he works no miracles, and he is not a Universal Saviour._" The chances are decidedly that if any borrowing has been done it was on the side of Buddhism. It has been asserted that thirty thousand Buddhist monks from Alexandria once visited Ceylon on the occasion of a great festival. This is absurd on the face of it; but that a Christian colony settled in Malabar at a very early period is attested by the presence of thousands of their followers even to this day. In discussing the specific charge of copying Buddhist legends in the gospel narratives, we are met at the threshold by insurmountable improbabilities. To some of these I ask a moment's attention. I shall not take the time to discuss in detail the alleged parallels which are paraded as proofs. To anyone who understands the spirit of Judaism and its attitude toward heathenism of all kinds, it is simply inconceivable that the Christian disciples, whose aim it was to propagate the faith of their Master in a Jewish community, should have borrowed old Indian legends, which, by the terms of the supposition, must have been widely known as such. And Buddhist apologists must admit that it is a little strange that the Scribes and Pharisees, who were intelligent, and as alert as they were bitter, should never have exposed this transparent plagiarism. The great concern of the Apostles was to prove to Jews and Gentiles that Jesus was the Christ of Old Testament prophecy. The whole drift of their preaching and their epistles went to show that the gospel history rested squarely and uncompromisingly on a Jewish basis. Peter and John, Stephen and Paul, constantly "reasoned with the Jews out of their own Scriptures." How unspeakably absurd is the notion that they were trying to palm off on those keen Pharisees a Messiah who, though in the outset at Nazareth he publicly traced his commission to Old Testament prophecy, was all the while copying an atheistic philosopher of India! It is equally inconceivable that the Christian fathers should have copied Buddhism. They resisted Persian mysticism as the work of the Devil, and it was in that mysticism, if anywhere, that Buddhist influence existed in the Levant. Whoever has read Tertullian's withering condemnation of Marcion may judge how far the fathers of the Church favored the heresies of the East. Augustine had himself been a Manichean mystic, and when after his conversion he became the great theologian of the Church, he must have known whether the teachings of the Buddha were being palmed off on the Christian world. The great leaders of that age were men of thorough scholarship and of the deepest moral earnestness. Many of them gave up their possessions and devoted their lives to the promotion of the truths which they professed. Scores of them sealed their faith by martyr deaths. But even if we were to accept the flippant allegation that they were all impostors, yet we should be met by an equally insurmountable difficulty in the utter silence of the able and bitter assailants of Christianity in the first two or three centuries. Celsus prepared himself for his well-known attack on Christianity with the utmost care, searching history, philosophy, and every known religion from which he could derive an argument against the Christian faith. Why did he not strike at the very root of the matter by exposing those stupid plagiarists who were attempting to play off upon the intelligence of the Roman world a clumsy imitation of the far-famed Buddha? It was the very kind of thing that the enemies of Christianity wanted. Why should the adroit Porphyry attempt to work up a few mere scraps of resemblance from the life of Pythagoras, when all he had to do was to lay his hand upon familiar legends which afforded an abundance of the very thing in demand? Again, it is to be remembered that Christianity has always been restrictive and opposed to admixtures with other systems. It repelled the Neo-Platonism of Alexandria, and it fought for two or three centuries against Gnosticism, Manichæism, and similar heresies: and the assumption, in the face of all this, that the Christian Church went out of its way to copy Indian Buddhism, must be due either to gross ignorance or to reckless misrepresentation. On the other hand, it is in accordance with the very genius of Buddhism to borrow. It has absorbed every indigenous superstition and entered into partnership with every local religious system, from the Devil Worship of Burmah and Ceylon to the Taouism of China and the Shinto of Japan. In its long-continued contact with Christianity it has changed from the original atheism of Gautama to various forms of theism, and in some of its sects, at least, from a stanch insistance on self-help alone to an out-and-out doctrine of salvation by faith. This is true of the Shin and Yodo sects of Japan. From recognizing no God at all at first, Buddhism had, by the seventh century A.D., a veritable Trinity, with attributes resembling those of the Triune God of the Christians, and by the tenth century it had five trinities with One Supreme Adi-Buddha over them all. Everyone may judge for himself whether these later interpolations of the system were borrowed from the New Testament Trinity, which had been proclaimed through all the East ten centuries before. Buddhism is still absorbing foreign elements through the aid of its various apologists. Sir Edwin Arnold has greatly added to the force of its legend by the Christian phrases and Christian conceptions which he has read into it. Toward the close of the "Light of Asia" he also introduces into the Buddha's sermon at Kapilavastu the teachings of Herbert Spencer and others of our own time. But altogether the most stupendous improbability lies against the whole assumption that Christ and his followers based their "essential doctrines" on the teachings of the Buddha. The early Buddhism was atheistic: this is the common verdict of Davids, Childers, Sir Monier Williams, Kellogg, and many others. The Buddha declared that "without cause and unknown is the life of man in this world," and he recognized no higher being to whom he owed reverence. "The Buddhist Catechism," by Subhadra, shows that modern Buddhism has no recognition of God. It says (page 58): "Buddhism teaches the reign of perfect goodness and wisdom _without a personal God_, continuance of individuality _without an immortal soul_, eternal happiness without a local heaven, the way of salvation without a vicarious saviour, redemption worked out by each one himself without any prayers, sacrifices, and penances, without the ministry of ordained priests, without the intercession of saints, _without divine mercy_." And then, by way of authentication, it adds: "These, and many others which have become the fundamental doctrines of the Buddhist religion, were recognized by the Buddha in the night of his enlightenment under the Boddhi-tree." And yet we are told that this is the system which Christ and his followers copied. Compare this passage with the Lord's Prayer, or with the discourse upon the lilies, and its lesson of trust in God the Father of all! I appeal not merely to Christian men, but to _any_ man who has brains and common-sense, was there ever so preposterous an attempt to establish an identity of doctrines? But what is the evidence found in the legends themselves? Several leading Oriental scholars, and men not at all biased in favor of Christianity, have carefully examined the subject, and have decided that there is no connection whatever. Professor Seydel, of Leipsic, who has given the most scientific plea for the so-called coincidences, of which he claims there are fifty-one, has classified them as: 1, Those which may have been merely accidental, having arisen from similar causes, and not necessarily implying any borrowing on either side; 2, those which seem to have been borrowed from the one narrative or the other; and 3, those which he thinks were clearly copied by the Christian writers. In this last class he names but five out of fifty-one. Kuenen, who has little bias in favor of Christianity, and who has made a very thorough examination of Seydel's parallels, has completely refuted these five.[95] And speaking of the whole question he says: "I think we may safely affirm that we must abstain from assigning to Buddhism the smallest direct influence on the origin of Christianity." He also says of similar theories of de Bunsen: "A single instance is enough to teach us that inventive fancy plays the chief part in them."[96] Rhys Davids, whom Subhadra's "Buddhist Catechism" approves as the chief exponent of Buddhism, says on the same subject: "I can find no evidence of any actual or direct communication of these ideas common to Buddhism and Christianity from the East to the West." Oldenberg denies their early date, and Beal denies them an Indian origin of any date. _Contrasts between Buddhism and Christianity._ Rhys Davids has pointed out the fact that, while Buddhism in some points is more nearly allied to Christianity than any other system, yet in others it is the farthest possible from it in its spirit and its tendency. If we strike out those ethical principles which, to a large extent, are the common heritage of mankind, revealed in the understanding and the conscience, we shall find in what remains an almost total contrariety to the Christian faith. To give a few examples only. 1. Christ taught the existence and glory of God as Supreme, the Creator and Father, the righteous Judge. His supreme mission to reconcile all men to God was the key-note of all His ministry. By His teaching the hearts of men are lifted up above all earthly conceptions to the worship of infinite purity, and to the comforting assurance of more than a father's care and love. Buddhism, on the contrary, knows nothing of God, offers no heavenly incentive, no divine help. Leading scholars are agreed that, whatever it may be now, the original orthodox Buddhism was essentially atheistic. It despised the idea of divine help, and taught men to rely upon themselves. While, therefore, Buddhism never rose above the level of earthly resources, and contemplated only lower orders of being, Christianity begins with God as supreme, to be worshipped and loved with all the heart, mind, and strength, while our neighbors are to be loved as ourselves. 2. Christ represented Himself as having pre-existed from the foundation of the world, as having been equal with God in the glory of heaven, all of which He resigned that He might enter upon the humiliation of our earthly state, and raise us up to eternal life. He distinctly claimed oneness and equality with the Father. Buddha claimed no such antecedent glory; he spoke of himself as a man merely; the whole aim of his teaching was to show in himself what every man might accomplish. Later legends ascribe to him a sort of pre-existence, in which five hundred and thirty successive lives were passed, sometimes as a man, sometimes as a god, many times as an animal. But even these claims were not made by Buddha himself--except so far as was implied by the common doctrine of transmigration. Furthermore, in relation to the alleged pre-existences, according to strict Buddhist doctrine it was not really he who had gone before, it was only a Kharma or character that had exchanged hands many times before it could be taken up by the real and conscious Buddha born upon the earth. Still further, even after the beginning of his earthly life he lived for many years in what, according to his own teaching, was heinous sin, all of which is fatal to the theory of pre-existent holiness. 3. Christ is a real Saviour; His atonement claimed to be a complete ransom from the penalty of sin, and by His teaching and example, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, He overcomes the power of sin itself, transforming the soul into His own image. Buddha, on the other hand, did not claim to achieve salvation for any except himself, though Mr. Arnold and others constantly use such terms as "help" and "salvation." Nothing of the kind is claimed by the early Buddhist doctrines; they plainly declare that purity and impurity belong to one's self, and that no one can purify another. 4. Christ emphatically declared Himself a helper, even in this life: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He promised also to send his Spirit as a comforter, as a supporter of his disciples' faith, as a guide and teacher, at all times caring for their need; in whatever exigency his grace would be sufficient for them. On the contrary, Buddha taught his followers that no power in heaven or earth could help them; the victory must be their own. "How can we hope to amend a life," says Bishop Carpenter, "which is radically bad, by the aid of a system which teaches that man's highest aim should be to escape from life? All that has been said against the ascetic and non-worldly attitude of Christianity might be urged with additional force against Buddhism. It is full of the strong, sweet, pathetic compassion which looks upon life with eyes full of tears, but only to turn them away from it again, as from an unsolved and insoluble riddle." And he substantiates his position by quoting Réville and Oldenberg. Réville reaches this similar conclusion: "Buddhism, born on the domain of polytheism, has fought against it, not by rising above nature in subordinating it to a single sovereign spirit, but by reproving nature in principle, and condemning life itself as an evil and a misfortune. Buddhism does not measure itself against this or that abuse, does not further the development or reformation of society, either directly or indirectly, for the very simple reason that it turns away from the world on principle." Oldenberg, one of the most thorough of Pali scholars, says: "For the lower order of the people, for those born to toil in manual labor, hardened by the struggle for existence, the announcement of the connection of misery with all forms of existence was not made, nor was the dialectic of the law of the painful concatenation of causes and effects calculated to satisfy 'the poor in spirit.' 'To the wise belongeth this law,' it is said, 'not to the foolish.' Very unlike the work of that Man who 'suffered little children to come unto Him, for of such is the kingdom of God.' For children, and those who are like children, the arms of Buddha are not opened." 5. Christ and his disciples set before men the highest motives of life. The great end of man was to love God supremely, and one's neighbor as himself. Every true disciple was to consider himself an almoner and dispenser of the divine goodness to his race. It was this that inspired the sublime devotion of Paul and of thousands since his time. It is the secret principle of all the noblest deeds of men. Gautama had no such high and unselfish aim. He found no inspiring motive above the level of humanity. His system concentrates all thought and effort on one's own life--virtually on the attainment of utter indifference to all things else. The early zeal of Gautama and his followers in preaching to their fellow-men was inconsistent with the plain doctrines taught at a later day. If in any case there were those who, like Paul, burned with desire to save their fellow-men, all we can say is, they were better than their creed. Such was the spirit of the Gospel, rather than the idle and useless torpor of the Buddhist order. "Here, according to Buddhists," says Spence Hardy, "is a mere code of proprieties, an occasional opiate, a plan for being free from discomfort, a system for personal profit." Buddhism certainly taught the repression of human activity and influence. Instead of saying, "Let your light so shine before men that they, seeing your good works, may glorify your Father who is in heaven," or "Work while the day lasts," it said, "If thou keepest thyself silent as a broken gong, thou hast attained Nirvana." "To wander about like the rhinoceros alone," was enjoined as the pathway of true wisdom. 6. Christ taught that life, though attended with fearful alternatives, is a glorious birthright, with boundless possibilities and promise of good to ourselves and others. Buddhism makes life an evil which it is the supreme end of man to conquer and cut off from the disaster of re-birth. Christianity opens a path of usefulness, holiness, and happiness in this life, and a career of triumph and glory in the endless ages to come. Both Buddhism and Hinduism are worse than other pessimistic systems in their fearful law of entailment through countless transmigrations, each of which must be a struggle. 7. Christ, according to the New Testament, "ever liveth to make intercession for us," and the Holy Spirit represents Him constantly as an ever-living power in the world, to regenerate, save, and bless. But Buddha is dead, and his very existence is a thing of the past. Only traditions and the influence of his example can help men in the struggle of life. Said Buddha to his disciples: "As a flame blown by violence goes out and cannot be reckoned, even so a Buddha delivered from name and body disappears and cannot be reckoned as existing." Again, he said to his Order, "Mendicants, that which binds the Teacher (himself) is cut off, but his body still remains. While this body shall remain he will be seen by gods and men, but after the termination of life, upon the dissolution of the body, neither gods nor men shall see him." 8. Christ taught the sacredness of the human body. "Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you?" said His great Apostle. But Buddhism says: "As men deposit filth upon a dungheap and depart regretting nothing, wanting nothing, so will I depart leaving this body filled with vile vapors." Christ and His disciples taught the triumphant resurrection of the body in spiritual form and purity after His own image. The Buddhist forsakes utterly and forever the deserted, cast-off mortality, while still he looks only for another habitation equally mortal and corruptible, and possibly that of a lower animal. Thus, through all these lines of contrast, and many others that might be named, there appear light and life and blessedness on the one hand, and gloom and desolation on the other. The gloomy nature of Buddhism is well expressed in Hardy's "Legends and Theories of Buddhism" as follows: "The system of Buddhism is humiliating, cheerless, man-marring, soul-crushing. It tells me that I am not a reality, that I have no soul. It tells me that there is no unalloyed happiness, no plenitude of enjoyment, no perfect unbroken peace in the possession of any being whatever, from the highest to the lowest, in any world. It tells me that I may live myriads of millions of ages, and that not in any of those ages, nor in any portion of any age, can I be free from apprehension as to the future, until I attain to a state of unconsciousness; and that in order to arrive at this consummation I must turn away from all that is pleasant, or lovely, or instructive, or elevating, or sublime. It tells me by voices ever repeated, like the ceaseless sound of the sea-wave on the shore, that I shall be subject to sorrow, impermanence, and unreality so long as I exist, and yet that I cannot cease to exist, nor for countless ages to come, as I can only attain nirvana in the time of a Supreme Buddha. In my distress I ask for the sympathy of an all-wise and all-powerful friend. But I am mocked instead by the semblance of relief, and am told to look to Buddha, who has ceased to exist; to the Dharma that never was in existence, and to the Sangha, the members of which are real existences, but like myself are partakers of sorrow and sin." How shall we measure the contrast between all this and the ecstacies of Christian hope, which in various forms are expressed in the Epistles of Paul; the expected crown of righteousness, the eternal weight of glory; heirship with Christ in an endless inheritance; the house not made with hands; the General Assembly of the first born? Even in the midst of earthly sorrows and persecutions he could say, "Nay, in all things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus, our Lord." FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 80: It is by no means certain that Buddha's followers, in carrying out his system, have not lapsed into the old notions of merit-making asceticism to greater or less extent, and have become virtually very much like the torpid and useless fakirs of the old Hinduism.] [Footnote 81: The _Jataka_ legends of Ceylon, dating in their present form about 500 A.D., greatly enlarge the proportions of this Northern legend, making the elephant over seven thousand miles high, and widening out the surrounding army to one hundred and sixty four miles.] [Footnote 82: Of the _Romantic Legend_ found in Nepaul, Beall's translation is probably the best.] [Footnote 83: See Appendix of _Origin and Growth of Religion as illustrated in Buddhism_.] [Footnote 84: See _Buddhism_, pp. 110-115.] [Footnote 85: _Buddhism_, p. 114.] [Footnote 86: Pp. 265-285.] [Footnote 87: It is the boast of the author of _Esoteric Buddhism_, that strange mixture of Western spiritualism with Oriental mysticism, that his system despises the tame "goody, goody" spirit of Christianity, and deals with the endless growth of mind.] [Footnote 88: _Light of Asia_.] [Footnote 89: Mr. Sinnett, in his _Esoteric Buddhism_, expressed the idea that it was high time that the crudities of spiritualism should be corrected by the more philosophic occultism of the East.] [Footnote 90: The points of contact between Buddhism and certain forms of Western thought have been ably treated by Professor S.H. Kellogg, in the _Light of Asia and Light of the World_.] [Footnote 91: A recent tract has appeared, entitled _Theosophy the Religion of Jesus_.] [Footnote 92: Cited by Professor Kellogg.] [Footnote 93: Professor T.W. Rhys Davids, in his introduction to _Buddhism_, enumerates the following sources of knowledge concerning the early Buddhism: 1. The _Lalita Vistara_, a Sanscrit work of the Northern Buddhists "full of extravagant fictions" concerning the early portion of Gautama's life. Davids compares it to Milton's _Paradise Regained_, as a source of history, and claims that although parts of it were translated into Chinese in the first century of our era, there is no proof of its existence in its present form earlier than the sixth century A.D. 2. Two Thibetan versions, based chiefly on the _Lalita Vistara_. 3. The _Romantic Legend_, from the Sanscrit of the Northern Buddhists, translated into Chinese in the sixth century A.D.; English version by Beal published in 1875. This also is an extravagant poem. This and the _Lalita Vistara_ embrace most of the alleged parallels to the Life of Christ. 4. The original Pali text of the _Commentary on the Jatakas_, written in Ceylon probably about the fifth century of our era. Davids considers its account down to the time of Gautama's return to Kapilavastu, "the best authority we have." It contains word for word almost the whole of the life of Gautama given by Turnour, from a commentary on the _Buddhavansa_, "which is the account of the Buddhas contained in the second Pitaka." 5. An account taken by Spence Hardy from Cingalese books of a comparatively modern date. 6. An English translation by Bigandet of a Burmese account, which was itself a translation of unknown date made from a Pali version. 7. An account of the death of Gautama, given in Pali and said to be the oldest of all the sources. It is full of wonders created by the fancy of the unknown author, but differs widely from the fancy sketches of the _Lalita Vistara_ of the North. 8. A translation by Mr. Alabaster of a Siamese account. It does not claim to be exact.] [Footnote 94: T.W. Rhys Davids illustrates the worthlessness of poetic narrations as grounds of argument by quoting from Milton's _Paradise Regained_ this mere fancy sketch of the accompaniments of Christ's temptation: "And either tropic now 'Gan thunder and both ends of heaven; the clouds From many a horrid rift abortive poured Fierce rain with lightning mixed, water with fire In ruin reconciled; nor slept the winds Within their stony caves, but rush'd abroad From the four hinges of the world, and fell On the vex'd wilderness; whose tallest pines Tho' rooted deep as high and sturdiest oaks, Bowed their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts Or torn up sheer. Ill wast Thou shrouded then, O patient Son of God, yet stood'st alone Unshaken! nor yet staid the terror there; Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round Environed Thee; some howl'd, some yell'd, some shriek'd, Some bent at Thee their fiery darts, while Thou Sat'st unappall'd in calm and sinless peace." Book iv.] [Footnote 95: See _National Religion and Universal Religion_, p. 362.] [Footnote 96: _Hibbert Lectures_, 1882.] LECTURE VI. MOHAMMEDANISM PAST AND PRESENT It has been the fate of every great religious teacher to have his memory enveloped in a haze of posthumous myths. Even the Gospel history was embellished with marvellous apocryphal legends of the childhood of Christ. Buddhism very soon began to be overgrown with a truly Indian luxuriance of fables, miracles, and pre-existent histories extending through five hundred past transmigrations. In like manner, the followers of Mohammed traced the history of their prophet and of their sacred city back to the time of Adam. And Mohammedan legends were not a slow and natural growth, as in the case of most other faiths. There was a set purpose in producing them without much delay. The conquests of Islam over the Eastern empires had been very rapid. The success of Mohammed's cause and creed had exceeded the expectations of his most sanguine followers. In the first half of the seventh century--nay, between the years 630 and 638 A.D.--Jerusalem, Damascus, and Aleppo had fallen before the arms of Omar and his lieutenant "Khaled the Invincible," and in 639 Egypt was added to the realm of the Khalifs. Persia was conquered in A.D. 640. It seemed scarcely possible that achievements so brilliant could have been the work of a mere unlettered Arab and his brave but unpretentious successors. The personnel of the prophet must be raised to an adequate proportion to such a history. Special requisition was made therefore for incidents. The devout fancy of the faithful was taxed for the picturesque and marvellous; and the system which Mohammed taught, and the very place in which he was born, must needs be raised to a supernatural dignity and importance. Accordingly, the history of the prophet was traced back to the creation of the world, when God was said to have imparted to a certain small portion of earthy dust a mysterious spark of light. When Adam was formed this particular luminous dust appeared in his forehead, and from him it passed in a direct line to Abraham. From Abraham it descended, not to Isaac, but to Ishmael; and this was the cause of Sarah's jealousy and the secret of all Abraham's domestic troubles. Of course, this bright spark of heavenly effulgence reappearing on the brow of each lineal progenitor, was designed ultimately for Mohammed, in whom it shone forth with tenfold brightness. There is real historic evidence of the fact that the Vale of Mecca had for a long time been regarded as sacred ground. It was a sort of forest or extensive grove, a place for holding treaties among the tribes, a common ground of truce and a refuge from the avenger. It was also a place for holding annual fairs, for public harangues, and the competitive recitation of ballads and other poems. But all this, however creditable to the culture of the Arab tribes, was not sufficient for the purposes of Islam. The Kaaba, which had been a rude heathen temple, was raised to the dignity of a shrine of the true God, or rather it was restored, for it was said to have been built by Adam after a divine pattern. The story was this: At the time of the Fall, Adam and Eve had somehow become separated. Adam had wandered away to Ceylon, where a mountain peak still bears his name. But having been divinely summoned to Mecca to erect this first of earthly temples, he unexpectedly found Eve residing upon a hill near the city, and thenceforward the Valley of Mecca became their paradise regained. At the time of the Deluge the Kaaba was buried in mud, and for centuries afterward it was overgrown with trees. When Hagar and her son Ishmael were driven out from the household of Abraham, they wandered by chance to this very spot, desolate and forsaken. While Hagar was diligently searching for water, more anxious to save the life of her son than her own, Ishmael, boy-like, sat poking the sand with his heel; when, behold, a spring of water bubbled up in his footprint. And this was none other than the sacred well Zemzem, whose brackish waters are still eagerly sought by every Moslem pilgrim. As Ishmael grew to manhood and established his home in the sacred city, Abraham was summoned to join him, that they together might rebuild the Kaaba. But in the succeeding generations apostacy again brought ruin upon the place, although the heathen Koreish still performed sacred rites there--especially that of sevenfold processions around the sacred stone. This blackened object, supposed to be an aërolite which fell ages ago, is still regarded as sacred, and the sevenfold circuits of Mohammedan pilgrims take the place of the ancient heathen rites. Laying aside these crude legends, and confining our attention to probable history, I can only hope, in the compass of a single lecture, to barely touch upon a series of prominent points without any very careful regard to logical order. This will perhaps insure the greatest clearness as well as the best economy of time. And first, we will glance at the personal history of Mohammed--a history, it should be remembered, which was not committed to writing till two hundred years after the prophet's death, and which depends wholly on the enthusiastic traditions of his followers. Born in the year 561 A.D., of a recently widowed mother, he appears to have been from the first a victim of epilepsy, or some kindred affection whose paroxysms had much to do with his subsequent experiences and his success. The various tribes of Arabia were mostly given to a form of polytheistic idolatry in which, however, the conception of a monotheistic supremacy was still recognized. Most scholars, including Renan, insist on ascribing to the Arabians, in common with all other Shemitic races, a worship of one God as Supreme, though the Arabian Allah, like the Baal of Canaan and Phoenicia, was supposed to be attended by numerous inferior deities. Though Islam undoubtedly borrowed the staple of its truths from the Old Testament, yet there was a short confession strikingly resembling the modern creed of to-day, which had been upon the lips of many generations of Arabians before Mohammed's time. Thus it ran: "I dedicate myself to thy service, O Allah. Thou hast no companion except the companion of whom thou art master and of whatever is his." A society known as the "Hanifs" existed at the time of Mohammed's early manhood, and we know not how long before, whose aim was to bring back their countrymen from the degrading worship and cruel practices of heathenism to the purity of monotheistic worship. The old faith had been reinforced in the minds of the more intelligent Arabs by the truths learned from Jewish exiles, who, as early as the Babylonish captivity, had found refuge in Arabia; and it is a striking fact that the four Hanif leaders whom the young Mohammed found on joining their society, were pleading for the restoration of the faith of Abraham. All these leaders refused to follow his standard when he began to claim supremacy as a prophet; three of them were finally led to Christianity, and the fourth died in a sort of quandary between the Christian faith and Islam. The first two, Waraka and Othman, were cousins of Mohammed's wife, and the third, Obadulla, was his own cousin. Zaid, the last of the four, presents to us a very pathetic picture. He lived and died in perplexity. Banished from Mecca by those who feared his conscientious censorship, he lived by himself on a neighboring hillside, an earnest seeker after truth to the last; and he died with the prayer on his lips, "O God, if I knew what form of worship is most pleasing to thee, so would I serve thee, but I know it not." It is to the credit of Mohammed that he cherished a profound respect for this man. "I will pray for him," he said; "in the Resurrection he also will gather a church around him."[97] In spite of his maladies and the general delicacy of his nervous organization, Mohammed evinced in early youth a degree of energy and intellectual capacity which augured well for his future success in some important sphere. Fortune also favored him in many ways. His success as manager of the commercial caravans of a wealthy widow led to his acceptance as her husband. She was fourteen years his senior, but she seems to have entirely won his affections and to have proved indispensable, not only as a patroness, but as a wise and faithful counsellor. So long as she lived she was the good spirit who called forth his better nature, and kept him from those low impulses which subsequently wrought the ruin of his character, even in the midst of his successes. On the one hand, it is an argument in favor of the sincerity of Mohammed's prophetic claims, that this good and true woman was the first to believe in him as a prophet of God; but, on the other hand, we must remember that she was a loving wife, and that that charity which thinketh no evil is sometimes utterly blind to evil when found in this tender relation. We have no reason to doubt that Mohammed was a sincere "Hanif." Having means and leisure for study, and being of a bright and thoughtful mind, he doubtless entered with enthusiasm into the work of reforming the idolatrous customs of his countrymen. From this high standpoint, and free from superstitious fear of a heathen priesthood, he was prepared to estimate in their true enormity the degrading rites which he everywhere witnessed under the abused name of religion. That hatred of idolatry which became the main spring of his subsequent success, was thus nourished and strengthened as an honest and abiding sentiment. He was, moreover, of a contemplative--we may say, of a religious--turn of mind. His maladies gave him a tinge of melancholy, and, like the Buddha, he showed a characteristic thoughtfulness bordering upon the morbid. Becoming more and more a reformer, he followed the example of many other reformers by withdrawing at stated times to a place of solitude for meditation; at least such is the statement of his followers, though there are evidences that he took his family with him, and that he may have been seeking refuge from the heat. However this may have been, the place chosen was a neighboring cave, in whose cool shade he not only spent the heated hours of the day, but sometimes a succession of days and nights. Perhaps the confinement increased the violence of his convulsions, and the vividness and power of the strange phantasmagorias which during his paroxysms passed through his mind. It was from one of these terrible attacks that his alleged call to the prophetic office was dated. The prevailing theories of his time ascribed all such experiences to the influence of supernatural spirits, either good or evil, and the sufferer was left to the alternative of assuming either that he had received messages from heaven, or that he had been a victim of the devil. After a night of greater suffering and more thrilling visions than he had ever experienced before, Mohammed chose the more favorable interpretation, and announced to his sympathizing wife Kadijah that he had received from Gabriel a solemn call to become the Prophet of God. There has been endless discussion as to how far he may have been self-deceived in making this claim, and how far he may have been guilty of conscious imposture. Speculation is useless, since on the one hand we cannot judge a man of that age and that race by the rigid standards of our own times; and on the other, we are forbidden to form a too favorable judgment by the subsequent developments of Mohammed's character and life, in regard to which no other interpretation than that of conscious fraud seems possible.[98] Aside from the previous development and influence of a monotheistic reform, and the favoring circumstance of a fortunate marriage, he found his way prepared by the truths which had been made known in Arabia by both Jews and Christians. The Jews had fled to the Arabian Peninsula from the various conquerors who had laid waste Jerusalem and overrun the territories of the Ten Tribes. At a later day, many Christians had also found an asylum there from the persecutions of hostile bishops and emperors. Sir William Muir has shown how largely the teachings of the Koran are grounded upon those of the Old and New Testaments.[99] All that is best in Mohammedanism is clearly borrowed from Judaism and Christianity. Mohammed was illiterate and never claimed originality. Indeed, he plead his illiteracy as a proof of direct inspiration. A far better explanation would be found in the knowledge derived from inspired records, penned long before and under different names. The prophet was fortunate not only in the possession of truths thus indirectly received, but in the fact that both Jews and Christians had lapsed from a fair representation of the creeds which they professed. The Jews in Arabia had lost the true spirit of their sacred scriptures, and were following their own perverted traditions rather than the oracles of God. They had lost the vitality and power of the truths revealed to their fathers, and were destitute of moral earnestness and all spiritual life. On the other hand, the Christian sects had fallen into low superstitions and virtual idolatry. The Trinity, as they represented it, gave to Mohammed the impression that the Virgin Mary, "Mother of God," was one of the three persons of the Trinity, and that the promise of the coming Paraclete might very plausibly be appropriated by himself.[100] The prevailing worship of pictures, images, and relics appeared in his vision as truly idolatrous as the polytheism of the heathen Koreish. It was clear to him that there was a call for some zealous iconoclast to rise up and deliver his country from idolatry. The whole situation seemed auspicious. Arabia was ripe for a sweeping reformation. It appears strange to us, at this late day, that the churches of Christendom, even down to the seventh century, should have failed to christianize Arabia, though they had carried the Gospel even to Spain and to Britain on the west, and to India and China on the east. If they had imagined that the deserts of the Peninsula were not sufficiently important to demand attention, they certainly learned their mistake; for now the sad day of reckoning had come, when swarms of fanatics should issue from those deserts like locusts, and overrun their Christian communities, humble their bishops, appropriate their sacred temples, and reduce their despairing people to the alternatives of apostacy, tribute, slavery, or the sword. It seems equally strange that the great empires which had carried their conquests so far on every hand had neglected to conquer Arabia. It was, indeed, comparatively isolated; it certainly did not lie in the common paths of the conquerors; doubtless it appeared barren, and by no means a tempting prize; and withal it was a difficult field for a successful campaign. But from whatever reason, the tribes of Arabia had never been conquered. Various expeditions had won temporary successes, but the proud Arab could boast that his country had never been brought into permanent subjection.[101] Meanwhile the heredity of a thousand years had strengthened the valor of the Arab warrior. He was accustomed to the saddle from his very infancy; he was almost a part of his horse. He was trained to the use of arms as a robber, when not engaged in tribal wars. His whole activity, his all-absorbing interest, was in hostile forays. He knew no fear; he had no scruples. He had been taught to feel that, as a son of Ishmael every man's hand was turned against him, and of simple right his hand might be turned against every man. Nor was this all. The surrounding nations, east and west, had long been accustomed to employ these sons of the desert as mercenary soldiers. They had all had a hand in training them for their terrible work, by imparting to them a knowledge of their respective countries, their resources, their modes of warfare, and their points of weakness. How many nations have thus paved the way to their own destruction by calling in allies, who finally became their masters![102] On Mohammed's part, there is no evidence that at the outset he contemplated a military career. At first a reformer, then a prophet, he was driven to arms in self-defence against his persecutors, and he was fortunate in being able to profit by a certain jealousy which existed between the rival cities of Mecca and Medina. Fleeing from Mecca with only one follower, Abu Bekr, leaving the faithful Ali to arrange his affairs while he and his companion were hidden in a cave, he found on reaching Medina a more favorable reception. He soon gathered a following, which enabled him to gain a truce from the Meccans for ten years; and when they on their part violated the truce, he was able to march upon their city with a force which defied all possible resistance, and he entered Mecca in triumph. Medina had been won partly by the supposed credentials of the prophet, but mainly by jealousy of the rival city. Mecca yielded to a superior force of arms, but in the end became the honored capital and shrine of Islam. From this time the career of Mohammed was wholly changed. He was now an ambitious conqueror, and here as before, the question how far he may have sincerely interpreted his remarkable fortune as a call of God to subdue the idolatrous nations, must remain for the present unsettled. Possibly further light may be thrown upon it as we proceed. Let us consider some of the changes which appear in the development of this man's character. If we set out with that high ideal which would seem to be demanded as a characteristic of a great religious teacher, and certainly of one claiming to be a prophet of God, we ought to expect that his character would steadily improve in all purity, humanity, truthfulness, charity, and godlikeness. The test of character lies in its trend. If the founder of a religion has not grown nobler and better under the operation of his own system, that fact is the strongest possible condemnation of the system. A good man generally feels that he can afford to be magnanimous and pitiful in proportion to his victories and his success. But Mohammed became relentless as his power increased. He had at first endeavored to win the Arabian Jews to his standard. He had adopted their prophets and much of the Old Testament teachings; he had insisted upon the virtual identity of the two religions. But having failed in his overtures, and meanwhile having gained superior power, he waged against them the most savage persecution. On one occasion he ordered the massacre of a surrendered garrison of six hundred Jewish soldiers. At another time he put to the most inhuman torture a leader who had opposed his cause; in repeated instances he instigated the crime of assassination.[103] In early life he had been engaged in a peaceful caravan trade, and all his influence had been cast in favor of universal security as against the predatory habits of the heathen Arabs; but on coming to power he himself resorted to robbery to enrich his exchequer. Sales mentions twenty-seven of these predatory expeditions against caravans, in which Mohammed was personally present.[104] The biographers of his early life represent him as a man of a natural kindness of disposition, and a sensitive temperament almost bordering on timidity. Though not particularly genial, he was fond of children, and had at first, as his recorded utterances show, frequent impulses of pity and magnanimity. But he became hardened as success crowned his career. The temperateness which characterized his early pleadings and remonstrances with those who differed from him, gave place to bitter anathemas; and there was rooted in his personal character that relentless bigotry which has been the key-note of the most intolerant system known upon the earth. A still more marked change occurred in the increasing sensuality of Mohammed. Such lenient apologists as E. Bosworth Smith and Canon Taylor have applied their most skilful upholstery to the defects of his scandalous morals. Mr. Smith has even undertaken to palliate his appropriation of another man's wife, and the blasphemy of his pretended revelation in which he made God justify his passion.[105] These authors base their chief apologies upon comparisons between Mohammed and the worse depravity of the heathen Arabs, or they balance accounts with some of his acknowledged virtues. But the case baffles all such advocacy. The real question is, what was the _drift_ of the prophet's character? What was the influence of his professed principles on his own life? It cannot be denied that his moral trend was downward. If we credit the traditions of his own followers, he had lived a virtuous life as the husband of one wife,[106] and that for many years. But after the death of Kadijah he entered upon a career of polygamy in violation of his own law. He had fixed the limit for all Moslems at four lawful wives; and in spite of the arguments of R. Bosworth Smith, we must regard it as a most damning after-thought that made the first and only exception to accommodate his own weakness. By that act he placed himself beyond the help of all sophistry, and took his true place in the sober judgment of mankind. And by a law which is as unerring as the law of gravitation, he became more and more sensual as age advanced. At the time of his death he was the husband of eleven wives. We are not favored with a list of his concubines:[107] we only know that his system placed no limit upon the number.[108] Now, if a prophet claiming direct inspiration could break his own inspired laws for his personal accommodation; if, when found guilty of adultery, he could compel his friend and follower to divorce his wife that he might take her; if upon each violation of purity and decency he did not shrink from the blasphemy of claiming a special revelation which made God the abettor of his vices, and even represented Him as reproving and threatening his wives for their just complaints--if all this does not stamp a man as a reckless impostor, what further turpitude is required? At the same time it is evident that constant discrimination is demanded in judging of the character of Mohammed. It is not necessary to assume that he was wholly depraved at first, or to deny that for a time he was the good husband that he is represented to have been, or that he was a sincere and enthusiastic reformer, or even that he may have interpreted some of his _early_ hallucinations as mysterious messages from heaven. At various times in his life he doubtless displayed noble sentiments and performed generous acts. But when we find him dictating divine communications with deliberate purpose for the most villainous objects, when we find the messages of Gabriel timed and graded to suit the exigencies of his growing ambition, or the demands of his worst passions, we are forced to a preponderating condemnation. The Mohammed of the later years is a remorseless tyrant when occasion requires, and at all times the slave of unbridled lust. Refined and cultivated Mohammedan ladies--I speak from testimony that is very direct--do not hesitate to condemn the degrading morals of their prophet, and to contrast him with the spotless purity of Jesus; "but then," they add, "God used him for a great purpose, and gave him the most exalted honor among men." Alas! it is the old argument so often employed in many lands. Success, great intellect, grand achievements gild all moral deformity, and win the connivance of dazzled minds. In this case, however, it is not a hero or a statesman, but an alleged prophet of God, that is on trial. It is a question difficult to decide, how far Mohammed made Mohammedanism, and how far the system moulded him. The action of cause and effect was mutual, and under this interaction both the character and the system were slow growths. The Koran was composed in detached fragments suited to different stages of development, different degrees and kinds of success, different demands of personal impulse or changes of conduct. The Suras, without any claim to logical connection, were written down by an amanuensis on bits of parchment, or pieces of wood or leather, and even on the shoulder-bones of sheep. And they were each the expression of Mohammed's particular mood at the time, and each entered in some degree into his character from that time forth. The man and the book grew together, the system, through all its history, fairly represents the example of the man and the teaching of the book. Let us next consider the historic character and influence of the system of Islam. In forming just conclusions as to the real influence of Mohammedanism, a judicial fairness is necessary. In the first place, we must guard against the hasty and sweeping judgments which are too often indulged in by zealous Christians; and on the other hand, we must certainly challenge the exaggerated statements of enthusiastic apologists. It is erroneous to assert that Islam has never encouraged education, that it has invariably been adverse to all progress, that it knows nothing but the Koran, or that Omar, in ordering the destruction of the Alexandrian library, is the only historical exponent of the system. Such statements are full of partial truths, but they are also mingled with patent errors. The Arab races in their original home were naturally inclined to the encouragement of letters, particularly of poetry, and Mohammed himself, though he had never been taught even to read, much less to write, took special pains to encourage learning. "Teach your children poetry," he said; "it opens the mind, lends grace to wisdom, and makes the heroic virtues hereditary."[109] According to Sprenger, he gave liberty to every prisoner who taught twelve boys of Mecca to write. The Abbasside princes of a later day offered most generous prizes for superior excellence in poetry, and Bagdad, Damascus, Alexandria, Bassora, and Samarcand were noted for their universities.[110] Cordova and Seville were able to lend their light to the infant university of Oxford. The fine arts of sculpture and painting were condemned by the early caliphs, doubtless on account of the idolatrous tendencies which they were supposed to foster; but medicine, philosophy, mathematics, chemistry, and astronomy were especially developed, and that at a time when the nations of Europe were mostly in darkness.[111] Yet it cannot be denied that on the whole the influence of Islam has been hostile to learning and to civilization.[112] The world will never forget that by the burning of the great library of Alexandria the rich legacy which the old world had bequeathed to the new was destroyed. By its occupation of Egypt and Constantinople, and thus cutting off the most important channels of communication, the Mohammedan power became largely responsible for the long eclipse of Europe during the Middle Ages. Moreover, when zealous advocates of the system contrast the barbarism of Richard Coeur de Lion with the culture and humanity of Saladin, they seem to forget that the race of Richard had but just emerged from the savagery of the Northmen, while Saladin and his race had not only inherited the high moral culture of Judaism and Christianity, but had virtually monopolized it. It was chiefly by the wars of the Crusaders that Western Europe became acquainted with the civilization of the Orient. Instead of ignoring the advantages which the East had over the West at that period, it would be more just to inquire what comparative improvements of their respective opportunities have been made by Western Christianity and Eastern Mohammedanism since that time. It would be an interesting task, for example, to start with the period of Saladin and Coeur de Lion, and impartially trace on the one hand the influence of Christianity as it moulded the savage conquerors of the Roman Empire, and from such rude materials built up the great Christian nations of the nineteenth century; and on the other hand, follow the banner of the Crescent through all the lands where it has borne sway: Persia, Arabia, Northern India, Egypt, the Barbary States, East Africa, and the Soudan, and then draw an unbiased conclusion as to which system, as a system, has done more to spread general enlightenment, foster the sentiments of kindness and philanthropy, promote human liberty, advance civilization, increase and elevate populations, promote the purity and happiness of the family and the home, and raise the standards of ethics and true religion among mankind.[113] One of the brilliant dynasties of Mohammedan history was that of the Moors of Spain. We can never cease to admire their encouragement of arts and their beautiful architecture, but is it quite certain that all this was a direct fruit of Islam? The suggestion that it may have been partly due to contact with the Gothic elements which the Moors vanquished, finds support in the fact that nothing of the kind appeared on the opposite coast of Africa. And while the Mohammedan Empire in India has left the most exquisite architectural structures in the world, it is well known that they were the work of European architects. But in considering the influence which Islam has exerted on the whole, lack of time compels me to limit our survey to Africa, except as other lands may be referred to incidentally.[114] That the first African conquests, extending from Egypt to Morocco, were simple warlike invasions in which the sword was the only instrument of propagandism, no one will deny. But it is contended that in later centuries a great work has been accomplished in Western Soudan, and is still being accomplished, by missionary effort and the general advance of a wholesome civilization. Any fair estimate of Mohammedan influence must take account of the elements which it found in Northern Africa at the time of its conquests. The states which border on the Mediterranean had once been powerful and comparatively enlightened. They had been populous and prosperous. The Phoenician colony in Carthage had grown to be no mean rival of Rome's military power. Egypt had been a great centre of learning, not only in the most ancient times, but especially after the building of Alexandria. More western lands, like Numidia and Mauritania, had been peopled by noble races. After the introduction of Christianity, Alexandria became the bright focus into which the religions and philosophies of the world poured their concentrated light. Some of the greatest of the Christian fathers, like Augustine, Tertullian, and Cyprian, were Africans. The foundations of Latin Christianity were laid by these men. The Bishopric of Hippo was a model for all time in deep and intelligent devotion. The grace and strength, the sublime and all-conquering faith of Monica, and others like her, furnished a pattern for all Christian womanhood and motherhood. I do not forget that before the time of the Mohammedan invasion the Vandals had done their work of devastation, or that the African Church had been woefully weakened and rent by wild heresies and schisms, or that the defection of the Monophysite or Coptic Church of Egypt was one of the influences which facilitated the Mohammedan success. But making due allowance for all this, vandalism and schism could not have destroyed so soon the ancient civilization or sapped the strength of the North African races. The process which has permanently reduced so many once populous cities and villages to deserts, and left large portions of the Barbary States with only the moldering ruins of their former greatness, has been a gradual one. For centuries after the Arab conquest those states were virtually shut off from communication with Europe, and for at least three centuries more, say from 1500 down to the generation which immediately preceded our own, they were known chiefly by the piracies which they carried on against the commerce of all maritime nations. Even the Government of the United States was compelled to pay a million of dollars for the ransom of captured American seamen, and it paid it not to private corsairs, but to the Mohammedan governments by which those piracies were subsidized, as a means of supplying the public exchequer. These large amounts were recovered only when our navy, in co-operation with that of England, extirpated the Riff piracies by bombarding the Moslem ports. The vaunted civilizations of the North African states would have been supported by wholesale marauding to this day, had not their piratical fleets been thus summarily swept from the seas by other powers. If Egypt has shown a higher degree of advancement it has been due to her peculiar geographical position, to the inexhaustible fertility of the Delta, and, most of all, to the infusion of foreign life and energy into the management of her affairs. Ambitious adventurers, like the Albanian Mehamet Ali, have risen to power and have made Egypt what she is, or rather what she was before the more recent intervention of the European powers. Even Canon Taylor admits that for centuries it has been necessary to import more vigorous foreign blood for the administration of Egyptian affairs.[115] It will be admitted that Mohammedan conquests have been made in mediæval times, and down to our own age, in Central Africa, and that along the southern borders of Sahara a cordon of more or less prosperous states has been established; also, that the civilization of those states contrasts favorably with the savagery of the cannibal tribes with which they have come in contact. Probably the best--that is to say, the least objectionable--exemplifications of Islam now to be found in the world are seen in some of the older states of Western Soudan. The Mandingo of the central uplands furnished a better material than the "unspeakable Turk," and it would not be quite fair to ascribe all his present virtues to the Moslem rule. But _how_ have these conquests in Central Africa been made? The contention of the apologists for Islam is that recently, at least, and probably more or less in the past, a quiet missionary work has greatly extended monotheism, temperance, education, and general comfort, and that it has done more than all other influences for the permanent extinction of the slave trade! Dr. E.W. Blyden, in answer to the charge that Mohammedan Arabs are now, and long have been, chiefly responsible for the horrors of that trade, and that even when Americans bought slaves for their plantations, Moslem raiders in the interior instigated the tribal quarrels which supplied the markets on the coast, contends that the Moslem conquests do most effectually destroy the trade, since tribes which have become Moslem can no longer be enslaved by Moslems.[116] It is a curious argument, especially as it seems to ignore the fact that at the present time both the supply and the demand depend on Mohammedan influence. As to the means by which the Soudanese States are now extending their power we may content ourselves with a mere reference to the operations of the late "El Mahdi" in the East and the notorious Samadu in the West. Their methods may be accepted as illustrations of a kind of tactics which have been employed for ages. The career of El Mahdi is already well known. Samadu was originally a prisoner, captured while yet a boy in one of the tribal wars near the headwaters of the Niger. Partly by intrigue and partly by the aid of his religious fanaticism he at length became sufficiently powerful to enslave his master. Soon afterward he proclaimed his divine mission, and declared a _Jehad_ or holy war against all infidels. Thousands flocked to his banner, influenced largely by the hope of booty; and ere long, to quote the language of a lay correspondent of the London _Standard_, written in Sierra Leone September 18, 1888, "he became the scourge of all the peaceable states on the right bank of the Upper Niger." Since 1882 he has attempted to dispute the territorial claims of the French on the upper, and of the English on the lower Niger, though without success. But he has seemed to avenge his disappointment the more terribly on the native tribes. The letter published in the _Standard_ gives an account of an official commission sent by the Governor of Sierra Leone to the headquarters of Samadu in 1888, and in describing the track of this Western Mahdi in his approaches to the French territories it says: "The messengers report that every town and village through which they passed was in ruins, and that the road, from the borders of Sulimania to Herimakono, was lined with human skeletons, the remains of unfortunates who had been slain by Samadu's fanatical soldiery, or had perished from starvation through the devastation of the surrounding country. Some of these poor wretches, to judge from the horrible contortions of the skeletons, had been attacked by vultures and beasts of prey while yet alive, and when too near their lingering death to have sufficient strength to beat them off. Around the ruined towns were hundreds of doubled-up skeletons, the remains of prisoners who, bound hand and foot, had been forced upon their knees, and their heads struck off. Keba, the heroic Bambara king, is still resisting bravely, but he has only one stronghold (Siaso) left, and the end cannot now be far off." Samadu's career in this direction having been arrested, he next turned his attention toward the tribes under English protection on the southeast, "where, unfortunately, there was no power to take up the cause of humanity and arrest his progress. Before long he entirely overran and subjected Kouranko, Limbah, Sulimania, Kono, and Kissi. The most horrible atrocities were committed; peaceable agriculturists were slaughted in thousands, and their women and children carried off into slavery. Falaba, the celebrated capital of Sulimania, and the great emporium for trade between Sierra Leone and the Niger, was captured and destroyed; and all the inhabitants of that district, whom every traveller, from Winwood Reade down to Dr. Blyden, has mentioned with praise for their industry and docility, have been exterminated or carried off. Sulimania, which was the garden of West Africa, has now become a howling wilderness." And the writer adds: "The people of the States to the south of Futa Djallon are pagans, and Samadu makes their religion a pretext for his outrages. He is desirous, he says, of converting them to the 'True Faith,' and his modes of persuasion are murder and slavery. What could be more horrible than the story just brought down by the messengers who were with Major Festing? Miles of road strewn with human bones; blackened ruins where were peaceful hamlets; desolation and emptiness where were smiling plantations. What has become of the tens of thousands of peaceful agriculturists, their wives and their innocent children? Gone; converted, after Samadu's manner, to the 'True Faith.' And thus the conversion of West Africa to Islamism goes merrily on, while _dilettante_ scholars at home complacently discuss the question as to whether that faith or Christianity is the more suitable for the Negro; and the British people, dead to their generous instincts of old, make no demand that such deeds of cruelty and horror shall be arrested with a strong hand."[117] Similar accounts of the African _propagandism_ of Islam might be given in the very words of numerous travellers and explorers, but one or two witnesses only shall be summoned to speak of the Mohammedan dominion and civilization in East Africa. Professor Drummond, in giving his impressions of Zanzibar, says: "Oriental in its appearance, Mohammedan in its religion, Arabian in its morals, a cesspool of wickedness, it is a fit capital to the Dark Continent." And it is the great emporium--not an obscure settlement, but the consummate flower of East African civilization and boasting in the late Sultan Bargash, an unusually enlightened Moslem ruler. Of the interior and the ivory-slave trade pursued under the auspices of Arab dominion the same author says: "Arab encampments for carrying on a wholesale trade in this terrible commodity are now established all over the heart of Africa. They are usually connected with wealthy Arab traders at Zanzibar and other places on the coast, and communication is kept up by caravans, which pass at long intervals from one to the other. Being always large and well-supplied with the material of war, these caravans have at their mercy the feeble and divided native tribes through which they pass, and their trail across the continent is darkened with every aggravation of tyranny and crime. They come upon the scene suddenly; they stay only long enough to secure their end, and disappear only to return when a new crop has arisen which is worth the reaping. Sometimes these Arab traders will actually settle for a year or two in the heart of some quiet community in the remote interior. They pretend perfect friendship; they molest no one; they barter honestly. They plant the seeds of their favorite vegetables and fruits--the Arab always carries seeds with him--as if they meant to stay forever. Meantime they buy ivory, tusk after tusk, until great piles of it are buried beneath their huts, and all their barter goods are gone. Then one day suddenly the inevitable quarrel is picked. And then follows a wholesale massacre. Enough only are spared from the slaughter to carry the ivory to the coast; the grass huts of the village are set on fire; the Arabs strike camp; and the slave march, worse than death, begins. The last act in the drama, the slave march, is the aspect of slavery which in the past has chiefly aroused the passions and the sympathy of the outside world, but the greater evil is the demoralization and disintegration of communities by which it is necessarily preceded. It is essential to the traffic that the region drained by the slaver should be kept in perpetual political ferment; that, in order to prevent combination, chief should be pitted against chief, and that the moment any tribe threatens to assume a dominating strength it should either be broken up by the instigation of rebellion among its dependencies or made a tool of at their expense. The inter-relation of tribes is so intricate that it is impossible to exaggerate the effect of disturbing the equilibrium at even a single centre. But, like a river, a slave caravan has to be fed by innumerable tributaries all along its course, at first in order to gather a sufficient volume of human bodies for the start, and afterward to replace the frightful loss by desertion, disablement, and death." Next to Livingstone, whose last pathetic appeal to the civilized world to "heal the open sore of Africa" stands engraved in marble in Westminster Abbey, no better witness can be summoned in regard to the slave trade and the influence of Islam generally in Eastern and Central Africa than Henry M. Stanley. From the time when he encountered the Mohammedan propagandists at the Court of Uganda he has seen how intimately and vitally the faith and the traffic are everywhere united. I give but a single passage from his "Congo Free State," page 144. "We discovered that this horde of banditti--for in reality and without disguise they were nothing else--was under the leadership of several chiefs, but principally under Karema and Kibunga. They had started sixteen months previously from Wane-Kirundu, about thirty miles below Vinya Njara. For eleven months the band had been raiding successfully between the Congo and the Lubiranzi, on the left bank. They had then undertaken to perform the same cruel work between the Biyerré and Wane-Kirundu. On looking at my map I find that such a territory within the area described would cover superficially 16,200 square geographical miles on the left bank, and 10,500 miles on the right, all of which in statute mileage would be equal to 34,700 square miles, just 2,000 square miles greater than the island of Ireland, inhabited by about 1,000,000 people. "The band when it set out from Kirundu numbered 300 fighting men, armed with flint-locks, double-barrelled percussion guns, and a few breech-loaders; their followers, or domestic slaves and women, doubled this force.... Within the enclosure was a series of low sheds extending many lines deep from the immediate edge of the clay bank inland, 100 yards; in length the camp was about 300 yards. At the landing-place below were 54 long canoes, varying in carrying capacity. Each might convey from 10 to 100 people.... The first general impressions are that the camp is much too densely peopled for comfort. There are rows upon rows of dark nakedness, relieved here and there by the white dresses of the captors. There are lines or groups of naked forms--upright, standing, or moving about listlessly; naked bodies are stretched under the sheds in all positions; naked legs innumerable are seen in the perspective of prostrate sleepers; there are countless naked children--many mere infants--forms of boyhood and girlhood, and occasionally a drove of absolutely naked old women bending under a basket of fuel, or cassava tubers, or bananas, who are driven through the moving groups by two or three musketeers. On paying more attention to details, I observe that mostly all are fettered; youths with iron rings around their necks, through which a chain, like one of our boat anchor-chains, is rove, securing the captives by twenties. The children over ten are secured by these copper rings, each ringed leg brought together by the central ring." By a careful examination of statistics Mr. Stanley estimates that counting the men killed in the raids and those who perish on the march or are slain because supposed to be worthless, every 5,000 slaves actually sold cost over 30,000 lives. But there are Arabs and Arabs we are told. The slave-dealers of East Africa and the barbarous chieftains who push their bloody conquests in Western Soudan are bad enough, it is admitted, but they are "exceptions." Yet we insist that they illustrate the very spirit of Mohammed himself, who authorized the taking of prisoners of war as slaves. Their plea is that they save the souls of those they capture; many of these traders are Mollahs--Pharisees of the Pharisees. Canon Taylor, Dr. Blyden, and others have given us glowing accounts of "Arab missionaries going about without purse or scrip, and disseminating their religion by quietly teaching the Koran;" but the venerable Bishop Crowther, who has spent his whole life in that part of Africa where these conquests are supposed to be made, declares that the real vocation of the quiet apostles of the Koran is that of fetish peddlers.[118] If it be objected that this is the biased testimony of a Christian missionary, it may be backed by the explorer Lander, who, in speaking of this same class of men, says: "These Mollahs procure an easy subsistence by making fetishes or writing charms on bits of wood which are washed off carefully into a basin of water, and drank with avidity by the credulous multitude." And he adds: "Those who profess the Mohammedan faith among the negroes are as ignorant and superstitious as their idolatrous brethren; nor does it appear that their having adopted a new creed has either improved their manners or bettered their condition in life." Dr. Schweinfurth also describes the Mohammedan missionaries whom he found at Khartoum as "polluted with every abominable vice which the imagination of man can conceive of." In answer to various statements which had been published in regard to the rapid missionary progress made by Mohammedans in West Central Africa, Bishop Crowther wrote a letter to the Church Missionary Society at the beginning of 1888, giving the results of his own prolonged observation. He describes the methods used as: 1. War upon the heathen tribes. "If the Chief of a heathen tribe accepts the Koran his people are at once counted as converts and he is received into favor, and is thus prepared to become an instrument in conquering other tribes. But on the refusal to accept the Koran war is declared, the destruction of their country is the consequence, and horrible bloodshed. The aged, male and female, are massacred, while the salable are led away as slaves. One half of the slaves are reserved by the chief, the other half is divided among the soldiers to encourage them to future raids." 2. Another cause of large increase is polygamy. "For although but four lawful wives are allowed, there is unlimited license for concubinage." 3. The sale of charms is so conducted as to prove not only a means of profit but a shrewd propaganda. "When childless women are furnished with these, they are pledged, if successful, to dedicate their children to Islam." And Bishop Crowther verifies the statement made by others in reference to East Africa, that the priests "besides being charm-makers are traders both in general articles and more largely in slaves."[119] We have only time to consider one question more, viz., What is the character of Islam as we find it to-day, and what are its prospects of development? It is a characteristic of our age that no religion stands wholly alone and uninfluenced by others. It is especially true that the systems of the East are all deeply affected by the higher ethics and purer religious conceptions borrowed from Christianity. Thus many Mohammedans of our day, and especially those living in close contact with our Christian civilization, are rising to higher conceptions of God and of religious truth than have been entertained by Moslems hitherto. Canon Taylor, in a little volume entitled "Leaves from an Egyptian Note-Book," has drawn a picture of Islam which Omar and Othman would hardly have recognized. In the first place it should be remembered that, as he confesses, his reputation as a defender of Mohammed and his system had gone before him to Cairo, and that he was understood to be a seeker after facts favorable to his known views. This opened the hearts of friendly Pashas and served to bring out all the praises that they could bestow upon their own faith. It appears accordingly that he was assured by them that polygamy is widely discarded and condemned by prominent Moslems in such cities as Cairo and Alexandria, that many leading men are highly intelligent and widely read, that they profess belief in most of the doctrines held by the Christian Church, that they receive the inspired testimony of the Old and New Testaments--except in so far as they have been corrupted by Christian manipulation. This exception, however, includes all that is at variance with the Koran. They advocate temperance and condemn the slave trade. They encourage the general promotion of education, and what seems to the credulous Canon most remarkable of all is that they express deep regret that Christians do not feel the same charity and fellowship toward Moslems that they feel toward Christians! Now, making all due abatement for the _couleur de rose_ which these easy-going and politic Pashas may have employed with their English champion, it is undoubtedly true that a class of Mohammedans are found in the great cosmopolitan cities of the Levant who have come to recognize the spirit of the age in which they live. Many of them have been educated in Europe; they speak several languages; they read the current literature; they are ashamed of the old fanatical Mohammedanism. Though they cherish a partisan interest in the recognized religion of their country, their faith is really eclectic; it comes not from Old Mecca, but is in part a product of the awakened thought of the nineteenth century. But Canon Taylor's great fallacy lies in trying to persuade himself and an intelligent Christian public that this is Islam. He wearies himself in his attempts to square the modern Cairo with the old, and to trace the modern gentlemanly Pasha, whose faith at least sits lightly upon his soul, as a legitimate descendant of the fanatical and licentious prophet of Arabia. When he strives to convince the world that because these courteous Pashas feel kindly enough toward the Canon of York and others like him, therefore Islam is and always has been a charitable and highly tolerant system, he simply stultifies the whole testimony of history. He tells us that his Egyptian friends complain that "whereas they regard us as brother-believers and accept our scriptures, they are nevertheless denounced as infidels. And they ask why should an eternal coldness reign in our hearts." Probably they are not acquainted with Samadu of Western Soudan and his methods of propagandism. They have forgotten the career of El Mahdi; they are not familiar with the terrible oppression of the Jews in Morocco--with which even that in Russia cannot compare; they have not read the dark accounts of the extortion practised by the Wahábees of Arabia, even upon Moslems of another sect on their pilgrimages to Mecca,[120] nor do they seem to know that Syrian converts from Islam are now hiding in Egypt from the bloodthirsty Moslems of Beyrut. Finally, he forgets that the very "children are taught formulas of prayer in which they may compendiously curse Jews and Christians and all unbelievers."[121] A more plausible case is made out by Canon Taylor, Dr. Blyden, and others on the question of temperance. It is true that Moslems, as a rule, are not hard drinkers. Men and races of men have their besetting sins. Drinking was not the special vice of the Arabs. Their country was too arid; but they had another vice of which Mohammed was the chief exemplar. Canon Taylor is doubtless correct also in the statement that the English protectorate in Egypt has greatly increased the degree of intemperance, and that in this respect the presence of European races generally has been a curse. Certainly too much cannot be said in condemnation of the wholesale liquor trade carried on in Africa by unscrupulous subjects of Christian nations. But it should be remembered that the whiskey of Cairo and of the West Coast does not represent Christianity any more than the Greek assassin or the Italian pickpocket in Cairo represents Islam. Christian philanthropists in Europe and America are seeking to suppress the evil. If Christian missionaries in West Africa were selling rum as Moslem Mollahs are buying and selling slaves in Uganda, if the Bible authorized the system as the Koran encourages slavery and concubinage, as means of propagandism, a parallel might be presented; but the very reverse is true. As a rule Nomadic races are not as greatly inclined to the use of ardent spirits as are the descendants of the ancient tribes of Northern Europe. The difference is due to climate, temperament, heredity, and the amount of supply. The Koran discourages intemperance and so does the Bible; both are disregarded when the means of gratification are abundant. The Moguls of India were sots almost as a rule. Wealthy Persian Moslems are the chief purchasers of the native wines. Lander, Schweinfurth, and even Mungo Parke all speak of communities in Central Africa as wholly given to intemperance.[122] Egyptians even, according to Canon Taylor, find the abundant supplies afforded by Europeans too tempting for the restraints of the Koran. One of the most significant indications that the sober judgment of all enlightened men favors the immense superiority of the Christian faith over all ethnic systems is the fact that even those zealous apologists who have most plausibly defended the non-Christian religions have subsequently evinced some misgivings and have even become advocates of the superior light of Christianity. Sir Edwin Arnold, seeing how seriously some ill-grounded Christian people had interpreted "The Light of Asia," has since made amends by writing "The Light of the World." And E. Bosworth Smith, on reading the extravagant glorification given to Islam by Canon Isaac Taylor, whom he accuses of plagiarism and absurd exaggeration, has come to the stand as a witness against his extreme views. Without acknowledging any important modification of his own former views he has greatly changed the place of emphasis. He has not only recorded his condemnation of Canon Taylor's extravagance but he has made a strong appeal for the transcendent superiority of the Christian faith as that alone which must finally regenerate Africa and the world. He has called public attention to the following pointed criticism of Canon Taylor's plea for Islam, made by a gentleman long resident in Algeria, and he has given it his own endorsement: "Canon Isaac Taylor," says the writer, "has constructed at the expense of Christianity a rose-colored picture of Islam, by a process of comparison in which Christianity is arraigned for failures in practice, of which Christendom is deeply and penitently conscious, no account being taken of Christian precept; while Islam is judged by its better precepts only, no account being taken of the frightful shortcomings in Mohammedan practice, even from the standard of the Koran."[123] No indictment ever carried its proofs more conspicuously on its face than this. E. Bosworth Smith's subsequent tribute to the relative superiority of the Christian faith was given in an address before the Fellows of Zion's College, February 21, 1888. I give his closing comparison entire; also his eloquent appeal for Christian Missions in Africa. "The resemblances between the two Creeds are indeed many and striking, as I have implied throughout; but, if I may, once more, quote a few words which I have used elsewhere in dealing with this question, the contrasts are even more striking than the resemblances. The religion of Christ contains whole fields of morality and whole realms of thought which are all but outside the religion of Mohammed. It opens humility, purity of heart, forgiveness of injuries, sacrifice of self, to man's moral nature; it gives scope for toleration, development, boundless progress to his mind; its motive power is stronger even as a friend is better than a king, and love higher than obedience. Its realized ideals in the various paths of human greatness have been more commanding, more many-sided, more holy, as Averroes is below Newton, Harun below Alfred, and Ali below St. Paul. Finally, the ideal life of all is far more elevating, far more majestic, far more inspiring, even as the life of the founder of Mohammedanism is below the life of the Founder of Christianity. "If, then, we believe Christianity to be truer and purer in itself than Islam, and than any other religion, we must needs wish others to be partakers of it; and the effort to propagate it is thrice blessed--it blesses him that offers, no less than him who accepts it; nay, it often blesses him who accepts it not. The last words of a dying friend are apt to linger in the chambers of the heart till the heart itself has ceased to beat; and the last recorded words of the Founder of Christianity are not likely to pass from the memory of His Church till that Church has done its work. They are the marching orders of the Christian army; the consolation for every past and present failure; the earnest and the warrant, in some shape or other, of ultimate success. The value of a Christian mission is not, therefore, to be measured by the number of its converts. The presence in a heathen or a Muslim district of a single man who, filled with the missionary spirit, exhibits in his preaching and, so far as may be, in his life, the self-denying and the Christian virtues, who is charged with sympathy for those among whom his lot is cast, who is patient of disappointment and of failure, and of the sneers of the ignorant or the irreligious, and who works steadily on with a single eye to the glory of God and the good of his fellow-men, is, of itself, an influence for good, and a centre from which it radiates, wholly independent of the number of converts he is able to enlist. There is a vast number of such men engaged in mission work all over the world, and our best Indian statesmen, some of whom, for obvious reasons, have been hostile to direct proselytizing efforts, are unanimous as to the quantity and quality of the services they render. "Nothing, therefore, can be more shallow, or more disingenuous, or more misleading, than to attempt to disparage Christian missions by pitting the bare number of converts whom they claim against the number of converts claimed by Islam. The numbers are, of course, enormously in favor of Islam. But does conversion mean the same, or anything like the same, thing in each? Is it _in pari materia_, and if not, is the comparison worth the paper on which it is written? The submission to the rite of circumcision and the repetition of a confession of faith, however noble and however elevating in its ultimate effect, do not necessitate, they do not even necessarily tend toward what a Christian means by a change of heart. It is the characteristic of Mohammedanism to deal with batches and with masses. It is the characteristic of Christianity to speak straight to the individual conscience. "The conversion of a whole Pagan community to Islam need not imply more effort, more sincerity, or more vital change, than the conversion of a single individual to Christianity. The Christianity accepted wholesale by Clovis and his fierce warriors, in the flush of victory, on the field of battle, or by the Russian peasants, when they were driven by the Cossack whips into the Dnieper, and baptized there by force--these are truer parallels to the tribal conversions to Mohammedanism in Africa at the present day. And, whatever may have been their beneficial effects in the march of the centuries, they are not the Christianity of Christ, nor are they the methods or the objects at which a Christian missionary of the present day would dream of aiming. "A Christian missionary could not thus bring over a Pagan or a Muslim tribe to Christianity, even if he would; he ought not to try thus to bring them over, even if he could. 'Missionary work,' as remarked by an able writer in the _Spectator_ the other day, 'is sowing, not reaping, and the sowing of a plant which is slow to bear.' At times, the difficulties and discouragements may daunt the stoutest heart and the most living faith. But God is greater than our hearts and wider than our thoughts, and, if we are able to believe in Him at all, we must also believe that the ultimate triumph of Christianity--and by Christianity I mean not the comparatively narrow creed of this or that particular Church, but the Divine Spirit of its Founder, that Spirit which, exactly in proportion as they are true to their name, informs, and animates, and underlies, and overlies them all--is not problematical, but certain, and in His good time, across the lapse of ages, will prove to be, not local but universal, not partial but complete, not evanescent but eternal."[124] FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 97: Sprenger's _Life of Mohammed_, pp. 40, 41.] [Footnote 98: It is a suspicious fact that the first chapter of the _Koran_ begins with protestations that it is a true revelation, and with most terrible anathemas against all who doubt it. This seems significant, and contrasts strongly with the conscious truthfulness and simplicity of the Gospel narrators.] [Footnote 99: Nor have later defenders of the system failed to derive alleged proofs of their system from Biblical sources. Mohammedan controversialists have urged some very specious and plausible arguments; for example, Deut. xviii. 15-18, promises that the Lord shall raise up unto Israel a prophet from _among their brethren_. But Israel had no brethren but the sons of Ishmael. There was also promised a prophet like unto Moses; but Deut. xxxiv. declares that "_There arose no Prophet in Israel like unto Moses_." When John the Baptist was asked whether he were the Christ, or Elijah, or "_that prophet_," no other than Mohammed could have been meant by "_that prophet_."] [Footnote 100: Rev. Mr. Bruce, missionary in Persia, states that pictures of the Father, the Son, and Mary are still seen in Eastern churches.--_Church Missionary Intelligencer_, January, 1882.] [Footnote 101: Sales, in his _Preliminary Discourse_, Section 1st, enumerates the great nations which have vainly attempted the conquest of Arabia, from the Assyrians down to the Romans, and he asserts that even the Turks have held only a nominal sway.] [Footnote 102: China owes her present dynasty to the fact that the hardy Manchus were called in as mercenaries or as allies.] [Footnote 103: Dr. Koelle: quoted in _Church Missionary Intelligencer_.] [Footnote 104: Sales: _Koran and Preliminary Discourse_, Wherry's edition, p. 89. One of the chief religious duties under the _Koran_ was the giving of alms (Zakat), and under this euphonious name was included the tax by which Mohammed maintained the force that enabled him to keep up his predatory raids on the caravans of his enemies.] [Footnote 105: _Mohammed and Mohammedanism_, p. 123.] [Footnote 106: Dr. Koelle gravely questions this.] [Footnote 107: One of the most wicked and disastrous of all Mohammed's laws was that which allowed the free practice of capturing women and girls in war, and retaining them as lawful chattels in the capacity of concubines. It has been in all ages a base stimulus to the raids of the slave-hunter. Sir William Muir has justly said, that so long as a free sanction to this great evil stands recorded on the pages of the _Koran_, Mohammedans will never of their own accord cease to prosecute the slave-trade.] [Footnote 108: According to Dr. Koelle, the number of women and children who fell to the prophet's share of captives at the time of his great slaughter of the surrendered Jewish soldiers, was two hundred.] [Footnote 109: _Mohammed, Buddha, and Christ_, p. 112.] [Footnote 110: _Mohammed, Buddha, and Christ_.] [Footnote 111: Ibid, p. 112.] [Footnote 112: Says Sir William Muir: "Three radical evils flow from the faith, in all ages and in every country, and must continue to flow _so long as the Koran is the standard of belief_. _First_, polygamy, divorce, and slavery are maintained and perpetuated, striking at the root of public morals, poisoning domestic life, and disorganizing society. _Second_, freedom of thought and private judgment in religion is crushed and annihilated. The sword still is, and must remain, the inevitable penalty for the denial of Islam. Toleration is unknown. _Third_, a barrier has been interposed against the reception of Christianity. They labor under a miserable delusion who suppose that Mohammedanism paves the way for a purer faith. No system could have been devised with more consummate skill for shutting out the nations over which it has sway from the light of truth. _Idolatrous_ Arabia (judging from the analogy of other nations) might have been aroused to spiritual life and to the adoption of the faith of Jesus. _Mohammedan_ Arabia is to the human eye sealed against the benign influences of the Gospel.... The sword of Mohammed and the Koran are the most stubborn enemies of civilization, liberty, and truth which the world has yet known."--_Church Missionary Intelligencer_, November, 1885.] [Footnote 113: Osborne, in his _Islam under the Arabs_, and Marcus Dodds, in _Mohammed, Buddha, and Christ_, have emphasized the fact that Islam, however favorably it might compare with the Arabian heathenism which it overthrew, was wholly out of place in forcing its semi-barbarous cultus upon civilizations which were far above it. It might be an advance upon the rudeness and cruelty of the Koreish, but the misfortune was that it stamped its stereotyped and unchanging principles and customs upon nations which were in advance of it even then, and which, but for its deadening influence, might have made far greater progress in the centuries which followed. Its bigoted founder gave the _Koran_ as the sufficient guide for all time. It arrested the world's progress as far as its power extended. Very different was the spirit of Judaism. "It distinctly disclaimed both finality and completeness. Every part of the Mosaic religion had a forward look, and was designed to leave the mind in an attitude of expectation." Mohammedanism, in claiming to be the one religion for all men and all time, is convicted of absurdity and imposture by its failures; by the retrograde which marks its whole history in Western Asia. As a universal religion it has been tried and found wanting.] [Footnote 114: It has been claimed that the spread of Mohammedanism in India is far more rapid than that of Christianity. If this were true in point of fact, it would be significant; for India under British rule furnishes a fair field for such a contest. But it so happens that there, where Islam holds no sword of conquest, and no arbitrary power to compel the faith of men, its growth is very slow, it only keeps pace with the general increase of the population. It cannot compare with the advancement of Christianity. I subjoin an extract from Sir W. Hunter's paper in the _Nineteenth Century_ for July, 1888: "The official census, notwithstanding its obscurities of classification and the disturbing effects of the famine of 1877, attests the rapid increase of the Christian population. So far as these disturbing influences allow of an inference for all British India, the normal rate of increase among the general population was about 8 per cent, from 1872 to 1881, while the actual rate of the Christian population was over 30 per cent. But, taking the lieutenant-governorship of Bengal as the greatest province outside the famine area of 1877, and for whose population, amounting to one-third of the whole of British India, really comparable statistics exist, the census results are clear. The general population increased in the nine years preceding 1881 at the rate of 10.89 per cent., the Mohammedans at the rate of 10.96 per cent., the Hindus at some undetermined rate below 13.64 per cent., Christians of all races at the rate of 40.71 per cent., and the native Christians at the rate of 64.07 per cent."] [Footnote 115: _Leaves from an Egyptian Note-book._] [Footnote 116: _Christianity, Islam, and the Negro Race_, p. 241.] [Footnote 117: For the full text of the letter to the _Standard_, see _Church Missionary Intelligencer_, December, 1888.] [Footnote 118: _Church Missionary Intelligencer_, 1887, p. 653.] [Footnote 119: See _Church Missionary Intelligencer_, April, 1888.] [Footnote 120: Over against Canon Taylor's glowing accounts of this broad and gentle charity we may place the testimony of Palgrave in regard to the remorseless rapacity practised by the Wahábees upon the Shiyaées of Persia while passing through their territory in their pilgrimages to a common shrine. He tells us that "forty gold tománs were fixed as the claim of the Wahábee treasury on every Persian pilgrim for his passage through R'ad, and forty more for a safe conduct through the rest of the empire--eighty in all.... "Every local governor on the way would naturally enough take the hint, and strive not to let the 'enemies of God' (for this is the sole title given by Wahábees to all except themselves) go by without spoiling them more or less.... "So that, all counted up, the legal and necessary dues levied on every Persian Shiyaée while traversing Central Arabia, and under Wahábee guidance and protection, amounted, I found, to about one hundred and fifty gold tománs, equalling nearly sixty pounds sterling, English, no light expenditure for a Persian, and no despicable gain to an Arab."--Palgrave's _Central and Eastern Africa_, p. 161.] [Footnote 121: Dodds: _Mohammed, Buddha, and Christ_, p. 118.] [Footnote 122: _Church Missionary Intelligencer_, November, 1887.] [Footnote 123: _Church Missionary Intelligencer_, February, 1888, p. 66.] [Footnote 124: _Church Missionary Intelligencer_, April, 1888.] LECTURE VII. THE TRACES OF A PRIMITIVE MONOTHEISM There are two conflicting theories now in vogue in regard to the origin of religion. The first is that of Christian theists as taught in the Old and New Testament Scriptures, viz., that the human race in its first ancestry, and again in the few survivors of the Deluge, possessed the knowledge of the true God. It is not necessary to suppose that they had a full and mature conception of Him, or that that conception excluded the idea of other gods. No one would maintain that Adam or Noah comprehended the nature of the Infinite as it has been revealed in the history of God's dealings with men in later times. But from their simple worship of one God their descendants came gradually to worship various visible objects with which they associated their blessings--the sun as the source of warmth and vitality, the rain as imparting a quickening power to the earth, the spirits of ancestors to whom they looked with a special awe, and finally a great variety of created things instead of the invisible Creator. The other theory is that man, as we now behold him, has been developed from lower forms of animal life, rising first to the state of a mere human animal, but gradually acquiring intellect, conscience, and finally a soul;--that ethics and religion have been developed from instinct by social contact, especially by ties of family and the tribal relation; that altruism which began with the instinctive care of parents for their offspring, rose to the higher domain of religion and began to recognize the claims of deity; that God, if there be a God, never revealed himself to man by any preternatural means, but that great souls, like Moses, Isaiah, and Plato, by their higher and clearer insight, have gained loftier views of deity than others, and as prophets and teachers have made known their inspirations to their fellow-men. Gradually they have formed rituals and elaborated philosophies, adding such supernatural elements as the ignorant fancy of the masses was supposed to demand. According to this theory, religions, like everything else, have grown up from simple germs: and it is only in the later stages of his development that man can be said to be a religious being. While an animal merely, and for a time even after he had attained to a rude and savage manhood, a life of selfish passion and marauding was justifiable, since only thus could the survival of the fittest be secured and the advancement of the race attained.[125] It is fair to say that there are various shades of the theory here presented--some materialistic, some theistic, others having a qualified theism, and still others practically agnostic. Some even who claim to be Christians regard the various religions of men as so many stages in the divine education of the race--all being under the direct guidance of God, and all designed to lead ultimately to Christianity which is the goal. That God has overruled all things, even the errors and wickedness of men, for some wise object will not be denied; that He has implanted in the human understanding many correct conceptions of ethical truth, so that noble principles are found in the teachings of all religious systems; that God is the author of all truth and all right impulses, even in heathen minds, is readily admitted. But that He has directly planned and chosen the non-Christian religions on the principle that half-truths and perverted truths and the direct opposites of the truth, were best adapted to certain stages of development--in other words, that He has causatively led any nation into error and consequent destruction as a means of preparing for subsequent generations something higher and better, we cannot admit. The logic of such a conclusion would lead to a remorseless fatalism. Everything would depend on the age and the environment in which one's lot were cast. We cannot believe that fetishism and idolatry have been God's kindergarten method of training the human race for the higher and more spiritual service of His kingdom. Turning from the testimony of the Scriptures on the one hand and the _à priori_ assumptions of evolution on the other, what is the witness of the actual history of religions? Have they shown an upward or a downward development? Do they appear to have risen from polytheism toward simpler and more spiritual forms, or have simple forms been ramified into polytheism?[126] If we shall be able to establish clear evidence that monotheistic or even henotheistic types of faith existed among all, or nearly all, the races at the dawn of history, a very important point will have been gained. The late Dr. Henry B. Smith, after a careful perusal of Ebrard's elaborate presentation of the religions of the ancient and the modern world, and his clear proofs that they had at first been invariably monotheistic and had gradually lapsed into ramified forms of polytheism, says in his review of Ebrard's work: "We do not know where to find a more weighty reply to the assumptions and theories of those writers who persist in claiming, according to the approved hypothesis of a merely naturalistic evolution, that the primitive state of mankind was the lowest and most debased form of polytheistic idolatry, and that the higher religions have been developed out of these base rudiments. Dr. Ebrard shows conclusively that the facts all lead to another conclusion, that gross idolatry is a degeneration of mankind from antecedent and purer forms of religious worship.... He first treats of the civilized nations of antiquity, the Aryan and Indian religions, the Vedas, the Indra period of Brahmanism and Buddhism; then of the religion of the Iranians, the Avesta of the Parsees; next of the Greeks and Romans, the Egyptians, the Canaanites, and the heathen Semitic forms of worship, including the Phoenicians, Assyrians, and Babylonians. His second division is devoted to the half-civilized and savage races in the North and West of Europe, in Asia and Polynesia (Tartars, Mongols, Malays, and Cushites); then the races of America, including a minute examination of the relations of the different races here to the Mongols, Japanese, and old Chinese immigrations."[127] Ebrard himself, in summing up the results of these prolonged investigations, says: "We have nowhere been able to discover the least trace of any forward and upward movement from fetichism to polytheism, and from that again to a gradually advancing knowledge of the one God; but, on the contrary, we have found among all the peoples of the heathen world a most decided tendency to sink from an earlier and relatively purer knowledge of God toward something lower."[128] If these conclusions, reached by Ebrard and endorsed by the scholarly Dr. Henry B. Smith, are correct, they are of great importance; they bring to the stand the witness of the false religions themselves upon an issue in which historic testimony as distinguished from mere theories is in special demand in our time. Of similar import are the well-considered words of Professor Naville, in the first of his lectures on modern atheism.[129] He says: "Almost all pagans seem to have had a glimpse of the divine unity over the multiplicity of their idols, and of the rays of the divine holiness across the saturnalia of their Olympi. It was a Greek (Cleanthus) who wrote these words: 'Nothing is accomplished on the earth without Thee, O God, save the deeds which the wicked perpetrate in their folly.' It was in a theatre at Athens, that the chorus of a tragedy sang, more than two thousand years ago: 'May destiny aid me to preserve, unsullied, the purity of my words, and of all my actions, according to those sublime laws which, brought forth in the celestial heights, have the raven alone for their father, to which the race of mortals did not give birth and which oblivion shall never entomb. In them is a supreme God, and one who waxes not old.' It would be easy to multiply quotations of this order and to show, in the documents of Grecian and Roman civilization, numerous traces of the knowledge of the only and holy God." With much careful discrimination, Dr. William A.P. Martin, of the Peking University, has said: "It is customary with a certain school to represent religion as altogether the fruit of an intellectual process. It had its birth, say they, in ignorance, is modified by every stage in the progress of knowledge, and expires when the light of philosophy reaches its noon-day. The fetish gives place to a personification of the powers of nature, and this poetic pantheon is, in time, superseded by the high idea of unity in nature expressed by monotheism. This theory has the merit of verisimilitude. It indicates what might be the process if man were left to make his own religion; but it has the misfortune to be at variance with facts. A wide survey of the history of civilized nations (and the history of others is beyond reach) shows that the actual process undergone by the human mind in its religious development is precisely opposite to that which this theory supposes; in a word, that man was not left to construct his own creed, but that his blundering logic has always been active in its attempts to corrupt and obscure a divine original. The connection subsisting between the religious systems of ancient and distant countries presents many a problem difficult of solution. Indeed, their mythologies and religious rites are generally so distinct as to admit the hypothesis of an independent origin; but the simplicity of their earliest beliefs exhibits an unmistakable resemblance, suggestive of a common source. "China, India, Egypt, and Greece all agree in the monotheistic type of their early religion. The Orphic hymns, long before the advent of the popular divinities, celebrated the Pantheos, the Universal God. The odes compiled by Confucius testify to the early worship of Shangte, the Supreme Euler. The Vedas speak of 'one unknown true Being, all-present, all-powerful; the Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer of the universe.' And in Egypt, as late as the time of Plutarch, there were still vestiges of a monotheistic worship. 'The other Egyptians,' he says, 'all made offerings at the tombs of the sacred beasts; but the inhabitants of the Thebaïd stood alone in making no such offerings, not regarding as a god anything that can die, and acknowledging no god but one, whom they call Kneph, who had no birth, and can have no death. Abraham, in his wanderings, found the God of his fathers known and honored in Salem, in Gerar, and in Memphis; while at a later day Jethro, in Midian, and Balaam, in Mesopotamia, were witnesses that the knowledge of Jehovah was not yet extinct in those countries.'"[130] Professor Max Müller speaks in a similar strain of the lapse of mankind from earlier and simpler types of faith to low and manifold superstitions: "Whenever we can trace back a religion to its first beginning," says the distinguished Oxford professor, "we find it free from many of the blemishes that offend us in its later phases. The founders of the ancient religions of the world, as far as we can judge, were minds of a high stamp, full of noble aspirations, yearning for truth, devoted to the welfare of their neighbors, examples of purity and unselfishness. What they desired to found upon earth was but seldom realized, and their sayings, if preserved in their original form, offered often a strange contrast to the practice of those who profess to be their disciples. As soon as a religion is established, and more particularly when it has become the religion of a powerful state, the foreign and worldly elements encroach more and more on the original foundation, and human interests mar the simplicity and purity of the plan which the founder had conceived in his own heart and matured in his communings with his God."[131] But in pursuing our subject we should clearly determine the real question before us. How much may we expect to prove from the early history of the non-Christian systems? Not certainly that all nations once received a knowledge of the Old Testament revelation, as some have claimed, nor that all races possessed at the beginning of their several historic periods one and the same monotheistic faith. We cannot prove from non-scriptural sources that their varying monotheistic conceptions sprang from a common belief. We cannot prove either the supernatural revelation which Professor Max Müller emphatically rejects, nor the identity of the well-nigh universal henotheisms which he professes to believe. We cannot prove that the worship of one God as supreme did not coexist with a sort of worship of inferior deities or ministering spirits. Almost as a rule, the worship of ancestors, or spirits, or rulers, or the powers of nature, or even totems and fetishes has been rendered as subordinate to the worship of the one supreme deity who created and upholds all things. Even the monotheism of Judaism and of Christianity has been attended with the belief in angels and the worship of intercessory saints, to say nothing of the many superstitions which prevail among the more ignorant classes. We shall only attempt to show that monotheism, in the sense of worshipping _one God as supreme_, is found in nearly all the early teachings of the world. That these crude faiths are one in the origin is only presumable, if we leave the testimony of the Bible out of the account. When on a summer afternoon we see great shafts of light arising and spreading fan-shaped from behind a cloud which lies along the western horizon, we have a strong presumption that they all spring from one great luminary toward which they converge, although that luminary is hidden from our view. So tracing the convergence of heathen faiths with respect to one original monotheism, back to the point where the prehistoric obscurity begins, we may on the same principle say that all the evidence in the case, and it is not small, points toward a common origin for the early religious conceptions of mankind. Professor Robert Flint, in his scholarly article on theism in "The Britannica," seems to discard the idea that the first religion of mankind was monotheism; but a careful study of his position will show that he has in view those conceptions of monotheism which are common to us, or, as he expresses it, "monotheism in the ordinary or proper sense of the term," "monotheism properly so called," "monotheism which excludes polytheism," etc. Moreover, he maintains that we cannot, from historical sources, learn what conceptions men first had of God. Even when speaking of the Old Testament record, he says: "These chapters (of Genesis), although they plainly teach monotheism and represent the God whose words and acts are recorded in the Bible as no mere national God, but the only true God, they do not teach what is alone in the question--that there was a primitive monotheism, a monotheism revealed and known from the beginning. They give no warrant to the common assumption that God revealed monotheism to Adam, Noah, and others before the Flood, and that the traces of monotheistic beliefs and tendencies in heathendom are derivable from the tradition of this primitive and antediluvian monotheism. The one true God is represented as making himself known by particular words and in particular ways to Adam, but is nowhere said to have taught him that He only was God." It is plain that Professor Flint is here dealing with a conception of monotheism which is exclusive of all other gods. And his view is undoubtedly correct, so far as Adam was concerned. There was no more need of teaching him that his God was the only God, than that Eve was the only woman. With Noah the case is not so plain. He doubtless worshipped God amid the surroundings of polytheistic heathenism. Enoch probably had a similar environment, and there is no good reason for supposing that their monotheism may not have been as exclusive as that of Abraham. But with respect to the Gentile nations, the dim traces of this monism or henotheism which Professor Flint seems to accord to Adam and to Noah, is all that we are contending for, and all that is necessary to the argument of this lecture. We may even admit that heathen deities may sometimes have been called by different names while the one source of power was intended. Different names seem to have been employed to represent different manifestations of the one God of the Old Testament according to His varied relations toward His people. There are those who deny this polyonomy, as Max Müller has called it, and who maintain that the names in the earliest Veda represented distinct deities; but, by similar reasoning, Professor Tiele and others insist that three different Hebrew Gods, according to their respective names, were worshipped in successive periods of the Jewish history. It seems quite possible, therefore, that a too restrictive definition of monotheism may prove too much, by opening the way for a claim that even the Jewish and Christian faith, with its old Testament names of God, its angels, its theophanies, and its fully developed trinity, is not strictly monotheistic. For our present purpose, traces of the worship of one supreme God--call it monotheism or henotheism--is all that is required. With these limitations and qualifications in view, let us turn to the history of some of the leading non-Christian faiths. Looking first to India, we find in the 129th hymn of the Rig Veda, a passage which not only presents the conception of one only supreme and self-existing Being, but at the same time bears significant resemblance to our own account of the creation from chaos. It reads thus: "In the beginning there was neither naught nor aught, Then there was neither atmosphere nor sky above, There was neither death nor immortality, There was neither day nor night, nor light, nor darkness, Only the EXISTENT ONE breathed calmly self-contained. Naught else but He was there, naught else above, beyond. Then first came darkness hid in darkness, gloom in gloom; Next all was water, chaos indiscrete, In which ONE lay void, shrouded in nothingness."[132] In the 121st hymn of the same Veda occurs a passage which seems to resemble the opening of the Gospel of St. John. It reads thus, as translated by Sir Monier Williams: "Him let us praise, the golden child that was In the beginning, who was born the Lord, Who made the earth and formed the sky." "The one born Lord" reminds us of the New Testament expression, "the only begotten Son." Both were "in the beginning;" both were the creators of the world. While there is much that is mysterious in these references, the idea of oneness and supremacy is too plain to be mistaken. Professor Max Müller has well expressed this fact when he said: "There is a monotheism which precedes polytheism in the Veda; and even in the invocation of their (inferior) gods, the remembrance of _a_ God, one and infinite, breaks through the mist of an idolatrous phraseology like the blue sky that is hidden by passing clouds."[133] These monotheistic conceptions appear to have been common to the Aryans before their removal from their early home near the sources of the Oxus, and we shall see further on that in one form or another they survived among all branches of the migrating race. The same distinguished scholar traces the early existence of monotheism in a series of brief and rapid references to nearly all the scattered Aryans not only, but also to the Turanians on the North and East, to the Tungusic, Mongolic, Tartaric, and Finnic tribes. "Everywhere," he says, "we find a worship of nature, and the spirits of the departed, but behind it all there rises a belief in some higher power called by different names, who is Maker and Protector of the world, and who always resides in heaven."[134] He also speaks of an ancient African faith which, together with its worship of reptiles and of ancestors, showed a vague hope of a future life, "and a not altogether faded reminiscence of a supreme God," which certainly implies a previous knowledge.[135] The same prevalence of one supreme worship rising above all idolatry he traces among the various tribes of the Pacific Islands. His generalizations are only second to those of Ebrard. Although he rejects the theory of a supernatural revelation, yet stronger language could hardly be used than that which he employs in proof of a universal monotheistic faith.[136] "Nowhere," he says, "do we find stronger arguments against idolatry, nowhere has the unity of God been upheld more strenuously against the errors of polytheism, than by some of the ancient sages of India. Even in the oldest of the sacred books, the Rig Veda, composed three or four thousand years ago, where we find hymns addressed to the different deities of the sky, the air, the earth, the rivers, the protest of the human heart against many gods breaks forth from time to time with no uncertain sound." Professor Müller's whole position is pretty clearly stated in his first lecture on "The Science of Religion," in which he protests against the idea that God once gave to man "a _preternatural_ revelation" concerning Himself; and yet he gives in this same lecture this striking testimony to the doctrine of an early and prevailing monotheistic faith: "Is it not something worth knowing," he says, "worth knowing even to us after the lapse of four or five thousand years, that before the separation of the Aryan race, before the existence of Sanskrit, Greek, or Latin, before the gods of the Veda had been worshipped, and before there was a sanctuary of Zeus among the sacred oaks of Dodona, one Supreme deity had been found, had been named, had been invoked by the ancestors of our race, and had been invoked by a name which has never been excelled by any other name?" And again, on the same subject, he says: "If a critical examination of the ancient language of the Jews leads to no worse results than those which have followed from a careful interpretation of the petrified language of ancient India and Greece, we need not fear; we shall be gainers, not losers. Like an old precious medal, the ancient religion, after the rust of ages has been removed, will come out in all its purity and brightness; and the image which it discloses will be the image of the Father, the Father of all the nations upon earth; and the superscription, when we can read it again, will be, not only in Judea, but in the languages of all the races of the world, the Word of God, revealed where alone it can be revealed--revealed in the heart of man."[137] The late Professor Banergea, of Calcutta, in a publication entitled "The Aryan Witness," not only maintained the existence of monotheism in the early Vedas, but with his rare knowledge of Sanskrit and kindred tongues, he gathered from Iranian as well as Hindu sources many evidences of a monotheism common to all Aryans. His conclusions derive special value from the fact that he was a high caste Hindu, and was not only well versed in the sacred language, but was perfectly familiar with Hindu traditions and modes of thought. He was as well qualified to judge of early Hinduism as Paul was of Judaism, and for the same reason. And from his Hindu standpoint, as a Pharisee of the Pharisees, though afterward a Christian convert, he did not hesitate to declare his belief, not only that the early Vedic faith was monotheistic, but that it contained traces of that true revelation, once made to men.[138] In the same line we find the testimony of the various types of revived Aryanism of our own times. The Brahmo Somaj, the Arya Somaj, and other similar organizations, are not only all monotheistic, but they declare that monotheism was the religion of the early Vedas. And many other Hindu reforms, some of them going as far back as the twelfth century, have been so many returns to monotheism. A recent Arya catechism published by Ganeshi, asserts in its first article that there is one only God, omnipotent, infinite, and eternal. It proceeds to show that the Vedas present but one, and that when hymns were addressed to Agni, Vayu, Indra, etc., it was only a use of different names for one and the same Being.[139] It represents God as having all the attributes of supreme Deity. He created the world by His direct power and for the revelation of His glory to His creatures. Man, according to the Aryas, came not by evolution nor by any of the processes known to Hindu philosophy, but by direct creation from existing atoms. In all this it is easy to see that much has been borrowed from the Christian conception of God's character and attributes, but the value of this Aryan testimony lies in the fact that it claims for the ancient Vedas a clear and positive monotheism. If we consult the sacred books of China, we shall find there also many traces of an ancient faith which antedates both Confucianism and Taouism. The golden age of the past to which all Chinese sages look with reverence, was the dynasty of Yao and Shun, which was eighteen centuries earlier than the period of Confucius and Laotze. The records of the Shu-king which Confucius compiled, and from which unfortunately his agnosticism excluded nearly all its original references to religion, nevertheless retain a full account of certain sacred rites performed by Shun on his accession to the full imperial power. In those rites the worship of One God as supreme is distinctly set forth as a "customary service," thereby implying that it was already long established. Separate mention is also made of offerings to inferior deities, as if these were honored at his own special instance. It is unquestionably true that in China, and indeed in all lands, there sprang up almost from the first a tendency to worship, or at least to fear, unseen spirits. This tendency has coexisted with all religions of the world--even with the Old Testament cult--even with Christianity. To the excited imaginations of men, especially the ignorant classes, the world has always been a haunted world, and just in proportion as the light of true religion has become dim, countless hordes of ghosts and demons have appeared. When Confucius arose this gross animism had almost monopolized the worship of his countrymen, and universal corruption bore sway. He was not an original thinker, but only a compiler of the ancient wisdom, and in his selections from the traditions of the ancients, he compiled those things only which served his great purpose of building up, from the relations of family and kindred, the complete pyramid of a well-ordered state in which the Emperor should hold to his subjects the place of deity. If such honor to a mortal seemed extravagant, yet in his view a wise emperor was far worthier of reverence than the imaginary ghosts of the popular superstitions. Yet, even Confucius could not quite succeed in banishing the idea of divine help, nor could he destroy that higher and most venerable worship which has ever survived amid all the corruptions of polytheism. Professor Legge, of Oxford, has claimed, from what he regards as valid linguistic proofs, that at a still earlier period than the dynasty of Yao and Shun there existed in China the worship of one God. He says: "Five thousand years ago the Chinese were monotheists--not henotheists, but monotheists"--though he adds that even then there was a constant struggle with nature-worship and divination.[140] The same high authority cites a remarkable prayer of an Emperor of the Ming dynasty (1538 A.D.) to show that in spite of the agnosticism and reticence of Confucius, Shangte has been worshipped in the centuries which have followed his time. The prayer is very significant as showing how the One Supreme God stands related to the subordinate gods which polytheism has introduced. The Emperor was about to decree a slight change in the name of Shangte to be used in the imperial worship. He first addressed the spirits of the hills, the rivers, and the seas, asking them to intercede for him with Shangte. "We will trouble you," said he, "on our behalf to exert your spiritual power and to display your vigorous efficacy, communicating our poor desires to Shangte, and praying him graciously to grant us his acceptance and regard, and to be pleased with the title which we shall reverently present." But very different was the language used when he came to address Shangte himself. "Of old, in the beginning," he began,--"Of old in the beginning, there was the great chaos without form, and dark. The five elements had not begun to revolve nor the sun and moon to shine. In the midst thereof there presented itself neither form nor sound. Thou, O spiritual Sovereign! earnest forth in thy presidency, and first didst divide the grosser parts from the purer. Thou madest heaven: Thou madest earth: Thou madest man. All things got their being with their producing power. O Te! when Thou hadst opened the course for the inactive and active forces of matter to operate, thy making work went on. Thou didst produce, O Spirit! the sun and moon and five planets, and pure and beautiful was their light. The vault of heaven was spread out like a curtain, and the square earth supported all on it, and all creatures were happy. I, thy servant, presume reverently to thank Thee." Farther on he says: "All the numerous tribes of animated beings are indebted to Thy favor for their being. Men and creatures are emparadised in Thy love. All living things are indebted to Thy goodness. But who knows whence his blessings come to him? It is Thou, O Lord! who art the parent of all things."[141] Surely this prayer humbly offered by a monarch would not be greatly out of place among the Psalms of David. Its description of the primeval chaos strikingly resembles that which I have quoted from the Rig Veda, and both resemble that of the Mosaic record. If the language used does not present the clear conception of one God, the Creator and the Upholder of all things, and a supreme and personal Sovereign over kings and even "gods," then language has no meaning. The monotheistic conception of the second petition is as distinct from the polytheism of the first, as any prayer to Jehovah is from a Roman Catholic's prayer for the intercession of the saints; and there is no stronger argument in the one case against monotheism than in the other. Dr. Legge asserts that both in the Shu-king and in the Shiking, "Te," or "Shangte," appears as a personal being ruling in heaven and in earth, the author of man's moral nature, the governor among the nations, the rewarder of the good and the punisher of the evil.[142] There are proofs that Confucius, though in his position with respect to God he fell short of the doctrine of the ancient sages, yet believed in the existence of Shangte as a personal being. When in old age he had finished his writings, he laid them on an altar upon a certain hill-top, and kneeling before the altar he returned thanks that he had been spared to complete his work.[143] Max Müller says of him: "It is clear from many passages that with Confucius, Tien, or the Spirit of Heaven, was the supreme deity, and that he looked upon the other gods of the people--the spirits of the air, the mountains, and the rivers,[144] and the spirits of the departed, very much with the same feeling with which Socrates regarded the mythological deities of Greece."[145] But there remains to this day a remarkable evidence of the worship of the supreme God, Shangte, as he was worshipped in the days of the Emperor Shun, 2356 B.C. It is found in the great Temple of Heaven at Peking. Dr. Martin and Professors Legge and Douglas all insist that the sacrifices there celebrated are relics of the ancient worship of a supreme God. China is full of the traces of polytheism; the land swarms with Taouist deities of all names and functions, with Confucian and ancestral tablets, and with Buddhist temples and dagobas; but within the sacred enclosure of this temple no symbol of heathenism appears. Of the August Imperial service Dr. Martin thus eloquently speaks:[146] "Within the gates of the southern division of the capital, and surrounded by a sacred grove so extensive that the silence of its deep shades is never broken by the noise of the busy world around it, stands the Temple of Heaven. It consists of a single tower, whose tiling of resplendent azure is intended to represent the form and color of the aerial vault. It contains no image; but on a marble altar a bullock is offered once a year as a burnt sacrifice, while the monarch of the empire prostrates himself in adoration of the Spirit of the Universe. This is the high place of Chinese devotion, and the thoughtful visitor feels that he ought to tread its courts with unsandalled feet, for no vulgar idolatry has entered here. This mountain-top still stands above the waves of corruption, and on this solitary altar there still rests a faint ray of its primeval faith. The tablet which represents the invisible deity is inscribed with the name Shangte, the Supreme Ruler, and as we contemplate the Majesty of the Empire before it, while the smoke ascends from his burning sacrifice, our thoughts are irresistably carried back to the time when the King of Salem officiated as priest of the Most High God. There is," he adds, "no need of extended argument to establish the fact that the early Chinese were by no means destitute of the knowledge of the true God." Dr. Legge, the learned translator of the Chinese classics, shares so fully the views here expressed, that he actually put his shoes from off his feet before ascending the great altar, feeling that amidst all the mists and darkness of the national superstition, a trace of the glory of the Infinite Jehovah still lingered there. And in many a discussion since he has firmly maintained that that is in a dim way an altar of the true and living God. Laotze, like Confucius, was agnostic; yet he could not wholly rid himself of the influence of the ancient faith. His conception of Taou, or Reason, was rationalistic, certainly, yet he invested it with all the attributes of personality, as the word "Wisdom" is sometimes used in the Old Testament. He spoke of it as "The Infinite Supreme," "The First Beginning," and "The Great Original." Dr. Medhurst has translated from the "Taou Teh King" this striking Taouist prayer: "O thou perfectly honored One of heaven and earth, the rock, the origin of myriad energies, the great manager of boundless kalpas, do Thou enlighten my spiritual conceptions. Within and without the three worlds, the Logos, or divine Taou, is alone honorable, embodying in himself a golden light. May he overspread and illumine my person. He whom we cannot see with the eye, or hear with the ear, who embraces and includes heaven and earth, may he nourish and support the multitudes of living beings." If we turn to the religion of the Iranian or Persian branch of the Aryan family, we find among them also the traces of a primitive monotheism; and that it was not borrowed from Semitic sources, through the descendants of Abraham or others, Ebrard has shown clearly in the second volume of his "Apologetics." Max Müller also maintains the identity of the Iranian faith with that of the Indo-Aryans. The very first notices of the religion of the Avesta represent it as monotheistic. Ahura Mazda, even when opposed by Ahriman, is supreme, and in the oldest hymns or gathas of the Yasna, Ahriman does not appear; there are references to evil beings, but they have no formidable head; Persian dualism, therefore, was of later growth. Zoroaster, whom Monier Williams assigns to the close of the sixth century B.C.,[147] speaks of himself as a reformer sent to re-establish the pure worship of Ahura, and Haug considers the conception of Ahura identical with that of Jehovah. High on a rocky precipice at Behistun, Rawlinson has deciphered an inscription claiming to have been ordered by Darius Hystaspes, who lived 500 B.C., which is as clearly monotheistic as the Song of Moses. The Vendidad, which Rawlinson supposes to have been composed 800 years B.C., is full of references to minor gods, but Ahura is always supreme. The modern Parsees of Bombay claim to be monotheistic, and declare that such has been the faith of their fathers from the beginning. A Parsee catechism published in Bombay twenty-five years ago reads thus: "We believe in only one God, and do not believe in any besides Him.... He is the God who created the heavens, the earth, the angels, the stars, the sun, the moon, the fire, the water, ... and all things of the worlds; that God we believe in, Him we invoke, Him we adore." And lest this should be supposed to be a modern faith, the confession further declares that "This is the religion which the true prophet Zurthust, or Zoroaster, brought from God." The Shintoists of Japan, according to their sacred book, the "Kojiki," believe in one self-existent and supreme God, from whom others emanated. From two of these, male and female, sprang the Goddess of the Sun, and from her the royal line of the Mikados. There was no creation, but the two active emanations stirred up the eternally existing chaos, till from it came forth the teeming world of animal and vegetable life. It has often been asserted that tribes of men are found who have no conception of God. The author of "Two Years in the Jungle" declares that the Hill Dyaks of Borneo are without the slightest notion of a divine being. But a Government officer, who for two years was the guest of Rajah Brooke, succeeded after long delay in gaining a key to the religion of these Dyaks. He gives the name of one Supreme being among subordinate gods, and describes minutely the forms of worship. Professor Max Müller, while referring to this same often-repeated allegation as having been applied to the aborigines of Australia, cites one of Sir Hercules Robinson's Reports on New South Wales, which contains this description of the singular faith of one of the lowest of the interior tribes:[148] First a being is mentioned who is supreme and whose name signifies the "maker or cutter-out," and who is therefore worshipped as the great author of all things. But as this supreme god is supposed to be inscrutable and far removed, a second deity is named, who is the _revealer_ of the first and his mediator in all the affairs of men.[149] Rev. A.C. Good, now a missionary among the cannibal tribes of West Africa, stated in the Presbyterian General Assembly at Saratoga in May, 1890, that with all the fetishes and superstitions known among the tribes on the Ogovie, if a man is asked who made him, he points to the sky and utters the name of an unknown being who created all things.[150] When Tschoop, the stalwart Mohican chief, came to the Moravians to ask that a missionary might be sent to his people, he said: "Do not send us a man to tell us that there is a God--we all know that; or that we are sinners--we all know that; but send one to tell us about salvation."[151] Even Buddhism has not remained true to the atheism of its founder. A Thibetan Lama said to Abbé Huc: "You must not confound religious truths with the superstitions of the vulgar. The Tartars prostrate themselves before whatever they see, but there is one only Sovereign of the universe, the creator of all things, alike without beginning and without end." But what is the testimony of the great dead religions of the past with respect to a primitive monotheism? It is admitted that the later developments of the old Egyptian faith were polytheistic. But it has generally been conceded that as we approach the earliest notices of that faith, monotheistic features more and more prevail. This position is contested by Miss Amelia B. Edwards and others, who lean toward the development theory. Miss Edwards declares that the earliest faith of Egypt was mere totemism, while on the other hand Ebrard, gathering up the results of the researches of Lepsius, Ebers, Brugsch, and Emanuel de Rougé, deduces what seem to be clear evidences of an early Egyptian monotheism. He quotes Manetho, who declares that "for the first nine thousand years the god Ptah ruled alone; there was no other." According to inscriptions quoted by De Rougé, the Egyptians in the primitive period worshipped "the one being who truly lives, who has made all things, and who alone has not been made." This one God was known in different parts of Egypt under different names, which only in later times came to stand for distinct beings. A text which belongs to a period fifteen hundred years before Moses says: "He has made all that is; thou alone art, the millions owe their being to thee; he is the Lord of all that which is, and of that which is not." A papyrus now in Paris, dating 2300 B.C., contains quotations from two much older records, one a writing of the time of King Suffern, about 3500 B.C., which says: "The operation of God is a thing which cannot be understood." The other, from a writing of Ptah Hotep, about 3000 B.C., reads: "This is the command of the God of creation, the peaceable may come and issue orders.... The eating of bread is in conformity with the ordinance of God; can one forget that his blessing rests thereupon?... If thou art a prudent man teach thy son the love of God."[152] Professor Ernest Naville, in speaking of this same subject in a course of popular lectures in Geneva, said: "Listen now to a voice which has come forth actually from the recesses of the sepulchre: it reaches us from ancient Egypt. "In Egypt, as you know, the degradation of the religious idea was in popular practice complete. But under the confused accents of superstition the science of our age is succeeding in catching from afar the vibrations of a sublime utterance. In the coffins of a large number of mummies have been discovered rolls of papyrus containing a sacred text which is called 'The Book of the Dead.' Here is the translation of some fragments which appear to date from a very remote epoch. It is God who speaks thus: 'I am the Most Holy, the Creator of all that replenishes the earth, and of the earth itself, the habitation of mortals. I am the Prince of the infinite ages. I am the Great and Mighty God, the Most High, shining in the midst of the careering stars and of the armies which praise me above thy head.... It is I who chastise the evil-doers and the persecutors of Godly men. I discover and confound the liars. I am the all-seeing Avenger, ... the Guardian of my laws in the land of the righteous.' These words are found mingled in the text, from which I extract them, with allusions to inferior deities; and it must be acknowledged that the translation of the ancient documents of Egypt is uncertain enough; still this uncertainty does not appear to extend to the general sense and bearing of the recent discoveries of our _savans_."[153] Professor Flint as against Cudworth, Ebrard, Gladstone, and others, maintains that the Egyptian religion at the very dawn of its history had "certain great gods," though he adds that "there were not so many as in later times." "Ancestor worship, but not so developed as in later times, and animal worship, but very little of it compared with later times." On the other hand, as against Professor Tiele, Miss Amelia B. Edwards, and others, he says: "For the opinion that its lower elements were older than the higher there is not a particle of properly historical evidence, not a trace in the inscriptions of mere propitiation of ancestors or of belief in the absolute divinity of kings or animals; on the contrary ancestors are always found propitiated through prayer to some of the great gods; kings worshipped as emanations and images of the sun god and the divine animals adored as divine symbols and incarnations." Among the Greeks there are few traces of monotheism, but we have reason for this in the fact that their earliest literature dates from so late a period. It began with Homer not earlier than 600 B.C., and direct accounts of the religion of the Greeks are not traced beyond 560 B.C. But Welcker, whose examinations have been exhaustive, has, in the opinion of Max Müller, fairly established the primitive monotheism of the Greeks. Müller says: "When we ascend with him to the most distant heights of Greek history the idea of God as the supreme being stands before us as a simple fact. Next to this adoration of One God the father of men we find in Greece a worship of nature. The powers of nature, originally worshipped as such, were afterward changed into a family of gods, of which Zeus became the king and father. The third phase is what is generally called Greek mythology; but it was preceded in time, or at least rendered possible in thought, by the two prior conceptions, a belief in a supreme God and a worship of the powers of nature.... The divine character of Zeus, as distinguished from his mythological character, is most carefully brought out by Welcker. He avails himself of all the discoveries of comparative philology in order to show more clearly how the same idea which found expression in the ancient religions of the Brahmans, the Sclavs, and the Germans had been preserved under the same simple, clear, and sublime name by the original settlers of Hellas."[154] The same high authority traces in his own linguistic studies the important fact that all branches of the Aryan race preserve the same name for the Supreme Being, while they show great ramification and variation in the names of their subordinate gods. If, therefore, the Indo-Aryans give evidence of a monotheistic faith at the time of their dispersion, there is an _à priori_ presumption for the monotheism of the Greeks. "Herodotus," says Professor Rawlinson, "speaks of God as if he had never heard of polytheism." The testimony of the Greek poets shows that beneath the prevailing polytheism there remained an underlying conception of monotheistic supremacy. Professor Rawlinson quotes from an Orphic poem the words: "Ares is war, peace Soft Aphrodite, wine that God has made Is Dionysius, Themis is the right Men render to each. Apollo, too, And Phoebus and Æschlepius, who doth heal Diseases, are the sun. All these are one." Max Müller traces to this same element of monotheism the real greatness and power of the Hellenic race when he says: "What was it, then, that preserved in their hearts (the Greeks), in spite even of the feuds of tribes and the jealousies of states, the deep feeling of that ideal unity which constitutes a people? It was their primitive religion; it was a dim recollection of the common allegiance they owed from time immemorial to the great father of gods and men; it was their belief in the old Zeus of Dodona in the Pan-Hellenic Zeus."[155] "There is, in truth, but one," says Sophocles, "one only God, who made both heaven and long-extended earth and bright-faced swell of seas and force of winds." Xenophanes says: "'Mongst gods and men there is one mightiest God not mortal or in form or thought. Entire he sees and understands, and without labor governs all by mind." Aratus, whom Paul quotes,[156] says: "With Zeus began we; let no mortal voice of men leave Zeus unpraised. Zeus fills the heavens, the streets, the marts. Everywhere we live in Zeus. Zeus fills the sea, the shores, the harbors. _We are his offspring, too._" The reference made by Paul evidently implies that this Zeus was a dim conception of the one true God. That all branches of the Semitic race were monotheistic we may call not only Ebrard and Müller, but Renan, to witness. According to Renan, evidences that the monotheism of the Semitic races was of a very early origin, appears in the fact that all their names for deity--El, Elohim, Ilu, Baal, Bel, Adonai, Shaddai, and Allah--denote one being and that supreme. These names have resisted all changes, and doubtless extend as far back as the Semitic language or the Semitic race. Max Müller, in speaking of the early faith of the Arabs, says: "Long before Mohammed the primitive intuition of God made itself felt in Arabia;" and he quotes this ancient Arabian prayer: "I dedicate myself to thy service, O Allah. Thou hast no companion, except the companion of whom thou art master absolute, and of whatever is his." The book of Job and the story of Balaam indicate the prevalence of an early monotheism beyond the pale of the Abrahamic church. In the records of the kings of Assyria and Babylonia there is a conspicuous polytheism, yet it is significant that each king worshipped _one God only_. And this fact suggests, as a wide generalization, that political and dynastic jealousies had their influence in multiplying the names and differentiating the attributes of ancient deities. This was notably the case in ancient Egypt, where each invasion and each change of dynasty led to a new adjustment of the Egyptian Pantheon. Rome had many gods, but Jupiter was supreme. Herodotus says of the Scythians, that they had eight gods, but one was supreme, like Zeus. The Northmen, according to Dr. Dascent, had one supreme god known as the "All-fader." The Druids, though worshipping various subordinate deities, believed in One who was supreme--the creator of all things and the soul of all things. Though conceived of in a Pantheistic sense, He was personal and exerted a moral control, as is shown by the famous triad: "Fear God; be just to all men; die for your country." In the highest and purest period of the old Mexican faith we read of the Tezcucan monarch Nezahualcoyotl, who said: "These idols of wood and stone can neither hear nor feel; much less could they make the heavens and the earth, and man who is the lord of it. These must be the work of the all-powerful unknown God, the Creator of the universe, on whom alone I must rely for consolation and support."[157] The Incas of Peru also, though sun-worshippers, believed in a supreme creator who made the sun. The oldest of their temples was reared to the supreme god "Virachoca." And one of the greatest Incas has left his declared belief that "there must be above the sun a greater and more powerful ruler, at whose behest the sun pursues his daily and untiring round."[158] It has been assumed throughout this lecture, that instead of an advance in the religions of men, there has everywhere been decline. Our proofs of this are not theoretic but historic. As an example, all writers are agreed, I believe, that during the historic period the religion of the Egyptians steadily deteriorated until Christianity and Mohammedanism superseded it. In strong contrast with the lofty and ennobling prayer which we have quoted from an ancient Egyptian record, is the degradation of the later worship. On a column at Heliopolis, belonging to the fourth century before Christ, is inscribed this petition: "O thou white cat, thy head is the head of the sun god, thy nose is the nose of Thoth, of the exceeding great love of Hemopolis." The whole prayer is on this low level. Clement, of Alexandria, after describing the great beauty of an Egyptian temple, proceeds to say: "The innermost sanctuary is concealed by a curtain wrought in gold, which the priest draws aside, and there is seen a cat, or a crocodile, or a serpent, which wriggles on a purple cover."[159] That the religions of India have degenerated is equally clear. The fact that all the medieval and modern reforms look back for their ideals to the earlier and purer Aryan faith, might of itself afford sufficient proof of this, but we have also abundant evidence which is direct. In the Rig Veda there is little polytheism, and no idolatry. There is no doctrine of caste, no base worship of Siva with the foul enormities of Saktism.[160] In the most ancient times there was no doctrine of transmigration, nor any notion that human life is an evil to be overcome by self-mortification. Woman was comparatively free from the oppressions which she suffered in the later periods. Infanticide had not then been sanctioned and enjoined by religious authority, and widow burning and the religious murders of the Thugs were unknown. And yet so deeply were these evils rooted at the beginning of the British rule in India, that the joint influence of Christian instruction and Governmental authority for a whole century has not been sufficient to overcome them. Buddhism in the first two or three centuries had much to commend it. King Ashoka left monuments of practical beneficence and philanthropy which have survived to this day. But countless legends soon sprang up to mar the simplicity of Gautama's ethics. Corruptions crept in. Compromises were made with popular superstitions and with Hindu Saktism.[161] The monastic orders sank into corruption, and by the ninth century of our era the system had been wholly swept from India. The Buddhism of Ceylon was planted first by the devout son and daughter of a king, and for a time was characterized by great purity and devotion. But now it exists only in name, and a prominent missionary of the country declared, in the London Missionary Conference of 1888, that nine-tenths of the Cingalese were worshippers of serpents or of spirits.[162] The prevailing Buddhism in Thibet, from the eighth to the tenth century, was an admixture with Saktism and superstition. Where the system has survived in any good degree of strength, it has been due either to government support or to an alliance with other religions. The history of Taouism has shown a still worse deterioration. Laotze, though impracticable as a reformer, was a profound philosopher. His teachings set forth a lofty moral code. Superstition he abominated. His ideas of deity were cold and rationalistic, but they were pure and lofty. But the modern Taouism is a medley of wild and degrading superstitions. According to its theodicy all nature is haunted. The ignorant masses are enthralled by the fear of ghosts, and all progress is paralyzed by the nightmare of "fung shuay." Had not Taouism been balanced by the sturdy common-sense ethics of Confucianism, the Chinese might have become a race of savages.[163] The decline of Mohammedanism from the sublime fanaticism of Abu Bekr and the intellectual aspirations of Haroun Al Raschid, to the senseless imbecility of the modern Turk, is too patent to need argument. The worm of destruction was left in the system by the vices of Mohammed himself; and from the higher level of his early followers it has not only deteriorated, but it has dragged down everything else with it. It has destroyed the family, because it has degraded woman. It has separated her immeasurably from the status of dignity and honor which she enjoyed under the influence of the early Christian church, and it has robbed her of even that freedom which was accorded to her by heathen Rome. One need only look at Northern Africa, the land of Cyprian and Origen, of Augustine and the saintly Monica, to see what Islam has done. And even the later centuries have brought no relief. Prosperous lands have been rendered desolate and sterile, and all progress has been paralyzed. In the history of the Greek religion it is granted that there were periods of advancement. The times of the fully developed Apollo worship showed vast improvement over previous periods, but even Professor Tiele virtually admits that this was owing to the importation of foreign influences. It was not due to any natural process of evolution; and it was followed by hopeless corruption and decline. The last days of both Greece and Rome were degenerate and full of depression and despair. It is not contended that no revivals or reforms are possible in heathenism. There have been many of these, but with all allowance for spasmodic efforts, the general drift has been always downward.[164] There is a natural disposition among men to multiply objects of worship. Herbert Spencer's principle, that development proceeds from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, is certainly true of the religions of the world; but his other principle, that development proceeds from the incoherent to the coherent, does not apply. Incoherency and moral chaos mark the trend of all man-made faiths. The universal tendency to deterioration is well summed up as follows by Professor Naville: "Traces are found almost everywhere in the midst of idolatrous superstitions, of a religion comparatively pure and often stamped with a lofty morality. Paganism is not a simple fact; it offers to view in the same bed two currents (like the Arve and the Arveiron)--the one pure, the other impure. What is the relation between these two currents? ... Did humanity begin with a coarse fetishism, and thence rise by slow degrees to higher conceptions? Do the traces of a comparatively pure monotheism first show themselves in the recent periods of idolatry? Contemporary science inclines more and more to answer in the negative. It is in the most ancient historical ground that the laborious investigators of the past meet with the most elevated ideas of religion. Cut to the ground a young and vigorous beech-tree, and come back a few years afterward. In place of the tree cut down you will find coppice-wood; the sap which nourished a single trunk has been divided among a multitude of shoots. This comparison expresses well enough the opinion which tends to prevail among our savants on the subject of the historical development of religions. The idea of one God is at the roots--it is primitive; polytheism is derivative."[165] We have thus far drawn our proofs of man's polytheistic tendencies from the history of the non-Christian religions. In proof of the same general tendency we now turn to the history of the Israelites, the chosen people of God. We may properly appeal to the Bible as history, especially when showing idolatrous tendencies even under the full blaze of the truth. In spite of the supernatural revelation which they claimed to possess--notwithstanding all their instructions, warnings, promises, deliverances, divinely aided conquests--they relapsed into idolatry again and again. Ere they had reached the land of promise they had begun to make images of the gods of Egypt. They made constant compromises and alliances with the Canaanites, and not even severe judgments could withhold them from this downward drift. Their wisest king was demoralized by heathen marriages, and his successors openly patronized the heathen shrines. The abominations of Baal worship and the nameless vices of Sodom were practised under the very shadow of the Temple.[166] Judgments followed upon this miserable degeneracy. Prophets were sent with repeated warnings, and many were slain for their faithful messages. Tribe after tribe was borne into captivity, the Temple was destroyed, and at last the nation was virtually broken up and scattered abroad. There was indeed a true development in the church of God from the Abrahamic period to the Apostolic day. There was a rising from a narrow national spirit to one which embraced the whole brotherhood of man, from type and prophecy to fulfilment, from the sins that were winked at, to a purer ethic and the perfect law of love; but these results came not by natural evolution--far enough from it. They were wrought out not by man, but we might almost say, in spite of man. Divine interpositions were all that saved Judaism from a total wreck, even as the national unity was destroyed. A new Dispensation was introduced, a Divine Redeemer and an Omnipotent Spirit were the forces which saved the world from a second universal apostasy. We come nearer still to the church of God for proofs of man's inherent tendency to polytheism. Even under the new Dispensation we have seen the church sink into virtual idolatry. Within six centuries from the time of Christ and His apostles there had been a sad lapse into what seemed the worship of images, pictures, and relics, and a faith in holy places and the bones of saints. What Mohammed saw, or thought he saw, was a Christian idolatry scarcely better than that of the Arabian Koreish. And, as if by the judgment of God, the churches of the East were swept with a destruction like that which had been visited upon the Ten Tribes. In the Christianity of to-day, viewed as a whole, how strong is the tendency to turn from the pure spiritual conception of God to some more objective trust--a saint, a relic, a ritual, an ordinance. In the old churches of the East or on the Continent of Europe, how much of virtual idolatry is there even now? It is only another form of the tendency in man to seek out many devices--to find visible objects of trust--to try new panaceas for the ailments of the soul--to multiply unto himself gods to help his weakness. This is just what has been done in all ages and among all races of the world. This explains polytheism. Man's religious nature is a vine, and God is its only proper support. Once fallen from that support, it creeps and grovels in all directions and over all false supports. We have not resorted to Divine revelation for proofs except as history. But our conclusions drawn from heathen sources bring us directly, as one face answereth to another face in a glass, to the plain teachings of Paul and other inspired writers, who tell us that the human race was once possessed of the knowledge of One Supreme God, but that men apostatized from Him, preferring to worship the creature rather than the Creator. There are no traces of an upward evolution toward clearer knowledge and purer lives, except by the operation of outward causes, but there are many proofs that men's hearts have become darkened and their moral nature more and more depraved. In all lands there have been those who seemed to gain some glimpses of truth, and whose teachings were far above the average sentiment and character of their times, but they have either been discarded like Socrates and the prophets of Israel, or they have obtained a following only for a time and their precepts have fallen into neglect. It has been well said that no race of men live up to their religion, however imperfect it may be. They first disregard it, and then at length degrade it, to suit their apostate character. Paul's estimate of heathen character was that of a man who, aside from his direct inspiration, spoke from a wide range of observation. He was a philosopher by education, and he lived in an age and amid national surroundings which afforded the broadest knowledge of men, of customs, of religious faiths, of institutions. Trained as a Jew, dealing constantly with the most enlightened heathen, persecuting the Christians, and then espousing their cause, his preparation for a broad, calm, and unerring judgment of the character of the Gentile nations was complete; and his one emphatic verdict was _apostasy_. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 125: Fiske: _The Destiny of Man_, pp. 78-80.] [Footnote 126: We do not care to enter the field of pre-historic speculation where the evolution of religion from totemism or fetishism claims to find its chief support. We are considering only the traditional development of the ancient faiths of man.] [Footnote 127: _Introduction to Christian Theology_, Appendix, pp. 166, 167.] [Footnote 128: Ebrard's _Apologetics_, vols. ii. and iii.] [Footnote 129: _Modern Atheism_, p. 13.] [Footnote 130: _The Chinese_, pp. 163, 164.] [Footnote 131: _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i., p. 23.] [Footnote 132: Professor Banergea (see _Indian Antiquary_, February, 1875) thinks that this Hindu account of creation shows traces of the common revelation made to mankind.] [Footnote 133: _Science of Religion_, p. 99.] [Footnote 134: _Science of Religion_, p. 88.] [Footnote 135: "The ancient relics of African faith are rapidly disappearing at the approach of Mohammedan and Christian missionaries; but what has been preserved of it, chiefly through the exertions of learned missionaries, is full of interest to the student of religion, with its strange worship of snakes and ancestors, its vague hope of a future life, and its not altogether faded reminiscence of a Supreme God, the Father of the black as well as of the white man."--_Science of Religion_, p. 39.] [Footnote 136: While he maintains that the idea of God must have preceded that of _gods_, as the plural always implies the singular, he yet claims very justly that the exclusive conception of monotheism as against polytheism could hardly have existed. Men simply thought of God as God, as a child thinks of its father, and does not even raise the question of a second.--See _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i., p. 349.] [Footnote 137: St. Augustine, in quoting Cyprian, shows that the fathers of the Church looked upon Plato as a monotheist. The passage is as follows: "For when he (Cyprian) speaks of the Magians, he says that the chief among them, Hostanes, maintains that the true God is invisible, and that true angels sit at His throne; and that Plato agrees with this and believes in one God, considering the others to be demons; and that Hermes Trismegistus also speaks of one God, and confesses that He is incomprehensible." Angus., _De Baptismo contra Donat_., Lib. VI., Cap. XLIV.] [Footnote 138: _The Aryan Witness_, passim.] [Footnote 139: Aristotle said, "God, though He is one, has many names, because He is called according to the states into which He always enters anew."] [Footnote 140: _The Religions of China_, p. 16.] [Footnote 141: _The Religions of China_, p. 49.] [Footnote 142: "In the year 1600 the Emperor of China declared in an edict that the Chinese should adore, not the material heavens, but the _Master_ of heaven."--Cardinal Gibbons: _Our Christian Heritage_.] [Footnote 143: Martin: _The Chinese_, p. 106.] [Footnote 144: It has been related by Rev. Hudson Taylor that the fishermen of the Fukien Province, when a storm arises, pray to the goddess of the sea; but when that does not avail they throw all the idols aside and pray to the "Great-grandfather in Heaven." Father is a great conception to the Chinese mind. Great-grandfather is higher still, and stands to them for the Supreme.] [Footnote 145: _Science of Religion_, p. 86.] [Footnote 146: _The Chinese_, p. 99.] [Footnote 147: Other writers contend that he was probably contemporaneous with Abraham. Still others think Zoroaster a general name for great prophets. Darmestetter inclines to this view.] [Footnote 148: _Chips from a German Workshop._] [Footnote 149: Archbishop Vaughn, of Sydney, emphatically declares that the aborigines of Australia believe in a Supreme Being.] [Footnote 150: Rev. Mr. Johnson, of Lagos, has expressed a belief that the pagan tribes of West Africa were monotheists before the incursion of the Mohammedans. Rev. Alfred Marling, of Gaboon, bears the same testimony of the Fans.] [Footnote 151: Rev. A.C. Thompson, D.D. _The Moravians_. One of the early converts from among the Ojibwas, said to the missionary, Rev. S.G. Wright: "A great deal of your preaching I readily understand, especially what you say about our real characters. We Indians all know that it is wrong to lie, to steal, to be dishonest, to slander, to be covetous, and we always know that the Great Spirit hates all these things. All this we knew before we ever saw the white man. I knew these things when I was a little boy. We did not, however, know the way of pardon for these sins. In our religion there is nothing said by the wise men about pardon. We knew nothing of the Lord Jesus Christ as a Saviour."] [Footnote 152: Professor Tiele, of Leyden, asserts that "It is altogether erroneous to regard the Egyptian religion as the polytheistic degeneration of a prehistoric monotheism. It was polytheistic from the beginning." But on one of the oldest of Egyptian monuments is found this hymn, which is quoted by Cardinal Gibbons in _Our Christian Inheritance_: "Hail to thee, say all creatures; ... The gods adore thy majesty, The spirits thou has made exalt thee, Rejoicing before the feet of their begetter. They cry out welcome to thee, Father of the fathers of all the gods, Who raises the heavens, who fixes the earth; We worship thy spirit who alone hast made us, We whom thou hast made thank thee that thou hast given us birth, We give to thee praises for thy mercy toward us."] [Footnote 153: _Modern Atheism_, p. 13.] [Footnote 154: _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. ii., pp. 146, 147.] [Footnote 155: _Science of Religion_, Lecture III., p. 57.] [Footnote 156: Acts xvii. 28.] [Footnote 157: Prescott's _Conquest of Mexico_.] [Footnote 158: Réville in his _Hibbert Lectures_ on Mexican and Peruvian religions asserts that polytheism existed from the beginning, but our contention is that One God was supreme and created the sun.] [Footnote 159: De Pressensé: _The Ancient World and Christianity_.] [Footnote 160: Bournouf found the Tantras so obscene that he refused to translate them.] [Footnote 161: T. Rhys Davids: _Buddhism_, p. 208.] [Footnote 162: _Report of Missionary Conference_, vol. i, p. 70.] [Footnote 163: Buddhism, in the _Britannica_.] [Footnote 164: Rev. S.G. Wright, long a missionary among the American Indians, says: "During the forty-six years in which I have been laboring among the Ojibway Indians, I have been more and more impressed with the evidence, showing itself in their language, that at some former time they have been in possession of much higher ideas of God's attributes, and of what constitutes true happiness, immortality, and virtue, as well as of the nature of the Devil and his influence in the world, than those which they now possess. The thing which early in our experience surprised us, and which has not ceased to impress us, is, that, with their present low conceptions of spiritual things, they could have chosen so lofty and spiritual a word for the Deity. The only satisfactory explanation seems to be that, at an early period of their history, they had higher and more correct ideas concerning God than those which they now possess, and that these have become, as the geologists would say, _fossilized_ in their forms of speech, and so preserved."--_Bibliotheca Sacra_, October, 1889.] [Footnote 165: _Modern Atheism_, p. 10.] [Footnote 166: I. Kings, xiv., and II. Kings, xxiii.] LECTURE VIII. INDIRECT TRIBUTES OF HEATHEN SYSTEMS TO THE DOCTRINES OF THE BIBLE I am to speak of certain indirect tributes borne by the non-Christian religions to the doctrines of Christianity. One such tribute of great value we have already considered in the prevalence of early monotheism, so far corroborating the scriptural account of man's first estate, and affording many proofs which corroborate the scriptural doctrine of human apostasy. Others of the same general bearing will now be considered. The history of man's origin, the strange traditions of his fall by transgression and his banishment from Eden, of the conflict of good with evil represented by a serpent, of the Deluge and the dispersion of the human race, have all been the subjects of ridicule by anti-Christian writers:--though by turns they have recognized these same facts and have used them as proofs that Christianity had borrowed them from old myths. The idea of sacrifice, or atonement, of Divine incarnation, of a trinity, of mediation, of a salvation by faith instead of one's own merits, have been represented as unphilosophical, and therefore improbable in the nature of the case. It becomes an important question, therefore, whether other religions of mankind show similar traditions, however widely they have dwelt apart, and however diversified their languages, literatures, and institutions may have been in other respects. And it is also an important question, whether even under heathen systems, the consciousness of sin and the deepest moral yearnings of men have found expression along the very lines which are represented by the Christian doctrines of grace. To these questions we now address ourselves. What are the lessons of the various ethnic traditions? And how are we to account for their striking similarities? The most obvious theory is, that a common origin must be assigned to them, that they are dim reminiscences of a real knowledge once clear and distinct. The fact that with their essential unity they differ from each other and differ from our Scriptural record, seems to rather strengthen the theory that all--our own included--have been handed down from the pre-Mosaic times--ours being divinely edited by an inspired and infallible author. Their differences are such as might have been expected from separate transmissions, independently made. We have, first of all, the various traditions of the Creation. In most heathen races there have appeared, in their later stages, grave and grotesque cosmogonies; and a too common impression is, that these represent the real teachings of their sacred books or their earliest traditions. But when one enters upon a careful study of the non-Christian religions, and traces them back to their sources, he finds more rational accounts of the Creation and the order of nature, and sees striking points of resemblance to the Mosaic record. The story of Genesis represents the "Beginning" as formless, chaotic, and dark. The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. The heavens and the earth were separated. Light appeared long before the sun and moon were visible, and the day and night were clearly defined. Creation proceeded in a certain order from vegetable to animal life, and from lower animals to higher, and last of all man appeared. In heathen systems we find fragments of this traditional account, and, as a rule, they are more or less clear in proportion to their nearness to, or departure from, the great cradle of the human race.[167] Thus Professor Rawlinson quotes from an Assyrian account of the creation, as found upon the clay tablets discovered in the palace of Assur-bani-pal, a description of formlessness, emptiness, and darkness on the deep--of a separation between the earth and sky--and of the light as preceding the appearance of the sun. That account also places the creation of animals before that of man, whom it represents as being formed of the dust of the earth, and as receiving a divine effluence from the Creator.[168] According to an Etruscan saga quoted by Suidas, God created the world in six periods of 1,000 years each. In the first, the heavens and the earth; in the second, the firmament; in the third, the seas; in the fourth, the sun, moon, and stars; in the fifth, the beasts of the land, the air, and the sea; in the sixth, man. According to a passage in the Persian Avesta, the supreme Ormazd created the visible world by his word in six periods or thousands of years: in the first, the heavens with the stars; in the second, the water and the clouds; in the third, the earth and the mountains; in the fourth, the trees and the plants; in the fifth, the beasts which sprang from the primeval beast; in the sixth, man.[169] As we get farther away from the supposed early home of the race, the traditions become more fragmentary and indistinct. The Rig Veda, Mandala, x., 129, tells us that: "In the beginning there was neither naught nor aught; There was neither day nor night nor light nor darkness; Only the EXISTENT ONE breathed calmly. Next came darkness, gloom on gloom. Next all was water--chaos indiscrete."[170] Strikingly similar is the language quoted in a former lecture from the prayer of a Chinese emperor of the Ming Dynasty. It runs thus: "Of old, in the beginning, there was the great chaos without form and dark. The five elements had not begun to revolve, nor the sun and moon to shine. In the midst thereof there presented itself neither form nor sound. Thou, O Spiritual Sovereign, didst divide the grosser parts from the purer. Thou madest heaven: Thou madest earth: Thou madest man." There is a possibility that these conceptions may have come from Christian sources instead of primitive Chinese traditions, possibly from early Nestorian missionaries, though this is scarcely probable, as Chinese emperors have been slow to introduce foreign conceptions into their august temple service to Shangte; its chief glory lies in its antiquity and its purely national character. Buddhism had already been in China more than a thousand years, and these prayers are far enough from its teachings. May we not believe that the ideas here expressed had always existed in the minds of the more devout rulers of the empire? In similar language, the Edda of the Icelandic Northmen describes the primeval chaos. Thus: "'Twas the morning of time When yet naught was, Nor sand nor sea was there, Nor cooling streams. Earth was not formed Nor heaven above. A yawning gap was there And grass nowhere." Not unlike these conceptions of the "Beginning" is that which Morenhout found in a song of the Tahitans, and which ran thus: "He was; Toaroa was his name, He existed in space; no earth, no heaven, no men." M. Goussin adds the further translation: "Toaroa, the Great Orderer, is the origin of the earth: he has no father, no posterity."[171] The tradition of the Odshis, a negro tribe on the African Gold Coast, represents the creation as having been completed in six days. God created first the woman; then the man; then the animals; then the trees and plants; and lastly the rocks. God created nothing on the seventh day. He only gave men His commandments. The reversal of the order here only confirms the supposition that it is an original tradition. We find everywhere on the Western Hemisphere, north and south, plain recognition of the creation of the world by one Supreme God, though the order is not given. How shall we account for the similarities above indicated, except on the supposition of a common and a very ancient source? Still more striking are the various traditions of the Fall of man by sin. In the British Museum there is a very old Babylonian seal which bears the figures of a man and a woman stretching out their hands toward a fruit-tree, while behind the woman lurks a serpent. A fragment bearing an inscription represents a tree of life as guarded on all sides by a sword. Another inscription describes a delectable region surrounded by four rivers. Professors Rawlinson and Delitzsch both regard this as a reference to the Garden of Eden. "The Hindu legends," says Hardwick, "are agreed in representing man as one of the last products of creative wisdom, as the master-work of God; and also in extolling the first race of men as pure and upright, innocent and happy. The beings who were thus created by Brahma are all said to have been endowed with righteousness and perfect faith; they abode wherever they pleased, unchecked by any impediment; their hearts were free from guile; they were pure, made free from toil by observance of sacred institutes. In their sanctified minds Hari dwelt; and they were filled with perfect wisdom by which they contemplated the glory of Vishnu. "The first men were, accordingly, the best. The Krita age, the 'age of truth,' the reign of purity, in which mankind, as it came forth from the Creator, was not divided into numerous conflicting orders, and in which the different faculties of man all worked harmoniously together, was a thought that lay too near the human heart to be uprooted by the ills and inequalities of actual life. In this the Hindu sided altogether with the Hebrew, and as flatly contradicted the unworthy speculations of the modern philosopher, who would fain persuade us that human beings have not issued from one single pair, and also, that the primitive type of men is scarcely separable from that of ordinary animals...."[172] Spence Hardy, in speaking on this subject, describes a Buddhist legend of Ceylon which represents the original inhabitants of the world as having been once spotlessly pure, and as dwelling in ethereal bodies which moved at will through space. They had no need of sun or moon. They lived in perfect happiness and peace till, at last, one of their number tasted of a strange substance which he found lying on the surface of the earth. He induced others to eat also, whereupon all knew good and evil, and their high estate was lost. They now had perpetual need of food, which only made them more gross and earthly. Wickedness abounded, and they were in darkness. Assembling together, they fashioned for themselves a sun, but after a few hours it fell below the horizon, and they were compelled to create a moon.[173] An old Mongolian legend represents the first man as having transgressed by eating a pistache nut. As a punishment, he and all his posterity came under the power of sin and death, and were subjected to toil and suffering.[174] A tradition of the African Odshis, already named, relates that formerly God was very near to men. But a woman, who had been pounding banana fruit in a mortar, inadvertently entering His presence with a pestle in her hands, aroused His anger, and He withdrew into the high heavens and listened to men no more. Six rainless years brought famine and distress, whereupon they besought Him to send one of His counsellors who should be their daysman, and should undertake their cause and care for them. God sent his chief minister, with a promise that He would give rain and sunshine, and He directed that His rainbow should appear in the sky.[175] The inhabitants of Tahiti have a tradition of a fall which is very striking; and Humboldt, after careful study, reached the conclusion that it had not been derived through any communication with Christian lands, but was an old native legend. The Karens of Burmah had a story of an early temptation of their ancestors by an evil being and their consequent apostasy. Many other races who have no definite tradition of this kind have still some vague notion of a golden age in the past. There has been everywhere a mournful and pathetic sense of something lost, of degeneracy from better days gone by, of Divine displeasure and forfeited favor. The baffled gropings of all false religions seem to have been so many devices to regain some squandered heritage of the past. All this is strikingly true of China. Still more clear and wellnigh universal are the traditions of a flood. The Hindu Brahmanas and the Mahabharata of a later age present legends of a deluge which strikingly resemble the story of Genesis. Vishnu incarnate in a fish warned a great sage of a coming flood and directed him to build an ark. A ship was built and the sage with seven others entered. Attached to the horn of the fish the ship was towed over the waters to a high mountain top.[176] The Chinese also have a story of a flood, though it is not given in much detail. The Iranian tradition is very fragmentary and seems to confound the survivor with the first man of the creation. Yima, the Noah of the story, was warned by the beginning of a great winter rain, by which the waters were raised 19,000 feet. Yima was commanded to prepare a place of safety for a number of chosen men, birds, and beasts. It was to be three stories high, and to be furnished with a high door and window, but whether it was a ship or a refuge on the mountain top does not appear. The same tradition speaks of Eden and of a serpent, but the account is suddenly cut short.[177] The Greek traditions of a flood varied according to the different branches of the Greek nation. The Arcadians traced their origin to Dardanus, who was preserved from the great flood in a skin-covered boat. The Pelasgians held the tradition of Deucalion and his wife, who were saved in a ship which was grounded on the summit of Pindus. As the water receded they sent out a dove to search for land. The Assyrian account, which was found a few years ago on a tablet in the palace of Assur-bani-pal, claims to have been related as a matter of personal experience by Sisit, the Chaldean Noah, who was commanded to construct a ship 600 cubits long, into which he should enter with his family and his goods. At the time appointed the earth became a waste. The very gods in heaven fled from the fury of the tempest and "huddled down in their refuge like affrighted dogs." The race of men was swept away. On the seventh day Sisit opened a window and saw that the rain was stayed, but the water was covered with floating corpses; all men had become as clay. The ship rested on a mountain top, and Sisit sent forth a dove, a swallow, and a raven. The dove and the swallow returned, but the raven was satisfied with the floating carcasses. Sisit went forth and offered sacrifice, around which "the gods hovered like flies." Professor Rawlinson thinks that these accounts and those given in Genesis were both derived from the earlier traditions, the Assyrian version having been greatly corrupted. The Chaldean tradition is slightly different. The Noah of the Chaldeans was commanded in a dream not only to build a ship, but to bury all important documents and so preserve the antediluvian history. As the flood subsided he, his family, and his pilot were transferred to heaven, but certain friends who were saved with them remained and peopled the earth. Among the ancient Peruvians we find a tradition of a great deluge which swept the earth. After it had passed, the aged man Wiracotscha rose out of Lake Titicaca and his three sons issued from a cave and peopled the earth.[178] Hugh Miller and others have named many similar traditions. The fact that in nearly every case those who were rescued from the flood immediately offered piacular sacrifices suggests the recognition in all human history of still another fundamental doctrine of Christianity, the universal sense of sin. This conviction was especially strong when the survivors of a Divine judgment beheld the spectacle of a race swept away for their transgressions; but there are abundant traces of it in all ages of the world. The exceptions are found in those instances where false systems of philosophy have sophisticated the natural sense of guilt by destroying the consciousness of personality. All races of men have shown a feeling of moral delinquency and a corresponding fear. The late C. Loring Brace, in his work entitled "The Unknown God," quotes some striking penitential psalms or prayers offered by the Akkadians of Northern Assyria four thousand years ago. The deep-seated conviction of guilt which is indicated by the old religion of the Egyptians is well set forth by Dr. John Wortabet, of Beyrut, in a pamphlet entitled "The Temples and Tombs of Thebes." He says: "The immortality of the soul, its rewards and punishments in the next world, and its final salvation and return into the essence of the divinity were among the most cherished articles of the Egyptian creed. Here (in the tombs), as on the papyri which contain the 'Ritual of the Dead,' are represented the passage of the soul through the nether world and its introduction into the Judgment Hall, where Osiris, the god of benevolence, sits on a throne, and with the assistance of forty-two assessors proceeds to examine the deceased. His actions are weighed in a balance against truth in the presence of Thoth, the ibis-headed god of wisdom, and if found wanting he is hounded out in the shape of an unclean animal by Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the infernal regions. The soul then proceeds in a series of transmigrations into the bodies of animals and human beings and thus passes through a purgatorial process which entitles it to appear again before the judgment-seat of Osiris. If found pure it is conveyed to Aalu, the Elysian fields, or the 'Pools of Peace.' After three thousand years of sowing and reaping by cool waters it returns to its old body (the preserved mummy), suffers another period of probation, and is ultimately absorbed into the godhead. One of the most impressive scenes in the whole series is that where the soul, in the form of a mummified body, stands before Osiris and the forty-two judges to be examined on the forty-two commandments of the Egyptian religion. Bearing on its face the signs of solemnity and fear, and carrying in its hand a feather, the symbol of veracity, it says among other things: 'I have not blasphemed the gods, I have defrauded no man, I have not changed the measures of Egypt, I have not prevaricated at the courts of justice, I have not lied, I have not stolen, I have not committed adultery, I have done no murder, I have not been idle, I have not been drunk, I have not been cruel, I have not famished my family, I have not been a hypocrite, I have not defiled my conscience for the sake of my superiors, I have not smitten privily, I have lived on truth, I have made it my delight to do what men command and the gods approve, I have given bread to the hungry and drink to the thirsty and clothes to the naked, my mouth and hands are pure.' Now what strikes one with great force in this remarkable passage from the walls of the old sand-covered tombs is the wonderful scope and fulness with which the laws of right and wrong were stamped upon the Egyptian conscience. There is here a recognition, not only of the great evils which man shall not commit, but also of many of those positive duties which his moral nature requires. It matters not that these words are wholly exculpatory; they nevertheless recognize sin." But perhaps no one has depicted man's sense of guilt and fear more eloquently than Dean Stanley when speaking of the Egyptian Sphinx. Proceeding upon the theory that that time-worn and mysterious relic is a couchant lion whose projecting paws were long since buried in the desert sands, and following the tradition that an altar once stood before that mighty embodiment of power, he graphically pictures the transient generations of men, in all the sin and weakness of their frail humanity, coming up with their offerings and their prayers "between the paws of deity." It is a grim spectacle, but it emphasizes the sense of human guilt. Only the Revealed Word of God affords a complete and satisfactory explanation of the remarkable fact that the human race universally stand self-convicted of sin. There is also a tribute to the truth of Christianity in certain traces of a conception of Divine sacrifice for sin found in some of the early religious faiths of men. All are familiar with the difference between the offerings of Abel and those of Cain--the former disclosing a faith in a higher expiation. In like manner there appear mysterious references to a divine and vicarious sacrifice in the early Vedas of India. In the Parusha Sukta of the Rig Veda occurs this passage: "From him called Parusha was born Viraj, and from Viraj was Parusha produced, whom gods made their oblation. With Parusha as a victim they performed a sacrifice." Manu says that Parusha, "the first man," was called Brahma, and was produced by emanation from the "self-existent spirit." Brahma thus emanating, was "the first male," or, as elsewhere called, "the born lord." By him the world was made. The idea is brought out still more strikingly in one of the Brahmanas where the sacrifice is represented as voluntary and all availing. "Surely," says Sir Monier Williams, "in these mysterious allusions to the sacrifice of a representative man we may perceive traces of the original institution of sacrifice as a divinely appointed ordinance, typical of the one great offering of the Son of God for the sins of the world." The late Professor Banergea, of Calcutta, reaching the same conclusion, says: "It is not easy to account for the genesis of these ideas in the Veda, of 'one born in the beginning Lord of creatures,' offering himself a sacrifice for the benefit of deified mortals, except on the assumption that it is based upon the tradition of the 'Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.'" No doubt modern scepticism might be slow to acknowledge any such inference as this; but as Professor Banergea was a high-caste Hindu of great learning, and was well acquainted with the subtleties of Hindu thought, his opinion should have great weight. And when we remember how easily scientific scepticism is satisfied with the faintest traces of whatever strengthens its theories--how thin are some of the generalizations of Herbert Spencer--how very slight and fanciful are the resemblances of words which philologists often accept as indisputable proofs--how far-fetched are the inferences sometimes drawn from the appearance of half-decayed fossils as proofs and even demonstrations of the law of evolution--we need not be over-modest in setting forth these traces of an original divine element in the institution of typical sacrifices among men. It is never safe to assume positively this or that meaning for a mysterious passage found in the sacred books of non-Christian systems, but there are many things which seem at least to illustrate important precepts of the Christian faith. Thus the slain Osiris of the Egyptians was said to enter into the sufferings of mortals. "Having suffered the great wound," so the record runs, "he was wounded in every other wound." And we read in "The Book of the Dead" that "when the Lord of truth cleanses away defilement, evil is joined to the deity that the truth may expel the evil."[179] This seems to denote an idea of vicarious righteousness. The Onondaga Indians had a tradition that the celestial Hiawatha descended from heaven and dwelt among their ancestors, and that upon the establishment of the League of the Iroquois he was called by the Great Spirit to sanctify that League by self-sacrifice. As the Indian council was about to open, Hiawatha was bowed with intense suffering, which faintly reminds one of Christ's agony in Gethsemane. He foresaw that his innocent and only child would be taken from him. Soon after a messenger from heaven smote her to the earth by his side. Then, having drank this cup of sorrow, he entered the council and guided its deliberations with superhuman wisdom.[180] In citing this incident nothing more is intended than to call attention to some of the mysterious conceptions which seem to float dimly through the minds of the most savage races, and which show at the very least that the idea of vicarious sacrifice is not strange to mankind, but is often mysteriously connected with their greatest blessings. The legend of "Prometheus Bound," as we find it in the tragedies of Æschylus, is so graphic in its picture of vicarious suffering for the good of men that infidel writers have charged the story of the Cross with plagiarism, and have applied to Prometheus some of the expressions used in the fifty-third chapter of the Prophecy of Isaiah. We are often told that there is injustice in the very idea of vicarious suffering, as involved in the Christian doctrine of salvation, or that the best instincts of a reasonable humanity revolt against it. But such criticisms are sufficiently met by these analogies which we find among all nations. Let me next call attention to some of the predicted deliverers for whom the nations have been looking. Nothing found in the study of the religious history of mankind is more striking than the universality of a vague expectation of coming messiahs. According to the teachings of Hinduism there have been nine incarnations of Vishnu, of whom Buddha was admitted to be one. But there is to be a tenth avatar who shall yet come at a time of great and universal wickedness, and shall establish a kingdom of righteousness on the earth. Some years ago the Rev. Dr. John Newton, of Lahore, took advantage of this prediction and wrote a tract showing that the true deliverer and king of righteousness had already come in the person of Jesus Christ. So striking seemed the fulfilment viewed from the Hindu standpoint, that some hundreds in the city of Rampore were led to a faith in Christ as an avatar of Vishnu. A remarkable illustration of a felt want of something brighter and more hopeful is seen in the legends and predictions of the Teutonic and Norse religions. The faiths of all the Teutonic races were of the sternest character, and it was such a cultus that made them the terror of Europe. They worshipped their grim deities in the congenial darkness of deep forest shades. There was no joy, no sense of divine pity, no peace. They were conscious of deep and unutterable wants which were never met. They yearned for a golden age and the coming of a deliverer. Baldr, one of the sons of Woden, had passed away, but prophecy promised that he should return to deliver mankind from sorrow and from death. "When the twilight of the gods should have passed away, then amid prodigies and the crash and decay of a wicked world, in glory and joy he should return, and a glorious kingdom should be renewed." Or, in the words of one of their own poets: "Then unsown the swath shall flourish and back come Baldr; With him Hoder shall dwell in Hropter's palace, Shrines of gods the great and holy, There the just shall joy forever, And in pleasure pass the ages." The well-known prediction of the Sibyl of Cumæ bears testimony to the same expectation of mankind. The genuine Sibylline Oracles were in existence anterior to the birth of Christ. Virgil died forty years before that event, and the well-known eclogue _Pollio_ is stated by him to be a transcript of the prophetic carmen of the Sibyl of Cumæ. But for the fact that it has a Roman instead of a Jewish coloring, it might almost seem Messianic. The oracle speaks thus: "The last era, the subject of the Sibyl song of Cumæ, has now arrived; the great series of ages begins anew. The virgin returns--returns the reign of Saturn. The progeny from heaven now descends. Be thou propitious to the Infant Boy by whom first the Iron Age shall expire, and the Golden Age over the whole world shall commence. Whilst thou, O Pollio, art consul, this glory of our age shall be made manifest, and the celestial months begin their revolutions. Under thy auspices whatever vestiges of our guilt remain, shall, by being atoned for, redeem the earth from fear forever. He shall partake of the life of the gods. He shall reign over a world in peace with his father's virtues. The earth, sweet boy, as her first-fruits, shall pour thee forth spontaneous flowers. The serpent shall die: the poisonous and deceptive tree shall die. All things, heavens and earth and the regions of the sea, rejoice at the advent of this age. The time is now at hand."[181] Forty years later the Christ appeared. Whether Virgil had been influenced by Hebrew prophecy it is impossible to say. It may be that the so-called Sibyl had caught something of the same hope which led the Magi of the East to the cradle of the infant Messiah, but in any case the eclogue voiced a vague expectation which prevailed throughout the Roman Empire. In modern as well as in ancient times nations and races have looked for deliverers or for some brighter hope. Missionaries found the Hawaiians dissatisfied and hopeless; their idols had been thrown away. The Karens were waiting for the arrival of the messengers of the truth. The Mexicans, at the time of the Spanish conquest, were looking for a celestial benefactor. The very last instance of an anxious looking for a deliverer is that which quite recently has so sadly misled our Sioux Indians. Mankind have longed not only for deliverers, but also for _mediators_. The central truth of the Christian faith is its divine sympathy and help brought down into our human nature. In other words, mediation--God with man. The faith of the Hindus, lacking this element, was cold and remorseless. Siva, the god of destruction, and his hideous and blood-thirsty wives, had become chief objects of worship, only because destruction and death led to life again. But there was no divine help. The gods were plied with sharp bargains in sacrifice and merit; they were appeased; they were cajoled; but there was no love. But the time came when the felt want of men for something nearer and more sympathetic led to the doctrine of Vishnu's incarnations: first grotesque deliverers in animal shapes, but at length the genial and sympathetic Krishna. He was not the highest model of character, but he was human. He had associated with the rustics and frolicked around their camp-fires. He became Arjuna's charioteer and rendered him counsel and help in that low disguise. He was a sharer of burdens--a counsellor and friend. And he became the most popular of all Hindu deities. The important point in all this is that this old system, so self-sufficient and self-satisfied, should have groped its way toward a divine sympathizer in human form, a living and helpful god among men. Hinduism had not been wanting in anthropomorphisms: it had imagined the presence of God in a thousand visible objects which rude men could appreciate. Trees, apes, cattle, crocodiles, and serpents had been invested with an in-dwelling spirit, but it had found no mediator. Men had been trying by all manner of devices to sublimate their souls, and climb Godward by their own self-mortification; but they had realized no divine help. To meet this want they developed a veritable doctrine of faith. They had learned from Buddhism the great influence and power of one who could instruct and counsel and encourage. Some Oriental scholars think that they had also learned many things from Christian sources.[182] However that may be--from whatever source they had gained this suggestion--they found it to accord with the deepest wants of the human heart. And the splendid tribute which that peculiar development bears to the great fundamental principles of the Christian faith, is all the more striking for the fact that it grew up in spite of the adamantine convervatism of a system, all of whose teachings had been in a precisely opposite direction. It was old Hinduism coming out of its intrenchments to pay honor to the true way of eternal life. Probably the doctrine first sprang from a felt want, but was subsequently reinforced by Christian influences. The late Professor Banergea, in his "Aryan Witness," gives what must be regarded as at least a very plausible account of the last development of the so-called Krishna cult, and of this doctrine of faith. He thinks that it borrowed very much from western monotheists. He quotes a passage from the Narada Pancharata, which represents a pious Brahman of the eighth century A.D., as having been sent to the far northwest, where "white-faced monotheists" would teach him a pure faith in the Supreme Vishnu or Krishna. He quotes also, from another and later authority, a dialogue in which this same Brahman reproved Vyasa for not having celebrated the praises of Krishna as supreme. This Professor Banergea regarded as proof that previously to the eighth century Krishna has been worshipped only as a demigod. But the whole drift of the old Brahmanical doctrines had been toward sacrifice as a debt and credit system, and that plan had failed. It had impoverished the land and ruined the people, and had brought no spiritual comfort. Men had found that they could not buy salvation. Moreover, Buddhism and other forms of rationalistic philosophy, after prolonged and thorough experiment, had also failed. The Hindu race had found that as salvation could not be purchased with sacrifices, neither could it be reasoned out by philosophy, nor worked out by austerities. It must come from a Divine helper. Thus, when Narada had wearied himself with austerities--so we read in the Narada Pancharata--he heard a voice from heaven saying: "If Krishna is worshipped, what is the use of austerities? If Krishna is _not_ worshipped, what is the use of austerities? If Krishna is within and without, what is the use of austerities? If Krishna is _not_ within and without, what is the use of austerities? Stop, O Brahman; why do you engage in austerities? Go quickly and get matured faith in Krishna, as described by the sect of Vishnu who snaps the fetters of the world." "We are thus led," says Professor Banergea, "to the very genesis of the doctrine of faith in connection with Hinduism. And it was admittedly not an excogitation of the Brahmanical mind itself. Narada had brought it from the land of 'the whites,' where he got an insight into Vishnu as the Saviour which was not attainable elsewhere." And he then persuaded the author of one of the Puranas to recount the "Lord's acts"--in other words, the history of Krishna, with the enforcement of faith in his divinity: "Change the name," says Banergea, "and it is almost Christian doctrine."[183] It is an interesting fact that Buddhism, in its progress through the centuries, has also wrought out a doctrine of faith by a similar process. It began as a form of atheistic rationalism. Its most salient feature was staunch and avowed independence of all help from gods or men. It emphasized in every way the self-sufficiency of one's own mind and will to work out emancipation. But when Buddha died no enlightened counsellor was left, and another Buddha could not be expected for four thousand years. The multitudes of his disciples felt that, theory or no theory, there was an awful void. The bald and bleak system could not stand on such a basis. The human heart cried out for some divine helper, some one to whom man could pray. Fortunately there were supposed to be predestined Buddhas.--"Bodisats"--then living in some of the heavens, and as they were preparing themselves to become incarnate Buddhas, they must already be interested in human affairs, and especially the Maitreyeh, who would appear on earth next in order. So Buddhism, in spite of its own most pronounced dogmas, began to pray to an unseen being, began to depend and trust, began to lay hold on divine sympathy, and look to heaven for help. By the seventh century of our era the northern Buddhists, whether influenced in part by the contact of Christianity, or not, had subsidized more than one of these coming Buddhas. They had a complete Trinity. One person of this Trinity, the everywhere present Avolokitesvara, became the chief object of worship, the divine helper on whom all dependence was placed. This mythical being was really the God of northern Buddhism in the Middle Ages, and is the popular sympathizer of all Mongolian races to the present day. In Thibet he is supposed to be incarnate in the Grand Lama. In China he is incarnate in Quanyen, the goddess of mercy. With sailors she is the goddess of the sea. In many temples she is invoked by the sick, the halt, the blind, the impoverished. Her images are sometimes represented with a hundred arms to symbolize her omnipotence to save. Beal says of this, as Banergea says of the faith element of the Krishna cult, that it is wholly alien to the religion whose name it bears: it is not Buddhism. He thinks that it has been greatly affected by Christian influences. Another mythical being who is worshipped as God in China and Japan, is Amitabba, a Dhyana or celestial Buddha, who in long kalpas of Time has acquired merit enough for the whole world. Two of the twelve Buddhist sects of Japan have abandoned every principle taught by Gautama, except his ethics, and have cast themselves upon the free grace of Amitabba. They have exchanged the old atheism for theism. They have given up all dependence on merit-making and self-help; they now rely wholly on the infinite merit of another. Their religious duties are performed out of gratitude for a free salvation wrought out for them, and no longer as the means of gaining heaven. They live by a faith which works by love. They expect at death an immediate transfer to a permanent heaven, instead of a series of transmigrations. Their Buddha is not dead, but he ever liveth to receive into his heavenly realm all who accept his grace, and to admit them to his divine fellowship forever. By a direct and complete imputation they are made sharers in his righteousness, and become joint heirs in his heavenly inheritance. Whatever the genesis of these strange cults which now prevail as the chief religious beliefs among the Mongolian races, they are marvellously significant. They have come almost to the very threshold of Christianity. What they need is the true Saviour and not a myth, a living faith and not an empty delusion. Nevertheless, they prove that faith in a divine salvation is the only religion that can meet the wants of the human soul. There is something very encouraging in these approaches toward the great doctrines of salvation. I do not believe that these sects have come so near to the true Messiah without the influence of the Spirit of God, and without more or less light from Christian sources. But partly they have been moved by those wants which Hinduism and Buddhism could not satisfy. The principle of their faith is worthy of recognition, and the missionary should say as Paul said: "Whom ye ignorantly worship, Him declare I unto you." It is a very significant fact that most of the Brahmo Somajes of India have adopted Jesus Christ as the greatest of the world's prophets. Chunder Sen sometimes spoke of him as a devout Christian would speak. The Arya Somaj would not own His name, but it has graced its Hindu creed with many of His essential doctrines. Quite recently a new organ of the Brahmo Somaj, published at Hyderabad, has announced as its leading object, "to harmonize pure Hinduism and pure Christianity, with Christ as the chief corner-stone." In the exact words of this paper, called _The Harmony_, its aim is "to preach Christ as the eternal Son of God, as the Logos in all prophets and saints before and after the incarnation, as the incarnate, perfect righteousness by whose obedience man is made righteous.... Christ is the reconciliation of man with man, and of all men with God, the harmony of humanity with humanity, and of all humanity with Divinity." This prospectus condemns the average Christianity of foreigners in India--the over-reaching, "beef-eating, beer-drinking" Anglo-Saxon type, "which despises the Hindu Scriptures and yet belies its own;" but it exalts the spotless and exalted Christ and builds all the hopes of humanity upon Him. How will the mere philosopher explain this wonderful power of personality over men of all races, if it be not Divine? But perhaps the most remarkable tribute to the transcendent character of Christ is seen in the fact that _all_ sects of religionists, the most fanatical and irrational, seem to claim Him as in some sense their own. Mormonism, even when plunging into the lowest depths of degradation, has always claimed to rest on the redemption of Jesus Christ. Mohammedanism--even the Koran itself--has always acknowledged Christ as the only sinless prophet. All the others, from Adam to Mohammed, stand convicted of heinous offences, and they will not reappear on earth; while He who knew no sin shall, according to Mohammedan prophecy, yet come again to judge the earth. The worshippers of Krishna, some of whom are found among us in this land, claim Christ as one of the true avatars of Vishnu, and heartily commend His character and His teachings. Our western Buddhists are just now emphasizing the idea that Christ was the sacred Buddha of Palestine, that he studied and taught "the eight-fold path," became an arahat, and attained Nirvana, and that the Christian Church has only misrepresented His transcendent wisdom and purity. The ablest tract on Theosophy that I have yet seen is entitled "Theosophy the Religion of Jesus." How marvellous is all this--that Theosophists, Aryas, Brahmos, Buddhists, Moslems, though they hate Christianity and fight it to the death--still bow before the mild sceptre of Christ. As the central light of the diamond shines alike through every facet and angle, so His doctrine and character are claimed as the glory of every creed. Many types of heathen faiths honor Him, and many schools of philosophic scepticism. Some of the noblest tributes to His unearthly purity have been given by men who rejected His divinity. In spite of itself the most earnest thought of many races, many systems, many creeds, has crystallized around Him. History has made Him its moral centre, the calendar of the nations begins with Him, and the anniversary of His birth is the festival of the civilized world. The prediction that all nations should call Him blessed is already fulfilled. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 167: It is worthy of note that both the Pentateuch and most heathen traditions agree, as to the order or stages of creation, with the geological record of modern science.] [Footnote 168: Rawlinson: _Ancient Monarchies_.] [Footnote 169: Ebrard: _Apologetics_, vol. ii.] [Footnote 170: Williams: _Indian Wisdom_, p. 22.] [Footnote 171: De Quatrefages: _The Human Species_, p. 490.] [Footnote 172: _Christ and Other Masters_, p. 281.] [Footnote 173: _Manual of Buddhism_, p. 66.] [Footnote 174: Ebrard: _Apologetics_, vol. ii.] [Footnote 175: Ibid.] [Footnote 176: _Indian Wisdom_, pp. 32, 393.] [Footnote 177: Ebrard: _Apologetics_, vol. ii.] [Footnote 178: Ebrard: _Apologetics_, vol. iii.] [Footnote 179: De Pressensé: _The Ancient World and Christianity_, p. 87.] [Footnote 180: Schoolcraft: _Notes on the Iroquois_.] [Footnote 181: Quoted by Morgan in _St. Paul in Britain_, p. 23.] [Footnote 182: The full development of the doctrine was not reached till far on in the Christian centuries. Hardwick: _Christ and Other Masters_, p. 204.] [Footnote 183: _Aryan Witness_, closing chapter.] LECTURE IX. ETHICAL TENDENCIES OF THE EASTERN AND THE WESTERN PHILOSOPHIES It is not my purpose to discuss the comparative merits of philosophic systems, but only to consider some practical bearings of philosophy, ancient and modern, upon vital questions of morals and religion. There has been no lack of speculation in the world. For ages the most gifted minds have labored and struggled to solve the mysteries of the Universe and of its Author. But they have missed the all-important fact that with the heart, as well as with the intellect, men are to be learners of the highest wisdom, and that they are to listen to the voice of God not only in nature, but in the soul. So the old questions, still unsolved, are ever asked anew. The same wearying researches and the same confident assertions, to be replaced by others equally confident, are found both in the ancient and in the modern history of mankind. By wisdom the present generation has come no nearer to finding out God than men of the remotest times. The cheerless conclusion of agnosticism was reached in India twenty-four centuries ago, and Confucius expressed it exactly when he said, with reference to the future, "We do not know life; how can we know death?" This same dubious negation probably has the largest following of all types of unbelief in our time. It is not atheism: that, to the great mass of men, is unthinkable; it is easier to assume simply that "we do not know." Yet almost every form of agnosticism, ancient or modern, claims to possess a vast amount of very positive knowledge. Speculative hypothesis never employed the language of dogmatic assurance so confidently as now. Even theosophic occultism speaks of itself as "science." That which strikes one first of all in the history of philosophy is the similarity between ancient and modern speculations upon the great mysteries of the world. 1. Notice with what accord various earlier and later theories dispense with real and personal creatorship in the origin of the universe. The atomic theory of creation is by no means a modern invention, and so far as evolution is connected with that hypothesis, evolution is very old. Mr. Herbert Spencer states his theory thus: "First in the order of evolution is the formation of simple mechanical aggregates of atoms, e.g., molecules, spheres, systems; then the evolution of more complex aggregations or organisms: then the evolution of the highest product of organization, thought; and lastly, the evolution of the complex relations which exist between thinking organisms, or society with its regulative laws, both civil and moral." Between these stages, he tells us, "there is no fixed line of demarcation.... The passage from one to the other is continuous, the transition from organization to thought being mediated by the nerve-system, in the molecular changes of which are to be found the mechanical correlates and equivalents of all conscious processes." It will be seen that this comprehensive statement is designed to cover, if not the creation, at least the creative processes of all things in the universe of matter and in the universe of thought. Mr. Spencer does not allude here to the question of a First Cause back of the molecules and their movements, though he is generally understood to admit that such a Cause may exist. He does not in express terms deny that at some stage in this development there may have been introduced a divine spark of immortal life direct from the Creator's hand. He even maintains that "the conscious soul is not the product of a collocation of material particles, but is in the deepest sense a Divine effluence."[184] Yet he seems to get on without any very necessary reliance upon such an intervention, since the development from the atom to the civilized man is "a continuous process," and throughout the whole course from molecule to thought and moral and social law, "there are no lines of demarcation." He leaves it for the believer in theistic evolution to show when and where and how the Divine effluence is introduced. Similar to this was the theory which the Hindu Kanada propounded more than two thousand years ago. As translated and interpreted by Colebrook, Kanada taught that two earthly atoms concurring by an unseen and peculiar virtue called "adrishta," or by the will of God, or by time, or by competent cause, constitute a double atom of earth; and by concourse of three binary atoms a tertiary atom is produced, and by concourse of four triple atoms a quaternary, and so on.[185] Thus the great earth is produced. The system of Lucretius was much the same, though neither Lucretius nor Spencer has recognized any such force as adrishta.[186] What seems to distinguish Mr. Spencer's theory is the extension of this evolutionary process to mind and spirit in the development of thought and feeling. He does not say that mind resides in the molecules, but that their movements attend (if they do not originate and control) the operation of the mind. Professor Leconte seems to go farther when he says that "in animals brain-changes are in all cases the cause of psychical phenomena; in man alone, and only in his higher activities, psychic changes precede and determine brain changes."[187] We shall see farther on that Mr. Spencer, in his theory of intuition, admits this same principle by logical inference, and traces even man's highest faculties to brain or nerve changes in our ancestors. Kanada also held that mind, instead of being a purely spiritual power, is atomic or molecular, and by logical deduction the mental activities must depend on the condition of the molecules. Ram Chandra Bose, in expounding Kanada's theory, says: "The general idea of mind is that _which is subordinate to substance_, being also found in intimate relations in an atom, and it is itself material." The early Buddhist philosophers also taught that physical elements are among the five "skandas" which constitute the phenomenal soul. Democritus and Lucretius regarded the mind as atomic, and the primal "monad" of Leibnitz was the living germ--smallest of things--which enters into all visible and invisible creations, and which is itself all-potential; it is a living microcosm; it is an immortal soul. These various theories are not parallels, but they have striking similarities. And I believe that Professor Tyndall, in his famous Belfast Address, virtually acknowledges Lucretius as the father of the modern atomic theories. Whether Lucretius borrowed them from India, we shall not stop to inquire, but we may safely assert that modern philosophers, German, French or English, have borrowed them from one or both. It is not my purpose to discuss the truth or falsity of the atomic theory, or the relation of mind to the movements of molecules in the brain; I simply point out the fact that this is virtually an old hypothesis; and I leave each one to judge how great a degree of light it has shed upon the path of human life in the ages of the past, how far it availed to check the decline of Greece and Rome, and how much of real moral or intellectual force it has imparted to the Hindu race. The credulous masses of men should not be left to suppose that these are new speculations, nor to imagine that that which has been so barren in the past can become a gospel of hope in the present and the future. The constant tendency with young students of philosophy, is to conclude that the hypotheses which they espouse with so much enthusiasm are new revelations in metaphysics and ethics as well as in physical science--compared with which the Christian cultus of eighteen centuries is now effete and doomed. It is well, therefore, to know that so far from these speculations having risen upon the ruins of Christianity, Christianity rose upon the ruins of these speculations as, in modified forms, they had been profoundly elaborated in the philosophies of Greece and Rome. Lucretius was born a century before the Christian era, and Democritus, whose disciple he became, lived earlier still. Kanada, the atomist philosopher of India, lived three centuries before Democritus. The early Christian fathers were perfectly familiar with the theories of Lucretius. We are indebted to Jerome for many of the facts which we possess concerning him. Nearly all the great leaders of the church, from Origen to Ambrose, had studied Greek philosophy, some of them had been its devotees before their conversion to the Christian faith. There is at least incidental evidence that the Apostle Paul was versed in the current philosophy as well as in the poetry of Greece. These great men--great in natural powers and in philosophic training--had seen just what the speculations of Democritus, Lucretius, Zeno, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle could do; they had indeed undermined the low superstitions of their time, but they had proved powerless to regenerate society, or even relieve the individual pessimism and despair of men like Seneca, Pliny, or Marcus Aurelius. Lucretius, wholly or partially insane, died by his own hand. The light of philosophy left the Roman Empire, as Uhlhorn and others have clearly shown, under the shadow of a general despair. And it was in the midst of that gloom that the light of Christianity shone forth. Augustine, who had fathomed various systems and believed in them, tells us that it was the philosophy which appeared in the writings and in the life of the Apostle Paul which finally wrought the great change in his career. Plato had done much; Paul and the Cross of Christ did infinitely more. The development of higher forms of life from lower by natural selection, as set forth by the late Charles Darwin, has been supposed to be an entirely new system. Yet the Chinese claim to have held a theory of development which represents the mountains as having once been covered by the sea. When the waters subsided small herbs sprang up, which in the course of ages developed into trees. Worms and insects also appeared spontaneously, like lice upon a living body; and these after a long period became larger animals--beetles became tortoises; worms, serpents. The mantis was developed into an ape, and certain apes became at length hairless. One of these by accident struck fire with a flint. The cooking of food at length followed the use of fire, and the apes, by being better nourished, were finally changed into men. Whether this theory is ancient or modern, it is eminently Chinese, and it shows the natural tendency of men to ascribe the germs of life to spontaneous generation, because they fail to see the Great First Cause who produces them. The one thing which is noticeable in nearly all human systems of religion and philosophy, is that they have no clear and distinct idea of creatorship. They are systems of evolution; in one way or another they represent the world as having _grown_. Generally they assume the eternity of matter, and often they are found to regard the present cosmos as only a certain stage in an endless circle of changes from life to death and from death to life. The world rebuilds itself from the wreck and débris of former worlds. It is quite consistent with many of these systems that there should be gods, but as a rule they recognize no God. While all races of men have shown traces of a belief in a Supreme Creator and Ruler far above their inferior deities, yet their philosophers, if they had any, have sooner or later bowed Him out. 2. Most systems of philosophic speculation, ancient and modern, tend to weaken the sense of moral accountability. First, the atomic theory, which we have just considered, leads to this result by the molecular, and therefore purely physical, origin which it assigns to moral acts and conditions. We have already alluded to Herbert Spencer's theory of intuition. In the "Data of Ethics," page 123, he says: "I believe that the experiences of utility, organized and consolidated through all past generations of the human race, have been producing corresponding nervous modifications, which by continued transmission and accumulation _have become in us certain faculties of moral intuition_, certain emotions corresponding to right and wrong conduct which have no apparent basis in the individual experiences of utility." It appears from this statement that, so far as we are concerned, our moral intuitions are the results of "nervous modifications," if not in ourselves, at least in our ancestors, so that the controlling influence which rules, and which ought to rule, our conduct is a nervous, and therefore a physical, condition which we have inherited. It follows, therefore, that every man's conscience or inherited moral sense is bound by a necessity of his physical constitution. And if this be so, why is there not a wide door here opened for theories of moral insanity, which might come at length to cast their shield over all forms and grades of crime? It is easy to see that, whatever theory of creation may be admitted as to the origin of the human soul, this hypothesis rules out the idea of an original moral likeness of the human spirit to a Supreme Moral Ruler of the universe, in whom righteousness dwells as an eternal principle; and it finds no higher source for what we call conscience than the accumulated experience of our ancestors. The materialistic view recently presented by Dr. Henry Maudsley, in an article entitled, "The Physical Basis of Mind"--an article which seems to follow Mr. Spencer very closely--would break down all moral responsibility. His theory that true character depends upon what he calls the reflex action of the nerve-cells; that acts of reason or conscience which have been put forth so many times that, in a sense, they perform themselves without any exercise of consciousness, are the best; that a man is an instinctive thief or liar, or a born poet, because the proper nervous structure has been fixed in his constitution by his ancestors; that any moral act, so long as it is conscious, is not ingrained in character, and the more conscious it is, the more dubious it is; and that "virtue itself is not safely lodged until it has become a habit"--in other words, till it has become an automatic and unconscious operation of the nerve-cells, such a doctrine, in its extreme logical results, destroys all voluntary and conscious loyalty to principle, and renders man a mere automatic machine. On the other hand Mr. A.R. Wallace, in combating the theory that the moral sense in man is based on the utility experienced by our ancestors, relates the following incident: "A number of prisoners taken during the Santal insurrection were allowed to go free on parole, to work at a certain spot for wages. After some time cholera attacked them and they were obliged to leave, but everyone of them returned and gave up his earnings to the guard. Two hundred savages with money in their girdles walked thirty miles back to prison rather than break their word. My own experience with savages has furnished me with similar, although less severely tested, instances; and we cannot avoid asking how it is that, in these few cases 'experience of utility' have left such an overpowering impression, while in others they have left none.... The intuitional theory which I am now advocating explains this by the supposition that there is a feeling--a sense of right and wrong--in our nature antecedent to, and independent of, experiences of utility."[188] 3. Theories which confound the origin of man with that of brutes, whether in the old doctrine of transmigration or in at least some of the theories of evolution, involve a contradiction in man's ethical history. The confusion shown in the Buddhist Jatakas, wherein Buddha, in the previous existences which prepared him for his great and holy mission, was sometimes a saint and sometimes a gambler and a thief, is scarcely greater, from an ethical point of view, than that which evolution encounters in bridging the chasm between brute instinct and the lofty ethics of the perfected man. The lower grades of animal life know no other law than the instinct which prompts them to devour the types which are lower still. This destruction of the weaker by the stronger pervades the whole brute creation; it is a life of violence throughout. On the other hand, all weaker creatures, exposed to such ravages, protect themselves universally by deception. The grouse shields her young from hawks or other carnivora by running in the opposite direction, with the assumed appearance of a broken wing. The flat fish, to escape its mortal enemies, lies upon the bottom of the stream, scarcely distinguishable in color or appearance from the sand which constitutes its bed. Nature seems to aid and abet its falsehood by the very form which has been assigned to it. And so also the gift of transparency helps the chameleon in seeming to be a part of the green plant, or the brown bark, upon which it lies. And Professor Drummond, in his interesting account of his African travels, describes certain insects which render themselves indistinguishable either in color or in form from the branchings and exfoliation of certain grasses upon which they feed. Deception therefore becomes a chief resource of the weak, while violence is that of the strong. And those which are in the middle of the scale practise both. There are still other animals which are invested with attributes of all that is meanest and most contemptible in character. The sly and insinuating snake gliding noiselessly toward the victim of its envenomed sting--the spider which spreads forth its beautiful and alluring net, sparkling with morning dew, while it lurks in a secret corner, ready to fall upon its luckless prey--the sneaking and repulsive hyena, too cowardly to attack the strong and vigorous, but waiting for the crippled, the helpless, the sick, and dying--if all these are in the school of preparation for that noble stage of manhood when truth and righteousness shall be its crown of glory, then, where is the turning-point? Where do violence, meanness, and deception gradually beam forth into benevolence and truth? "The spider kills the fly. The wiser sphinx Stings the poor spider in the centre nerve, Which paralyzes only; lays her eggs, And buries with them with a loving care The spider, powerless but still alive, To warm them unto life, and afterward To serve as food among the little ones. This is the lesson nature has to teach, 'Woe to the conquered, victory to the strong.' And so through all the ages, step by step, The stronger and the craftier replaced The weaker, and increased and multiplied. And in the end the outcome of the strife Was man, who had dominion over all, And preyed on all things, and the stronger man Trampled his weaker brother under foot." Mr. John Fiske maintains that mankind, during the previous bestial period, were compelled like all other animals to maraud and destroy, as a part of the plan of natural selection in securing the survival of the fittest; the victories of the strong over the weak were the steps and stages of the animal creation in its general advancement. And he further states that, even after man had entered upon the heritage of his manhood, it was still for a time the true end of his being to maraud as before and to despoil all men whose weakness placed them in his power. It was only thus that the steady improvement of the race could be secured; and in that view it was man's duty to consult the dictates of selfishness and cruelty rather than those of kindness. To use Mr. Fiske's own words, "If we could put a moral interpretation upon events which antedated morality as we understand it, we should say it was their duty to fight; and the reverence accorded to the chieftain who murdered most successfully in behalf of his clansmen was well deserved."[189] Much to the same effect writes Professor Leconte. "In organic evolution the weak, the sick, the helpless, the unfit in anyway, perish, _and ought to perish_, because this is the most efficient way of strengthening the _blood or physical nature_ of the species, and thus of carrying forward evolution. In human evolution (which occurs at an advanced stage) the weak, the helpless, the sick, the old, the unfit in anyway, are sustained, _and ought to be sustained_, because sympathy, love, pity, strengthen the _spirit and moral nature_ of the race."[190] There is this difference, however, between this statement and that of Mr. Fiske, that it does not indicate at what point "human evolution" begins; it does not expressly declare that the subject of evolution, even after he has become a man, is still for a time in duty bound to fight in the interest of selfishness and natural selection. Still he reverses the "ought" as he advances from organic to human evolution. According to both authors, when, in view of new environments and new social requirements, it became more advantageous to each individual man that he should cease to maraud, should learn to regard the rights of others, should respect the family relation, and subordinate his selfish interest to the general good; then altruism dawned upon the world, moral principle appeared, and the angel of benevolence and love became enshrined in the human breast. Step by step this favored being, the ideal of natural selection in all her plans, advanced to a stage in which it became incumbent to even subordinate self to the good of others, not only to spare the weak but to tenderly care for them, and even to love those who have treated him with unkindness and abuse. While in the early stages the law of life and progress had been the sacrifice of others for selfish good; now the crowning glory consists in self-sacrifice for the good of all but self. The logical result of this reasoning cannot escape the notice of any who carefully consider it. If, for any reason, any community of human beings should decline in moral and intellectual character until they should finally reach the original state of savagery, it would again become their duty to lay aside all high ethical claims as no longer suited to their condition. The extraneous complications which had grown out of mere social order having passed away, rectitude also would pass away; benevolence, philanthropy, humanity, would be wholly out of place, and however lovely Christian charity might appear from a sentimental point of view, it would be ill adapted to that condition of society. In such a state of things the strong and vigorous, if sacrificing themselves to the weak, would only perpetuate weakness, and it would be their duty rather to extirpate them, and by the survival only of the fittest to regain the higher civilization. I state the case in all its naked deformity, because it shows the confusion and darkness of a world in which God is not the moral centre. And here, as already stated, modern speculation joins hands with the old heathen systems. According to Hindu as well as Buddhist philosophy, this retrograde process might not only carry civilized man back to savagery, but might place him again in the category of brutes. If tendencies control all things and have no limit, why might they not remand the human being to lower and lower forms, until he should reach again the status of the mollusk? Now, over against all the systems which make mind either a product or a phenomenon of matter, we have the Scriptural doctrine that man was created in the image of God. This fact explains the differences which distinguish him from the beasts of the field; for even in his lowest estate he is amenable to the principle of right and wrong. Paul taught, in the first chapter of his Epistle to the Romans, that when men descend to the grade of beasts--and he shows that they may descend even below the dignity of beasts--so far from becoming exempt from moral claims, they fall under increased condemnation. The old Hindu systems taught that there can be no release from the consequences of evil acts. They traced them from one rebirth to another in kharma, as modern speculation traces them physically in heredity. The one saw no relief except in the changes of endless transmigrations, the other finds it only in the gradual readjustment of the nerve-cells. But we know by observation and experience that the spiritual power of the Holy Ghost can transform character at once. No fact in the history of Christianity is more firmly or more widely established than this. The nerve-tissues to the contrary notwithstanding, the human soul may be born again. The persecuting Saul may become at once a chief apostle. The blasphemer, the sot, the debauchee, the murderer, may be transformed to a meek and sincere Christian. Millions of the heathen, with thousands of years of savage and bestial heredity behind them, have become pure and loyal disciples of the spotless Redeemer. The fierce heathen Africaner, as well as the dissolute Jerry McCauley, have illustrated this transforming power. Professor Huxley and others, in our time, are trying to elaborate some basis of ethics independently of religion. But, as a matter of fact, these very men are living on conventional moral promptings and restraints derived from the Bible. The best basis of morals yet known is that of Christianity, and it is from its high and ennobling cultus that even the enemies of the truth are deriving their highest inspiration. Mr. Goldwin Smith, in an able article published in the _Forum_ of April, 1891, on the question, "Will Morality Survive Faith?" shows at least that the best ethics which the world now has are the outcome of religious belief and of Christian belief, and he leads the minds of his readers to gravely doubt whether a gospel of agnostic evolution could ever produce those forces of moral prompting and restraint which the centuries of Christianity have developed. He does not hesitate to assert that those who hold and advocate the modern anti-theistic speculations are themselves living upon the influence of a Christian cultus which has survived their faith. A true test of their principles could only be made when a generation should appear upon which no influence of Christian parents still remained, and in a society in which Christian sentiment no longer survived.[191] It may be said that the _truth_ must be received without regard to the results which may follow. This is admitted, but the same cannot be said of _theories_. If there is perfect harmony between all truths in the physical and the moral world, then all these should have their influence in reaching final conclusions. 4. The philosophies, ancient and modern, have agreed in lowering the common estimate of man as man; they have exerted an influence the opposite of that in which the New Testament pleads for a common and an exalted brotherhood of the race. Hinduism raised the Brahman almost to the dignity of the gods, and debased the Sudra to a grade but a little higher than the brute. Buddha declared that his teachings were for the wise, and not for the simple. The philosophers of Greece and Rome, even the best of them, regarded the helot and the slave as of an inferior grade of beings--even though occasionally a slave by his superior force rose to a high degree. In like manner the whole tendency of modern evolution is to degrade the dignity and sacredness of humanity. It is searching for "missing links;" it measures the skulls of degraded races for proofs of its theories. It has travellers and adventurers on the lookout for tribes who have no conception of God, and no religious rites; it searches caves and dredges lakes for historical traces of man when he had but recently learned to "stand upright upon his hind legs." The lower the types that can be found, the more valuable are they for the purposes required. All this tends to the dishonoring of the inferior types of men. Wherever Christianity had changed the old estimates of the philosophers, and had led to the nobler sentiment that God had made of one blood all nations and races, and had stamped His own image on them all, and even redeemed them all by the sacrifice of His Son, the speculations of sceptical biology have in a measure counteracted its benign influence. They have fostered the contempt of various classes for a dark skin or an inferior civilization. They indirectly encourage those who, with little merit of their own, speak contemptuously of the "Buck Indian," "the Nigger," the "Heathen Chinee." They encourage the "hoodlum," and so far as they have any influence, give an implied sanction to much unrighteous legislation. Even Peschel, who will not be suspected of any bias toward Christianity, has said on this subject: "This dark side of the life of uncivilized nations has induced barbarous and inhuman settlers in transoceanic regions to assume as their own a right to cultivate as their own the inheritance of the aborigines, and to extol the murder of races as a triumph of civilization. Other writers, led away by Darwinian dogmas, fancied that they had discovered populations which had, as it were, remained in a former animal condition for the instruction of our times." And he adds: "Thus in the words of a 'History of Creation,' in the taste now prevalent, 'in Southern Asia and the East of Africa men live in hordes, mostly climbing trees and eating fruit, unacquainted with fire, and using no weapons but stones and clubs, after the manner of the higher apes.' It can be shown," he continues, "that these statements are derived from the writings of a learned scholar of Bonn on the condition of savage nations, the facts of which are based either on the depositions of an African slave of the Doko tribe, a dwarfish people in the south of Shoa, or on the assertions of Bengalese planters, or perhaps on the observations of a sporting adventurer, that a mother and daughter, and at another time a man and woman, were found in India in a semi-animal condition. On the other hand, not only have neither nations, nor even hordes, in an ape-like condition ever been encountered by any trustworthy traveller of modern times, but even those races which in the first superficial descriptions were ranked far below our grade of civilization have, on nearer acquaintance, been placed much nearer the civilized nations. No portion of the human race has yet been discovered which does not possess a more or less rich vocabulary, rules of language, artificially pointed weapons, and various implements, as well as the art of kindling fire.[192]" The assertion has been made again and again that races are found which are possessed of no knowledge or conception of Deity, but this assumption has been thoroughly refuted by Max Müller and many others. There is a very general assumption abroad in the world that bigotry and even bias of judgment belong exclusively to the advocates of religious truth, and that the teachers of agnostic science are, in the nature of the case, impartial and therefore authoritative. But the generalizations which have been massed by non-Christian anthropologists and sociologists are often gleaned and culled under the strongest subserviency to some favorite hypothesis, and that on the most superficial observation and from the most unreliable authorities. De Quatrefages, an anthropologist of profound learning, and certainly with no predilections for Christian theism, in speaking of the alleged evidences given by Sir John Lubbock and Saint-Hilaire to show that many races of men have been found destitute of any conception of Deity, says: "When the writers against whom I am now arguing have to choose between two evidences, the one attesting, and the other denying, the existence of religious belief in a population, it is always the latter which they seem to think should be accepted. More often than not, they do not even mention the contrary evidences, however definite, however authentic they may be. Now, it is evidently much _easier not to see_ than to _discover_ that which may be in so many ways rendered inappreciable to our eyes. When a traveller states that he has proved the existence of religious sentiments in a population which by others has been declared destitute of them, when he gives precise details upon such a delicate question, he has unquestionably at least probability in his favor. I see nothing to authorize this rejection of _positive evidence_ and unconditional acceptance of _negative evidence_. This, however, is too often the case. I might justify this imputation by taking one by one almost all the examples of so-called atheist populations pointed out by different authors."[193] De Quatrefages then proceeds to show how, with respect to American tribes, Robertson is quoted while D'Orbigny is passed in silence, even though he has by the testimony of many authors disproved the statements of Robertson; how Baegert's negative and sweeping statements in regard to the California tribes are accepted, while the very specific testimony of De Mofras in regard both to the fact and to the nature of their worship is rejected. In relation to the Mincopies, Mouat (negative) is adopted against Symes and Day. The Hottentots are adjudged atheistic on the testimony of Le Vaillant, in spite of the united witness of Kolben, Saar, Tachard, Boeving, and Campbell. The Kaffirs are declared to be destitute of religion on the statements of Burchel, while Livingstone and Cazalis have given clear accounts of the religion of the different Kaffir tribes. In a similar manner Professor Flint, of Edinburgh, arraigns Sir John Lubbock and certain other advocates of the atheistic theory concerning savage tribes, for the partiality of their selection of testimony and for the superficial evidence which they accept when favorable to their theories. After reviewing Lubbock's wholesale quotations concerning the Indian tribes of Brazil, he says, "These are Sir John Lubbock's instances from South American tribes. But I find that they are all either erroneous or insufficiently established." And he gives many counter-proofs. "It will never do," he says, "to believe such sweeping statements--sweeping negatives--merely because they happen to be printed." Farther on he adds: "But I think that he (Lubbock) might have told us that Humboldt, whose travels in South America were so extensive, whose explorations were so varied, scientific, and successful, and who certainly was uninfluenced by traditional theological beliefs, _found no tribes and peoples without a religion_; and that Prince Max von Neuwied tells us that in all his many and wide wanderings in Brazil he had found no tribes the members of which did not give manifest signs of religious feelings." In the appendix of the book from which these extracts are made, Professor Flint says: "No one, I think, who has not a theory to maintain can consider the circumstances in which most of the Brazilian Indian tribes are placed without coming to the conclusion that they must have sunk from a higher intellectual and religious level." I have dwelt at length upon these arraignments of the careless and biased utterances of supposed scientists, because it is so much the fashion of our times to support certain theories of anthropology by massing the supposed evidences of man's degradation found, even now, in the environments of savage life. Many readers, apparently dazed by the vast accumulation of indiscriminate and heterogeneous statements which they have no time to examine, yield an easy and blind assent, based either on the supposed wisdom of the writer or upon the fact that so many others believe, and they imagine that no little courage is required on their part to risk the loss of intellectual caste. A vast amount of the thinking of our age, although it claims to be scientific, is really a matter of simple faith--faith in the opinions and dicta of distinguished leaders. And under such circumstances, is it not our privilege and our duty as Christian men to at least challenge and cross-question those theories which depress and dishonor our common humanity before we yield them our assent? The majority of scientists now so confidently assume the certain derivation of man from lower orders of life, that, as Max Müller has expressed it, their intolerance greets "with a perfect howl of derision a man like Virchow," who dares to declare that proof of man's derivation from animals is still wanting. Nevertheless Virchow, himself an evolutionist, maintains his ground, as the following passage quoted some months since from _The London Tablet_ will show: "Some sensation has been caused at the recent Anthropological Congress in Vienna by the speech of the great Berlin biologist, Professor Virchow. About a year ago Virchow, on a similar occasion, made a severe attack on the Darwinian position, and this year he is similarly outspoken. We make the following extracts from his long address to the Congress: "'Twenty years ago, when we met at Innspruck, it was precisely the moment when the Darwinian theory had made its first victorious mark throughout the world. My friend Vogt at once rushed into the ranks of the champions of this doctrine. We have since sought in vain for the intermediate stages which were supposed to connect man with the apes; the proto-man, the pro-anthropos is not yet discovered. For anthropological science the pro-anthropos is not even a subject of discussion. The anthropologist may, perhaps, see him in a dream, but as soon as he awakes he cannot say that he has made any approach toward him. At that time in Innspruck the prospect was, apparently, that the course of descent from ape to man would be reconstructed all at once, but now we cannot even prove the descent of the separate races from one another.[194] At this moment we are able to say that among the peoples of antiquity no single one was any nearer to the apes than we are. At this moment I can affirm that there is not upon earth any absolutely unknown race of men. The least known of all are the peoples of the central mountainous districts of the Malay peninsula, but otherwise we know the people of Terra del Fuego quite as well as the Eskimo, Bashkirs, Polynesians, and Lapps. Nay! we know more of many of these races than we do of certain European tribes. I need only mention the Albanians. Every living race is still human; no single one has yet been found that we can designate as Simian or quasi-Simian. Even when in certain ones phenomena appear which are characteristic of the apes--e.g., the peculiar ape-like projections of the skull in certain races--still we cannot on that account alone say that these men are ape-like. As regards the Lake dwellings, I have been able to submit to comparative examination nearly every single skull that has been found. The result has been that we have certainly met with opposite characteristics among various races; but of all these there is not one that lies outside of the boundaries of our present population. It can thus be positively demonstrated that in the course of five thousand years no change of type worthy of mention has taken place. If you ask me whether the first man were white or black, I can only say I don't know.' "Professor Virchow thus summed up the question as to what anthropological science during the last forty years has gained, and whether, as many contend, it has gone forward or backward. "'Twenty years ago the leaders of our science asserted that they knew many things which, as a matter of fact, they did not know. Nowadays we know what we know. I can only reckon up our account in so far as to say that we have made no debts; that is, we have made no loan from hypotheses; we are in no danger of seeing that which we know over-turned in the course of the next moment. We have levelled the ground so that the coming generation may make abundant use of the material at their disposition. As an attainable objective of the next twenty years, we must look to the anthropology of the European nationalities.'" 5. Another demoralizing type of speculation which has exerted a wide influence in many ages and on many nations is pantheism. By abdicating the place and function of the conscious ego, by making all things mere specialized expressions of infinite Deity, and yet failing to grasp any clear conception of what is meant by Deity, men have gradually destroyed that sense of moral responsibility which the most savage show to have been a common heritage. It is not among the lowest and most simple races that missionaries find the greatest degree of obtuseness and insensibility with respect to sin; it is among populations like those of India, where the natural promptings of conscience have been sophisticated by philosophic theories. The old Vedantism, by representing all things as mere phenomenal expressions of infinite Brahm, tended necessarily to destroy all sense of personal responsibility. The abdication of the personal ego is an easy way of shifting the burden of guilt. The late Naryan Sheshadri declared that one thing which led him to renounce Hinduism was the fact that, when he came to trace its underlying principles to their last logical result he saw no ground of moral responsibility left. It plunged him into an abyss of intellectual and moral darkness without chart or compass. It paralyzed conscience and moral sensibility. It is equally impossible to reason ourselves into any consciousness of merit or demerit, if we are moved only by some vague law of nature whose behest, as described by Mr. Buckle, we cannot resist, whose operations within us we cannot discern, and whose drift or tendency we cannot foresee. It makes little difference whether we build our faith upon the god of pantheism or upon the unknowable but impersonal force which is supposed to move the world, which operates in the same ways upon all grades of existence from the archangel to the mote in the sunbeam, which moves the molecules of the human brain only as it stirs the globules of sap in the tree or plant. It is difficult to see how, upon any such hypothesis, we are any more responsible for our volitions and affections than we are for our heart-beats or respirations. And yet we are conscious of responsibility in the one case and not in the other. Consciousness comes in with tremendous force at just this point, all theories and speculations to the contrary notwithstanding. And we dare not disregard its testimony or its claims. We know that we are morally responsible. 6. Many philosophic systems, ancient and modern, have tended to fill the world with gloomy pessimism. Pessimism is very old and very widespread. Schopenhauer acknowledges his indebtedness to Gautama for much of the philosophy which is known by his name. In Hinduism and Buddhism, as well as in the teachings of the German pessimists, the natural complainings of the human heart are organized into philosophical systems. There is in all human nature quite enough of querulousness against the unequal allotments of Providence, but all these systems inculcate and foster that discontent by the sanctions of philosophy. The whole assumption of "The Light of Asia" is that the power that upholds and governs the world is a hard master, from whose leash we should escape if we can by annihilating our powers and faculties, and abdicating our conscious being; that the world and the entire constitution of things are all wrong; that misery is everywhere in the ascendant, and that man and beast can only make common cause against the tyranny of a reckless fate, and cry out with common voice for some sympathizing benefactor who can pity and deliver. There is no hint that sin has wrought the evil. Man is not so much a sinner as the victim of a hard lot; he is unfortunate, and it is the world that is wrong. Therefore the true end of life is to get rid of the recurrence of life. In much of our modern agnosticism there is the same dark outlook, and agnosticism naturally joins hands with pessimism. Dr. Noah Porter, in one of the series of "Present-Day Tracts," has shown it to be a doctrine of despair. A well-known lecturer who has loudly declaimed against what he considers the remorseless character of the Old Testament, has acknowledged that it is not more cruel than nature; that in the actual world about us we find the same dark mystery, the weak perishing before the strong, the wicked prosperous, the just oppressed, and the innocent given as a prey to the guilty; and his conclusion is that deism is no more defensible than Christianity. His pessimistic estimate of the actual world drives him to a disbelief in a personal God. We do not ignore the sad facts of life; even the Christian is often saddened by the mysteries which he cannot explain. Bishop J. Boyd Carpenter, in speaking of the sad and cheerless spirit of Buddhism, has said: "There are moments in which we are all Buddhists; when life has disappointed us, when weariness is upon us, when the keen anguish born of the sight of human suffering appals and benumbs us, when we are frozen to terror, and our manhood flies at the sight of the Medusa-like head of the world's unappeased and unappeasable agony; then we too are torn by the paroxysm of anguish; we would flee to the Nirvana of oblivion and unconsciousness, turning our back upon what we cannot alleviate, and longing to lay down the burden of life, and to escape from that which has become insupportable."[195] But these are only the dark and seemingly forsaken hours in which men sit in despair beneath the juniper-tree and imagine that all the world has gone wrong. The juniper-tree in Christianity is the exception; the Bo-tree of Buddhism, with the same despondent estimate, is the rule. No divine message came to show the Buddha a brighter side. And the agnostic stops his ears that no voice of cheer may be heard. The whole philosophy of Buddhism and of modern agnosticism is pessimistic. The word and Spirit of God do not deny the sad facts of human life in a world of sin, but they enable the Christian to triumph over them, and even to rejoice in tribulation. 7. And this leads to one more common feature of all false systems, their fatalism. Among the exaggerated claims which are made for heathen religions in our day, it is alleged that they rest upon a more humane philosophy than appears in the grim fatalism of our Christian theology, especially that of the Calvinistic type. Without entering upon any defence of Christian doctrines of one type or another, it would be easy to show that fatalism, complete and unmitigated, is at the foundation of all Oriental religion and philosophy, all ancient or modern pantheism, and most of the various types of agnosticism. While this has been the point at which all infidel systems have assailed the Christian faith, it has nevertheless been the goal which they have all reached by their own speculations. They have differed from Christianity in that their predestinating, determining force, instead of being qualified by any play of free-will, or any feasible plan of ultimate and superabounding good, has been a real fatalism, changeless, hopeless, remorseless. That the distaff of the Fates, and the ruthless sceptre of the Erinnys, entered in full force into all the religions of the Greeks and Romans, scarcely needs to be affirmed. They controlled all human affairs, and even the gods were subject to them. The Sagas of the Northmen also were full of fatalism, and that principle still survives in the folk-lore and common superstitions of all Scandinavian, Teutonic, and Celtic races. The fatalism of the Hindus is plainly stated in the "Code of Manu," which declares that, "in order to distinguish actions, he (the creator) separated merit from demerit. To whatever course of action the Lord appointed each kind of being, that alone it has spontaneously adopted in each succeeding creation. Whatever he has assigned to each at the first creation, noxiousness or harmlessness, gentleness or ferocity, virtue or sin, truth or falsehood, that clings to it."[196] The same doctrine is put in still more offensive form when it is declared that "Manu (here used in the sense of creator) allotted to woman a love of her bed, of her seat, of ornament, also impure desires, wrath, dishonesty, and bad conduct."[197] There would be some relief from this horrible doctrine if in subsequent chapters of Manu there were kindly tokens of grace, or sympathy for woman, or any light of hope here or hereafter; but the whole teaching and spirit of the "Code" rests as an iron yoke upon womanhood, and it is largely a result of this high authority that the female sex has for ages been subjected to the most cruel tyranny and degradation. It might well be said that, in spite of the horrors of infanticide, the most merciful element of Hinduism with respect to woman is the custom by which so large a proportion of female children have been destroyed at birth. The same fatalistic principles affect all ranks and conditions of Hindu society. The poor Sudra is not only low-born and degraded, but he is immovably fixed in his degradation. He is cut off from all hope or aspiration; he cannot rise from the thraldom of his fate. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna declares to Arjuna that it is "Better to do the duty of one's caste Though bad or ill performed, and fraught with evil, Than undertake the business of another, However good it be." Thus even the laws of right and wrong are subordinate to the fatality of caste, and all aspiration is paralyzed. On the other hand, it has been acknowledged repeatedly that the sternest type of Puritan theology, as a moral and political force, is full of inspiration; it does not deaden the soul; it stimulates the action of free-will; its moral earnestness has been a great power in molding national destinies. Mr. Bancroft has not hesitated to declare that the great charters of human liberty are largely due to its strong conception of a divine and all-controlling purpose. Even Matthew Arnold admitted that its stern "Hebraic" culture, as he called it, had wrought some of the grandest achievements of history. But Hindu fatalists, noble Aryans as they were at first, have been conquered by every race of invaders that has chosen to assail them. And no better result could have been expected from a philosophy whose _summum bonum_ is the renunciation of life as not worth living, and the loss of all personality by absorption into the One supreme existence. Buddhism does not present the same fatalistic theory of creation as Brahminism, but it introduces even a more aggravated fatalism into human life. Both alike load down the newly-born with burdens of guilt and consequent suffering transmitted from previous existences. But in the case of Buddhism there is no identity between the sinner, who incurred the guilt, and the recipient of the evil kharma, which demands punishment. Every man comes into the world entangled in the moral bankruptcy of some one who has gone before, he knows not who nor where. There is no consciousness of identity, no remembrance, no possible sense of guilt, or notion of responsibility. It is not the same soul that suffers, for in either case there is no soul; there is only a bundle of so-called skandhas--certain faculties of mind and body newly combined whose interaction produces thought and emotion. Yet there is conscious suffering. Scoffers have long pointed with indignation at the Christian doctrine that a child inherits a moral bias from his parents, but nowadays evolutionists carry the law of heredity to an extreme which no hyper-Calvinist ever thought of, and many cavillers at "original sin" have become eloquent in their praises of Buddhism, which handicaps each child with the accumulated demerit of pre-existent beings with whom he had no connection whatever.[198] The Christian doctrine imputes punishable guilt only so far as each one's free choice makes the sin his own: the dying infant who has no choice is saved by grace; but upon every Buddhist, however short-lived, there rests an heir-loom of destiny which countless transmigrations cannot discharge. In Mohammedanism the doctrine of fate--clear, express, and emphatic--is fully set forth. The Koran resorts to no euphemism or circumlocution in declaring it. Thus, in Sura lxxiv. 3, 4, we read: "Thus doth God cause to err whom he pleases, and directeth whom he pleases." Again, Sura xx. 4, says: "The fate of every man have we bound round his neck." As is well known, fatalism as a practical doctrine of life has passed into all Mohammedan society. "Kismet" (it is fated) is the exclamation of despair with which a Moslem succumbs to adversity and often dies without an effort to recover. In times of pestilence missionaries in Syria have sometimes found whole villages paralyzed with despair. Yielding to the fatalism of their creed, the poor mountaineers have abandoned all means of cure and resigned themselves to their fate. The same fatal paralysis has affected all liberty of thought, all inventiveness and enterprise, all reform of evils, all higher aspiration of the oppressed people. With the lower forms of religious belief, fetishism, animism, serpent worship, demon worship, the case is still worse. The only deities that are practically recognized in these rude faiths are generally supposed to be malevolent beings, who have not only fixed an evil fate upon men, but whose active and continued function it is to torment them. Though there is a lingering belief in a Supreme Being who created all things, yet he is far off and incomprehensible. He has left his creatures in the hands of inferior deities, at whose mercy they pass a miserable existence. Looking at the dark facts of life and having no revelation of a merciful God they form their estimates of Deity from their trials, hardships, fears, and they are filled with dread; all their religious rites have been devised for appeasing the powers that dominate and distress the world. And yet a pronounced agnostic has asked us to believe that even this wide-spread horror, this universal nightmare of heathen superstition, is more humane than the Calvinistic creed. If we inquire into the tendency of all types of ancient or modern pantheism in this particular phase, we shall find them, without exception, fatalistic. They not merely make God the author of sin--they make Him the sinner. Our misdeeds are not our acts, but God's. Thus the vaunted Bhagavad Gita, uniting the Sankhyan and the Vedanta philosophies, makes Krishna say to Arjuna: "All actions are incessantly performed by operation of the qualities of Prakriti (the self-existing Essence). Deluded by the thought of individuality, the soul vainly believes itself to be the doer. The soul, existing from eternity, devoid of qualities, imperishable, abiding in the body, acts not, nor is by any act polluted. He who sees that actions are performed by Prakriti alone, and that the soul is not an actor, perceives the truth."[199] Such is Hindu pantheism. Yet this most inconsistent system charges man with guilt. It represents his inexorable fate as pursuing him through endless transmigrations, holding over him the lash of retribution, while it exacts the very last farthing. Still, from first to last, it is not he that acts, but some fractional part of the One only Existence which fills all space. The philosophy of Spinoza was quite as fatalistic as the Hindu Vedanta. He taught, according to Schwegler, that "The finite has no independent existence in itself: it exists because the unrestrained productive energy of the (infinite) Substance spontaneously produced an infinite variety of particular forms. It has, however, no proper reality; it exists only in and through the Substance. Finite things are the most external, the last, the most subordinate forms of existence into which the universal life is specialized, and they manifest their finitude in that they are without resistance, subject to the infinite chain of causality which binds the world. The divine Substance works freely according to the inner essence of its own nature; individuals, however, are not free, but are subject to the influence of those things with which they come into contact. It follows from these metaphysical grounds," Schwegler continues, "that what is called free-will cannot be admitted. For, since man is only a mode, he, like any other mode, stands in an endless series of conditioning causes, and no free-will can, therefore, be predicated of him." Further on he adds: "Evil, or sin, is, therefore, only relative and not positive, for nothing happens against God's will. It is only a simple negation or deprivation, which only seems to be a reality in our representation."[200] The late Samuel Johnson, in his chapter on "The Morality and Piety of Pantheism," undertakes to defend both the Vedantic and the Spinozan philosophy by pointing out a distinction between an "external compulsion and an inner force which merges us in the Infinite. Though both are equally efficient as to the result, and both are inconsistent with individual freedom, yet real fate is only that which is external.... While destiny or fate in the sense of absolute external compulsion would certainly be destructive, not only of moral responsibility but of personality itself, yet religion or science without fate is radically unsound." Again he adds: "We cannot separate perfection and fate. Deity whose sway is not destiny is not venerable, nor even reliable. It would be a purpose that did not round the universe, a love that could not preserve it. Theism without fate is a kind of atheism, and a self-dominated atheism. But holding justice to be the true necessity or fate, is properly theism, though it refuses the name."[201] The reasoning here reminds one of the conclusions of a still more recent writer, who while condemning what he considers the fatalism of Calvinistic theology, still asserts that its logic leaves no alternative but the denial of a personal God. And an early Buddhist philosopher has left a fragment which gives the very same reason for agnosticism. Thus he says: "If the world was made by God (Isvara) there should be no such thing as sorrow or calamity, nor doing wrong, nor doing right; for all, both pure and impure, deeds must come from Isvara.... If he makes without a purpose he is like a suckling child, or with a purpose, he is not complete. Sorrow and joy spring up in all that lives; these, at least, are not alike the works of Isvara, for if he causes love and joy he must himself have love and hate. But if he loves and hates, he is not rightly called self-existent. 'Twere equal, then, the doing right or doing wrong. There should be no reward of works; the works themselves being his, then all things are the same to him, the maker." This was a Buddhist's answer to the Hindu pantheism, and there follows a reply also to the Oriental dualism which attempted to solve the difficulty by assigning two great first causes, one good and the other evil. "Nay," says this Buddhist philosopher, "if you say there is another cause beside this Isvara, then he is not the end or sum of all, and therefore all that lives may, after all, be uncreated, and so you see the thought of Isvara is overthrown."[202] Thus the same problems of existence have taxed human speculation in all lands and all ages. The same perplexities have arisen, and the same cavils and complaints. There is an important sense in which all forms of materialism are fatalistic in their relation to moral responsibility. James Büchner assures us that "what is called man's soul or mind is now almost universally conceded as equivalent to a function of the substance of the brain." Walter Bagehot, like Maudsley, suggests that the newly born child has his destiny inscribed on his nervous tissues.[203] Mr. Buckle assures us that certain underlying but indefinable laws of society, as indicated by statistics, control human action irrespective of choice or moral responsibility. Even accidents, the averages of forgetfulness or neglect, are the subjects of computation. To support his position he cites the averages of suicides, or the number of letters deposited yearly in a given post-office, the superscription of which has been forgotten. Thus, underlying all human activity there is an unknown force, a vague something--call it Deity, or call it Fate--which controls human affairs irresistibly. It would be amusing, if it were not sad, to see what devices and what names have been resorted to in order to get rid of a personal God. The Hindu Sankhyans ascribed all things to the "Eternally Existing Essence." The Greek Atomists called it an "Inconceivable Necessity;" Anaxagoras, "The World-forming Intelligence;" Hegel, "Absolute Idea;" Spinoza, "Absolute Substance;" Schopenhauer, "Unconscious Will." Spencer finds only "The Unknowable;" Darwin's virtual Creator is "Natural Selection;" Matthew Arnold recognize a "Stream of Tendency not our own which makes for righteousness." Nothing can be more melancholy than this dreary waste of human speculation, this weary and bootless search after the secret of the universe. At the same time a deaf ear is turned to those voices of nature and revelation which speak of a benevolent Creator. But the point to which I call particular attention in this connection is, that these vague terms, whatever else they may mean, imply in each case some law of necessity which moulds the world. They are only the names of the Fates whom all philosophies have set over us. If we have been correct in tracing an element of fatalism through all the heathen faiths, and all ancient and modern philosophies, how is it that the whole army of unbelief concentrate their assailments against divine sovereignty in the Word of God, and yet are ready to laud and approve these systems which exhibit the same things in greater degree and without mitigation? That which differentiates Christianity is the fact that, while it does represent God as the originator and controller of all things, it yet respects the freedom of the human will, which Mohammedanism does not, which Hinduism does not, which ancient or modern Buddhism does not, which Materialism does not. Not only the Word of God but our own reason tells us that the Creator of this world must have proceeded upon a definite and all-embracing plan; and yet at the same time, not only the Word of God, but our own consciousness, tells us that we are free to act according to our own will. How these things are to be reconciled we know not, simply because we are finite and God is infinite. I once stood before the great snowy range of the Himalayas, whose lofty peaks rose twenty-five thousand feet above the sea. None could see how those gigantic masses stood related to each other, simply because no mortal ever has explored, or ever can explore, their awful and unapproachable recesses. So with many great truths concerning the being, attributes, and works of God. One may say that God predetermined and then foresaw what He had ordained; another that He foresaw and then resolved to effect what he had foreseen. Neither is correct, or at least neither can know that he is correct. God is not subject to our conditions of time and space. It is impossible that He, whose knowledge and will encompass all things, should be affected by our notions of order and sequence; there is with Him no before and after. The whole universe, with all its farthest extended history, stood before Him from all eternity as one conception and as one purpose; and the conception and the purpose were one. The too frequent mistake of human formulas is that they undertake to reason out infinite mysteries on our low anthropomorphic lines, one in one extreme and another in another. We cannot fit the ways of God to the measure of our logic or our metaphysics. What we have to do with many things is simply to believe and trust and wait.[204] On the other hand, there are many things of a practical nature which God has made very plain. He has brought them down to us. The whole scheme of grace is an adaptation of the mysteries of the Godhead to our knowledge, faith, obedience, and love. And this leads directly to the chief differential which Christianity presents in contrast with the fatalisms of false systems, viz., that while sin and death abound, as all must see, the Gospel alone reveals a superabounding grace. It is enough for us that the whole scheme is one of Redemption, that the Lamb was slain from the foundation of the world--nay, that He made the world, and made it for an infinitely benevolent purpose. If dark mysteries appear in the Word or in the world, we are to view them in the light of Calvary, and wait till we can see as we are seen; for this world is Christ's, and will surely subserve His ends, which are those of infinite compassion. Our position, therefore, as before the abettors of heathen or agnostic philosophy, is impregnable: the fatalism is all theirs, the union of sovereign power with infinite love is ours. We have reason as well as they. We realize the facts and mysteries of life as fully as they, but are not embittered by them. We see nothing to be gained by putting out the light we have. We prefer faith to pessimism, incarnate love to the tyranny of "unconscious will." FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 184: Quoted in Fiske's _Destiny of Man_, p. 117.] [Footnote 185: See _Indian Wisdom_, p. 82.] [Footnote 186: What Kanada meant by adrishta was a sort of habit of matter derived from its past combinations in a previous cosmos, one or more. The rod which has been bent will bend again, and so matter which has once been combined will unite again.] [Footnote 187: _Evolution and its Relation to Religious Thought_, p. 327.] [Footnote 188: _On Natural Selection_, p. 353.] [Footnote 189: _The Destiny of Man_, p. 80.] [Footnote 190: _Evolution and its Relation to Religious Thought_, p. 88.] [Footnote 191: Some of Goldwin Smith's utterances are such as these: "If morality has been based on religion there must be reason to fear that the foundation being removed the superstructure will fall. That it has rested on religion so far as the great majority are concerned will hardly be doubted." ... "The presence of this theistic sanction has been especially apparent in all acts and lives of all heroic self-sacrifice and self-devotion." ... "All moral philosophers whose philosophy has been practically effective, from Socrates down, have been religious. Many have tried to find an independent basis but have not been successful--at least have not arrived at any agreement." ... "Thucydides ascribed the fall of Greece to the fall of religion. Machiavelianism followed the fall of the Catholic faith." ... "Into the void left by religion came spiritual charlatanry and physical superstition, such as the arts of the hierophant of Isis, the soothsayer, the astrologer--significant precursors of our modern mediums." ... "Conscience as a mere evolution of tribal experience may have importance, but it can have no authority, and 'Nature' is an unmeaning word without an Author of nature--or rather it is a philosophic name for God." ... "Evolution is not moral, nor can morality be educed from it. It proclaims as its law the survival of the fittest, and the only proof of fitness is survival." ... "We must remember that whatever may be our philosophic school we are still living under the influence of theism, and most of us under Christianity. There is no saying how much of Christianity still lingers in the theories of agnostics." ... "The generation after the next may perhaps see agnosticism, moral as well as religious, tried on a clear field." These utterances are weighty, though detached. We only raise a doubt whether "the generation after the next" will see agnosticism tried on a clear field. On the contrary, it will be surrounded as now, and more and more, by Christian influences, and will still depend on those influences to save it from the sad results of its own teachings.] [Footnote 192: _The Races of Man_, pp. 137, 138.] [Footnote 193: _The Human Species_, p. 478.] [Footnote 194: Mr. John Fiske declares that man is descended from the catarrhine apes.--_Destiny of Man_, p. 19. Professor Le Conte maintains that no existing animal could ever be developed into man. He traces all existing species up from a common stock, of which man is the head. The common line of ancestors are all extinct.--_Evolution in Relation to Religious Thought_, p. 90.] [Footnote 195: _The Permanent Elements in Religion_, p. 154] [Footnote 196: Book II., 13.] [Footnote 197: Book IX., 17.] [Footnote 198: Development by "heredity" and the Buddhist doctrine of transmigration, though both fatalistic, reach that result in different ways; they are, in fact, contradictory. Character, according to Buddhism, is inherited not from parents: it follows the line of affinity.] [Footnote 199: _Indian Wisdom_, p. 152.] [Footnote 200: _History of Philosophy_, pp. 220, 221.] [Footnote 201: _Oriental Religions_--_India_. Part II., p. 44.] [Footnote 202: Beal, _Buddhism in China_, p. 180.] [Footnote 203: _Physics and Politics_.] [Footnote 204: "Probably no more significant change awaits the theology of the future than the recognition of this province of the unknown, and the cessation of controversy as to matters that come within it, and therefore admit of no dogmatic settlement."--Tulloch's _Religious Thought in Britain_, p. 24.] LECTURE X. THE DIVINE SUPREMACY OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH. We have in previous lectures instituted brief and partial comparisons between Christianity and particular faiths of the East, but I now propose a general comparative survey. Never before has the Christian Faith been so boldly challenged to show cause for its supreme and exclusive claims as in our time. The early Christians encountered something of the same kind: it seemed very preposterous to the proud Roman that an obscure sect, coming out of despised Nazareth, should refuse to place a statue of its deified Founder within the Pantheon, in the goodly company of renowned gods from every part of the Roman Empire; but it did so refuse and gave its reasons, and it ultimately carried its point. It gained the Pantheon and Rome itself for Christ alone. He was proclaimed as the One Redeemer of the world, and this claim has been maintained from that day to this. "There can be no diversity," said His followers, "for there is no other name given under heaven among men whereby we must be saved. The very genius of Christianity means supremacy and monopoly, for the reason that it is divine and God cannot be divided against Himself." But in our time the whole world is brought very closely together. The religions of men, like their social customs and political institutions, are placed in contact and comparison. The enemies of the Christian faith here, in Western lands, naturally make the most of any possible alliances with other systems supposed to antagonize Christianity; while a multitude of others, having no particular interest in any religion, and rather priding themselves upon a broad charity which is but a courteous name for indifference, are demanding with a superior air that fair play shall be shown to all religions alike. The Church is therefore called upon to defend her unique position and the promulgation of her message to mankind. Why does she refuse to admit the validity of other religions, and why send her missionaries over the earth to turn the non-Christian races from those faiths which are their heritage by birth, and in which they honestly put their trust? Why not respect everywhere that noblest of all man's instincts which prompts him to inquire after God, who hath made of one blood all nations that dwell upon the earth? If the old Hindu pantheism of the Bhagavad Gita taught that the worshippers of other gods were only worshipping the One Supreme Vishnu unawares; if Buddhism forbids its followers to assert that theirs is the only religion, or even that it is the best religion;[205] is it not time that Christians should emulate this noble charity? This plausible plea is urged with such force and volume, it is so backed by the current literature and the secular newspaper press that it cannot be ignored. The time has come when the Church must not only be able to give a reason for the faith she professes, but must assign reasons why her faith should supplant every other. I am aware that many are insisting that her true course is to be found in an intensive zeal in the promulgation of her own doctrines without regard to any other. "Preach the Gospel," it is said, "whether men will hear or whether they forbear." But it must be borne in mind that Paul's more intelligent method was to strive as one who would win, and not as they who beat the air. The Salvation Army will reach a certain class with their mere unlettered zeal. The men who purposely read only One Book, but read that on their knees, doubtless have an important work to do, but the Church as a whole cannot go back to the time when devout zealots sneered at the idea of an educated ministry. The conflict of truth and error must be waged intelligently. There are sufficient reasons for claiming a divine supremacy for the Gospel over all heathen faiths, and the sooner we thoroughly understand the difference, the more wisely and successfully shall we accomplish our work. Wherein, then, consists the unique supremacy of the Christian faith? 1. It alone offers a real salvation. We are not speaking of ethics, or conceptions of God, or methods of race culture, but of that one element which heals the wounds of acknowledged sin and reconciles men to God. And this is found in Christianity alone. There is no divine help in any other. Systems of speculation, theories of the universe, and of our relation to the Infinite are found in all sacred books of the East. There are lofty ethical teachings gathered from the lips of many masters, and records of patient research, cheerful endurance of ascetic rigors, and the voluntary encounter of martyrs' deaths. And one cannot but be impressed by this spectacle of earnest struggles in men of every land and every age to find some way of peace. But in none of the ethnic religions has there been revealed a divine and heaven-wrought salvation. They have all begun and ended with human merit and human effort. Broken cisterns have everywhere taken the place of the One Fountain of Eternal Life. Though all these systems recognize the sin and misery of the world, and carry their estimate of them to the length of downright pessimism, they have discovered no eye that could pity and no arm that could bring salvation. In the silence and gloom of the world's history only one voice has said, "Lo, I come! in the volume of the Book it is written of me." And although men have in all ages striven to rid themselves of sin by self-mortification, and even mutilation, yet the ever-recurring question, "Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" was never answered till Paul answered it in his rapturous acknowledgment of victory through the righteousness of Christ. Mohammed never claimed to be a saviour or even an intercessor. He was the sword of God against idolators, and the ambassador of God to believers; but beyond the promise of a sensuous heaven, he offered no salvation. He had no remedy for sin--except that in his own case he claimed a special revelation of clemency and indulgence. Many a wholesome truth derived from the Old Testament scriptures was promulgated to the faithful, but self-righteousness, and especially valor in Mohammedan conquest, was offered as the key to paradise.[206] Doubtless we should view the false systems with discrimination. Like the sublime philosophy of Plato, Mohammedanism does teach an exalted idea of God, and there is, accordingly, a dignity and reverence in its forms of worship. I once witnessed a very imposing spectacle in the great mosque at Delhi, on the Moslem Sabbath. Several hundred Indian Mohammedans were repeating their prayers in concert. They were in their best attire, and fresh from their ablutions, and their concerted genuflections, the subdued murmur of their many voices, and the general solemnity of their demeanor, rendered the whole service most impressive. It contrasted strongly with the spectacle which I witnessed a little later in the temple of Siva, in Benares. The unspeakable worship of the linga, the scattering of rice and flowers and the pouring of libations before this symbol; the hanging of garlands on the horns of sacred bulls, and that by women; the rushing to and fro, tracking the filth of the sacred stables into the trodden ooze of rice and flowers which covered the temple pavements; the drawing and sipping of water from the adjacent cesspool, known as the sacred well; the shouting and striking of bells, and the general frenzy of the people--all this could be considered as nothing short of wild and depraved orgies. If we must choose, give us Islam, whether in contrast with the Siva worship of India or with the tyranny of the witch doctors of interior Africa. Yet, I repeat, Islam has no salvation, no scheme of grace, no great Physician. In visiting any Mohammedan country one is impressed with this one defect, the want of a Mediator. I once stood in the central hall of an imposing mansion in Damascus, around the frieze of which were described, in Arabic letters of gold, "The Hundred Names of Allah." They were interpreted to me by a friend as setting forth the lofty attributes of God--for example, "The Infinite," "The Eternal," "The Creator," "The All-Seeing," "The Merciful," "The Just." No one could help being impressed by these inspiring names. They were the common heritage of Judaism and Christianity before Islam adopted them, and they are well calculated to fill the soul with reverence and awe. But there is another class of names which were predicted by Judaism and rejoiced in by Christianity, but which Islam rejects; for example, "Messiah," "Immanuel," or God with us, "The Son of God," "The Son of Man," "The Redeemer," "The Elder Brother." In a word, Islam has nothing to fill the breach between a holy and just God and the conscience-smitten souls of men. These honored names of Allah are as sublime as the snow-peaks of the Himalayas and as inaccessible. How can we attain unto them? Without a Daysman how shall we bridge the abyss that lies between? Even Israel plead for Moses to speak to them in place of the Infinite, and they voiced a felt want of all human hearts. Yet no religious system but Christianity reveals a Mediator. There is in other faiths no such conception as the fatherhood of God. Though such names as Dyauspater, Zeuspiter or Jupiter, and others bearing the import of father are sometimes found, yet they imply only a common source, as the sun is the source of life. They lack the elements of love and fostering care. There can be no real fatherhood and no spirit of adoption except through union with the Son of God. The idea that re-birth and remission of sin may be followed by adoption and heirship, and joint heirship with the Son of the Infinite, belongs to the Christian faith alone; and the hope and inspiration of such a heritage, seen in contrast with the endless and disheartening prospects of countless transmigrations, are beyond the power of language to describe. It was with infinite reason that Paul was taught to regard his work among the Gentiles as a rescue or a deliverance "from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God," and it was a priceless boon which enabled him to offer at once the full remission of sins and a part in the glorious inheritance revealed through faith in Christ. Mere ethical knowledge cannot comfort the human soul. Contrast the gloom of Marcus Aurelius with the joy of David in Psalm cxix.; and Seneca, also, with all his discernment, and his eloquent presentation of beautiful precepts, was one of the saddest, darkest characters of Roman history. He was the man who schemed with Catiline, and who at the same time that he wrote epigrams urged Nero onward with flattery and encouragement to his most infamous vices and his boldest crimes. Knowledge of ethical maxims and the power of expressing them, therefore, is one thing, religion is another. Religion is a device, human or divine, for raising up men by a real or a supposed supernatural aid. It ought to reveal God as a helper and a Saviour. It ought to be a provision of grace by which the Just can yet be a justifier of them that are weak and wounded by sin. The ethical systems of the heathen world corroborate the Scriptural diagnosis of man's character and condition, but they fail as prescriptions. So far as divine help and regenerative power are concerned, they leave the race helpless still. Christianity is a system of faith in a moral as well as in an intellectual sense. It inculcates a spirit of loving, filial trust instead of a querulous self-righteousness which virtually chides the unknown Ruler of the universe. According to "The Light of Asia" when the Buddha preached at Kapilavastu there were assembled men and devils, beasts and birds, all victims alike of the cruel fate that ruled the world. Existence was an evil and only the Buddha could be found to pity. But that pity offered no hope except in the destruction of hope, and the destruction of all desire, all aspiration, even all feeling; while Christianity offers a hope which maketh not ashamed, even an immortal inheritance.[207] Hinduism also, like Islam and Buddhism, lacks every element of divine salvation. It is wholly a thing of merit. The infinite Brahm is said to be void of attributes of all kinds. No anthropomorphic conception can be predicated of him. The three Gods of the Trimurti are cold and distant--though for Vishnu in his alleged incarnation of Krishna, a sympathetic nature was claimed at a later day--borrowed, some say, from Buddhism, or, according to others, from Christianity. In the Hindu saint all spiritual power in this life is the merit power of ascetic austerities, all hope for the future world lies in the cleansing efficacy of endless transmigrations of which the goal is absorption into deity. But the difficulty with both Buddhism and Hinduism is that transmigration cannot regenerate. It is only a vague postponement of the moral issues of the soul. There is recognized no future intervention that can effect a change in the downward drift, and why should a thousand existences prove better than one? According to a law of physics known as the persistence of force, a body once set in motion will never stop unless through the intervention of some other resisting force. And this is strikingly true of moral character and the well-known power and momentum of habit. Who shall change the leopard's spots or deflect the fatal drift of a human soul? Remorselessly these Oriental systems exact from Kharma the uttermost farthing. They emphasize the fact that according to the sowing shall be the reaping, and that in no part of the universe can ill desert escape its awards. Even if change were possible, therefore, how shall the old score be settled? What help, what rescue can mere infinitude of time afford, though the transmigrations should number tens of thousands? There is no hint that any pitying eye of God or devil looks upon the struggle, or any arm is stretched forth to raise up the crippled and helpless soul. Time is the only Saviour--time so vast, so vague, so distant, that the mind cannot follows its cycles or trace the relations of cause and effect. In contrast with all this, Christianity bids the Hindu ascetic cease from his self-mortification and become himself a herald of Glad Tidings. It invites the hook-swinger to renounce his useless torture and accept the availing sacrifice of Him who hung upon the Cross. It relieves woman from the power of Satan, as exercised in those cruel disabilities which false systems have imposed upon her, and assigns her a place of honor in the kingdom of God. The world has not done scoffing at the idea of a vicarious sacrifice for the sins of men, and yet it has advanced so far that its best thinkers, even without any religious bias, are agreed that the principle of self-sacrifice is the very highest element of character that man can aspire to. And this is tantamount to an acknowledgment that the great principle which the Cross illustrates, and on which the salvation of the race is made to rest, is the crowning glory of all ethics and must be therefore the germinal principle of all true religion. Christianity with its doctrine of voluntary Divine Sacrifice was no after-thought. Paul speaks of it as "the mystery which hath been hid from ages and from generations but now is made manifest." It was the one great mystery which angels had desired to look into and for which the whole world had waited in travail and expectation. Christ was "the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world," and the entire world-history has proceeded under an economy of grace. And I repeat, its fundamental principle of sacrifice, exemplified as it has been through the Christian centuries, has won the recognition even of those who were not themselves the followers of Christ. "The history of self-sacrifice during the last eighteen hundred years," says Lecky, "has been mainly the history of the action of Christianity upon the world. Ignorance and error have no doubt often directed the heroic spirit into wrong channels, and sometimes even made it a cause of great evil to mankind; but it is the moral type and beauty, the enlarged conception and persuasive power of the Christian faith that have chiefly called it into being; and it is by their influence alone that it can be permanently maintained."[208] Speaking of the same principle Carlyle says: "It is only with renunciation that life, properly speaking, can be said to begin.... In a valiant suffering for others, not in a slothful making others suffer for us, did nobleness ever lie." And George Sand in still stronger terms has said, "There is but one sole virtue in the world--the Eternal Sacrifice of self." While we ponder these testimonies coming from such witnesses we remember how the Great Apostle traces this wonder-working principle back to its Divine Source, and from that Source down into all the commonest walks of life when he says, "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ, who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took on 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." Or when he reminds the Corinthians that, though Christ was rich, yet for their sake He became poor, that they through His poverty might be rich. In all the Oriental systems there is nothing like this, either as a divine source of all-availing help and rescue, or as a celestial spring of human action. It is through this communicable grace that Christ becomes the Way, the Truth, the Life. Well might Augustine say that while the philosophy of Plato led him to lofty conceptions of God, it could not show him how to approach Him or be reconciled unto Him. "For it is one thing," he says, "from the mountain's shaggy top to see the land of peace and to find no way thither; and in vain to essay through ways impossible, opposed and beset by fugitives and deserters, under their captain the lion and the dragon; and another to keep on the way that leads thither guarded by the host of the heavenly General, where they spoil not that have deserted the heavenly army; for they avoid it as very torment. These things did wonderfully sink into my bowels when I read that _least of Thy Apostles_, and had meditated upon Thy works and trembled exceedingly." While Christianity is wholly unique in providing an objective Salvation instead of attempting to work out perfection from "beggarly elements" within the soul itself, as all heathen systems do, and as all our modern schemes of mere ethical culture do, it at the same time implants in the heart the most fruitful germs of subjective spiritual life. Its superior transformation of human character, as compared with all other cults, is not only a matter of doctrine but also a matter of history. It is acknowledged that Christianity has wrought most powerfully of all faiths in taming savage races as well as individual men, in moulding higher civilizations and inspiring sentiments of humanity and brotherly love. "Christ," says one of the Bampton Lecturers, "is the Light that broods over all history.... All that there is upon earth of beauty, truth, and goodness, all that distinguishes the civilized man from the savage is this gift." And if it be asked how the leaven of Christ's influence has pervaded all society, the answer is that the work is presided over by a divine and omnipotent Spirit who represents Christ, who carries out what He began, who by a direct and transforming power renews and enlightens and prompts the soul. Christianity, then, is not a record, a history of what was said and done eighteen centuries ago: it is not a body of doctrines and precepts: it is the living power of God in the soul of man. The written Word is the sword of this Divine Spirit. The renewed soul is begotten of the Spirit and it is instinct with the indwelling of the Spirit. No other system makes any claim to such an influence as that of the Holy Ghost. Sacred books, written systems of law or ethics would all prove a dead letter--the Bible itself, as well as the Veda, would be a dead letter but for the co-operation of this Divine Spirit. Sacred Scriptures might be venerated, they would not be obeyed. The dead heart must be quickened and renewed and only Christianity reveals the Transforming Power. _Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again he cannot see the Kingdom of God._ Instantaneous renewal of the character and the life is not even claimed by other faiths; there is in them nothing like the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, or that of thousands of others well known in the history of Christian experience. There are no such changes in men who, from having led lives of profligacy and irreligion, have turned at once into paths of righteousness--have tamed their wild propensities and submitted themselves to the gentle law of love. But under Christian influence we have seen Africaner the savage transformed to a tractable, humane, and loving disciple. We have seen the wild and bloodthirsty Koord subdued and made as a little child. We have seen the cannibal King Thokambo, of Fiji, turned from his cruelty to a simple, childlike faith, and made to prefer the good of his people to the glory of a powerless sceptre. Whole races, like the Northmen, have been tamed from savagery and made peaceable and earnest followers of Christ. In our own time it has been said of a missionary in the South Pacific Islands, "that when he arrived on his field there were no Christians, and when he closed his labors there were no heathen." The religion of Gautama has won whole tribes of men, Hinduism and Mohammedanism are even now winning converts from fetish-worshipping races, but, so far as I know, none of these faiths have ever made converts except either by war or by the presentation of such motives as might appeal to the natural heart of man; there has been no spiritual transformation. If it be said that the Buddhist Nirvana and the Hindu doctrine of final absorption cannot attract the natural heart, the ready answer is that Nirvana and absorption are not the real inspiration of their respective systems. They are so far removed into the dim future as to exert no practical influence on the great mass of men. The future estate that is really expected and desired is a happy ideal transmigration, and perhaps many of them; and the chief felicity of the Hindu is that no particular estate is prescribed. While the Christian is promised a heaven to which the natural heart does not aspire, the Hindu may imagine and prefigure his own heaven. His next life may be as carnal as the celestial hunting-ground of the Indian or the promised paradise of the Moslem. It may be only the air-castle of a day-dreamer. There is no moral transformation. There is no expulsive power of a new and higher aspiration. Old things have not passed away; nothing has become new. But the grace of God in Christ claims to work an entire change in the desires and aspirations of the heart by the power of the Holy Ghost. Paul found the men of Ephesus highly civilized in a sense, but "dead in trespasses and sins," "walking according to the course of this world, and having their conversation in the lusts of the flesh." But God by His Spirit so "quickened" them that they were able to understand and appreciate one of the most spiritual of all his Epistles. He addressed them as "new creatures," as God's "workmanship," "_created in Christ Jesus unto good works_." As has already been noticed, all theories of moral transformation found in heathen systems require time. The process is carried on by intensive and long-continued thought, or by gradual accumulations of merit. Only the Buddha was enlightened _per sallum_,[209] so to speak. And quite in accord with this view are those modern forms of materialism which maintain that mental and moral habits consist in gradual impressions made in the molecules of the nerve-tissues--that these impressions come at length to determine our acts without the necessity of either purpose or conscious recognition, and that only when right action becomes thus involuntary can character strictly be said to exist.[210] But such theories certainly do not harmonize with the known facts of Christian conversion already alluded to. We do not refuse to recognize a certain degree of truth hidden in these speculations. We are aware that continued thought or emotion promotes a certain habit, and that in the Christian life such habit becomes an element of strength. We also admit that high and pure thought and emotion stamp themselves at length upon our physical nature, and appear in the very expression of the countenance, but when we look for the transforming impulse that can begin and sustain such habitual exercises in spite of the natural sinfulness and corruption which all systems admit, we find it only in the Christian doctrine of the new birth by the power of the Holy Ghost. On these two doctrines of a Divine Vicarious Sacrifice and of the transforming power of a Divine Spirit we might rest our case. It should be sufficient to show, first, that Christianity alone provides a divine salvation in which God is made sin for us; and second, that its power alone, though objective, works in us the only effectual subjective transformation by a direct influence from on high. But there are many other points of contrast in which the transcendent character of Christianity appears. First, an important differential lies in the completeness of the Divine personality of Jesus. Buddhism, Confucianism, and Mohammedanism, were strongly supported by the personality of their founders. We also cheerfully accord to such men as Socrates and Plato great personal influence. They have impressed themselves upon the millions of mankind more deeply than statesmen, or potentates, or conquerors; but not one of these presents to us a complete and rounded character, judged even from a human stand-point. Mohammed utterly failed on the ethical side.[211] His life was so marred by coarse sensuality, weak effeminacy, heartless cruelty, unblushing hypocrisy, and heaven-defying blasphemy, that but for his stupendous achievements, and his sublime and persistent self-assertion, he would long since have been buried beneath the contempt of mankind.[212] Confucius appears to have been above reproach in morals, and that amid universal profligacy; but he was cold in temperament, unsympathetic, and slavishly utilitarian in his teachings. His ethics lacked symmetry and just proportion. The five relations which constituted his ethico-political system were everything. They were made the basis of inexorable social customs which sacrificed some of the tenderest and noblest promptings of the human heart. Confucius mourned the death of his mother, for filial respect was a part of his system, but for his dying wife there is no evidence of grief or regret, and when his son mourned the death of his wife the philosopher reproved him. In all things he reasoned upward toward the throne; his grand aim was to build up an ideal state. He therefore magnified reverence for parents and all ancestors even to the verge of idolatry, but he utterly failed in that symmetry in which Paul makes the duties of parents and children mutual. Under his system a father might exercise his caprice almost to the power of life or death, and a Chinese mother-in-law is proverbially a tyrant. The beautiful sympathy of Christ, shown in blessing little children and in drawing lessons from their simple trust, would have been utterly out of place in the great sage of China. Confucius seems to have troubled himself but slightly, if at all, about the wants of the poor and the suffering; he taught no doctrine of self-sacrifice for the ignorant and the unworthy. His ideal of the "superior man" would have been tarnished by that contact with the lowly and degraded which was the glory of the Christ. And when his cotemporary, Laotze, taught the duty of doing good, even to enemies, he repudiated the principle as uncalled for in the relative duties which should govern mankind.[213] With respect to personality, probably a higher claim has been made for Gautama than for either of the characters who have been named. Sir Edwin Arnold, in his preface to the "Light of Asia," has assigned to him a virtual sinlessness, and such is doubtless the character which his followers would claim for him. But as a model for the great masses of men Gautama was very far from perfection. He had little of the genial sunlight of humanity; in every fibre of his nature he was a recluse; his views of life were pessimistic; he had no glad tidings for the sorrowing; no encouragement for the weary and the heavy laden.[214] His agnosticism was ill adapted to the irrepressible wants of mankind, for they must place their trust in a higher power, real or imagined.[215] But while he cast a cloud over the being of God he drove his despairing countrymen to the worship of serpents and evil spirits. In Ceylon, which is _par eminence_ an orthodox Buddhist country, ninety per cent. of the population are said to be devil worshippers, and the devil jugglers are patronized even by the Buddhist monks.[216] As the philosophy of Gautama was above the comprehension of the common people, so his example was also above their reach. It utterly lacked the element of trust, and involved the very destruction of society. To "wander apart like a rhinoceros" and "be silent as a broken gong" might be practicable for a chosen few, if only self were to be considered, but silence and isolation are not worthy ideals in a world of mutual dependence and where all life's blessings are enhanced by the ministries of the strong to the necessities of the weak. Infinitely higher was the example of Him who said, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work;" and who accordingly exhorted his disciples to work while the day lasts. Christ prayed not that they should be taken out of the world, but that they should be kept from the evil. Again the Buddha's life furnished but a poor example in the domestic duties. His abandonment of his wife and child cannot be justified upon any sound theory of life. Whatever may be said of the merits of celibacy in those who are under no marriage vows, the abandonment of sacred relations once formed must be considered a crime against all society. As Mohammed's example of impurity has cast a blight over all Moslem lands, so Gautama's withdrawal from his home has borne, and is still bearing, its evil fruit. In Burmah it is common for a Buddhist who desires a change of wives to abandon his family for the sacred life of a monastery, where, if he remains but a single month, he sunders the old relation and is at liberty to form a new one. Good men are disgusted, but there is the example of "the Blessed One!" It will be admitted that in comparison with Hinduism the Buddhist ethics advanced woman to a higher social condition, but when modern apologists compare Gautama with Christ there are many contrasts which cannot be disguised. In some respects Socrates stands highest among great philosophers. Mohammed's career cost him nothing but gained for him everything that man's earthly nature could desire. Gautama made only a temporary sacrifice; he changed lower indulgences for honor and renown, and died at a ripe old age surrounded by loving friends. But Socrates resolutely and calmly suffered martyrdom for his principles. The sublime dignity and self-control of his dying hours will never cease to win the admiration of mankind; yet Socrates was by no means a complete character. He died unto himself merely. He left no gospel of peace to humanity. His influence, however pure, could not, and in fact did not, become a diffusive and transforming leaven, either in his own or in any subsequent generation. The late Matthew Arnold has said, "The radical difference between Jesus and Socrates is that such a conception as Paul's (conception of faith) would, if applied to Socrates, be out of place and ineffective. Socrates inspired boundless friendship and esteem, but the inspiration of reason and conscience is the one inspiration which comes from him and which impels us to live righteously as he did. A penetrating enthusiasm of love, sympathy, pity, adoration, reinforcing the inspiration of reason and duty does not belong to Socrates. With Jesus it is different. On this point it is needless to argue: history has proved. In the midst of errors the most prosaic, the most immoral, the most unscriptural, concerning God, Christ, and righteousness, the immense emotion of love and sympathy inspired by the person and character of Jesus has had to work almost by itself alone for righteousness, but it has worked wonders."[217] This tribute to the completeness and power of Christ's personality is calculated to remind one of a memorable chapter in the well-known work of the late Dr. Horace Bushnell, entitled, "Nature and the Supernatural." With a wonderful power it portrays Christ as rising above the plane of merely human characters--as belonging to no age or race or stage of civilization--as transcendent not in some of the virtues, but in them all--as never subject to prejudice, or the impulse of passion, never losing that perfect poise which it has been impossible for the greatest of men to achieve--as possessed of a mysterious magnetism which carried conviction to His hearers even when claiming to be one with the Infinite--as inspiring thousands with a love which has led them to give their lives for His cause.[218] I have often thought that one of the most striking evidences of the divine reality of the Christian faith is found in the reflection of Christ's personality in the character and life of the apostle Paul.[219] No one can doubt that Paul was a real historic personage, that from having been a strict and influential Jew he became a follower of Jesus and gave himself to His service with a sublime devotion; that he sealed the sincerity of his belief by a life of marvellous self-denial. He had no motive for acting a false part at such cost; on the contrary, an unmistakable genuineness is stamped upon his whole career. How shall we explain that career? Where else in the world's history have we seen a gifted and experienced man, full of strong and repellant prejudices, so stamped and penetrated by the personality of another? On what theory can we account for such a change in such a life, except that his own story of his conversion was strictly true, that he had felt in his inmost soul a power so overwhelming as to sweep away his prejudices, humble his pride, arm him against the derision of his former friends, and prepare him for inevitable persecution and for the martyr death of which he was forewarned? So vivid were his impressions of this divine personality that it seemed almost to absorb his own. Christ, though He had ascended, was still with him as a living presence. All his inspiration, all his strength came from Him. His plans and purposes centred in his Divine Master, and his only ambition was to be found well-pleasing in his sight. He saw all types and prophecies fulfilled in Him as the Son of God, the fulness of His glory, and the express image of His person. Paul never indulged in any similes by which to express the glory of heaven; it was enough that we should be like Christ and be with Him where He is. The writings of all the apostles differ from the books of other religions in the fact that their doctrines, precepts, and exhortations are so centred in their divine Teacher and Saviour. Buddha's disciples continued to quote their Master, but Buddha was dead. Theoretically not even his immortal soul survived. He had declared that when his bodily life should cease there would be nothing left of which it could be said "I am." But to the vivid and realizing faith of Christ's followers He is still their living Head, their Intercessor, their Guide. His resurrection is the warrant of their future life. He has gone before and will come again to receive His own. Christianity is Christ: all believers are members of His mystic body: the Church is His bride. He is the Alpha and the Omega of the world's history. In the contemplation of His personality as the chief among ten thousand His people are changed into His image as from glory to glory. The ground of salvation in Christianity is not in a church, nor a body of doctrines, not even in the teachings of the Master: it is in Christ Himself as a humiliated sacrifice and a triumphant Saviour. Second, the religion of the Bible differs from every other in its completeness and scope--its adaptation to all the duties and experiences of life and to all races and all conditions of men. It alone is able to meet all the deep and manifold wants of mankind. Hardwick has very aptly pointed out a contrast in this respect between the faith of Abraham and that of the early Indo-Aryan chiefs as portrayed in the Rig Veda. The pressing wants of humanity necessitate a faith that is of the nature of a heartfelt trust. No other can be regarded as strictly religious. Now Abraham's faith was something more than a speculation or a creed. It was an all-embracing confidence in God. He had an abiding sense of His presence and he confided in Him as his constant guide, defender, and friend. His family, his flocks, his relations to the hostile tribes who surrounded him, the promised possession of the land to which he journeyed--all these were matters which he left in the hands of an unseen but ever-faithful friend. His was a practical faith--a real and complete venture, and it involved gratitude and loyalty and love. Abraham's childhood had been spent in the home of an idolatrous father; for Shemite as well as Aryan had departed from the worship of the true God. In Chaldea, as in India, men had come to worship the sun and moon and the forces of nature. But while the Hindu wandered ever farther away from Jehovah, Abraham restored the faith which his ancestors had lost. He had no recourse to Indra or Varuna, he sought no help from devas or departed spirits. He looked to God alone, for he had heard a voice saying, "I am the Almighty God, walk before me and be thou perfect."[220] Under the inspiration of such a summons Abraham became "the father of the faithful." He was the representative and exemplar of real and practical faith, not only to the Hebrew race but to all mankind. He staked his all upon a promise which he regarded as divine and therefore sure. He believed in the Lord and He counted it to him for righteousness. He left home and country and ventured among hostile tribes in an assured confidence that he should gain a possession, though empty-handed, and a countless posterity, though yet childless, and that all this would be granted him not for his own glory, but that all nations might be blest in him. And this subordination of self and this uplifting of his soul to a sublime hope rendered him patient when fulfilment seemed postponed, and strong against temptation when spoils and emoluments were offered him; for in some sense, vague perhaps, he foresaw a Messiah and a Kingdom of Righteousness, and he was girded with confidence to the last, though he died without the sight. We look in vain for anything to be compared with this in the Vedic literature, still less in that of the period of Brahmanical sacerdotalism, or in the still later speculations of the philosophic schools. Real Hinduism is wanting in the element of trust. Its only faith is a belief, a theory, a speculation. It receives nothing and expects nothing as a free gift of God. Sacrificial rites survived in the early Vedic period, but they had lost all prophetic significance. They terminated in themselves and rested upon their own value. There was no remembered promise and no expectation of any specific fulfilment. The Hindu gained simply what he bought with his merit or his offerings, and he had no greater sense of gratitude to deity than to the tradesman of whom he made a purchase in the bazaar. There are, indeed, traces in some of the earliest Vedic hymns of a feeling of dependence upon superior powers, yet the Brahmanical priesthood taught men that he who was rich enough to offer a sacrifice of a hundred horses might bankrupt heaven, and by his simple right of purchase even rob Indra of his throne.[221] As stated in a previous lecture, so far was this system from "the faith which works by love" that even demons, by costly sacrifices might dispute the supremacy of the universe. There is an equally significant contrast between the legislation of Moses and that of Manu. The life and experience of the former are interwoven with his statutes. They are illustrated with references to actual events in the history of the people. The blessings, the trials, the punishments, the victories, the defeats of Israel enter into the texture of the whole Mosaic record: it is full of sympathetic feeling; it takes hold on the actual life of men and therefore is able to reform and elevate them. It brings not only Moses, but Jehovah Himself into personal sympathy with the people. But Manu presents statutes only. Many of these are wholesome as laws, but they are destitute of tenderness or compassion. No indication is given of the author's own experience, and we are left in doubt whether there were not many authors to whom the general name of Manu was applied. There is no inculcation of gratitude and love to God, or any hint of His love to men. No prayer, no song, no confession of dependence, no tribute of praise, no record of trembling, yet trustful, experience. It is all cold, lifeless precept and prohibition, with threats of punishment here and hereafter. Religious exaction is most strict, but there are few religious privileges except for Brahmans, and these they possess by divine birthright. No particular favor is asked from any being in heaven or on earth. With respect to this same element of personal trust, and real, heartfelt experience, contrast David also with any author whose name is given in Hindu literature. He was full of humanity, large-hearted, loving, grateful, and though stained by sin, yet he was so penitent and humble and tender that he was said to be a man after God's own heart. He was a successful warrior and a great king, but he held all his honor and his power as a divine gift and for the Divine glory. Compare the 119th Psalm with the Upanishads, or with any of the six schools of philosophy. The one deals with moral precepts and spiritual aspirations, all the others with subtle theories of creation or problems of the universe. The one is the outflowing of joyous experience found in obedience to God's moral law, and only out of the heart could such a psalm have been written. The law of God had become not a barrier or a hamper, but a delight. Evidently David had found a religion which filled every avenue and met every want of his whole being. Again, only the religion of Christ brings man into his proper relation of penitence and humility before God. It is necessary to the very conception of reconciliation to a higher and purer being that wrong-doing shall be confessed. All the leading faiths of the world have traditions of the fall of man from a higher and holier estate, and most of them--notably Hinduism, Buddhism, ancient Druidism, and the Druse religion of Mount Lebanon--declare that the fall was the result of pride and rebellion of spirit. And of necessity the wrong, if it cannot be undone, must at least be confessed. Self-justification is perpetuation. The offender must lay aside his false estimate of self and admit the justice whose claims he has violated. Even in the ordinary intercourse of men this principle is universally recognized. There can be no reconciliation without either actual reparation or at least a frank acknowledgment. Governmental pardon always implies repentance and promised reform, and between individuals a due concession to violated principle is deemed the dictate of the truest honor. How can there be reconciliation to God, then, without repentance and humiliation? Of what value can heathen asceticism and merit-making be while the heart is still barred and buttressed with self-righteousness? The longer a man approaches the Holiness of Deity with the offerings of his own self-consequence the greater does the enormity of his offence become and the wider the breach which he attempts to close. Even if he could render a perfect obedience and service for the future, he could never overtake the old unsettled score. The prodigal cannot recover the squandered estate or wipe out the record of folly and sin, and if there be no resource of free remission on the one hand, and no deep and genuine repentance on the other, there can be no possible adjustment. The universal judgment and conscience of men so decide. Philosophers may present this method and that of moral culture and assimilation to the character of the Infinite, but practically all men will approve the philosophy taught in Christ's touching parable of the Prodigal Son. The beauty, the force, the propriety of its principles strike the human understanding, whether of the sage or of the savage, like a flash of sunlight, and no human heart can fail to be touched by its lessons. Yet where in all the wide waste of heathen faiths or philosophies is there anything which even remotely resembles the story of the Prodigal? Where is the system in which such an incident and such a lesson would not be wholly out of place? In that ancient book of the Egyptian religion known as "The Book of the Dead," the souls of the departed when arraigned before the throne of Osiris are represented as all joining in one refrain of self-exculpation, uttering such pleas as these: "I have not offended or caused others to offend." "I have not snared ducks illegally on the Nile." "I have not used false weights or measures." "I have not defrauded my neighbor by unjustly opening the sluices upon my own land!" Any sense of the inward character of sin or any conception of wrong attitudes of mind or heart toward God is utterly wanting. It is simply the plea of "not guilty," which even the most hardened culprit may make in court. In one of the Vedic hymns to Varuna there is something which looks like confession of sin, but it really ends in palliation. "It was not our doing, O Varuna, it was necessity; an intoxicating draught, passion, dice, thoughtlessness. The old is there to mislead the young. Even sleep brings unrighteousness." And the remission sought for is not one involving a change of character but only release from an external bond. "Absolve us from the sins of our fathers and from those which we committed with our own bodies. Release Vasishtha, O King, like a thief who has feasted on stolen oxen. Release him like a calf from the rope."[222] In the Penitential Psalms of the ancient Akkadians, who inhabited Northern Assyria in the times of Abraham, and who may have retained something of that true faith from which Abraham's father had declined, we find a nearer approach to true penitence, but that also lacks the inner sense of sin and seeks merely an exemption from punishments. Only in the Old and New Testaments is sin recognized as of the nature of personal guilt. Accordingly, Christianity alone recognizes the fact that right thoughts and motives and a worthy character are the gifts of God. Cicero has truly remarked[223] that men justly thank God for external blessings, but never for virtue, or talent, or character. All that is regarded as their own. And such is the conceit of human self-righteousness in all man-made religions, whether Hindu or Greek, ancient or modern. Philosophy is in its very nature haughty and aristocratic. Even Plato betrays this element. It is only the Christian apostle that is heard to say, with heartfelt emotion, "By the grace of God I am what I am." The Buddha declared that he recognized no being in any world to whom he owed any special reverence; and especially in his later years, when his disciples had come to look upon him as in a sense divine, he regarded himself as the highest of all intelligences on the earth or in the various heavens. Such assumptions in both Buddha and Confucius will explain the fact that for ages both have been virtually worshipped. "At fifteen," said Confucius, "I had my mind bent on learning. At thirty I stood firm. At forty I had no doubt. At fifty I knew the decrees of Heaven. At sixty my ear was an obedient organ for the reception of truth. At seventy I could follow what my heart desired without transgressing what was right."[224] Yet neither of these great teachers claimed to be a divine Saviour. They were simply exemplars; their self-righteousness was supposed to be attainable by all. I cannot do better in this connection than point out a striking contrast in the recorded experiences of two well-known historic characters. Islam honors David, King of Israel, and accords him a place among its accredited prophets. Both David and Mohammed were guilty of adultery under circumstances of peculiar aggravation. Mohammed covered his offence by a blasphemous pretence of special revelations from God, justifying his crime and chiding him for such qualms of conscience as he had. David lay in dust and ashes while he bemoaned not only the consequences of his sin and the breach of justice toward his neighbor, but also the deep spiritual offence of his act. "Against Thee, and Thee only, O God, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight." Profoundest penitence on the one hand and Heaven-daring blasphemy on the other, the Bible and the Koran being witnesses! Another marked distinction is seen in the moral purity of the Christian Scriptures as contrasted with the so-called sacred books of all other religions. That which is simply human will naturally be expected to show the moral taint of lapsed humanity. The waters cannot rise higher than the fountain-head, nor can one gather figs from thistles. In our social intercourse with men we sooner or later find out their true moral level. And so in what is written, the exact grade of the author will surely appear. And it is by this very test that we can with tolerable accuracy distinguish the human from the divine in religious records. It is not difficult to determine what is from heaven and what is of the earth. No enlightened reader of Greek mythology can proceed far without discovering that he is dealing with the prurient and often lascivious imaginings of semi-barbarous poets. He finds the poetry and the art of Greece both reflecting the character of a passionate people, bred under a southern sun and in an extremely sensuous age. If he ventures into the lowest depths of the popular religious literature of Greece or Rome, or ancient Egypt or Phoenicia, he finds unspeakable vice enshrined among the mysteries of religion, and corruptions which an age of refinement refuses to translate or depict abound on every hand. Or apply the same test to the literature of Hinduism, even in its earliest and purest stages. The sacred Vedas, which are supposed to have been breathed into the souls of ancient rishis by direct divine effluence, are tainted here and there by debasing human elements, and that not incidentally but as the very soul of the Hindu system. For example, when the Vedic hymns promise as future rewards the lowest sensual indulgences[225] none can doubt the earthly source of their inspiration. As for the Upanishads, which are regarded as _Sruti_ or inspired, Professor Max Müller, in his Introduction to the first volume of "The Sacred Books of the East," virtually admits the impropriety of translating them for English readers without expurgation. Mr. Ram Chandra Bose, of Lucknow, declares himself unable, for the same reason, to give a full and unabridged account of the ancient Hindu sacrifices.[226] The later literatures of the Puranas and the Tantras are lower still. Anti-Christian Orientalists have so generally conveyed the popular impression that their culled and expurgated translations were fair representations of Hindu literature that Wilson finally felt called upon in the interest of truth and honesty to lift the veil from some of the later revelations of the Puranas, and it is sufficient to say that the Greek mythology is fairly outdone by the alleged and repeated escapades of the chief Hindu deities. The traditions of all ancient religions found on either hemisphere, and the usages observed among savage tribes of to-day all conform to the same low moral gauge. All are as deplorably human as the degraded peoples who devised them. In Mexico and Peru, as well as in Egypt and in Babylonia, base human passion was mingled with the highest teachings of religion.[227] Buddhism has generally been considered an exception to this general rule, and it will be confessed that its influence has been vastly higher than that of the old Hinduism, or the religions of Canaan, or Greece, or Rome, and immeasurably higher in morals than that of Islam; yet even Buddhism has been colored by its European advocates with far too roseate a hue. Sir Edwin Arnold was not the first biographer of Gautama to glorify incidentally the seductive influences of his Indian harem, and to leave on too many minds the impression that, after all, the luxurious palace of Sidartha was more attractive than the beggars' bowl of the enlightened "Tathagata." The Bishop of Colombo, in an able article on Buddhism, arraigns the apologetic translators of Buddhistic literature for having given to the world an altogether erroneous impression of the moral purity of the Sacred Books of Ceylon.[228] The vaunted claim that the early Buddhist records, and especially the early rock inscriptions found in caves, are pure, whatever corruptions may have crept into more modern manuscripts, is well met by letters from a recent traveller, which speak of certain Buddhist inscriptions so questionable in character that they cannot be translated or described.[229] It is scarcely necessary for me to speak of the base appeal to man's low passions found in the Koran. It is only necessary to trace its unmistakable influence in the moral degeneracy of Mohammedan populations in all lands and all ages--destroying the sacredness of the home, degrading woman, engendering unnatural vices, and poisoning all society from generation to generation. It is indeed a hard task for its apologists, by any kind of literary veneering to cover the moral deformity and the blasphemous wickedness which, side by side with acknowledged excellences, mar the pages of the Koran. The soiled finger-marks of the sensual Arab everywhere defile them. Like the blood of Banquo, they defy all ocean's waters to wash them out. It was easy enough for Mohammed to copy many exalted truths from Judaism and Christianity, and no candid mind will deny that there are many noble precepts in the Koran; but after all has been said, its ruling spirit is base. Even its promised heaven is demoralizing. It is characteristically a human book, and very low in the ethical scale at that. Let us now turn to the Bible; let us remember that the Old Testament represents those early centuries when the people of Israel were surrounded by the corruptions of Baal worship, which transcended the grovelling wickedness of all other heathen systems, ancient or modern. Let us bear in mind the kind of training which the nation had received amid the corruptions of Egypt, all rendered more effective for evil by their degrading bondage; and with all these disadvantages in view, let us search everywhere, from Genesis to Malachi, and see if there be one prurient utterance, one sanction for, or even connivance at, impurity in all those records, written by men in different lands and ages, men representing all social grades, all vocations in life, and chosen from among all varieties of association. Who will deny that these men appear to have been raised by some unaccountable power to a common level of moral purity which was above their age, their social standards, their natural impulses, or any of the highest human influences which could have been exerted upon them? They were often called to deal plainly with moral evils. They record instances of grievous dereliction, in some cases the writers were themselves the offenders. But there is always reproof. The story always has a salutary moral. Sin is always shown to be a losing game, a sowing to the wind and a reaping of the whirlwind. It is either followed by severe judgments, or it is repented of with a contrition which bows even a great monarch in dust and ashes. The books of the New Testament were also written in an age of great moral corruption. Judaism was virtually dead; the current religion in the Holy City was "a sad perversion of the truth." Hypocrisy sat in high places when John Baptist came with his protest and his rebukes. The Herods, who held the sceptres of provincial authority, were either base time-servers, or worse, they were monsters of lust and depravity. In the far-off capitals of the dominant heathen races vice had attained its full fruitage and was already going to seed and consequent decay. Athens, Corinth, Ephesus, and Antioch were steeped in iniquity, while the emperors who wielded the sceptre of the Roman empire were hastening the ruin of the existing civilization. It was in such an age and amid such surroundings that the Gospels and the Epistles came forth as the lotus springs, pure and radiant from the foul and fetid quagmire. What could have produced them? The widely accepted rule that religions are the products of their environments is surely at fault here. Neither in the natural impulses of a dozen Judean fishermen and peasants, nor in the bigoted breast of Saul of Tarsus, could these unique and sublime conceptions have found their genesis. They are manifestly divine. How exalted is the portraiture of the Christ! What human skill could have depicted a character which no ideal of our best modern culture can equal? In all the New Testament there are none but the highest and purest ethical teachings, and even the most poetical descriptions of heaven are free from any faintest tinge of human folly. The Apocalypse is full of images which appeal to the senses, but there is nothing which does not minister to the most rigid purity; while the representations which Paul makes of eternal felicity are strictly and conspicuously spiritual and elevating. Everywhere, from Matthew to Revelations, it is the pure in heart who shall see God, and the inducement held out is to be pure because He is pure. And although the gift of eternal life is a free gift, yet it affords no excuse for laxity. The sixth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans is a remonstrance against all presumption in those that are "under grace." "Reckon ye yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Let not sin therefore rule in your mortal body that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof. Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin, but yield yourselves unto God as those that are alive from the dead."[230] The religion of the New Testament is a spiritual religion, the resurrection body is a spiritual body; heaven is not an Indian hunting-ground, nor a Vikings Valhalla of shield-clad warriors, nor a Moslem harem. It is a spiritual abode, and its companionships are with God and the Lamb, with the church of the first-born and of saints made perfect. Now, all that we can say of these lofty and pure conceptions is that flesh and blood never revealed them. They are divine. They are out of the range of our native humanity; they are not the things that human nature desires, and it is only by the high culture of transforming grace that human aspirations are raised to their level. In conclusion, there are many points in which Christianity asserts its unique supremacy over all other systems of which there is time but for the briefest mention. It presents to man the only cultus which can have universal adaptation. Christ only, belongs to all ages and all races. Buddha is but an Asiatic, Mohammed is an Arab and belongs only to the East. The religion or philosophy of Confucius has never found adaptation to any but Mongolian races; his social and political pyramid would crumble in contact with republican institutions. On the other hand, the religion of Christ is not only adapted to all races, but it aims at their union in one great brotherhood. Again, Christianity alone presents the true relation between Divine help and human effort. It does not invest marred and crippled human nature with a false and impossible independence, neither does it crush it. Whenever heathen systems have taught a salvation by faith they have lost sight of moral obligation. Weitbrecht and others state this as a fact with the Hindu doctrine of Bakti (faith) adopted in the later centuries; De Quatrefages asserts the same of the Tahitans. But the faith of the New Testament everywhere supposes a Divine and effectual co-operation. "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you to will and to do of His good pleasure." It bids men serve not as hirelings, but as sons and heirs; it stimulates hope without engendering pride; it administers discipline, but with a father's love; it teaches that trials are not judgments, but wholesome lessons. Of all religions it alone inculcates a rational and consoling doctrine of Providence. It declares that to the righteous death is not destruction, but a sleep in peace and hope. It bids the Christian lay off his cares and worries--in all things making his requests known unto God with thanksgivings; and yet it enjoins him not to rest in sloth, but to aspire after all that is pure and true and honorable and lovely and of good report in human life and conduct. It saves him from sin not by the stifling and atrophy of any God-given power, but by the expulsive influence of new affections; it bids him be pure even as God is pure. There is in the brief epistle of Paul to Titus a passage which in a single sentence sets forth the way of salvation in its fulness. It traces redemption to the grace of God, and it makes it a free provision for all men; yet it insists upon carefulness and sobriety. Salvation is shown to begin _now_ in the laying aside of all sin and the living of a godly life. Meanwhile it cheers the soul with expectation that Christ shall dwell with the redeemed in triumph, as He once came in humiliation, and it keeps ever in mind the great truth that His mission is not merely to secure for man future exemptions and possessions, but to build up character--character that shall continue to rise and expand forever. _For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave Himself for us that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people zealous of good works._ FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 205: _Holy Bible and Sacred Books of the East_, p. 12.] [Footnote 206: Mohammed was once asked whether he trusted in his own merit or in the mercy of God, and he answered, "The mercy of God." But the whole drift of his teaching belied this one pious utterance.] [Footnote 207: Of the terrible darkness and bewilderment into which benighted races are often found Schoolcraft furnishes this graphic and painful picture in the condition of the Iroquois: "Their notions of a deity, founded apparently on some dreamy tradition of original truth, are so subtile and divisible, and establish so heterogeneous a connection between spirit and matter of all imaginable forms, that popular belief seems to have wholly confounded the possible with the impossible, the natural with the supernatural. Action, so far as respects cause and effect, takes the widest and wildest range, through the agency of good or evil influences, which are put in motion alike for noble or ignoble ends--alike by men, beasts, devils, or gods. Seeing something mysterious and wonderful, he believes all things mysterious and wonderful; and he is afloat without shore or compass, on the wildest sea of superstition and necromancy. He sees a god in every phenomenon, and fears a sorcerer in every enemy. Life, under such a system of polytheism and wild belief, is a constant scene of fears and alarms. Fear is the predominating passion, and he is ready, wherever he goes, to sacrifice at any altar, be the supposed deity ever so grotesque. He relates just what he believes, and unluckily he believes everything that can possibly be told. A beast, or a bird, or a man, or a god, or a devil, a stone, a serpent, or a wizard, a wind, or a sound, or a ray of light--these are so many causes of action, which the meanest and lowest of the series may put in motion, but which shall in his theology and philosophy vibrate along the mysterious chain through the uppermost, and life or death may at any moment be the reward or the penalty."--_Notes on the Iroquois_, p. 263.] [Footnote 208: _History of Rationalism_.] [Footnote 209: And even the Buddha had spent six years in self-mortification and in the diligent search for what he regarded as the true wisdom.] [Footnote 210: Henry Maudsley, in _The Arena_ of April, 1891.] [Footnote 211: "Barren Mohammedanism has been in all the higher and more tender virtues, because its noble morality and its pure theism have been united with no living example."--Lecky, _History of Morals_, vol. ii., p. 10.] [Footnote 212: The most intelligent Mohammedans, as we have shown in a former lecture, admit the moral blemishes of his character as compared with the purity of Jesus and only revere him as the instrument of a great Divine purpose. His only element of greatness was success. Even the Koran convicts him of what the world must regard as heinous sin, and presents Jesus as the only sinless prophet.] [Footnote 213: Douglass, _Confucianism and Taouism_.] [Footnote 214: The apologists of Buddhism have made much of the story of a distressed young mother who came to the "Master" bearing in her arms the dead body of her first-born--hoping for some comfort or help. He bade her bring him some mustard seed found in a home where no child had died. After a wearisome but vain search he only reminded her of the universality of death. No hope of a future life and a glad recovery of the lost was given. As an illustration of Buddhism the example is a good one.] [Footnote 215: "Men wanted a Father in heaven, who should take account of their efforts and assure them a recompense. Men wanted a future of righteousness, in which the earth should belong to the feeble and the poor; they wanted the assurance that human suffering is not all loss, but that beyond this sad horizon, dimmed by tears, are happy plains where sorrow shall one day find its consolation."--Renan, _Hibbert Lectures_, p. 42.] [Footnote 216: See report of Missionary Conference, London, 1888, vol. i., p. 70.] [Footnote 217: _St. Paul and Protestantism_, p. 79, quoted by Bishop Carpenter.] [Footnote 218: It is hardly necessary to remind the reader of the well-known tribute which Napoleon, in his conversations with his friends on the island of St. Helena, paid to the transcendent personality of Christ. He drew a graphic contrast between the so-called glory which had been won by great conquerors like Alexander, Cæsar, and himself, and that mysterious and all-mastering power which in all lands and all ages continues to attach itself to the person, the name, the memory of Christ, for whom, after eighteen centuries of time, millions of men would sacrifice their lives.] [Footnote 219: Augustine appears to have been greatly moved by the life as well as by the writings of Paul. In an account given of his conversion to his friend Romanianus, he says, "So then stumbling, hurrying, hesitating, I seized the apostle Paul, 'for never,' said I, 'could they have wrought such things, or lived as it is plain they did live, if their writings and arguments were opposed to this so high a good.'"--_Confessions_, Bk. vii., xxi., note.] [Footnote 220: Genesis, xvii. 1.] [Footnote 221: The doctrine of human merit-making was carried to such an extreme under the Brahmanical system that the gods became afraid of its power. They sometimes found it necessary to send apsaras (nymphs), wives of genii, to tempt the most holy ascetics, lest their austerities and their merit should proceed too far.--_See Article Brahmanism, in the Britannica._] [Footnote 222: Müller, _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i., p. 40.] [Footnote 223: De Nat. Deorum, iii., 36.] [Footnote 224: _Chips from a German Workshop_, p. 304.] [Footnote 225: See Murdock's _Vedic Religion_, p. 57.] [Footnote 226: _Hindu Philosophy_.] [Footnote 227: The most sacred of human victims offered by the Aztecs were prepared by a month of unbridled lust. See Prescott's _Conquest_.] [Footnote 228: _Nineteenth Century_, July, 1888.] [Footnote 229: Letters of Rev. Pentecost in _The Christian at Work_, 1891.] [Footnote 230: The same principles are set forth with great emphasis in Isaiah, Chap. iii.] APPENDIX BOOKS OF REFERENCE The books relating directly or indirectly to the wide range of topics discussed in the following lectures are too numerous for citation here; but there are some which are so essential to a thorough knowledge of comparative religion and comparative philosophy, that a special acknowledgment is due. "The Sacred Books of the East" are indispensable to one who would catch the real spirit of the Oriental religions. The translations from Hindu, Buddhist, Mohammedan, Confucian, and Zoroastrian literatures, by Max Müller, Rhys Davids, Oldenberg, Fausbôll, Palmer, Darmesteter, Mills, Legge, Buhler, West, Beal, and other able scholars, are invaluable. The various other works of Max Müller, "The Science of Religion," "Chips from a German Workshop," "The Origin and Growth of Religion," "Physical Religion," etc., fill an important place in all study of these subjects. "Indian Wisdom," by Sir Monier Williams, is the most comprehensive, and in many ways the best, of all compends of Hindu religion and philosophy. His abridged work, "Hinduism," and the larger volume entitled "Brahmanism and Hinduism," are also valuable. R.C. Bose has given to the public an able treatise entitled "Hindu Philosophy." Other books on Hinduism to which more or less reference is made, are: "The Vedic Religion," by McDonald; "India and the Indians," by Duff; "The Life and Letters of Colbrooke;" "The Bhagavad Gita," as translated by Chatterji; "The Vishnu Puranas," by Wilson; "The Ramayana," by Griffiths; "Brahmoism," by Bose; "The Oriental Christ," by Mozoomdar; "Christianity and Hindu Philosophy," by Ballantyne. Among the ablest books on Buddhism are: "Buddhism;" "The Growth of Religion as illustrated by Buddhism," and the able article on the same subject in the "Britannica"--all by Rhys Davids. "Buddha: His Life, Character, and Order," by Professor Oldenberg, is a scarcely less important contribution to Buddhist literature. "The Light of Asia," by Sir Edwin Arnold, has done more than any other work to interest Western nations in the legends of Gautama; perhaps no other Oriental character has been more successfully popularized. Of the many efforts to correct the misleading impressions given by this fanciful but really poetic story, "The Light of Asia and the Light of the World," by Dr. S.H. Kellogg, is probably the ablest. Dr. Edkins, in "Chinese Buddhism," and Professor Beal, in "Buddhism in China," have very successfully shown the characteristics of the Chinese types of the system. Spence Hardy, in his "Manual of Buddhism," has rendered a similar service in relation to the Buddhism of Ceylon, while Bigandet has set forth that of Burmah, and Alabaster that of Siam. Sir Monier Williams, in his more recent work, "Buddhism," has done much to counteract the fashionable tendency of most Orientalists to idealize the Buddhist system. Other works relating to Buddhism are, "Mohammed, Buddha, and Christ," by Dodds; "Buddhism (Modern)," by Subhadra; and "Esoteric Buddhism," by Sinnett. Maurice, Bishop Carpenter, Brace, the Bishop of Colombo, Martin, and many others have ably discussed the subject. Of all works on Mohammedanism, Sale's translation of the Koran, with a "Preliminary Discourse," is the most comprehensive and important. Sprenger's "Life of Mohammed, from Original Sources," is perhaps next in rank. "Islam and Mahomet," by Samuel Johnson; "Mohammed and Mohammedanism," by E. Bosworth Smith; "Christianity, Islam, and the Negro Race," by E.W. Blyden; and "Leaves from an Egyptian Note-book," by Canon Isaac Taylor, are among the principal apologies for Islam. Gibbon's fifth volume of the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" has at least done ample justice to the glory of the Mohammedan conquest. Of those who have ably controverted the claims of Islam, the late Dr. Pfander, of Northern India, will perhaps hold the first rank. Of the three Moulvies who were selected to meet him in public discussion, two are said to have been converted to Christianity by his arguments. The concessions of the Koran to the truths of the Old and New Testaments have been ably pointed out by Sir William Muir in "The Koran," and Dr. E.M. Wherry, in his "Commentary," has established the striking fact, that of all the prophets named in the Koran, including Mohammed, Jesus alone is represented as sinless. The modern apologists of Mohammed and his system have been well answered by Knox in current numbers of the _Church Missionary Intelligencer_. Other works upon the subject are "Islam," by Stobart; "Islam as a Missionary Religion," by Haines; "Essays on Eastern Questions," by Palgrave. Sir William Muir's "History of the Caliphate" is an important and recent work. Confucianism and Taouism may be fairly understood, even by those who have not the time for a careful study of Legge's translations of the Chinese classics, by reference to the following works: "China and the Chinese," by Medhurst; "The Religions of China," by Legge; "The Chinese," by Martin; "Confucianism and Taouism," by Douglass; "Religion in China," by Edkins. The late Samuel Johnson, in his "Oriental Religions," has devoted a large volume to the religions of China, principally to the ethics and political economy of the Confucian system; and James Freeman Clark has given considerable attention to Confucianism as one of "The Ten Great Religions." Zoroastrianism is ably treated by Darmesteter in the Introduction to his translation of the "Zend Avesta." Instructive lectures on the religion and literature of Persia may be found in the first volume of Max Müller's "Chips from a German Workshop;" also in "The Religion of the Iranians," found in Ebrard's "Apologetics," vol. ii. West's and Darmesteter's translations of "Pahlavi Texts," in the "Sacred Books of the East," are also suggestive. In the following discussions, relating broadly to the ancient as well as the modern religions and philosophies of the world, and their contrasts to Christian truth, reference is made directly or indirectly to the following works: "Christ and Other Masters," by Hardwick; "The Ancient World and Christianity," by Edward de Pressensé; "The Religions of the World," by Maurice; "The Aryan Witness," by Banergea; "The Unknown God," by Brace; "The Permanent Elements in Religion," by Boyd Carpenter; "Oriental and Linguistic Studies," by A.D. Whitney; "The Doomed Religions," by Reid; "The Idea of God," by Fiske; "The Destiny of Man," by Fiske; "The Races of Man," by Peschel; "Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion," by Caird; "National Religions and Universal Religions," by Kuenen; "Some Elements of Religion," by Liddon; "Outlines of the History of Ancient Religions," by Tiele; "The Philosophy of Religion," by Pfleiderer; "Our Christian Heritage," by Cardinal Gibbons; "Hulsean Lectures, 1845-6," by Trench; "Hibbert Lectures, 1880," by Renan; "Origins of English History," by Elton; "St. Paul in Britain" (Druidism), by Morgan; "Fossil Men and their Modern Representatives," by Dawson; "Modern Ideas of Evolution," by Dawson; "Marcus Aurelius," by Renan; "Epictetus," Bonn's Library; "Confessions," by St. Augustine; "History of the Egyptian Religion," by Tiele; "Lucretius," Bonn's Library; "Lives of the Fathers," by Farrar; "The Vikings of Western Christendom," by Keary; "Principles of Sociology," by Spencer; "The Descent of Man," by Darwin; "Evolution and Its Relation to Christian Thought," by Le Conte; "History of European Morals," by Lecky; "The Kojiki" (Sacred Books of Shinto), Chamberlain's translation; "The Witness of History to Christ," by Farrar; "Anti-Theistic Theories," by Flint; "The Human Species," by De Quatrefages. 
1561	----	PAGAN & CHRISTIAN CREEDS: THEIR ORIGIN AND MEANING By Edward Carpenter "The different religions being lame attempts to represent under various guises this one root-fact of the central universal life, men have at all times clung to the religious creeds and rituals and ceremonials as symbolising in some rude way the redemption and fulfilment of their own most intimate natures--and this whether consciously understanding the interpretations, or whether (as most often) only doing so in an unconscious or quite subconscious way." The Drama of Love and Death, p. 96. CONTENTS I. INTRODUCTORY II. SOLAR MYTHS AND CHRISTIAN FESTIVALS III. THE SYMBOLISM OF THE ZODIAC IV. TOTEM-SACRAMENTS AND EUCHARISTS V. FOOD AND VEGETATION MAGIC VI. MAGICIANS, KINGS AND GODS VII. RITES OF EXPIATION AND REDEMPTION VIII. PAGAN INITIATIONS AND THE SECOND BIRTH IX. MYTH OF THE GOLDEN AGE X. THE SAVIOUR-GOD AND THE VIRGIN-MOTHER XI. RITUAL DANCING XII. THE SEX-TABOO XIII. THE GENESIS OF CHRISTIANITY XV. THE MEANING OF IT ALL XV. THE ANCIENT MYSTERIES XVI. THE EXODUS OF CHRISTIANITY XVII. CONCLUSION APPENDIX ON THE TEACHINGS OF THE UPANISHADS: I. REST II. THE NATURE OF THE SELF PAGAN AND CHRISTIAN CREEDS: THEIR ORIGIN AND MEANING I. INTRODUCTORY The subject of Religious Origins is a fascinating one, as the great multitude of books upon it, published in late years, tends to show. Indeed the great difficulty to-day in dealing with the subject, lies in the very mass of the material to hand--and that not only on account of the labor involved in sorting the material, but because the abundance itself of facts opens up temptation to a student in this department of Anthropology (as happens also in other branches of general Science) to rush in too hastily with what seems a plausible theory. The more facts, statistics, and so forth, there are available in any investigation, the easier it is to pick out a considerable number which will fit a given theory. The other facts being neglected or ignored, the views put forward enjoy for a time a great vogue. Then inevitably, and at a later time, new or neglected facts alter the outlook, and a new perspective is established. There is also in these matters of Science (though many scientific men would doubtless deny this) a great deal of "Fashion". Such has been notoriously the case in Political Economy, Medicine, Geology, and even in such definite studies as Physics and Chemistry. In a comparatively recent science, like that with which we are now concerned, one would naturally expect variations. A hundred and fifty years ago, and since the time of Rousseau, the "Noble Savage" was extremely popular; and he lingers still in the story books of our children. Then the reaction from this extreme view set in, and of late years it has been the popular cue (largely, it must be said, among "armchair" travelers and explorers) to represent the religious rites and customs of primitive folk as a senseless mass of superstitions, and the early man as quite devoid of decent feeling and intelligence. Again, when the study of religious origins first began in modern times to be seriously taken up--say in the earlier part of last century--there was a great boom in Sungods. Every divinity in the Pantheon was an impersonation of the Sun--unless indeed (if feminine) of the Moon. Apollo was a sungod, of course; Hercules was a sungod; Samson was a sungod; Indra and Krishna, and even Christ, the same. C. F. Dupuis in France (Origine de tous les Cultes, 1795), F. Nork in Germany (Biblische Mythologie, 1842), Richard Taylor in England (The Devil's Pulpit, (1) 1830), were among the first in modern times to put forward this view. A little later the PHALLIC explanation of everything came into fashion. The deities were all polite names for the organs and powers of procreation. R. P. Knight (Ancient Art and Mythology, 1818) and Dr. Thomas Inman (Ancient Faiths and Ancient Names, 1868) popularized this idea in England; so did Nork in Germany. Then again there was a period of what is sometimes called Euhemerism--the theory that the gods and goddesses had actually once been men and women, historical characters round whom a halo of romance and remoteness had gathered. Later still, a school has arisen which thinks little of sungods, and pays more attention to Earth and Nature spirits, to gnomes and demons and vegetation-sprites, and to the processes of Magic by which these (so it was supposed) could be enlisted in man's service if friendly, or exorcised if hostile. (1) This extraordinary book, though carelessly composed and containing many unproven statements, was on the whole on the right lines. But it raised a storm of opposition--the more so because its author was a clergyman! He was ejected from the ministry, of course, and was sent to prison twice. It is easy to see of course that there is some truth in ALL these explanations; but naturally each school for the time being makes the most of its own contention. Mr. J. M. Robertson (Pagan Christs and Christianity and Mythology), who has done such fine work in this field, (1) relies chiefly on the solar and astronomical origins, though he does not altogether deny the others; Dr. Frazer, on the other hand--whose great work, The Golden Bough, is a monumental collection of primitive customs, and will be an inexhaustible quarry for all future students--is apparently very little concerned with theories about the Sun and the stars, but concentrates his attention on the collection of innumerable details (2) of rites, chiefly magical, connected with food and vegetation. Still later writers, like S. Reinach, Jane Harrison and E. A. Crowley, being mainly occupied with customs of very primitive peoples, like the Pelasgian Greeks or the Australian aborigines, have confined themselves (necessarily) even more to Magic and Witchcraft. (1) If only he did not waste so much time, and so needlessly, in slaughtering opponents! (2) To such a degree, indeed, that sometimes the connecting clue of the argument seems to be lost. Meanwhile the Christian Church from these speculations has kept itself severely apart--as of course representing a unique and divine revelation little concerned or interested in such heathenisms; and moreover (in this country at any rate) has managed to persuade the general public of its own divine uniqueness to such a degree that few people, even nowadays, realize that it has sprung from just the same root as Paganism, and that it shares by far the most part of its doctrines and rites with the latter. Till quite lately it was thought (in Britain) that only secularists and unfashionable people took any interest in sungods; and while it was true that learned professors might point to a belief in Magic as one of the first sources of Religion, it was easy in reply to say that this obviously had nothing to do with Christianity! The Secularists, too, rather spoilt their case by assuming, in their wrath against the Church, that all priests since the beginning of the world have been frauds and charlatans, and that all the rites of religion were merely devil's devices invented by them for the purpose of preying upon the superstitions of the ignorant, to their own enrichment. They (the Secularists) overleaped themselves by grossly exaggerating a thing that no doubt is partially true. Thus the subject of religious origins is somewhat complex, and yields many aspects for consideration. It is only, I think, by keeping a broad course and admitting contributions to the truth from various sides, that valuable results can be obtained. It is absurd to suppose that in this or any other science neat systems can be found which will cover all the facts. Nature and History do not deal in such things, or supply them for a sop to Man's vanity. It is clear that there have been three main lines, so far, along which human speculation and study have run. One connecting religious rites and observations with the movements of the Sun and the planets in the sky, and leading to the invention of and belief in Olympian and remote gods dwelling in heaven and ruling the Earth from a distance; the second connecting religion with the changes of the season, on the Earth and with such practical things as the growth of vegetation and food, and leading to or mingled with a vague belief in earth-spirits and magical methods of influencing such spirits; and the third connecting religion with man's own body and the tremendous force of sex residing in it--emblem of undying life and all fertility and power. It is clear also--and all investigation confirms it--that the second-mentioned phase of religion arose on the whole BEFORE the first-mentioned--that is, that men naturally thought about the very practical questions of food and vegetation, and the magical or other methods of encouraging the same, before they worried themselves about the heavenly bodies and the laws of THEIR movements, or about the sinister or favorable influences the stars might exert. And again it is extremely probable that the third-mentioned aspect--that which connected religion with the procreative desires and phenomena of human physiology--really came FIRST. These desires and physiological phenomena must have loomed large on the primitive mind long before the changes of the seasons or of the sky had been at all definitely observed or considered. Thus we find it probable that, in order to understand the sequence of the actual and historical phases of religious worship, we must approximately reverse the order above-given in which they have been STUDIED, and conclude that in general the Phallic cults came first, the cult of Magic and the propitiation of earth-divinities and spirits came second, and only last came the belief in definite God-figures residing in heaven. At the base of the whole process by which divinities and demons were created, and rites for their propitiation and placation established, lay Fear--fear stimulating the imagination to fantastic activity. Primus in orbe deos fecit Timor. And fear, as we shall see, only became a mental stimulus at the time of, or after, the evolution of self-consciousness. Before that time, in the period of SIMPLE consciousness, when the human mind resembled that of the animals, fear indeed existed, but its nature was more that of a mechanical protective instinct. There being no figure or image of SELF in the animal mind, there were correspondingly no figures or images of beings who might threaten or destroy that self. So it was that the imaginative power of fear began with Self-consciousness, and from that imaginative power was unrolled the whole panorama of the gods and rites and creeds of Religion down the centuries. The immense force and domination of Fear in the first self-conscious stages of the human mind is a thing which can hardly be exaggerated, and which is even difficult for some of us moderns to realize. But naturally as soon as Man began to think about himself--a frail phantom and waif in the midst of tremendous forces of whose nature and mode of operation he was entirely ignorant--he was BESET with terrors; dangers loomed upon him on all sides. Even to-day it is noticed by doctors that one of the chief obstacles to the cure of illness among some black or native races is sheer superstitious terror; and Thanatomania is the recognized word for a state of mind ("obsession of death") which will often cause a savage to perish from a mere scratch hardly to be called a wound. The natural defence against this state of mind was the creation of an enormous number of taboos--such as we find among all races and on every conceivable subject--and these taboos constituted practically a great body of warnings which regulated the lives and thoughts of the community, and ultimately, after they had been weeded out and to some degree simplified, hardened down into very stringent Customs and Laws. Such taboos naturally in the beginning tended to include the avoidance not only of acts which might reasonably be considered dangerous, like touching a corpse, but also things much more remote and fanciful in their relation to danger, like merely looking at a mother-in-law, or passing a lightning-struck tree; and (what is especially to be noticed) they tended to include acts which offered any special PLEASURE or temptation--like sex or marriage or the enjoyment of a meal. Taboos surrounded these things too, and the psychological connection is easy to divine: but I shall deal with this general subject later. It may be guessed that so complex a system of regulations made life anything but easy to early peoples; but, preposterous and unreasonable as some of the taboos were, they undoubtedly had the effect of compelling the growth of self-control. Fear does not seem a very worthy motive, but in the beginning it curbed the violence of the purely animal passions, and introduced order and restraint among them. Simultaneously it became itself, through the gradual increase of knowledge and observation, transmuted and etherealized into something more like wonder and awe and (when the gods rose above the horizon) into reverence. Anyhow we seem to perceive that from the early beginnings (in the Stone Age) of self-consciousness in Man there has been a gradual development--from crass superstition, senseless and accidental, to rudimentary observation, and so to belief in Magic; thence to Animism and personification of nature-powers in more or less human form, as earth-divinities or sky-gods or embodiments of the tribe; and to placation of these powers by rites like Sacrifice and the Eucharist, which in their turn became the foundation of Morality. Graphic representations made for the encouragement of fertility--as on the walls of Bushmen's rock-dwellings or the ceilings of the caverns of Altamira--became the nurse of pictorial Art; observations of plants or of the weather or the stars, carried on by tribal medicine-men for purposes of witchcraft or prophecy, supplied some of the material of Science; and humanity emerged by faltering and hesitating steps on the borderland of those finer perceptions and reasonings which are supposed to be characteristic of Civilization. The process of the evolution of religious rites and ceremonies has in its main outlines been the same all over the world, as the reader will presently see--and this whether in connection with the numerous creeds of Paganism or the supposedly unique case of Christianity; and now the continuity and close intermixture of these great streams can no longer be denied--nor IS it indeed denied by those who have really studied the subject. It is seen that religious evolution through the ages has been practically One thing--that there has been in fact a World-religion, though with various phases and branches. And so in the present day a new problem arises, namely how to account for the appearance of this great Phenomenon, with its orderly phases of evolution, and its own spontaneous (1) growths in all corners of the globe--this phenomenon which has had such a strange sway over the hearts of men, which has attracted them with so weird a charm, which has drawn out their devotion, love and tenderness, which has consoled them in sorrow and affliction, and yet which has stained their history with such horrible sacrifices and persecutions and cruelties. What has been the instigating cause of it? (1) For the question of spontaneity see chap. x and elsewhere. The answer which I propose to this question, and which is developed to some extent in the following chapters, is a psychological one. It is that the phenomenon proceeds from, and is a necessary accompaniment of, the growth of human Consciousness itself--its growth, namely, through the three great stages of its unfoldment. These stages are (1) that of the simple or animal consciousness, (2) that of SELF-consciousness, and (3) that of a third stage of consciousness which has not as yet been effectively named, but whose indications and precursive signs we here and there perceive in the rites and prophecies and mysteries of the early religions, and in the poetry and art and literature generally of the later civilizations. Though I do not expect or wish to catch Nature and History in the careful net of a phrase, yet I think that in the sequence from the above-mentioned first stage to the second, and then again in the sequence from the second to the third, there will be found a helpful explanation of the rites and aspirations of human religion. It is this idea, illustrated by details of ceremonial and so forth, which forms the main thesis of the present book. In this sequence of growth, Christianity enters as an episode, but no more than an episode. It does not amount to a disruption or dislocation of evolution. If it did, or if it stood as an unique or unclassifiable phenomenon (as some of its votaries contend), this would seem to be a misfortune--as it would obviously rob us of at any rate one promise of progress in the future. And the promise of something better than Paganism and better than Christianity is very precious. It is surely time that it should be fulfilled. The tracing, therefore, of the part that human self-consciousness has played, psychologically, in the evolution of religion, runs like a thread through the following chapters, and seeks illustration in a variety of details. The idea has been repeated under different aspects; sometimes, possibly, it has been repeated too often; but different aspects in such a case do help, as in a stereoscope, to give solidity to the thing seen. Though the worship of Sun-gods and divine figures in the sky came comparatively late in religious evolution, 1 have put this subject early in the book (chapters ii and iii), partly because (as I have already explained) it was the phase first studied in modern times, and therefore is the one most familiar to present-day readers, and partly because its astronomical data give great definiteness and "proveability" to it, in rebuttal to the common accusation that the whole study of religious origins is too vague and uncertain to have much value. Going backwards in Time, the two next chapters (iv and v) deal with Totem-sacraments and Magic, perhaps the earliest forms of religion. And these four lead on (in chapters vi to xi) to the consideration of rites and creeds common to Paganism and Christianity. XII and xiii deal especially with the evolution of Christianity itself; xiv and xv explain the inner Meaning of the whole process from the beginning; and xvi and xvii look to the Future. The appendix on the doctrines of the Upanishads may, I hope, serve to give an idea, intimate even though inadequate, of the third Stage--that which follows on the stage of self-consciousness; and to portray the mental attitudes which are characteristic of that stage. Here in this third stage, it would seem, one comes upon the real FACTS of the inner life--in contradistinction to the fancies and figments of the second stage; and so one reaches the final point of conjunction between Science and Religion. II. SOLAR MYTHS AND CHRISTIAN FESTIVALS To the ordinary public--notwithstanding the immense amount of work which has of late been done on this subject--the connection between Paganism and Christianity still seems rather remote. Indeed the common notion is that Christianity was really a miraculous interposition into and dislocation of the old order of the world; and that the pagan gods (as in Milton's Hymn on the Nativity) fled away in dismay before the sign of the Cross, and at the sound of the name of Jesus. Doubtless this was a view much encouraged by the early Church itself--if only to enhance its own authority and importance; yet, as is well known to every student, it is quite misleading and contrary to fact. The main Christian doctrines and festivals, besides a great mass of affiliated legend and ceremonial, are really quite directly derived from, and related to, preceding Nature worships; and it has only been by a good deal of deliberate mystification and falsification that this derivation has been kept out of sight. In these Nature-worships there may be discerned three fairly independent streams of religious or quasi-religious enthusiasm: (1) that connected with the phenomena of the heavens, the movements of the Sun, planets and stars, and the awe and wonderment they excited; (2) that connected with the seasons and the very important matter of the growth of vegetation and food on the Earth; and (3) that connected with the mysteries of Sex and reproduction. It is obvious that these three streams would mingle and interfuse with each other a good deal; but as far as they were separable the first would tend to create Solar heroes and Sun-myths; the second Vegetation-gods and personifications of Nature and the earth-life; while the third would throw its glamour over the other two and contribute to the projection of deities or demons worshipped with all sorts of sexual and phallic rites. All three systems of course have their special rites and times and ceremonies; but, as, I say, the rites and ceremonies of one system would rarely be found pure and unmixed with those belonging to the two others. The whole subject is a very large one; but for reasons given in the Introduction I shall in this and the following chapter--while not ignoring phases (2) and (3)--lay most stress on phase (1) of the question before us. At the time of the life or recorded appearance of Jesus of Nazareth, and for some centuries before, the Mediterranean and neighboring world had been the scene of a vast number of pagan creeds and rituals. There were Temples without end dedicated to gods like Apollo or Dionysus among the Greeks, Hercules among the Romans, Mithra among the Persians, Adonis and Attis in Syria and Phrygia, Osiris and Isis and Horus in Egypt, Baal and Astarte among the Babylonians and Carthaginians, and so forth. Societies, large or small, united believers and the devout in the service or ceremonials connected with their respective deities, and in the creeds which they confessed concerning these deities. And an extraordinarily interesting fact, for us, is that notwithstanding great geographical distances and racial differences between the adherents of these various cults, as well as differences in the details of their services, the general outlines of their creeds and ceremonials were--if not identical--so markedly similar as we find them. I cannot of course go at length into these different cults, but I may say roughly that of all or nearly all the deities above-mentioned it was said and believed that: (1) They were born on or very near our Christmas Day. (2) They were born of a Virgin-Mother. (3) And in a Cave or Underground Chamber. (4) They led a life of toil for Mankind. (5) And were called by the names of Light-bringer, Healer, Mediator, Savior, Deliverer. (6) They were however vanquished by the Powers of Darkness. (7) And descended into Hell or the Underworld. (8) They rose again from the dead, and became the pioneers of mankind to the Heavenly world. (9) They founded Communions of Saints, and Churches into which disciples were received by Baptism. (10) And they were commemorated by Eucharistic meals. Let me give a few brief examples. Mithra was born in a cave, and on the 25th December. (1) He was born of a Virgin. (2) He traveled far and wide as a teacher and illuminator of men. He slew the Bull (symbol of the gross Earth which the sunlight fructifies). His great festivals were the winter solstice and the Spring equinox (Christmas and Easter). He had twelve companions or disciples (the twelve months). He was buried in a tomb, from which however he rose again; and his resurrection was celebrated yearly with great rejoicings. He was called Savior and Mediator, and sometimes figured as a Lamb; and sacramental feasts in remembrance of him were held by his followers. This legend is apparently partly astronomical and partly vegetational; and the same may be said of the following about Osiris. (1) The birthfeast of Mithra was held in Rome on the 8th day before the Kalends of January, being also the day of the Circassian games, which were sacred to the Sun. (See F. Nork, Der Mystagog, Leipzig.) (2) This at any rate was reported by his later disciples (see Robertson's Pagan Christs, p. 338). Osiris was born (Plutarch tells us) on the 361st day of the year, say the 27th December. He too, like Mithra and Dionysus, was a great traveler. As King of Egypt he taught men civil arts, and "tamed them by music and gentleness, not by force of arms"; (1) he was the discoverer of corn and wine. But he was betrayed by Typhon, the power of darkness, and slain and dismembered. "This happened," says Plutarch, "on the 17th of the month Athyr, when the sun enters into the Scorpion" (the sign of the Zodiac which indicates the oncoming of Winter). His body was placed in a box, but afterwards, on the 19th, came again to life, and, as in the cults of Mithra, Dionysus, Adonis and others, so in the cult of Osiris, an image placed in a coffin was brought out before the worshipers and saluted with glad cries of "Osiris is risen." (1) "His sufferings, his death and his resurrection were enacted year by year in a great mystery-play at Abydos." (2) (1) See Plutarch on Isis and Osiris. (2) Ancient Art and Ritual, by Jane E. Harrison, chap. i. The two following legends have more distinctly the character of Vegetation myths. Adonis or Tammuz, the Syrian god of vegetation, was a very beautiful youth, born of a Virgin (Nature), and so beautiful that Venus and Proserpine (the goddesses of the Upper and Underworlds) both fell in love with him. To reconcile their claims it was agreed that he should spend half the year (summer) in the upper world, and the winter half with Proserpine below. He was killed by a boar (Typhon) in the autumn. And every year the maidens "wept for Adonis" (see Ezekiel viii. 14). In the spring a festival of his resurrection was held--the women set out to seek him, and having found the supposed corpse placed it (a wooden image) in a coffin or hollow tree, and performed wild rites and lamentations, followed by even wilder rejoicings over his supposed resurrection. At Aphaca in the North of Syria, and halfway between Byblus and Baalbec, there was a famous grove and temple of Astarte, near which was a wild romantic gorge full of trees, the birthplace of a certain river Adonis--the water rushing from a Cavern, under lofty cliffs. Here (it was said) every year the youth Adonis was again wounded to death, and the river ran red with his blood, (1) while the scarlet anemone bloomed among the cedars and walnuts. (1) A discoloration caused by red earth washed by rain from the mountains, and which has been observed by modern travelers. For the whole story of Adonis and of Attis see Frazer's Golden Bough, part iv. The story of Attis is very similar. He was a fair young shepherd or herdsman of Phrygia, beloved by Cybele (or Demeter), the Mother of the gods. He was born of a Virgin--Nana--who conceived by putting a ripe almond or pomegranate in her bosom. He died, either killed by a boar, the symbol of winter, like Adonis, or self-castrated (like his own priests); and he bled to death at the foot of a pine tree (the pine and pine-cone being symbols of fertility). The sacrifice of his blood renewed the fertility of the earth, and in the ritual celebration of his death and resurrection his image was fastened to the trunk of a pine-tree (compare the Crucifixion). But I shall return to this legend presently. The worship of Attis became very widespread and much honored, and was ultimately incorporated with the established religion at Rome somewhere about the commencement of our Era. The following two legends (dealing with Hercules and with Krishna) have rather more of the character of the solar, and less of the vegetational myth about them. Both heroes were regarded as great benefactors of humanity; but the former more on the material plane, and the latter on the spiritual. Hercules or Heracles was, like other Sun-gods and benefactors of mankind, a great Traveler. He was known in many lands, and everywhere he was invoked as Saviour. He was miraculously conceived from a divine Father; even in the cradle he strangled two serpents sent to destroy him. His many labors for the good of the world were ultimately epitomized into twelve, symbolized by the signs of the Zodiac. He slew the Nemxan Lion and the Hydra (offspring of Typhon) and the Boar. He overcame the Cretan Bull, and cleaned out the Stables of Augeas; he conquered Death and, descending into Hades, brought Cerberus thence and ascended into Heaven. On all sides he was followed by the gratitude and the prayers of mortals. As to Krishna, the Indian god, the points of agreement with the general divine career indicated above are too salient to be overlooked, and too numerous to be fully recorded. He also was born of a Virgin (Devaki) and in a Cave, (1) and his birth announced by a Star. It was sought to destroy him, and for that purpose a massacre of infants was ordered. Everywhere he performed miracles, raising the dead, healing lepers, and the deaf and the blind, and championing the poor and oppressed. He had a beloved disciple, Arjuna, (cf. John) before whom he was transfigured. (2) His death is differently related--as being shot by an arrow, or crucified on a tree. He descended into hell; and rose again from the dead, ascending into heaven in the sight of many people. He will return at the last day to be the judge of the quick and the dead. (1) Cox's Myths of the Aryan Nations, p. 107. (2) Bhagavat Gita, ch. xi. Such are some of the legends concerning the pagan and pre-Christian deities--only briefly sketched now, in order that we may get something like a true perspective of the whole subject; but to most of them, and more in detail, I shall return as the argument proceeds. What we chiefly notice so far are two points; on the one hand the general similarity of these stories with that of Jesus Christ; on the other their analogy with the yearly phenomena of Nature as illustrated by the course of the Sun in heaven and the changes of Vegetation on the earth. (1) The similarity of these ancient pagan legends and beliefs with Christian traditions was indeed so great that it excited the attention and the undisguised wrath of the early Christian fathers. They felt no doubt about the similarity, but not knowing how to explain it fell back upon the innocent theory that the Devil--in order to confound the Christians--had, CENTURIES BEFORE, caused the pagans to adopt certain beliefs and practices! (Very crafty, we may say, of the Devil, but also very innocent of the Fathers to believe it!) Justin Martyr for instance describes (1) the institution of the Lord's Supper as narrated in the Gospels, and then goes on to say: "Which the wicked devils have IMITATED in the mysteries of Mithra, commanding the same thing to be done. For, that bread and a cup of water are placed with certain incantations in the mystic rites of one who is being initiated you either know or can learn." Tertullian also says (2) that "the devil by the mysteries of his idols imitates even the main part of the divine mysteries."... "He baptizes his worshippers in water and makes them believe that this purifies them from their crimes."... "Mithra sets his mark on the forehead of his soldiers; he celebrates the oblation of bread; he offers an image of the resurrection, and presents at once the crown and the sword; he limits his chief priest to a single marriage; he even has his virgins and ascetics." (3) Cortez, too, it will be remembered complained that the Devil had positively taught to the Mexicans the same things which God had taught to Christendom. (1) I Apol. c. 66. (2) De Praescriptione Hereticorum, c. 40; De Bapt. c. 3; De Corona, c. 15. (3) For reference to both these examples see J. M. Robertson's Pagan Christs, pp. 321, 322. Justin Martyr again, in the Dialogue with Trypho says that the Birth in the Stable was the prototype (!) of the birth of Mithra in the Cave of Zoroastrianism; and boasts that Christ was born when the Sun takes its birth in the Augean Stable, (1) coming as a second Hercules to cleanse a foul world; and St. Augustine says "we hold this (Christmas) day holy, not like the pagans because of the birth of the Sun, but because of the birth of him who made it." There are plenty of other instances in the Early Fathers of their indignant ascription of these similarities to the work of devils; but we need not dwell over them. There is no need for US to be indignant. On the contrary we can now see that these animadversions of the Christian writers are the evidence of how and to what extent in the spread of Christianity over the world it had become fused with the Pagan cults previously existing. (1) The Zodiacal sign of Capricornus, iii. It was not till the year A.D. 530 or so--five centuries after the supposed birth of Christ--that a Scythian Monk, Dionysius Exiguus, an abbot and astronomer of Rome, was commissioned to fix the day and the year of that birth. A nice problem, considering the historical science of the period! For year he assigned the date which we now adopt, (2) and for day and month he adopted the 25th December--a date which had been in popular use since about 350 B.C., and the very date, within a day or two, of the supposed birth of the previous Sungods. (3) From that fact alone we may fairly conclude that by the year 530 or earlier the existing Nature-worships had become largely fused into Christianity. In fact the dates of the main pagan religious festivals had by that time become so popular that Christianity was OBLIGED to accommodate itself to them. (1) (1) As, for instance, the festival of John the Baptist in June took the place of the pagan midsummer festival of water and bathing; the Assumption of the Virgin in August the place of that of Diana in the same month; and the festival of All Souls early in November, that of the world-wide pagan feasts of the dead and their ghosts at the same season. (2) See Encycl. Brit. art. "Chronology." (3) "There is however a difficulty in accepting the 25th December as the real date of the Nativity, December being the height of the rainy season in Judaea, when neither flocks nor shepherds could have been at night in the fields of Bethlehem" (!). Encycl. Brit. art. "Christmas Day." According to Hastings's Encyclopaedia, art. "Christmas," "Usener says that the Feast of the Nativity was held originally on the 6th January (the Epiphany), but in 353-4 the Pope Liberius displaced it to the 25th December... but there is no evidence of a Feast of the Nativity taking place at all, before the fourth century A.D." It was not till 534 A.D. that Christmas Day and Epiphany were reckoned by the law-courts as dies non. This brings us to the second point mentioned a few pages back--the analogy between the Christian festivals and the yearly phenomena of Nature in the Sun and the Vegetation. Let us take Christmas Day first. Mithra, as we have seen, was reported to have been born on the 25th December (which in the Julian Calendar was reckoned as the day of the Winter Solstice AND of the Nativity of the Sun); Plutarch says (Isis and Osiris, c. 12) that Osiris was born on the 361st day of the year, when a Voice rang out proclaiming the Lord of All. Horus, he says, was born on the 362nd day. Apollo on the same. Why was all this? Why did the Druids at Yule Tide light roaring fires? Why was the cock supposed to crow all Christmas Eve ("The bird of dawning singeth all night long")? Why was Apollo born with only one hair (the young Sun with only one feeble ray)? Why did Samson (name derived from Shemesh, the sun) lose all his strength when he lost his hair? Why were so many of these gods--Mithra, Apollo, Krishna, Jesus, and others, born in caves or underground chambers? (1) Why, at the Easter Eve festival of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem is a light brought from the grave and communicated to the candles of thousands who wait outside, and who rush forth rejoicing to carry the new glory over the world? (2) Why indeed? except that older than all history and all written records has been the fear and wonderment of the children of men over the failure of the Sun's strength in Autumn--the decay of their God; and the anxiety lest by any means he should not revive or reappear? (1) This same legend of gods (or idols) being born in caves has, curiously enough, been reported from Mexico, Guatemala, the Antilles, and other places in Central America. See C. F. P. von Martius, Etknographie Amerika, etc. (Leipzig, 1867), vol. i, p. 758. (2) Compare the Aztec ceremonial of lighting a holy fire and communicating it to the multitude from the wounded breast of a human victim, celebrated every 52 years at the end of one cycle and the beginning of another--the constellation of the Pleiades being in the Zenith (Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, Bk. I, ch. 4). Think for a moment of a time far back when there were absolutely NO Almanacs or Calendars, either nicely printed or otherwise, when all that timid mortals could see was that their great source of Light and Warmth was daily failing, daily sinking lower in the sky. As everyone now knows there are about three weeks at the fag end of the year when the days are at their shortest and there is very little change. What was happening? Evidently the god had fallen upon evil times. Typhon, the prince of darkness, had betrayed him; Delilah, the queen of Night, had shorn his hair; the dreadful Boar had wounded him; Hercules was struggling with Death itself; he had fallen under the influence of those malign constellations--the Serpent and the Scorpion. Would the god grow weaker and weaker, and finally succumb, or would he conquer after all? We can imagine the anxiety with which those early men and women watched for the first indication of a lengthening day; and the universal joy when the Priest (the representative of primitive science) having made some simple observations, announced from the Temple steps that the day WAS lengthening--that the Sun was really born again to a new and glorious career. (1) (1) It was such things as these which doubtless gave the Priesthood its power. Let us look at the elementary science of those days a little closer. How without Almanacs or Calendars could the day, or probable day, of the Sun's rebirth be fixed? Go out next Christmas Evening, and at midnight you will see the brightest of the fixed stars, Sirius, blazing in the southern sky--not however due south from you, but somewhat to the left of the Meridian line. Some three thousand years ago (owing to the Precession of the Equinoxes) that star at the winter solstice did not stand at midnight where you now see it, but almost exactly ON the meridian line. The coming of Sirius therefore to the meridian at midnight became the sign and assurance of the Sun having reached the very lowest point of his course, and therefore of having arrived at the moment of his re-birth. Where then was the Sun at that moment? Obviously in the underworld beneath our feet. Whatever views the ancients may have had about the shape of the earth, it was evident to the mass of people that the Sungod, after illuminating the world during the day, plunged down in the West, and remained there during the hours of darkness in some cavern under the earth. Here he rested and after bathing in the great ocean renewed his garments before reappearing in the East next morning. But in this long night of his greatest winter weakness, when all the world was hoping and praying for the renewal of his strength, it is evident that the new birth would come--if it came at all--at midnight. This then was the sacred hour when in the underworld (the Stable or the Cave or whatever it might be called) the child was born who was destined to be the Savior of men. At that moment Sirius stood on the southern meridian (and in more southern lands than ours this would be more nearly overhead); and that star--there is little doubt--is the Star in the East mentioned in the Gospels. To the right, as the supposed observer looks at Sirius on the midnight of Christmas Eve, stands the magnificent Orion, the mighty hunter. There are three stars in his belt which, as is well known, lie in a straight line pointing to Sirius. They are not so bright as Sirius, but they are sufficiently bright to attract attention. A long tradition gives them the name of the Three Kings. Dupuis (1) says: "Orion a trois belles etoiles vers le milieu, qui sont de seconde grandeur et posees en ligne droite, l'une pres de l'autre, le peuple les appelle les trois rois. On donne aux trois rois Magis les noms de Magalat, Galgalat, Saraim; et Athos, Satos, Paratoras. Les Catholiques les appellent Gaspard, Melchior, et Balthasar." The last-mentioned group of names comes in the Catholic Calendar in connection with the feast of the Epiphany (6th January); and the name "Trois Rois" is commonly to-day given to these stars by the French and Swiss peasants. (1) Charles F. Dupuis (Origine de Tous les Cultes, Paris, 1822) was one of the earliest modern writers on these subjects. Immediately after Midnight then, on the 25th December, the Beloved Son (or Sun-god) is born. If we go back in thought to the period, some three thousand years ago, when at that moment of the heavenly birth Sirius, coming from the East, did actually stand on the Meridian, we shall come into touch with another curious astronomical coincidence. For at the same moment we shall see the Zodiacal constellation of the Virgin in the act of rising, and becoming visible in the East divided through the middle by the line of the horizon. The constellation Virgo is a Y-shaped group, of which [gr a], the star at the foot, is the well-known Spica, a star of the first magnitude. The other principal stars, [gr g] at the centre, and [gr b] and [gr e] at the extremities, are of the second magnitude. The whole resembles more a cup than the human figure; but when we remember the symbolic meaning of the cup, that seems to be an obvious explanation of the name Virgo, which the constellation has borne since the earliest times. (The three stars [gr b], [gr g] and [gr a], lie very nearly on the Ecliptic, that is, the Sun's path--a fact to which we shall return presently.) At the moment then when Sirius, the star from the East, by coming to the Meridian at midnight signalled the Sun's new birth, the Virgin was seen just rising on the Eastern sky--the horizon line passing through her centre. And many people think that this astronomical fact is the explanation of the very widespread legend of the Virgin-birth. I do not think that it is the sole explanation--for indeed in all or nearly all these cases the acceptance of a myth seems to depend not upon a single argument but upon the convergence of a number of meanings and reasons in the same symbol. But certainly the fact mentioned above is curious, and its importance is accentuated by the following considerations. In the Temple of Denderah in Egypt, and on the inside of the dome, there is or WAS an elaborate circular representation of the Northern hemisphere of the sky and the Zodiac. (1) Here Virgo the constellation is represented, as in our star-maps, by a woman with a spike of corn in her hand (Spica). But on the margin close by there is an annotating and explicatory figure--a figure of Isis with the infant Horus in her arms, and quite resembling in style the Christian Madonna and Child, except that she is sitting and the child is on her knee. This seems to show that--whatever other nations may have done in associating Virgo with Demeter, Ceres, Diana (2) etc.--the Egyptians made no doubt of the constellation's connection with Isis and Horus. But it is well known as a matter of history that the worship of Isis and Horus descended in the early Christian centuries to Alexandria, where it took the form of the worship of the Virgin Mary and the infant Savior, and so passed into the European ceremonial. We have therefore the Virgin Mary connected by linear succession and descent with that remote Zodiacal cluster in the sky! Also it may be mentioned that on the Arabian and Persian globes of Abenezra and Abuazar a Virgin and Child are figured in connection with the same constellation. (3) (1) Carefully described and mapped by Dupuis, see op. cit. (2) For the harvest-festival of Diana, the Virgin, and her parallelism with the Virgin Mary, see The Golden Bough, vol. i, 14 and ii, 121. (3) See F. Nork, Der Mystagog (Leipzig, 1838). A curious confirmation of the same astronomical connection is afforded by the Roman Catholic Calendar. For if this be consulted it will be found that the festival of the Assumption of the Virgin is placed on the 15th August, while the festival of the Birth of the Virgin is dated the 8th September. I have already pointed out that the stars, [gr a], [gr b] and [gr g] of Virgo are almost exactly on the Ecliptic, or Sun's path through the sky; and a brief reference to the Zodiacal signs and the star-maps will show that the Sun each year enters the sign of Virgo about the first-mentioned date, and leaves it about the second date. At the present day the Zodiacal signs (owing to precession) have shifted some distance from the constellations of the same name. But at the time when the Zodiac was constituted and these names were given, the first date obviously would signalize the actual disappearance of the cluster Virgo in the Sun's rays--i. e. the Assumption of the Virgin into the glory of the God--while the second date would signalize the reappearance of the constellation or the Birth of the Virgin. The Church of Notre Dame at Paris is supposed to be on the original site of a Temple of Isis; and it is said (but I have not been able to verify this myself) that one of the side entrances--that, namely, on the left in entering from the North (cloister) side--is figured with the signs of the Zodiac EXCEPT that the sign Virgo is replaced by the figure of the Madonna and Child. So strange is the scripture of the sky! Innumerable legends and customs connect the rebirth of the Sun with a Virgin parturition. Dr. J. G. Frazer in his Part IV of The Golden Bough (1) says: "If we may trust the evidence of an obscure scholiast the Greeks (in the worship of Mithras at Rome) used to celebrate the birth of the luminary by a midnight service, coming out of the inner shrines and crying, 'The Virgin has brought forth! The light is waxing!' ([gr 'H parhenos tetoken, auzei pws].)" In Elie Reclus' little book Primitive Folk (2) it is said of the Esquimaux that "On the longest night of the year two angakout (priests), of whom one is disguised as a WOMAN, go from hut to hut extinguishing all the lights, rekindling them from a vestal flame, and crying out, 'From the new sun cometh a new light!'" (1) Book II, ch. vi. (2) In the Contemporary Science Series, I. 92. All this above-written on the Solar or Astronomical origins of the myths does not of course imply that the Vegetational origins must be denied or ignored. These latter were doubtless the earliest, but there is no reason--as said in the Introduction (ch. i)--why the two elements should not to some extent have run side by side, or been fused with each other. In fact it is quite clear that they must have done so; and to separate them out too rigidly, or treat them as antagonistic, is a mistake. The Cave or Underworld in which the New Year is born is not only the place of the Sun's winter retirement, but also the hidden chamber beneath the Earth to which the dying Vegetation goes, and from which it re-arises in Spring. The amours of Adonis with Venus and Proserpine, the lovely goddesses of the upper and under worlds, or of Attis with Cybele, the blooming Earth-mother, are obvious vegetation-symbols; but they do not exclude the interpretation that Adonis (Adonai) may also figure as a Sun-god. The Zodiacal constellations of Aries and Taurus (to which I shall return presently) rule in heaven just when the Lamb and the Bull are in evidence on the earth; and the yearly sacrifice of those two animals and of the growing Corn for the good of mankind runs parallel with the drama of the sky, as it affects not only the said constellations but also Virgo (the Earth-mother who bears the sheaf of corn in her hand). I shall therefore continue (in the next chapter) to point out these astronomical references--which are full of significance and poetry; but with a recommendation at the same time to the reader not to forget the poetry and significance of the terrestrial interpretations. Between Christmas Day and Easter there are several minor festivals or holy days--such as the 28th December (the Massacre of the Innocents), the 6th January (the Epiphany), the 2nd February (Candlemas (1) Day), the period of Lent (German Lenz, the Spring), the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin, and so forth--which have been commonly celebrated in the pagan cults before Christianity, and in which elements of Star and Nature worship can be traced; but to dwell on all these would take too long; so let us pass at once to the period of Easter itself. (1) This festival of the Purification of the Virgin corresponds with the old Roman festival of Juno Februata (i. e. purified) which was held in the last month (February) of the Roman year, and which included a candle procession of Ceres, searching for Proserpine. (F. Nork, Der Mystagog.) III. THE SYMBOLISM OF THE ZODIAC The Vernal Equinox has all over the ancient world, and from the earliest times, been a period of rejoicing and of festivals in honor of the Sungod. It is needless to labor a point which is so well known. Everyone understands and appreciates the joy of finding that the long darkness is giving way, that the Sun is growing in strength, and that the days are winning a victory over the nights. The birds and flowers reappear, and the promise of Spring is in the air. But it may be worth while to give an elementary explanation of the ASTRONOMICAL meaning of this period, because this is not always understood, and yet it is very important in its bearing on the rites and creeds of the early religions. The priests who were, as I have said, the early students and inquirers, had worked out this astronomical side, and in that way were able to fix dates and to frame for the benefit of the populace myths and legends, which were in a certain sense explanations of the order of Nature, and a kind of "popular science." The Equator, as everyone knows, is an imaginary line or circle girdling the Earth half-way between the North and South poles. If you imagine a transparent Earth with a light at its very centre, and also imagine the SHADOW of this equatorial line to be thrown on the vast concave of the Sky, this shadow would in astronomical parlance coincide with the Equator of the Sky--forming an imaginary circle half-way between the North and South celestial poles. The Equator, then, may be pictured as cutting across the sky either by day or by night, and always at the same elevation--that is, as seen from any one place. But the Ecliptic (the other important great circle of the heavens) can only be thought of as a line traversing the constellations as they are seen at NIGHT. It is in fact the Sun's path among the fixed stars. For (really owing to the Earth's motion in its orbit) the Sun appears to move round the heavens once a year--travelling, always to the left, from constellation to constellation. The exact path of the sun is called the Ecliptic; and the band of sky on either side of the Ecliptic which may be supposed to include the said constellations is called the Zodiac. How then--it will of course be asked--seeing that the Sun and the Stars can never be seen together--were the Priests ABLE to map out the path of the former among the latter? Into that question we need not go. Sufficient to say that they succeeded; and their success--even with the very primitive instruments they had--shows that their astronomical knowledge and acuteness of reasoning were of no mean order. To return to our Vernal Equinox. Let us suppose that the Equator and Ecliptic of the sky, at the Spring season, are represented by two lines Eq. and Ecl. crossing each other at the point P. The Sun, represented by the small circle, is moving slowly and in its annual course along the Ecliptic to the left. When it reaches the point P (the dotted circle) it stands on the Equator of the sky, and then for a day or two, being neither North nor South, it shines on the two terrestrial hemispheres alike, and day and night are equal. BEFORE that time, when the sun is low down in the heavens, night has the advantage, and the days are short; AFTERWARDS, when the Sun has travelled more to the left, the days triumph over the nights. It will be seen then that this point P where the Sun's path crosses the Equator is a very critical point. It is the astronomical location of the triumph of the Sungod and of the arrival of Spring. How was this location defined? Among what stars was the Sun moving at that critical moment? (For of course it was understood, or supposed, that the Sun was deeply influenced by the constellation through which it was, or appeared to be, moving.) It seems then that at the period when these questions were occupying men's minds--say about three thousand years ago--the point where the Ecliptic crossed the Equator was, as a matter of fact, in the region of the constellation Aries or the he-Lamb. The triumph of the Sungod was therefore, and quite naturally, ascribed to the influence of Aries. THE LAMB BECAME THE SYMBOL OF THE RISEN SAVIOR, AND OF HIS PASSAGE FROM THE UNDERWORLD INTO THE HEIGHT OF HEAVEN. At first such an explanation sounds hazardous; but a thousand texts and references confirm it; and it is only by the accumulation of evidence in these cases that the student becomes convinced of a theory's correctness. It must also be remembered (what I have mentioned before) that these myths and legends were commonly adopted not only for one strict reason but because they represented in a general way the convergence of various symbols and inferences. Let me enumerate a few points with regard to the Vernal Equinox. In the Bible the festival is called the Passover, and its supposed institution by Moses is related in Exodus, ch. xii. In every house a he-lamb was to be slain, and its blood to be sprinkled on the doorposts of the house. Then the Lord would pass over and not smite that house. The Hebrew word is pasach, to pass. (1) The lamb slain was called the Paschal Lamb. But what was that lamb? Evidently not an earthly lamb--(though certainly the earthly lambs on the hillsides WERE just then ready to be killed and eaten)--but the heavenly Lamb, which was slain or sacrificed when the Lord "passed over" the equator and obliterated the constellation Aries. This was the Lamb of God which was slain each year, and "Slain since the foundation of the world." This period of the Passover (about the 25th March) was to be (2) the beginning of a new year. The sacrifice of the Lamb, and its blood, were to be the promise of redemption. The door-frames of the houses--symbols of the entrance into a new life--were to be sprinkled with blood. (3) Later, the imagery of the saving power of the blood of the Lamb became more popular, more highly colored. (See St. Paul's epistles, and the early Fathers.) And we have the expression "washed in the blood of the Lamb" adopted into the Christian Church. (1) It is said that pasach sometimes means not so much to pass over, as to hover over and so protect. Possibly both meanings enter in here. See Isaiah xxxi. 5. (2) See Exodus xii. i. (3) It is even said (see The Golden Bough, vol. iii, 185) that the doorways of houses and temples in Peru were at the Spring festival daubed with blood of the first-born children--commuted afterwards to the blood of the sacred animal, the Llama. And as to Mexico, Sahagun, the great Spanish missionary, tells us that it was a custom of the people there to "smear the outside of their houses and doors with blood drawn from their own ears and ankles, in order to propitiate the god of Harvest" (Kingsborough's Mexican Antiquities, vol. vi, p. 235). In order fully to understand this extraordinary expression and its origin we must turn for a moment to the worship both of Mithra, the Persian Sungod, and of Attis the Syrian god, as throwing great light on the Christian cult and ceremonies. It must be remembered that in the early centuries of our era the Mithra-cult was spread over the whole Western world. It has left many monuments of itself here in Britain. At Rome the worship was extremely popular, and it may almost be said to have been a matter of chance whether Mithraism should overwhelm Christianity, or whether the younger religion by adopting many of the rites of the older one should establish itself (as it did) in the face of the latter. Now we have already mentioned that in the Mithra cult the slaying of a Bull by the Sungod occupies the same sort of place as the slaving of the Lamb in the Christian cult. It took place at the Vernal Equinox and the blood of the Bull acquired in men's minds a magic virtue. Mithraism was a greatly older religion than Christianity; but its genesis was similar. In fact, owing to the Precession of the Equinoxes, the crossing-place of the Ecliptic and Equator was different at the time of the establishment of Mithra-worship from what it was in the Christian period; and the Sun instead of standing in the He-lamb, or Aries, at the Vernal Equinox stood, about two thousand years earlier (as indicated by the dotted line in the diagram), in this very constellation of the Bull. (1) The bull therefore became the symbol of the triumphant God, and the sacrifice of the bull a holy mystery. (Nor must we overlook here the agricultural appropriateness of the bull as the emblem of Spring-plowings and of service to man.) (1) With regard to this point, see an article in the Nineteenth Century for September 1900, by E. W. Maunder of the Greenwich Observatory on "The Oldest Picture Book" (the Zodiac). Mr. Maunder calculates that the Vernal Equinox was in the centre of the Sign of the Bull 5,000 years ago. (It would therefore be in the centre of Aries 2,845 years ago--allowing 2,155 years for the time occupied in passing from one Sign to another.) At the earlier period the Summer solstice was in the centre of Leo, the Autumnal equinox in the centre of Scorpio, and the Winter solstice in the centre of Aquarius--corresponding roughly, Mr. Maunder points out, to the positions of the four "Royal Stars," Aldebaran, Regulus, Antares and Fomalhaut. The sacrifice of the Bull became the image of redemption. In a certain well-known Mithra-sculpture or group, the Sungod is represented as plunging his dagger into a bull, while a scorpion, a serpent, and other animals are sucking the latter's blood. From one point of view this may be taken as symbolic of the Sun fertilizing the gross Earth by plunging his rays into it and so drawing forth its blood for the sustenance of all creatures; while from another more astronomical aspect it symbolizes the conquest of the Sun over winter in the moment of "passing over" the sign of the Bull, and the depletion of the generative power of the Bull by the Scorpion--which of course is the autumnal sign of the Zodiac and herald of winter. One such Mithraic group was found at Ostia, where there was a large subterranean Temple "to the invincible god Mithras." In the worship of Attis there were (as I have already indicated) many points of resemblance to the Christian cult. On the 22nd March (the Vernal Equinox) a pinetree was cut in the woods and brought into the Temple of Cybele. It was treated almost as a divinity, was decked with violets, and the effigy of a young man tied to the stem (cf. the Crucifixion). The 24th was called the "Day of Blood"; the High Priest first drew blood from his own arms; and then the others gashed and slashed themselves, and spattered the altar and the sacred tree with blood; while novices made themselves eunuchs "for the kingdom of heaven's sake." The effigy was afterwards laid in a tomb. But when night fell, says Dr. Frazer, (1) sorrow was turned to joy. A light was brought, and the tomb was found to be empty. The next day, the 25th, was the festival of the Resurrection; and ended in carnival and license (the Hilaria). Further, says Dr. Frazer, these mysteries "seem to have included a sacramental meal and a baptism of blood." (1) See Adonis, Attis and Osiris, Part IV of The Golden Bough, by J. G. Frazer, p. 229. "In the baptism the devotee, crowned with gold and wreathed with fillets, descended into a pit, the mouth of which was covered with a wooden grating. A bull, adorned with garlands of flowers, its forehead glittering with gold leaf, was then driven on to the grating and there stabbed to death with a consecrated spear. Its hot reeking blood poured in torrents through the apertures, and was received with devout eagerness by the worshiper on every part of his person and garments, till he emerged from the pit, drenched, dripping, and scarlet from head to foot, to receive the homage, nay the adoration, of his fellows--as one who had been born again to eternal life and had washed away his sins in the blood of the bull." (1) And Frazer continuing says: "That the bath of blood derived from slaughter of the bull (tauro-bolium) was believed to regenerate the devotee for eternity is proved by an inscription found at Rome, which records that a certain Sextilius Agesilaus Aedesius, who dedicated an altar to Attis and the mother of the gods (Cybele) was taurobolio criobolio que in aeternum renatus." (2) "In the procedure of the Taurobolia and Criobolia," says Mr. J. M. Robertson, (3) "which grew very popular in the Roman world, we have the literal and original meaning of the phrase 'washed in the blood of the lamb' (4); the doctrine being that resurrection and eternal life were secured by drenching or sprinkling with the actual blood of a sacrificial bull or ram." (5) For the POPULARITY of the rite we may quote Franz Cumont, who says:--"Cette douche sacree (taurobolium) pareit avoir ete administree en Cappadoce dans un grand nombre de sanctuaires, et en particulier dans ceux de Ma la grande divinite indigene, et dans ceux: de Anahita." (1) See vol. i, pp. 334 ff. (2) Adonis, Attis and Osiris, p. 229. References to Prudentius, and to Firmicus Maternus, De errore 28. 8. (3) That is, "By the slaughter of the bull and the slaughter of the ram born again into eternity." (4) Pagan Christs, p. 315. (5) Mysteres de Mithra, Bruxelles, 1902, p. 153. Whether Mr. Robertson is right in ascribing to the priests (as he appears to do) so materialistic a view of the potency of the actual blood is, I should say, doubtful. I do not myself see that there is any reason for supposing that the priests of Mithra or Attis regarded baptism by blood very differently from the way in which the Christian Church has generally regarded baptism by water--namely, as a SYMBOL of some inner regeneration. There may certainly have been a little more of the MAGICAL view and a little less of the symbolic, in the older religions; but the difference was probably on the whole more one of degree than of essential disparity. But however that may be, we cannot but be struck by the extraordinary analogy between the tombstone inscriptions of that period "born again into eternity by the blood of the Bull or the Ram," and the corresponding texts in our graveyards to-day. F. Cumont in his elaborate work, Textes et Monuments relatifs aux Mysteres de Mithra (2 vols., Brussels, 1899) gives a great number of texts and epitaphs of the same character as that above-quoted, and they are well worth studying by those interested in the subject. Cumont, it may be noted (vol. i, p. 305), thinks that the story of Mithra and the slaying of the Bull must have originated among some pastoral people to whom the bull was the source of all life. The Bull in heaven--the symbol of the triumphant Sungod--and the earthly bull, sacrificed for the good of humanity were one and the same; the god, in fact, SACRIFICED HIMSELF OR HIS REPRESENTATIVE. And Mithra was the hero who first won this conception of divinity for mankind--though of course it is in essence quite similar to the conception put forward by the Christian Church. As illustrating the belief that the Baptism by Blood was accompanied by a real regeneration of the devotee, Frazer quotes an ancient writer (1) who says that for some time after the ceremony the fiction of a new birth was kept up by dieting the devotee on MILK, like a new-born babe. And it is interesting in that connection to find that even in the present day a diet of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT MILK for six or eight weeks is by many doctors recommended as the only means of getting rid of deep-seated illnesses and enabling a patient's organism to make a completely new start in life. (1) Sallustius philosophus. See Adonis, Attis and Osiris, note, p. 229. "At Rome," he further says (p. 230), "the new birth and the remission of sins by the shedding of bull's blood appear to have been carried out above all at the sanctuary of the Phrygian Goddess (Cybele) on the Vatican Hill, at or near the spot where the great basilica of St. Peter's now stands; for many inscriptions relating to the rites were found when the church was being enlarged in 1608 or 1609. From the Vatican as a centre," he continues, "this barbarous system of superstition seems to have spread to other parts of the Roman empire. Inscriptions found in Gaul and Germany prove that provincial sanctuaries modelled their ritual on that of the Vatican." It would appear then that at Rome in the quiet early days of the Christian Church, the rites and ceremonials of Mithra and Cybele, probably much intermingled and blended, were exceedingly popular. Both religions had been recognized by the Roman State, and the Christians, persecuted and despised as they were, found it hard to make any headway against them--the more so perhaps because the Christian doctrines appeared in many respects to be merely faint replicas and copies of the older creeds. Robertson maintains (1) that a he-lamb was sacrificed in the Mithraic mysteries, and he quotes Porphyry as saying (2) that "a place near the equinoctial circle was assigned to Mithra as an appropriate seat; and on this account he bears the sword of the Ram (Aries) which is a sign of Mars (Ares)." Similarly among the early Christians, it is said, a ram or lamb was sacrificed in the Paschal mystery. (1) Pagan Christs, p. 336. (2) De Antro, xxiv. Many people think that the association of the Lamb-god with the Cross arose from the fact that the constellation Aries at that time WAS on the heavenly cross (the crossways of the Ecliptic and Equator-see diagram, ch. iii), and in the very place through which the Sungod had to pass just before his final triumph. And it is curious to find that Justin Martyr in his Dialogue with Trypho (1) (a Jew) alludes to an old Jewish practice of roasting a Lamb on spits arranged in the form of a Cross. "The lamb," he says, meaning apparently the Paschal lamb, "is roasted and dressed up in the form of a cross. For one spit is transfixed right through the lower parts up to the head, and one across the back, to which are attached the legs (forelegs) of the lamb." (1) Ch. xl. To-day in Morocco at the festival of Eid-el-Kebir, corresponding to the Christian Easter, the Mohammedans sacrifice a young ram and hurry it still bleeding to the precincts of the Mosque, while at the same time every household slays a lamb, as in the Biblical institution, for its family feast. But it will perhaps be said, "You are going too fast and proving too much. In the anxiety to show that the Lamb-god and the sacrifice of the Lamb were honored by the devotees of Mithra and Cybele in the Rome of the Christian era, you are forgetting that the sacrifice of the Bull and the baptism in bull's blood were the salient features of the Persian and Phrygian ceremonials, some centuries earlier. How can you reconcile the existence side by side of divinities belonging to such different periods, or ascribe them both to an astronomical origin?" The answer is simple enough. As I have explained before, the Precession of the Equinoxes caused the Sun, at its moment of triumph over the powers of darkness, to stand at one period in the constellation of the Bull, and at a period some two thousand years later in the constellation of the Ram. It was perfectly natural therefore that a change in the sacred symbols should, in the course of time, take place; yet perfectly natural also that these symbols, having once been consecrated and adopted, should continue to be honored and clung to long after the time of their astronomical appropriateness had passed, and so to be found side by side in later centuries. The devotee of Mithra or Attis on the Vatican Hill at Rome in the year 200 A.D. probably had as little notion or comprehension of the real origin of the sacred Bull or Ram which he adored, as the Christian in St. Peter's to-day has of the origin of the Lamb-god whose vicegerent on earth is the Pope. It is indeed easy to imagine that the change from the worship of the Bull to the worship of the Lamb which undoubtedly took place among various peoples as time went on, was only a ritual change initiated by the priests in order to put on record and harmonize with the astronomical alteration. Anyhow it is curious that while Mithra in the early times was specially associated with the bull, his association with the lamb belonged more to the Roman period. Somewhat the same happened in the case of Attis. In the Bible we read of the indignation of Moses at the setting up by the Israelites of a Golden Calf, AFTER the sacrifice of the ram-lamb had been instituted--as if indeed the rebellious people were returning to the earlier cult of Apis which they ought to have left behind them in Egypt. In Egypt itself, too, we find the worship of Apis, as time went on, yielding place to that of the Ram-headed god Amun, or Jupiter Ammon. (1) So that both from the Bible and from Egyptian history we may conclude that the worship of the Lamb or Ram succeeded to the worship of the Bull. (1) Tacitus (Hist. v. 4) speaks of ram-sacrifice by the Jews in honor of Jupiter Ammon. See also Herodotus (ii. 42) on the same in Egypt. Finally it has been pointed out, and there may be some real connection in the coincidence, that in the quite early years of Christianity the FISH came in as an accepted symbol of Jesus Christ. Considering that after the domination of Taurus and Aries, the Fish (Pisces) comes next in succession as the Zodiacal sign for the Vernal Equinox, and is now the constellation in which the Sun stands at that period, it seems not impossible that the astronomical change has been the cause of the adoption of this new symbol. Anyhow, and allowing for possible errors or exaggerations, it becomes clear that the travels of the Sun through the belt of constellations which forms the Zodiac must have had, from earliest times, a profound influence on the generation of religious myths and legends. To say that it was the only influence would certainly be a mistake. Other causes undoubtedly contributed. But it was a main and important influence. The origins of the Zodiac are obscure; we do not know with any certainty the reasons why the various names were given to its component sections, nor can we measure the exact antiquity of these names; but--pre-supposing the names of the signs as once given--it is not difficult to imagine the growth of legends connected with the Sun's course among them. Of all the ancient divinities perhaps Hercules is the one whose role as a Sungod is most generally admitted. The helper of gods and men, a mighty Traveller, and invoked everywhere as the Saviour, his labors for the good of the world became ultimately defined and systematized as twelve and corresponding in number to the signs of the Zodiac. It is true that this systematization only took place at a late period, probably in Alexandria; also that the identification of some of the Labors with the actual signs as we have them at present is not always clear. But considering the wide prevalence of the Hercules myth over the ancient world and the very various astronomical systems it must have been connected with in its origin, this lack of exact correspondence is hardly to be wondered at. The Labors of Hercules which chiefly interest us are: (1) The capture of the Bull, (2) the slaughter of the Lion, (3) the destruction of the Hydra, (4) of the Boar, (5) the cleansing of the stables of Augeas, (6) the descent into Hades and the taming of Cerberus. The first of these is in line with the Mithraic conquest of the Bull; the Lion is of course one of the most prominent constellations of the Zodiac, and its conquest is obviously the work of a Saviour of mankind; while the last four labors connect themselves very naturally with the Solar conflict in winter against the powers of darkness. The Boar (4) we have seen already as the image of Typhon, the prince of darkness; the Hydra (3) was said to be the offspring of Typhon; the descent into Hades (6)--generally associated with Hercules' struggle with and victory over Death--links on to the descent of the Sun into the underworld, and its long and doubtful strife with the forces of winter; and the cleansing of the stables of Augeas (5) has the same signification. It appears in fact that the stables of Augeas was another name for the sign of Capricorn through which the Sun passes at the Winter solstice (1)--the stable of course being an underground chamber--and the myth was that there, in this lowest tract and backwater of the Ecliptic all the malarious and evil influences of the sky were collected, and the Sungod came to wash them away (December was the height of the rainy season in Judaea) and cleanse the year towards its rebirth. (1) See diagram of Zodiac. It should not be forgotten too that even as a child in the cradle Hercules slew two serpents sent for his destruction--the serpent and the scorpion as autumnal constellations figuring always as enemies of the Sungod--to which may be compared the power given to his disciples by Jesus (1) "to tread on serpents and scorpions." Hercules also as a Sungod compares curiously with Samson (mentioned above, ii), but we need not dwell on all the elaborate analogies that have been traced (2) between these two heroes. (1) Luke x. 19. (2) See Doane's Bible Myths, ch. viii, (New York, 1882.) The Jesus-story, it will now be seen, has a great number of correspondences with the stories of former Sungods and with the actual career of the Sun through the heavens--so many indeed that they cannot well be attributed to mere coincidence or even to the blasphemous wiles of the Devil! Let us enumerate some of these. There are (1) the birth from a Virgin mother; (2) the birth in a stable (cave or underground chamber); and (3) on the 25th December (just after the winter solstice). There is (4) the Star in the East (Sirius) and (5) the arrival of the Magi (the "Three Kings"); there is (6) the threatened Massacre of the Innocents, and the consequent flight into a distant country (told also of Krishna and other Sungods). There are the Church festivals of (7) Candlemas (2nd February), with processions of candles to symbolize the growing light; of (8) Lent, or the arrival of Spring; of (9) Easter Day (normally on the 25th March) to celebrate the crossing of the Equator by the Sun; and (10) simultaneously the outburst of lights at the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. There is (11) the Crucifixion and death of the Lamb-God, on Good Friday, three days before Easter; there are (12) the nailing to a tree, (13) the empty grave, (14) the glad Resurrection (as in the cases of Osiris, Attis and others); there are (15) the twelve disciples (the Zodiacal signs); and (16) the betrayal by one of the twelve. Then later there is (17) Midsummer Day, the 24th June, dedicated to the Nativity of John the Baptist, and corresponding to Christmas Day; there are the festivals of (18) the Assumption of the Virgin (15th August) and of (19) the Nativity of the Virgin (8th September), corresponding to the movement of the god through Virgo; there is the conflict of Christ and his disciples with the autumnal asterisms, (20) the Serpent and the Scorpion; and finally there is the curious fact that the Church (21) dedicates the very day of the winter solstice (when any one may very naturally doubt the rebirth of the Sun) to St. Thomas, who doubted the truth of the Resurrection! These are some of, and by no means all, the coincidences in question. But they are sufficient, I think, to prove--even allowing for possible margins of error--the truth of our general contention. To go into the parallelism of the careers of Krishna, the Indian Sungod, and Jesus would take too long; because indeed the correspondence is so extraordinarily close and elaborate. (1) I propose, however, at the close of this chapter, to dwell now for a moment on the Christian festival of the Eucharist, partly on account of its connection with the derivation from the astronomical rites and Nature-celebrations already alluded to, and partly on account of the light which the festival generally, whether Christian or Pagan, throws on the origins of Religious Magic--a subject I shall have to deal with in the next chapter. (1) See Robertson's Christianity and Mythology, Part II, pp. 129-302; also Doane's Bible Myths, ch. xxviii, p. 278. I have already (Ch. II) mentioned the Eucharistic rite held in commemoration of Mithra, and the indignant ascription of this by Justin Martyr to the wiles of the Devil. Justin Martyr clearly had no doubt about the resemblance of the Mithraic to the Christian ceremony. A Sacramental meal, as mentioned a few pages back, seems to have been held by the worshipers of Attis (1) in commemoration of their god; and the 'mysteries' of the Pagan cults generally appear to have included rites--sometimes half-savage, sometimes more aesthetic--in which a dismembered animal was eaten, or bread and wine (the spirits of the Corn and the Vine) were consumed, as representing the body of the god whom his devotees desired to honor. But the best example of this practice is afforded by the rites of Dionysus, to which I will devote a few lines. Dionysus, like other Sun or Nature deities, was born of a Virgin (Semele or Demeter) untainted by any earthly husband; and born on the 25th. December. He was nurtured in a Cave, and even at that early age was identified with the Ram or Lamb, into whose form he was for the time being changed. At times also he was worshiped in the form of a Bull. (2) He travelled far and wide; and brought the great gift of wine to mankind. (3) He was called Liberator, and Saviour. His grave "was shown at Delphi in the inmost shrine of the temple of Apollo. Secret offerings were brought thither, while the women who were celebrating the feast woke up the new-born god.... Festivals of this kind in celebration of the extinction and resurrection of the deity were held (by women and girls only) amid the mountains at night, every third year, about the time of the shortest day. The rites, intended to express the excess of grief and joy at the death and reappearance of the god, were wild even to savagery, and the women who performed them were hence known by the expressive names of Bacchae, Maenads, and Thyiades. They wandered through woods and mountains, their flying locks crowned with ivy or snakes, brandishing wands and torches, to the hollow sounds of the drum, or the shrill notes of the flute, with wild dances and insane cries and jubilation." (1) See Frazer's Golden Bough, Part IV, p. 229. (2) The Golden Bough, Part II, Book II, p. 164. (3) "I am the TRUE Vine," says the Jesus of the fourth gospel, perhaps with an implicit and hostile reference to the cult of Dionysus--in which Robertson suggests (Christianity and Mythology, p. 357) there was a ritual miracle of turning water into wine. Oxen, goats, even fawns and roes from the forest were killed, torn to pieces, and eaten raw. This in imitation of the treatment of Dionysus by the Titans, (1)--who it was supposed had torn the god in pieces when a child. (1) See art. Dionysus. Dictionary of Classical Antiquities, Nettleship and Sandys 3rd edn., London, 1898). Dupuis, one of the earliest writers (at the beginning of last century) on this subject, says, describing the mystic rites of Dionysus (1): "The sacred doors of the Temple in which the initiation took place were opened only once a year, and no stranger might ever enter. Night lent to these august mysteries a veil which was forbidden to be drawn aside--for whoever it might be. (2) It was the sole occasion for the representation of the passion of Bacchus (Dionysus) dead, descended into hell, and rearisen--in imitation of the representation of the sufferings of Osiris which, according to Herodotus, were commemorated at Sais in Egypt. It was in that place that the partition took place of the body of the god, (3) which was then eaten--the ceremony, in fact, of which our Eucharist is only a reflection; whereas in the mysteries of Bacchus actual raw flesh was distributed, which each of those present had to consume in commemoration of the death of Bacchus dismembered by the Titans, and whose passion, in Chios and Tenedos, was renewed each year by the sacrifice of a man who represented the god. (4) Possibly it is this last fact which made people believe that the Christians (whose hoc est corpus meum and sharing of an Eucharistic meal were no more than a shadow of a more ancient rite) did really sacrifice a child and devour its limbs." (1) See Charles F. Dupuis, "Traite des Mysteres," ch. i. (2) Pausan, Corinth, ch. 37. (3) Clem, Prot. Eur. Bacch. (4) See Porphyry, De Abstinentia, lii, Section 56. That Eucharistic rites were very very ancient is plain from the Totem-sacraments of savages; and to this subject we shall now turn. IV. TOTEM-SACRAMENTS AND EUCHARISTS Much has been written on the origin of the Totem-system--the system, that is, of naming a tribe or a portion of a tribe (say a CLAN) after some ANIMAL--or sometimes--also after some plant or tree or Nature-element, like fire or rain or thunder; but at best the subject is a difficult one for us moderns to understand. A careful study has been made of it by Salamon Reinach in his Cultes, Mythes et Religions, (1) where he formulates his conclusions in twelve statements or definitions; but even so--though his suggestions are helpful--he throws very little light on the real origin of the system. (2) (1) See English translation of certain chapters (published by David Nutt in 1912) entitled Cults, Myths and Religions, pp. 1-25. The French original is in three large volumes. (2) The same may be said of the formulated statement of the subject in Morris Jastrow's Handbooks of the History of Religion, vol. iv. There are three main difficulties. The first is to understand why primitive Man should name his Tribe after an animal or object of nature at all; the second, to understand on what principle he selected the particular name (a lion, a crocodile, a lady bird, a certain tree); the third, why he should make of the said totem a divinity, and pay honor and worship to it. It may be worth while to pause for a moment over these. (1) The fact that the Tribe was one of the early things for which Man found it necessary to have a name is interesting, because it shows how early the solidarity and psychological actuality of the tribe was recognized; and as to the selection of a name from some animal or concrete object of Nature, that was inevitable, for the simple reason that there was nothing else for the savage to choose from. Plainly to call his tribe "The Wayfarers" or "The Pioneers" or the "Pacifists" or the "Invincibles," or by any of the thousand and one names which modern associations adopt, would have been impossible, since such abstract terms had little or no existence in his mind. And again to name it after an animal was the most obvious thing to do, simply because the animals were by far the most important features or accompaniments of his own life. As I am dealing in this book largely with certain psychological conditions of human evolution, it has to be pointed out that to primitive man the animal was the nearest and most closely related of all objects. Being of the same order of consciousness as himself, the animal appealed to him very closely as his mate and equal. He made with regard to it little or no distinction from himself. We see this very clearly in the case of children, who of course represent the savage mind, and who regard animals simply as their mates and equals, and come quickly into rapport with them, not differentiating themselves from them. (2) As to the particular animal or other object selected in order to give a name to the Tribe, this would no doubt be largely accidental. Any unusual incident might superstitiously precipitate a name. We can hardly imagine the Tribe scratching its congregated head in the deliberate effort to think out a suitable emblem for itself. That is not the way in which nicknames are invented in a school or anywhere else to-day. At the same time the heraldic appeal of a certain object of nature, animate or inanimate, would be deeply and widely felt. The strength of the lion, the fleetness of the deer, the food-value of a bear, the flight of a bird, the awful jaws of a crocodile, might easily mesmerize a whole tribe. Reinach points out, with great justice, that many tribes placed themselves under the protection of animals which were supposed (rightly or wrongly) to act as guides and augurs, foretelling the future. "Diodorus," he says, "distinctly states that the hawk, in Egypt, was venerated because it foretold the future." (Birds generally act as and Samoa the kangaroo, the crow and the owl premonish their fellow clansmen of events to come. At one time the Samoan warriors went so far as to rear owls for their prophetic qualities in war. (The jackal, or 'pathfinder'--whose tracks sometimes lead to the remains of a food-animal slain by a lion, and many birds and insects, have a value of this kind.) "The use of animal totems for purposes of augury is, in all likelihood, of great antiquity. Men must soon have realized that the senses of animals were acuter than their own; nor is it surprising that they should have expected their totems--that is to say, their natural allies--to forewarn them both of unsuspected dangers and of those provisions of nature, WELLS especially, which animals seem to scent by instinct." (1) And again, beyond all this, I have little doubt that there are subconscious affinities which unite certain tribes to certain animals or plants, affinities whose origin we cannot now trace, though they are very real--the same affinities that we recognize as existing between individual PERSONS and certain objects of nature. W. H. Hudson--himself in many respects having this deep and primitive relation to nature--speaks in a very interesting and autobiographical volume (2) of the extraordinary fascination exercised upon him as a boy, not only by a snake, but by certain trees, and especially by a particular flowering-plant "not more than a foot in height, with downy soft pale green leaves, and clusters of reddish blossoms, something like valerian." ... "One of my sacred flowers," he calls it, and insists on the "inexplicable attraction" which it had for him. In various ways of this kind one can perceive how particular totems came to be selected by particular peoples. (1) See Reinach, Eng. trans., op. cit., pp. 20, 21. (2) Far away and Long ago (1918) chs. xvi and xvii. (3) As to the tendency to divinize these totems, this arises no doubt partly out of question (2). The animal or other object admired on account of its strength or swiftness, or adopted as guardian of the tribe because of its keen sight or prophetic quality, or infinitely prized on account of its food-value, or felt for any other reason to have a peculiar relation and affinity to the tribe, is by that fact SET APART. It becomes taboo. It must not be killed--except under necessity and by sanction of the whole tribe--nor injured; and all dealings with it must be fenced round with regulations. It is out of this taboo or system of taboos that, according to Reinach, religion arose. "I propose (he says) to define religion as: A SUM OF SCRUPLES (TABOOS) WHICH IMPEDE THE FREE EXERCISE OF OUR FACULTIES." (1) Obviously this definition is gravely deficient, simply because it is purely negative, and leaves out of account the positive aspect of the subject. In Man, the positive content of religion is the instinctive sense--whether conscious or subconscious--of an inner unity and continuity with the world around. This is the stuff out of which religion is made. The scruples or taboos which "impede the freedom" of this relation are the negative forces which give outline and form to the relation. These are the things which generate the RITES AND CEREMONIALS of religion; and as far as Reinach means by religion MERELY rites and ceremonies he is correct; but clearly he only covers half the subject. The tendency to divinize the totem is at least as much dependent on the positive sense of unity with it, as on the negative scruples which limit the relation in each particular case. But I shall return to this subject presently, and more than once, with the view of clarifying it. Just now it will be best to illustrate the nature of Totems generally, and in some detail. (1) See Orpheus by S. Reinach, p. 3. As would be gathered from what I have just said, there is found among all the more primitive peoples, and in all parts of the world, an immense variety of totem-names. The Dinkas, for instance, are a rather intelligent well-grown people inhabiting the upper reaches of the Nile in the vicinity of the great swamps. According to Dr. Seligman their clans have for totems the lion, the elephant, the crocodile, the hippopotamus, the fox, and the hyena, as well as certain birds which infest and damage the corn, some plants and trees, and such things as rain, fire, etc. "Each clan speaks of its totem as its ancestor, and refrains (as a rule) from injuring or eating it." (1) The members of the Crocodile clan call themselves "brothers of the crocodile." The tribes of Bechuana-land have a very similar list of totem-names--the buffalo, the fish, the porcupine, the wild vine, etc. They too have a Crocodile clan, but they call the crocodile their FATHER! The tribes of Australia much the same again, with the differences suitable to their country; and the Red Indians of North America the same. Garcilasso, della Vega, the Spanish historian, son of an Inca princess by one of the Spanish conquerors of Peru and author of the well-known book Commentarias Reales, says in that book (i, 57), speaking of the pre-Inca period, "An Indian (of Peru) was not considered honorable unless he was descended from a fountain, river or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild animal, as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey." (2) According to Lewis Morgan, the North American Indians of various tribes had for totems the wolf, bear, beaver, turtle, deer, snipe, heron, hawk, crane, loon, turkey, muskrat; pike, catfish, carp; buffalo, elk, reindeer, eagle, hare, rabbit, snake; reed-grass, sand, rock, and tobacco-plant. (1) See The Golden Bough, vol. iv, p. 31. (2) See Andrew Lang, Custom and Myth, p. 104, also Myth, Ritual and Religion, vol. i, pp. 71, 76, etc. So we might go on rather indefinitely. I need hardly say that in more modern and civilized life, relics of the totem system are still to be found in the forms of the heraldic creatures adopted for their crests by different families, and in the bears, lions, eagles, the sun, moon and stars and so forth, which still adorn the flags and are flaunted as the insignia of the various nations. The names may not have been ORIGINALLY adopted from any definite belief in blood-relationship with the animal or other object in question; but when, as Robertson says (Pagan Christs, p. 104), a "savage learned that he was 'a Bear' and that his father and grandfather and forefathers were so before him, it was really impossible, after ages in which totem-names thus passed current, that he should fail to assume that his folk were DESCENDED from a bear." As a rule, as may be imagined, the savage tribesman will on no account EAT his tribal totem-animal. Such would naturally be deemed a kind of sacrilege. Also it must be remarked that some totems are hardly suitable for eating. Yet it is important to observe that occasionally, and guarding the ceremony with great precautions, it has been an almost universal custom for the tribal elders to call a feast at which an animal (either the totem or some other) IS killed and commonly eaten--and this in order that the tribesmen may absorb some virtue belonging to it, and may confirm their identity with the tribe and with each other. The eating of the bear or other animal, the sprinkling with its blood, and the general ritual in which the participants shared its flesh, or dressed and disguised themselves in its skin, or otherwise identified themselves with it, was to them a symbol of their community of life with each other, and a means of their renewal and salvation in the holy emblem. And this custom, as the reader will perceive, became the origin of the Eucharists and Holy Communions of the later religions. Professor Robertson-Smith's celebrated Camel affords an instance of this. (1) It appears that St. Nilus (fifth century) has left a detailed account of the occasional sacrifice in his time of a spotless white camel among the Arabs of the Sinai region, which closely resembles a totemic communion-feast. The uncooked blood and flesh of the animal had to be entirely consumed by the faithful before daybreak. "The slaughter of the victim, the sacramental drinking of the blood, and devouring in wild haste of the pieces of still quivering flesh, recall the details of the Dionysiac and other festivals." (2) Robertson-Smith himself says:--"The plain meaning is that the victim was devoured before its life had left the still warm blood and flesh... and that thus in the most literal way, all those who shared in the ceremony absorbed part of the victim's life into themselves. One sees how much more forcibly than any ordinary meal such a rite expresses the establishment or confirmation of a bond of common life between the worshipers, and also, since the blood is shed upon the altar itself, between the worshipers and their god. In this sacrifice, then, the significant factors are two: the conveyance of the living blood to the godhead, and the absorption of the living flesh and blood into the flesh and blood of the worshippers. Each of these is effected in the simplest and most direct manner, so that the meaning of the ritual is perfectly transparent." (1) See his Religion of the Semites, p. 320. (2) They also recall the rites of the Passover--though in this latter the blood was no longer drunk, nor the flesh eaten raw. It seems strange, of course, that men should eat their totems; and it must not by any means be supposed that this practice is (or was) universal; but it undoubtedly obtains in some cases. As Miss Harrison says (Themis, p. 123); "you do not as a rule eat your relations," and as a rule the eating of a totem is tabu and forbidden, but (Miss Harrison continues) "at certain times and under certain restrictions a man not only may, but MUST, eat of his totem, though only sparingly, as of a thing sacrosanct." The ceremonial carried out in a communal way by the tribe not only identifies the tribe with the totem (animal), but is held, according to early magical ideas, and when the animal is desired for food, to favor its manipulation. The human tribe partakes of the mana or life-force of the animal, and is strengthened; the animal tribe is sympathetically renewed by the ceremonial and multiplies exceedingly. The slaughter of the sacred animal and (often) the simultaneous outpouring of human blood seals the compact and confirms the magic. This is well illustrated by a ceremony of the 'Emu' tribe referred to by Dr. Frazer:-- "In order to multiply Emus which are an important article of food, the men of the Emu totem in the Arunta tribe proceed as follows: They clear a small spot of level ground, and opening veins in their arms they let the blood stream out until the surface of the ground for a space of about three square yards is soaked with it. When the blood has dried and caked, it forms a hard and fairly impermeable surface, on which they paint the sacred design of the emu totem, especially the parts of the bird which they like best to eat, namely, the fat and the eggs. Round this painting the men sit and sing. Afterwards performers wearing long head-dresses to represent the long neck and small head of the emu, mimic the appearance of the bird as it stands aimlessly peering about in all directions." (1) (1) The Golden Bough i, 85--with reference to Spencer and Gillen's Native Tribes of Central Australia, pp. 179, 189. Thus blood sacrifice comes in; and--(whether this has ever actually happened in the case of the Central Australians I know not)--we can easily imagine a member of the Emu tribe, and disguised as an actual emu, having been ceremonially slaughtered as a firstfruits and promise of the expected and prayed-for emu-crop; just as the same certainly HAS happened in the case of men wearing beast-masks of Bulls or Rams or Bears being sacrificed in propitiation of Bull-gods, Ram-gods or Bear-gods or simply in pursuance of some kind of magic to favor the multiplication of these food-animals. "In the light of totemistic ways of thinking we see plainly enough the relation of man to food-animals. You need or at least desire flesh food, yet you shrink from slaughtering 'your brother the ox'; you desire his mana, yet you respect his tabu, for in you and him alike runs the common life-blood. On your own individual responsibility you would never kill him; but for the common weal, on great occasions, and in a fashion conducted with scrupulous care, it is expedient that he die for his people, and that they feast upon his flesh." (1) (1) Themis, p. 140. In her little book Ancient Art and Ritual (1) Jane Harrison describes the dedication of a holy Bull, as conducted in Greece at Elis, and at Magnesia and other cities. "There at the annual fair year by year the stewards of the city bought a Bull 'the finest that could be got,' and at the new moon of the month at the beginning of seed-time (? April) Bull was led in procession at the head of which went the chief priest and priestess of the city. With them went a herald and sacrificer, and two bands of youths and maidens. So holy was the Bull that nothing unlucky might come near him. The herald pronounced aloud a prayer for 'the safety of the city and the land, and the citizens, and the women and children, for peace and wealth, and for the bringing forth of grain and all other fruits, and of cattle.' All this longing for fertility, for food and children, focuses round the holy Bull, whose holiness is his strength and fruitfulness." The Bull is sacrificed. The flesh is divided in solemn feast among those who take part in the procession. "The holy flesh is not offered to a god, it is eaten--to every man his portion--by each and every citizen, that he may get his share of the strength of the Bull, of the luck of the State." But at Athens the Bouphonia, as it was called, was followed by a curious ceremony. "The hide was stuffed with straw and sewed up, and next the stuffed animal was set on its feet and yoked to a plough as though it were ploughing. The Death is followed by a Resurrection. Now this is all important. We are accustomed to think of sacrifice as the death, the giving up, the renouncing of something. But SACRIFICE does not mean 'death' at all. It means MAKING HOLY, sanctifying; and holiness was to primitive man just special strength and life. What they wanted from the Bull was just that special life and strength which all the year long they had put into him, and nourished and fostered. That life was in his blood. They could not eat that flesh nor drink that blood unless they killed him. So he must die. But it was not to give him up to the gods that they killed him, not to 'sacrifice' him in our sense, but to have him, keep him, eat him, live BY him and through him, by his grace." (1) Home University Library, p. 87. We have already had to deal with instances of the ceremonial eating of the sacred he-Lamb or Ram, immolated in the Spring season of the year, and partaken of in a kind of communal feast--not without reference (at any rate in later times) to a supposed Lamb-god. Among the Ainos in the North of Japan, as also among the Gilyaks in Eastern Siberia, the Bear is the great food-animal, and is worshipped as the supreme giver of health and strength. There also a similar ritual of sacrifice occurs. A perfect Bear is caught and caged. He is fed up and even pampered to the day of his death. "Fish, brandy and other delicacies are offered to him. Some of the people prostrate themselves before him; his coming into a house brings a blessing, and if he sniffs at the food that brings a blessing too." Then he is led out and slain. A great feast takes place, the flesh is divided, cupfuls of the blood are drunk by the men; the tribe is united and strengthened, and the Bear-god blesses the ceremony--the ideal Bear that has given its life for the people. (1) (1) See Art and Ritual, pp. 92-98; The Golden Bough, ii, 375 seq.; Themis, pp. 140, 141; etc. That the eating of the flesh of an animal or a man conveys to you some of the qualities, the life-force, the mana, of that animal or man, is an idea which one often meets with among primitive folk. Hence the common tendency to eat enemy warriors slain in battle against your tribe. By doing so you absorb some of their valor and strength. Even the enemy scalps which an Apache Indian might hang from his belt were something magical to add to the Apache's power. As Gilbert Murray says, (1) "you devoured the holy animal to get its mana, its swiftness, its strength, its great endurance, just as the savage now will eat his enemy's brain or heart or hands to get some particular quality residing there." Even--as he explains on the earlier page--mere CONTACT was often considered sufficient--"we have holy pillars whose holiness consists in the fact that they have been touched by the blood of a bull." And in this connection we may note that nearly all the Christian Churches have a great belief in the virtue imparted by the mere 'laying on of hands.' (1) Four Stages of Greek Religion, p. 36. In quite a different connection--we read (1) that among the Spartans a warrior-boy would often beg for the love of the elder warrior whom he admired (i. e. the contact with his body) in order to obtain in that way a portion of the latter's courage and prowess. That through the mediation of the lips one's spirit may be united to the spirit of another person is an idea not unfamiliar to the modern mind; while the exchange of blood, clothes, locks of hair, etc., by lovers is a custom known all over the world. (2) (1) Aelian VII, iii, 12: [gr autoi goun (oi paides) deontai twn erastwn] [gr eispnein autois]. See also E. Bethe on "Die Dorische Knabenliebe" in the Rheinisches Museum, vol. 26, iii, 461. (2) See Crawley's Mystic Rose, pp. 238, 242. To suppose that by eating another you absorb his or her soul is somewhat naive certainly. Perhaps it IS more native, more primitive. Yet there may be SOME truth even in that idea. Certainly the food that one eats has a psychological effect, and the flesh-eaters among the human race have a different temperament as a rule from the fruit and vegetable eaters, while among the animals (though other causes may come in here) the Carnivora are decidedly more cruel and less gentle than the Herbivora. To return to the rites of Dionysus, Gilbert Murray, speaking of Orphism--a great wave of religious reform which swept over Greece and South Italy in the sixth century B.C.--says: (1) "A curious relic of primitive superstition and cruelty remained firmly imbedded in Orphism, a doctrine irrational and unintelligible, and for that very reason wrapped in the deepest and most sacred mystery: a belief in the SACRIFICE OF DIONYSUS HIMSELF, AND THE PURIFICATION OF MAN BY HIS BLOOD. It seems possible that the savage Thracians, in the fury of their worship on the mountains, when they were possessed by the god and became 'wild beasts,' actually tore with their teeth and hands any hares, goats, fawns or the like that they came across.... The Orphic congregations of later times, in their most holy gatherings, solemnly partook of the blood of a bull, which was by a mystery the blood of Dionysus-Zagreus himself, the Bull of God, slain in sacrifice for the purification of man." (2) (1) See Notes to his translation of the Bacch[ae] of Euripides. (2) For a description of this orgy see Theocritus, Idyll xxvi; also for explanations of it, Lang's Myth, Ritual and Religion, vol. ii, pp, 241-260, on Dionysus. The Encyclop[ae]dia Brit., article "Orpheus," says:--"Orpheus, in the manner of his death, was considered to personate the god Dionysus, and was thus representative of the god torn to pieces every year--a ceremony enacted by the Bacchae in the earliest times with a human victim, and afterwards with a bull, to represent the bull-formed god. A distinct feature of this ritual was [gr wmofagia] (eating the flesh of the victim raw), whereby the communicants imagined that they consumed and assimilated the god represented by the victim, and thus became filled with the divine ecstasy." Compare also the Hindu doctrine of Praj[pati, the dismembered Lord of Creation. Such instances of early communal feasts, which fulfilled the double part of confirming on the one hand the solidarity of the tribe, and on the other of bringing the tribe, by the shedding of the blood of a divine Victim into close relationship with the very source of its life, are plentiful to find. "The sacramental rite," says Professor Robertson-Smith, (1) "is also an atoning rite, which brings the community again into harmony with its alienated god--atonement being simply an act of communion designed to wipe out all memory of previous estrangement." With this subject I shall deal more specially in chapter vii below. Meanwhile as instances of early Eucharists we may mention the following cases, remembering always that as the blood is regarded as the Life, the drinking or partaking of, or sprinkling with, blood is always an acknowledgment of the common life; and that the juice of the grape being regarded as the blood of the Vine, wine in the later ceremonials quite easily and naturally takes the place of the blood in the early sacrifices. (1) Religion of the Semites, p. 302. Thus P. Andrada La Crozius, a French missionary, and one of the first Christians who went to Nepaul and Thibet, says in his History of India: "Their Grand Lama celebrates a species of sacrifice with BREAD and WINE, in which, after taking a small quantity himself, he distributes the rest among the Lamas present at this ceremony." (1) "The old Egyptians celebrated the resurrection of Osiris by a sacrament, eating the sacred cake or wafer after it had been consecrated by the priest, and thereby becoming veritable flesh of his flesh." (2) As is well known, the eating of bread or dough sacramentally (sometimes mixed with blood or seed) as an emblem of community of life with the divinity, is an extremely ancient practice or ritual. Dr. Frazer (3) says of the Aztecs, that "twice a year, in May and December, an image of the great god Huitzilopochtli was made of dough, then broken in pieces and solemnly eaten by his worshipers." And Lord Kingsborough in his Mexican Antiquities (vol. vi, p. 220) gives a record of a "most Holy Supper" in which these people ate the flesh of their god. It was a cake made of certain seeds, "and having made it, they blessed it in their manner, and broke it into pieces, which the high priest put into certain very clean vessels, and took a thorn of maguey which resembles a very thick needle, with which he took up with the utmost reverence single morsels, which he put into the mouth of each individual in the manner of a communion." Acostas (4) confirms this and similar accounts. The Peruvians partook of a sacrament consisting of a pudding of coarsely ground maize, of which a portion had been smeared on the idol. The priest sprinkled it with the blood of the victim before distributing it to the people. Priest and people then all took their shares in turn, "with great care that no particle should be allowed to fall to the ground--this being looked upon as a great sin." (5) (1) See Doane's Bible Myths, p. 306. (2) From The Great Law, of religious origins: by W. Williamson (1899), p. 177. (3) The Golden Bough, vol. ii, p. 79. (4) Natural and Moral History of the Indies. London (1604). (5) See Markham's Rites and laws of the Incas, p. 27. Moving from Peru to China (instead of 'from China to Peru') we find that "the Chinese pour wine (a very general substitute for blood) on a straw image of Confucius, and then all present drink of it, and taste the sacrificial victim, in order to participate in the grace of Confucius." (Here again the Corn and Wine are blended in one rite.) And of Tartary Father Grueber thus testifies: "This only I do affirm, that the devil so mimics the Catholic Church there, that although no European or Christian has ever been there, still in all essential things they agree so completely with the Roman Church, as even to celebrate the Host with bread and wine: with my own eyes I have seen it." (1) These few instances are sufficient to show the extraordinarily wide diffusion of Totem-sacraments and Eucharistic rites all over the world. (1) For these two quotations see Jevons' Introduction to the History of Religion, pp. 148 and 219. V. FOOD AND VEGETATION MAGIC I have wandered, in pursuit of Totems and the Eucharist, some way from the astronomical thread of Chapters II and III, and now it would appear that in order to understand religious origins we must wander still farther. The chapters mentioned were largely occupied with Sungods and astronomical phenomena, but now we have to consider an earlier period when there were no definite forms of gods, and when none but the vaguest astronomical knowledge existed. Sometimes in historical matters it is best and safest to move thus backwards in Time, from the things recent and fairly well known to things more ancient and less known. In this way we approach more securely to some understanding of the dim and remote past. It is clear that before any definite speculations on heaven-dwelling gods or divine beings had arisen in the human mind--or any clear theories of how the sun and moon and stars might be connected with the changes of the seasons on the earth--there were still certain obvious things which appealed to everybody, learned or unlearned alike. One of these was the return of Vegetation, bringing with it the fruits or the promise of the fruits of the earth, for human food, and also bringing with it increase of animal life, for food in another form; and the other was the return of Light and Warmth, making life easier in all ways. Food delivering from the fear of starvation; Light and Warmth delivering from the fear of danger and of cold. These were three glorious things which returned together and brought salvation and renewed life to man. The period of their return was 'Spring,' and though Spring and its benefits might fade away in time, still there was always the HOPE of its return--though even so it may have been a long time in human evolution before man discovered that it really did always return, and (with certain allowances) at equal intervals of time. Long then before any Sun or Star gods could be called in, the return of the Vegetation must have enthralled man's attention, and filled him with hope and joy. Yet since its return was somewhat variable and uncertain the question, What could man do to assist that return? naturally became a pressing one. It is now generally held that the use of Magic--sympathetic magic--arose in this way. Sympathetic magic seems to have been generated by a belief that your own actions cause a similar response in things and persons around you. Yet this belief did not rest on any philosophy or argument, but was purely instinctive and sometimes of the nature of a mere corporeal reaction. Every schoolboy knows how in watching a comrade's high jump at the Sports he often finds himself lifting a knee at the moment 'to help him over'; at football matches quarrels sometimes arise among the spectators by reason of an ill-placed kick coming from a too enthusiastic on-looker, behind one; undergraduates running on the tow-path beside their College boat in the races will hurry even faster than the boat in order to increase its speed; there is in each case an automatic bodily response increased by one's own desire. A person ACTS the part which he desires to be successful. He thinks to transfer his energy in that way. Again, if by chance one witnesses a painful accident, a crushed foot or what-not, it commonly happens that one feels a pain in the same part oneself--a sympathetic pain. What more natural than to suppose that the pain really is transferred from the one person to the other? and how easy the inference that by tormenting a wretched scape-goat or crucifying a human victim in some cases the sufferings of people may be relieved or their sins atoned for? Simaetha, it will be remembered, in the second Idyll of Theocritus, curses her faithless lover Delphis, and as she melts his waxen image she prays that HE TOO MAY MELT. All this is of the nature of Magic, and is independent of and generally more primitive than Theology or Philosophy. Yet it interests us because it points to a firm instinct in early man--to which I have already alluded--the instinct of his unity and continuity with the rest of creation, and of a common life so close that his lightest actions may cause a far-reaching reaction in the world outside. Man, then, independently of any belief in gods, may assist the arrival of Spring by magic ceremonies. If you want the Vegetation to appear you must have rain; and the rain-maker in almost all primitive tribes has been a MOST important personage. Generally he based his rites on quite fanciful associations, as when the rain-maker among the Mandans wore a raven's skin on his head (bird of the storm) or painted his shield with red zigzags of lightning (1); but partly, no doubt, he had observed actual facts, or had had the knowledge of them transmitted to him--as, for instance that when rain is impending loud noises will bring about its speedy downfall, a fact we moderns have had occasion to notice on battlefields. He had observed perhaps that in a storm a specially loud clap of thunder is generally followed by a greatly increased downpour of rain. He had even noticed (a thing which I have often verified in the vicinity of Sheffield) that the copious smoke of fires will generate rain-clouds--and so quite naturally he concluded that it was his smoking SACRIFICES which had that desirable effect. So far he was on the track of elementary Science. And so he made "bull-roarers" to imitate the sound of wind and the blessed rain-bringing thunder, or clashed great bronze cymbals together with the same object. Bull-voices and thunder-drums and the clashing of cymbals were used in this connection by the Greeks, and are mentioned by Aeschylus (2); but the bull-roarer, in the form of a rhombus of wood whirled at the end of a string, seems to be known, or to have been known, all over the world. It is described with some care by Mr. Andrew Lang in his Custom and Myth (pp. 29-44), where he says "it is found always as a sacred instrument employed in religious mysteries, in New Mexico, Australia, New Zealand, ancient Greece, and Africa." (1) See Catlin's North American Indians, Letter 19. (2) Themis, p. 61. Sometimes, of course, the rain-maker was successful; but of the inner causes of rain he knew next to nothing; he was more ignorant even than we are! His main idea was a more specially 'magical' one--namely, that the sound itself would appeal to the SPIRITS of rain and thunder and cause them to give a response. For of course the thunder (in Hebrew Bath-Kol, "the daughter of the Voice") was everywhere regarded as the manifestation of a spirit. (1) To make sounds like thunder would therefore naturally call the attention of such a spirit; or he, the rain-maker, might make sounds like rain. He made gourd-rattles (known in ever so many parts of the world) in which he rattled dried seeds or small pebbles with a most beguiling and rain-like insistence; or sometimes, like the priests of Baal in the Bible, (2) he would cut himself with knives till the blood fell upon the ground in great drops suggestive of an oncoming thunder-shower. "In Mexico the rain god was propitiated with sacrifices of children. If the children wept and shed abundant tears, they who carried them rejoiced, being convinced that rain would also be abundant." (3) Sometimes he, the rain-maker, would WHISTLE for the wind, or, like the Omaha Indians, flap his blankets for the same purpose. (1) See A. Lang, op. cit.: "The muttering of the thunder is said to be his voice calling to the rain to fall and make the grass grow up green." Such are the very words of Umbara, the minstrel of the Tribe (Australian). (2) I Kings xviii. (3) Quoted from Sahagun II, 2, 3 by A. Lang in Myth, Ritual and Religion, vol. ii, p. 102. In the ancient myth of Demeter and Persephone--which has been adopted by so many peoples under so many forms--Demeter the Earth-mother loses her daughter Persephone (who represents of course the Vegetation), carried down into the underworld by the evil powers of Darkness and Winter. And in Greece there was a yearly ceremonial and ritual of magic for the purpose of restoring the lost one and bringing her back to the world again. Women carried certain charms, "fir-cones and snakes and unnamable objects made of paste, to ensure fertility; there was a sacrifice of pigs, who were thrown into a deep cleft of the earth, and their remains afterwards collected and scattered as a charm over the fields." (1) Fir-cones and snakes from their very forms were emblems of male fertility; snakes, too, from their habit of gliding out of their own skins with renewed brightness and color were suggestive of resurrection and re-vivification; pigs and sows by their exceeding fruitfulness would in their hour of sacrifice remind old mother Earth of what was expected from her! Moreover, no doubt it had been observed that the scattering of dead flesh over the ground or mixed with the seed, did bless the ground to a greater fertility; and so by a strange mixture of primitive observation with a certain child-like belief that by means of symbols and suggestions Nature could be appealed to and induced to answer to the desires and needs for her children this sort of ceremonial Magic arose. It was not exactly Science, and it was not exactly Religion; but it was a naive, and perhaps not altogether mistaken, sense of the bond between Nature and Man. (1) See Gilbert Murray's Four Stages of Greek Religion, p. 29. For we can perceive that earliest man was not yet consciously differentiated from Nature. Not only do we see that the tribal life was so strong that the individual seldom regarded himself as different or separate or opposed to the rest of the tribe; but that something of the same kind was true with regard to his relation to the Animals and to Nature at large. This outer world was part of himself, was also himself. His sub-conscious sense of unity was so great that it largely dominated his life. That brain-cleverness and brain-activity which causes modern man to perceive such a gulf between him and the animals, or between himself and Nature, did not exist in the early man. Hence it was no difficulty to him to believe that he was a Bear or an Emu. Sub-consciously he was wiser than we are. He knew that he was a bear or an emu, or any other such animal as his totem-creed led him to fix his mind upon. Hence we find that a familiarity and common consent existed between primitive man and many of his companion animals such as has been lost or much attenuated in modern times. Elisee Reclus in his very interesting paper La Grande Famille (1) gives support to the idea that the so-called domestication of animals did not originally arise from any forcible subjugation of them by man, but from a natural amity with them which grew up in the beginning from common interests, pursuits and affections. Thus the chetah of India (and probably the puma of Brazil) from far-back times took to hunting in the company of his two-legged and bow-and-arrow-armed friend, with whom he divided the spoil. W. H. Hudson (2) declares that the Puma, wild and fierce though it is, and capable of killing the largest game, will never even to-day attack man, but when maltreated by the latter submits to the outrage, unresisting, with mournful cries and every sign of grief. The Llama, though domesticated in a sense, has never allowed the domination of the whip or the bit, but may still be seen walking by the side of the Brazilian peasant and carrying his burdens in a kind of proud companionship. The mutual relations of Women and the Cow, or of Man and the Horse (3) (also the Elephant) reach so far into the past that their origin cannot be traced. The Swallow still loves to make its home under the cottage eaves and still is welcomed by the inmates as the bringer of good fortune. Elisee Reclus assures us that the Dinka man on the Nile calls to certain snakes by name and shares with them the milk of his cows. (1) Published originally in Le Magazine International, January 1896. (2) See The Naturalist in La Plata, ch. ii. (3) "It is certain that the primitive Indo-European reared droves of tame or half-tame horses for generations, if not centuries, before it ever occurred to him to ride or drive them" (F. B. Jevons, Introd. to Hist. Religion, p. 119). And so with Nature. The communal sense, or subconscious perception, which made primitive men feel their unity with other members of their tribe, and their obvious kinship with the animals around them, brought them also so close to general Nature that they looked upon the trees, the vegetation, the rain, the warmth of the sun, as part of their bodies, part of themselves. Conscious differentiation had not yet set in. To cause rain or thunder you had to make rain- or thunder-like noises; to encourage Vegetation and the crops to leap out of the ground, you had to leap and dance. "In Swabia and among the Transylvanian Saxons it is a common custom (says Dr. Frazer) for a man who has some hemp to leap high in the field in the belief that this will make the hemp grow tall." (1) Native May-pole dances and Jacks in the Green have hardly yet died out--even in this most civilized England. The bower of green boughs, the music of pipes, the leaping and the twirling, were all an encouragement to the arrival of Spring, and an expression of Sympathetic Magic. When you felt full of life and energy and virility in yourself you naturally leapt and danced, so why should you not sympathetically do this for the energizing of the crops? In every country of the world the vernal season and the resurrection of the Sun has been greeted with dances and the sound of music. But if you wanted success in hunting or in warfare then you danced before-hand mimic dances suggesting the successful hunt or battle. It was no more than our children do to-day, and it all was, and is, part of a natural-magic tendency in human thought. (1) See The Golden Bough, i, 139 seq. Also Art and Ritual, p. 31. Let me pause here for a moment. It is difficult for us with our academical and somewhat school-boardy minds to enter into all this, and to understand the sense of (unconscious or sub-conscious) identification with the world around which characterized the primitive man--or to look upon Nature with his eyes. A Tree, a Snake, a Bull, an Ear of Corn. WE know so well from our botany and natural history books what these things are. Why should our minds dwell on them any longer or harbor a doubt as to our perfect comprehension of them? And yet (one cannot help asking the question): Has any one of us really ever SEEN a Tree? I certainly do not think that I have--except most superficially. That very penetrating observer and naturalist, Henry D. Thoreau, tells us that he would often make an appointment to visit a certain tree, miles away--but what or whom he saw when he got there, he does not say. Walt Whitman, also a keen observer, speaks of a tulip-tree near which he sometimes sat--"the Apollo of the woods--tall and graceful, yet robust and sinewy, inimitable in hang of foliage and throwing-out of limb; as if the beauteous, vital, leafy creature could walk, if it only would"; and mentions that in a dream-trance he actually once saw his "favorite trees step out and promenade up, down and around VERY CURIOUSLY." (1) Once the present writer seemed to have a partial vision of a tree. It was a beech, standing somewhat isolated, and still leafless in quite early Spring. Suddenly I was aware of its skyward-reaching arms and up-turned finger-tips, as if some vivid life (or electricity) was streaming through them far into the spaces of heaven, and of its roots plunged in the earth and drawing the same energies from below. The day was quite still and there was no movement in the branches, but in that moment the tree was no longer a separate or separable organism, but a vast being ramifying far into space, sharing and uniting the life of Earth and Sky, and full of a most amazing activity. (1) Specimen Days, 1882-3 Edition, p. iii. The reader of this will probably have had some similar experiences. Perhaps he will have seen a full-foliaged Lombardy poplar swaying in half a gale in June--the wind and the sun streaming over every little twig and leaf, the tree throwing out its branches in a kind of ecstasy and bathing them in the passionately boisterous caresses of its two visitants; or he will have heard the deep glad murmur of some huge sycamore with ripening seed clusters when after weeks of drought the steady warm rain brings relief to its thirst; and he will have known that these creatures are but likenesses of himself, intimately and deeply-related to him in their love and hunger longing, and, like himself too, unfathomed and unfathomable. It would be absurd to credit early man with conscious speculations like these, belonging more properly to the twentieth century; yet it is incontrovertible, I think, that in SOME ways the primitive peoples, with their swift subconscious intuitions and their minds unclouded by mere book knowledge, perceived truths to which we moderns are blind. Like the animals they arrived at their perceptions without (individual) brain effort; they knew things without thinking. When they did THINK of course they went wrong. Their budding science easily went astray. Religion with them had as yet taken no definite shape; science was equally protoplasmic; and all they had was a queer jumble of the two in the form of Magic. When at a later time Science gradually defined its outlook and its observations, and Religion, from being a vague subconscious feeling, took clear shape in the form of gods and creeds, then mankind gradually emerged into the stage of evolution IN WHICH WE NOW ARE. OUR scientific laws and doctrines are of course only temporary formulae, and so also are the gods and the creeds of our own and other religions; but these things, with their set and angular outlines, have served in the past and will serve in the future as stepping-stones towards another kind of knowledge of which at present we only dream, and will lead us on to a renewed power of perception which again will not be the laborious product of thought but a direct and instantaneous intuition like that of the animals--and the angels. To return to our Tree. Though primitive man did not speculate in modern style on these things, I yet have no reasonable doubt that he felt (and FEELS, in those cases where we can still trace the workings of his mind) his essential relationship to the creatures of the forest more intimately, if less analytically, than we do to-day. If the animals with all their wonderful gifts are (as we readily admit) a veritable part of Nature--so that they live and move and have their being more or less submerged in the spirit of the great world around them--then Man, when he first began to differentiate himself from them, must for a long time have remained in this SUBconscious unity, becoming only distinctly CONSCIOUS of it when he was already beginning to lose it. That early dawn of distinct consciousness corresponded to the period of belief in Magic. In that first mystic illumination almost every object was invested with a halo of mystery or terror or adoration. Things were either tabu, in which case they were dangerous, and often not to be touched or even looked upon--or they were overflowing with magic grace and influence, in which case they were holy, and any rite which released their influence was also holy. William Blake, that modern prophetic child, beheld a Tree full of angels; the Central Australian native believes bushes to be the abode of spirits which leap into the bodies of passing women and are the cause of the conception of children; Moses saw in the desert a bush (perhaps the mimosa) like a flame of fire, with Jehovah dwelling in the midst of it, and he put off his shoes for he felt that the place was holy; Osiris was at times regarded as a Tree-spirit (1); and in inscriptions is referred to as "the solitary one in the acacia"--which reminds us curiously of the "burning bush." The same is true of others of the gods; in the old Norse mythology Ygdrasil was the great branching World-Ash, abode of the soul of the universe; the Peepul or Bo-tree in India is very sacred and must on no account be cut down, seeing that gods and spirits dwell among its branches. It is of the nature of an Aspen, and of little or no practical use, (2) but so holy that the poorest peasant will not disturb it. The Burmese believe the things of nature, but especially the trees, to be the abode of spirits. "To the Burman of to-day, not less than to the Greek of long ago, all nature is alive. The forest and the river and the mountains are full of spirits, whom the Burmans call Nats. There are all kinds of Nats, good and bad, great and little, male and female, now living round about us. Some of them live in the trees, especially in the huge figtree that shades half-an-acre without the village; or among the fern-like fronds of the tamarind." (3) (1) The Golden Bough, iv, 339. (2) Though the sap is said to contain caoutchouc. (3) The Soul of a People, by H. Fielding (1902), p. 250. There are also in India and elsewhere popular rites of MARRIAGE of women (and men) to Trees; which suggest that trees were regarded as very near akin to human beings! The Golden Bough (1) mentions many of these, including the idea that some trees are male and others female. The well-known Assyrian emblem of a Pine cone being presented by a priest to a Palm-tree is supposed by E. B. Tylor to symbolize fertilization--the Pine cone being masculine and the Palm feminine. The ceremony of the god Krishna's marriage to a Basil plant is still celebrated in India down to the present day; and certain trees are clasped and hugged by pregnant women--the idea no doubt being that they bestow fertility on those who embrace them. In other cases apparently it is the trees which are benefited, since it is said that men sometimes go naked into the Clove plantations at night in order by a sort of sexual intercourse to fertilize them. (2) (1) Vol. i, p. 40, Vol. iii, pp. 24 sq. (2) Ibid., vol. ii, p. 98. One might go on multiplying examples in this direction quite indefinitely. There is no end to them. They all indicate--what was instinctively felt by early man, and is perfectly obvious to all to-day who are not blinded by "civilization" (and Herbert Spencer!) that the world outside us is really most deeply akin to ourselves, that it is not dead and senseless but intensely alive and instinct with feeling and intelligence resembling our own. It is this perception, this conviction of our essential unity with the whole of creation, which lay from the first at the base of all Religion; yet at first, as I have said, was hardly a conscious perception. Only later, when it gradually became more conscious, did it evolve itself into the definite forms of the gods and the creeds--but of that process I will speak more in detail presently. The Tree therefore was a most intimate presence to the Man. It grew in the very midst of his Garden of Eden. It had a magical virtue, which his tentative science could only explain by chance analogies and assimilations. Attractive and beloved and worshipped by reason of its many gifts to mankind--its grateful shelter, its abounding fruits, its timber, and other invaluable products--why should it not become the natural emblem of the female, to whom through sex man's worship is ever drawn? If the Snake has an unmistakable resemblance to the male organ in its active state, the foliage of the tree or bush is equally remindful of the female. What more clear than that the conjunction of Tree and Serpent is the fulfilment in nature of that sex-mystery which is so potent in the life of man and the animals? and that the magic ritual most obviously fitted to induce fertility in the tribe or the herds (or even the crops) is to set up an image of the Tree and the Serpent combined, and for all the tribe-folk in common to worship and pay it reverence. In the Bible with more or less veiled sexual significance we have this combination in the Eden-garden, and again in the brazen Serpent and Pole which Moses set up in the wilderness (as a cure for the fiery serpents of lust); illustrations of the same are said to be found in the temples of Egypt and of South India, and even in the ancient temples of Central America. (1) In the myth of Hercules the golden apples of the Hesperides garden are guarded by a dragon. The Etruscans, the Persians and the Babylonians had also legends of the Fall of man through a serpent tempting him to taste of the fruit of a holy Tree. And De Gubernatis, (2) pointing out the phallic meaning of these stories, says "the legends concerning the tree of golden apples or figs which yields honey or ambrosia, guarded by dragons, in which the life, the fortune, the glory, the strength and the riches of the hero have their beginning, are numerous among every people of Aryan origin: in India, Persia, Russia, Poland, Sweden, Germany, Greece and Italy." (1) See Ancient Pagan and Modern Christian Symbolism, by Thomas Inman (Trubner, 1874), p. 55. (2) Zoological Mythology, vol. ii, pp. 410 sq. Thus we see the natural-magic tendency of the human mind asserting itself. To some of us indeed this tendency is even greater in the case of the Snake than in that of the Tree. W. H. Hudson, in Far Away and Long Ago, speaks of "that sense of something supernatural in the serpent, which appears to have been universal among peoples in a primitive state of culture, and still survives in some barbarous or semi-barbarous countries." The fascination of the Snake--the fascination of its mysteriously gliding movement, of its vivid energy, its glittering eye, its intensity of life, combined with its fatal dart of Death--is a thing felt even more by women than by men--and for a reason (from what we have already said) not far to seek. It was the Woman who in the story of the Fall was the first to listen to its suggestions. No wonder that, as Professor Murray says, (1) the Greeks worshiped a gigantic snake (Meilichios) the lord of Death and Life, with ceremonies of appeasement, and sacrifices, long before they arrived at the worship of Zeus and the Olympian gods. (1) Four Stages of Greek Religion, p. 29. Or let us take the example of an Ear of Corn. Some people wonder--hearing nowadays that the folk of old used to worship a Corn-spirit or Corn-god--wonder that any human beings could have been so foolish. But probably the good people who wonder thus have never REALLY LOOKED (with their town-dazed eyes) at a growing spike of wheat. (1) Of all the wonderful things in Nature I hardly know any that thrills one more with a sense of wizardry than just this very thing--to observe, each year, this disclosure of the Ear within the Blade--first a swelling of the sheath, then a transparency and a whitey-green face within a hooded shroud, and then the perfect spike of grain disengaging itself and spiring upward towards the sky--"the resurrection of the wheat with pale visage appearing out of the ground." (1) Even the thrice-learned Dr. Famell quotes apparently with approval the scornful words of Hippolytus, who (he says) "speaks of the Athenians imitating people at the Eleusinian mysteries and showing to the epoptae (initiates) that great and marvelous mystery of perfect revelation--in solemn silence--a CUT CORNSTALK ([gr teqerismenon] [gr stacon])."--Cults of the Greek States, vol. iii, p. 182. If this spectacle amazes one to-day, what emotions must it not have aroused in the breasts of the earlier folk, whose outlook on the world was so much more direct than ours--more 'animistic' if you like! What wonderment, what gratitude, what deliverance from fear (of starvation), what certainty that this being who had been ruthlessly cut down and sacrificed last year for human food had indeed arisen again as a savior of men, what readiness to make some human sacrifice in return, both as an acknowledgment of the debt, and as a gift of something which would no doubt be graciously accepted!--(for was it not well known that where blood had been spilt on the ground the future crop was so much more generous?)--what readiness to adopt some magic ritual likely to propitiate the unseen power--even though the outline and form of the latter were vague and uncertain in the extreme! Dr. Frazer, speaking of the Egyptian Osiris as one out of many corn-gods of the above character, says (1): "The primitive conception of him as the corn-god comes clearly out in the festival of his death and resurrection, which was celebrated the month of Athyr. That festival appears to have been essentially a festival of sowing, which properly fell at the time when the husbandman actually committed the seed to the earth. On that occasion an effigy of the corn-god, moulded of earth and corn, was buried with funeral rites in the ground in order that, dying there, he might come to life again with the new crops. The ceremony was in fact a charm to ensure the growth of the corn by sympathetic magic, and we may conjecture that as such it was practised in a simple form by every Egyptian farmer on his fields long before it was adopted and transfigured by the priests in the stately ritual of the temple." (2) (1) The Golden Bough, iv, p. 330. (2) See ch. xv. The magic in this case was of a gentle description; the clay image of Osiris sprouting all over with the young green blade was pathetically poetic; but, as has been suggested, bloodthirsty ceremonies were also common enough. Human sacrifices, it is said, had at one time been offered at the grave of Osiris. We bear that the Indians in Ecuador used to sacrifice men's hearts and pour out human blood on their fields when they sowed them; the Pawnee Indians used a human victim the same, allowing his blood to drop on the seed-corn. It is said that in Mexico girls were sacrificed, and that the Mexicans would sometimes GRIND their (male) victim, like corn, between two stones. ("I'll grind his bones to make me bread.") Among the Khonds of East India--who were particularly given to this kind of ritual--the very TEARS of the sufferer were an incitement to more cruelties, for tears of course were magic for Rain. (1) (1) The Golden Bough, vol. vii, "The Corn-Spirit," pp. 236 sq. And so on. We have referred to the Bull many times, both in his astronomical aspect as pioneer of the Spring-Sun, and in his more direct role as plougher of the fields, and provider of food from his own body. "The tremendous mana of the wild bull," says Gilbert Murray, "occupies almost half the stage of pre-Olympic ritual." (1) Even to us there is something mesmeric and overwhelming in the sense of this animal's glory of strength and fury and sexual power. No wonder the primitives worshiped him, or that they devised rituals which should convey his power and vitality by mere contact, or that in sacramental feasts they ate his flesh and drank his blood as a magic symbol and means of salvation. (1) Four Stages, p. 34. VI. MAGICIANS, KINGS AND GODS It is perhaps necessary, at the commencement of this chapter, to say a few more words about the nature and origin of the belief in Magic. Magic represented on one side, and clearly enough, the beginnings of Religion--i.e. the instinctive sense of Man's inner continuity with the world around him, TAKING SHAPE: a fanciful shape it is true, but with very real reaction on his practical life and feelings. (1) On the other side it represented the beginnings of Science. It was his first attempt not merely to FEEL but to UNDERSTAND the mystery of things. (1) For an excellent account of the relation of Magic to Religion see W. McDougall, Social Psychology (1908), pp. 317-320. Inevitably these first efforts to understand were very puerile, very superficial. As E. B. Tylor says (1) of primitive folk in general, "they mistook an imaginary for a real connection." And he instances the case of the inhabitants of the City of Ephesus, who laid down a rope, seven furlongs in length, from the City to the temple of Artemis, in order to place the former under the protection of the latter! WE should lay down a telephone wire, and consider that we established a much more efficient connection; but in the beginning, and quite naturally, men, like children, rely on surface associations. Among the Dyaks of Borneo (2) when the men are away fighting, the WOMEN must use a sort of telepathic magic in order to safeguard them--that is, they must themselves rise early and keep awake all day (lest darkness and sleep should give advantage to the enemy); they must not OIL their hair (lest their husbands should make any SLIPS); they must eat sparingly and put aside rice at every meal (so that the men may not want for food). And so on. Similar superstitions are common. But they gradually lead to a little thought, and then to a little more, and so to the discovery of actual and provable influences. Perhaps one day the cord connecting the temple with Ephesus was drawn TIGHT and it was found that messages could be, by tapping, transmitted along it. That way lay the discovery of a fact. In an age which worshiped fertility, whether in mankind or animals, TWINS were ever counted especially blest, and were credited with a magic power. (The Constellation of the Twins was thought peculiarly lucky.) Perhaps after a time it was discovered that twins sometimes run in families, and in such cases really do bring fertility with them. In cattle it is known nowadays that there are more twins of the female sex than of the male sex. (3) (1) Primitive Culture, vol. i, p. 106. (2) See The Golden Bough, i, 127. (3) See Evolution of Sex, by Geddes and Thomson (1901), p. 41, note. Observations of this kind were naturally made by the ablest members of the tribe--who were in all probability the medicine-men and wizards--and brought in consequence power into their hands. The road to power in fact--and especially was this the case in societies which had not yet developed wealth and property--lay through Magic. As far as magic represented early superstition land religion it laid hold of the HEARTS of men--their hopes and fears; as far as it represented science and the beginnings of actual knowledge, it inspired their minds with a sense of power, and gave form to their lives and customs. We have no reason to suppose that the early magicians and medicine-men were peculiarly wicked or bent on mere self-aggrandizement--any more than we have to think the same of the average country vicar or country doctor of to-day. They were merely men a trifle wiser or more instructed than their flocks. But though probably in most cases their original intentions were decent enough, they were not proof against the temptations which the possession of power always brings, and as time went on they became liable to trade more and more upon this power for their own advancement. In the matter of Religion the history of the Christian priesthood through the centuries shows sufficiently to what misuse such power can be put; and in the matter of Science it is a warning to us of the dangers attending the formation of a scientific priesthood, such as we see growing up around us to-day. In both cases--whether Science or Religion--vanity, personal ambition, lust of domination and a hundred other vices, unless corrected by a real devotion to the public good, may easily bring as many evils in their train as those they profess to cure. The Medicine-man, or Wizard, or Magician, or Priest, slowly but necessarily gathered power into his hands, and there is much evidence to show that in the case of many tribes at any rate, it was HE who became ultimate chief and leader and laid the foundations of Kingship. The Basileus was always a sacred personality, and often united in himself as head of the clan the offices of chief in warfare and leader in priestly rites--like Agamemnon in Homer, or Saul or David in the Bible. As a magician he had influence over the fertility of the earth and, like the blameless king in the Odyssey, under his sway "the dark earth beareth in season Barley and wheat, and the trees are laden with fruitage, and alway Yean unfailing the flocks, and the sea gives fish in abundance." (1) (1) Odyssey xix, 109 sq. Translation by H. B. Cotterill. As a magician too he was trusted for success in warfare; and Schoolcraft, in a passage quoted by Andrew Lang, (1) says of the Dacotah Indians "the war-chief who leads the party to war is always one of these medicine-men." This connection, however, by which the magician is transformed into the king has been abundantly studied, and need not be further dwelt upon here. And what of the transformation of the king into a god--or of the Magician or Priest directly into the same? Perhaps in order to appreciate this, one must make a further digression. For the early peoples there were, as it would appear, two main objects in life: (1) to promote fertility in cattle and crops, for food; and (2) to placate or ward off Death; and it seemed very obvious--even before any distinct figures of gods, or any idea of prayer, had arisen--to attain these objects by magic ritual. The rites of Baptism, of Initiation (or Confirmation) and the many ceremonies of a Second Birth, which we associate with fully-formed religions, did belong also to the age of Magic; and they all implied a belief in some kind of re-incarnation--in a life going forward continually and being renewed in birth again and again. It is curious that we find such a belief among the lowest savages even to-day. Dr. Frazer, speaking of the Central Australian tribes, says the belief is firmly rooted among them "that the human soul undergoes an endless series of re-incarnations--the living men and women of one generation being nothing but the spirits of their ancestors come to life again, and destined themselves to be reborn in the persons of their descendants. During the interval between two re-incarnations the souls live in their nanja spots, or local totem-centres, which are always natural objects such as trees or rocks. Each totem-clan has a number of such totem-centres scattered over the country. There the souls of the dead men and women of the totem, but no others, congregate, and are born again in human form when a favorable opportunity presents itself." (2) (1) Myth, Ritual and Religion, vol. i, p. 113. (2) The Golden Bough, vol. i, p. 96. And what the early people believed of the human spirit, they believed of the corn-spirits and the tree and vegetation spirits also. At the great Spring-ritual among the primitive Greeks "the tribe and the growing earth were renovated together: the earth arises afresh from her dead seeds, the tribe from its dead ancestors." And the whole process projects itself in the idea of a spirit of the year, who "in the first stage is living, then dies with each year, and thirdly rises again from the dead, raising the whole dead world with him. The Greeks called him in this stage 'The Third One' (Tritos Soter) or 'the Saviour'; and the renovation ceremonies were accompanied by a casting-off of the old year, the old garments, and everything that is polluted by the infection of death." (1) Thus the multiplication of the crops and the renovation of the tribe, and at the same time the evasion and placation of death, were all assured by similar rites and befitting ceremonial magic. (2) (1) Gilbert Murray, Four Stages, p. 46. (2) It is interesting to find, with regard to the renovation of the tribe, that among the Central Australians the foreskins or male members of those who died were deposited in the above-mentioned nanja spots--the idea evidently being that like the seeds of the corn the seeds of the human crop must be carefully and ceremonially preserved for their re-incarnation. In all these cases, and many others that I have not mentioned--of the magical worship of Bulls and Bears and Rams and Cats and Emus and Kangaroos, of Trees and Snakes, of Sun and Moon and Stars, and the spirit of the Corn in its yearly and miraculous resurrection out of the ground--there is still the same idea or moving inspiration, the sense mentioned in the foregoing chapter, the feeling (hardly yet conscious of its own meaning) of intimate relationship and unity with all this outer world, the instinctive conviction that the world can be swayed by the spirit of Man, if the man can only find the right ritual, the right word, the right spell, wherewith to move it. An aura of emotion surrounded everything--of terror, of tabu, of fascination, of desire. The world, to these people, was transparent with presences related to themselves; and though hunger and sex may have been the dominant and overwhelmingly practical needs of their life, yet their outlook on the world was essentially poetic and imaginative. Moreover it will be seen that in this age of magic and the belief in spirits, though there was an intense sense of every thing being alive, the gods, in the more modern sense of the world, hardly existed (1)--that is, there was no very clear vision, to these people, of supra-mundane beings, sitting apart and ordaining the affairs of earth, as it were from a distance. Doubtless this conception was slowly evolving, but it was only incipient. For the time being--though there might be orders and degrees of spirits (and of gods)--every such being was only conceived of, and could only be conceived of, as actually a part of Nature, dwelling in and interlaced with some phenomenon of Earth and Sky, and having no separate existence. (1) For a discussion of the evolution of RELIGION out of MAGIC, see Westermarck's Origin of Moral Ideas, ch. 47. How was it then, it will be asked, that the belief in separate and separable gods and goddesses--each with his or her well-marked outline and character and function, like the divinities of Greece, or of India, or of the Egyptian or Christian religions, ultimately arose? To this question Jane Harrison (in her Themis and other books) gives an ingenious answer, which as it chimes in with my own speculations (in the Art of Creation and elsewhere) I am inclined to adopt. It is that the figures of the supranatural gods arose from a process in the human mind similar to that which the photographer adopts when by photographing a number of faces on the same plate, and so superposing their images on one another, he produces a so-called "composite" photograph or image. Thus, in the photographic sphere, the portraits of a lot of members of the same family superposed upon one another may produce a composite image or ideal of that family type, or the portraits of a number of Aztecs or of a number of Apache Indians the ideals respectively of the Aztec or of the Apache types. And so in the mental sphere of each member of a tribe the many images of the well-known Warriors or Priests or wise and gracious Women of that tribe did inevitably combine at last to composite figures of gods and goddesses--on whom the enthusiasm and adoration of the tribe was concentrated. (1) Miss Harrison has ingeniously suggested how the leading figures in the magic rituals of the past--being the figures on which all eyes would be concentrated; and whose importance would be imprinted on every mind--lent themselves to this process. The suffering Victim, bound and scourged and crucified, recurring year after year as the centre-figure of a thousand ritual processions, would at last be dramatized and idealized in the great race-consciousness into the form of a Suffering God--a Jesus Christ or a Dionysus or Osiris--dismembered or crucified for the salvation of mankind. The Priest or Medicine-Man--or rather the succession of Priests or Medicine-Men--whose figures would recur again and again as leaders and ordainers of the ceremonies, would be glorified at last into the composite-image of a God in whom were concentrated all magic powers. "Recent researches," says Gilbert Murray, "have shown us in abundance the early Greek medicine-chiefs making thunder and lightning and rain." Here is the germ of a Zeus or a Jupiter. The particular medicine-man may fail; that does not so much matter; he is only the individual representative of the glorified and composite being who exists in the mind of the tribe (just as a present-day King may be unworthy, but is surrounded all the same by the agelong glamour of Royalty). "The real [gr qeos], tremendous, infallible, is somewhere far away, hidden in clouds perhaps, on the summit of some inaccessible mountain. If the mountain is once climbed the god will move to the upper sky. The medicine-chief meanwhile stays on earth, still influential. He has some connection with the great god more intimate than that of other men... he knows the rules for approaching him and making prayers to him." (2) Thus did the Medicine-man, or Priest, or Magician (for these are but three names for one figure) represent one step in the evolution of the god. (1) See The Art of Creation, ch. viii, "The Gods as Apparitions of the Race-Life." (2) The Four Stages, p. 140. And farther back still in the evolutionary process we may trace (as in chapter iv above) the divinization or deification of four-footed animals and birds and snakes and trees and the like, from the personification of the collective emotion of the tribe towards these creatures. For people whose chief food was bear-meat, for instance, whose totem was a bear, and who believed themselves descended from an ursine ancestor, there would grow up in the tribal mind an image surrounded by a halo of emotions--emotions of hungry desire, of reverence, fear, gratitude and so forth--an image of a divine Bear in whom they lived and moved and had their being. For another tribe or group in whose yearly ritual a Bull or a Lamb or a Kangaroo played a leading part there would in the same way spring tip the image of a holy bull, a divine lamb, or a sacred kangaroo. Another group again might come to worship a Serpent as its presiding genius, or a particular kind of Tree, simply because these objects were and had been for centuries prominent factors in its yearly and seasonal Magic. As Reinach and others suggest, it was the Taboo (bred by Fear) which by first forbidding contact with the totem-animal or priest or magician-chief gradually invested him with Awe and Divinity. According to this theory the god--the full-grown god in human shape, dwelling apart and beyond the earth--did not come first, but was a late and more finished product of evolution. He grew up by degrees and out of the preceding animal-worships and totem-systems. And this theory is much supported and corroborated by the fact that in a vast number of early cults the gods are represented by human figures with animal heads. The Egyptian religion was full of such divinities--the jackal-headed Anubis, the ram-headed Ammon, the bull-fronted Osiris, or Muth, queen of darkness, clad in a vulture's skin; Minos and the Minotaur in Crete; in Greece, Athena with an owl's head, or Herakles masked in the hide and jaws of a monstrous lion. What could be more obvious than that, following on the tribal worship of any totem-animal, the priest or medicine-man or actual king in leading the magic ritual should don the skin and head of that animal, and wear the same as a kind of mask--this partly in order to appear to the people as the true representative of the totem, and partly also in order to obtain from the skin the magic virtues and mana of the beast, which he could then duly impart to the crowd? Zeus, it must be remembered, wears the aegis, or goat-skin--said to be the hide of the goat Amaltheia who suckled him in his infancy; there are a number of legends which connected the Arcadian Artemis with the worship of the bear, Apollo with the wolf, and so forth. And, most curious as showing similarity of rites between the Old and New Worlds, there are found plenty of examples of the wearing of beast-masks in religious processions among the native tribes of both North and South America. In the Atlas of Spix and Martius (who travelled together in the Amazonian forests about 1820) there is an understanding and characteristic picture of the men (and some women) of the tribe of the Tecunas moving in procession through the woods mostly naked, except for wearing animal heads and masks--the masks representing Cranes of various kinds, Ducks, the Opossum, the Jaguar, the Parrot, etc., probably symbolic of their respective clans. By some such process as this, it may fairly be supposed, the forms of the Gods were slowly exhaled from the actual figures of men and women, of youths and girls, who year after year took part in the ancient rituals. Just as the Queen of the May or Father Christmas with us are idealized forms derived from the many happy maidens or white-bearded old men who took leading parts in the May or December mummings and thus gained their apotheosis in our literature and tradition--so doubtless Zeus with his thunderbolts and arrows of lightning is the idealization into Heaven of the Priestly rain-maker and storm-controller; Ares the god of War, the similar idealization of the leading warrior in the ritual war-dance preceding an attack on a neighboring tribe; and Mercury of the foot-running Messenger whose swiftness in those days (devoid of steam or electricity) was so precious a tribal possession. And here it must be remembered that this explanation of the genesis of the gods only applies to the SHAPES and FIGURES of the various deities. It does not apply to the genesis of the widespread belief in spirits or a Great Spirit generally; that, as I think will become clear, has quite another source. Some people have jeered at the 'animistic' or 'anthropomorphic' tendency of primitive man in his contemplation of the forces of Nature or his imaginations of religion and the gods. With a kind of superior pity they speak of "the poor Indian whose untutored mind sees God in clouds and hears him in the wind." But I must confess that to me the "poor Indian" seems on the whole to show more good sense than his critics, and to have aimed his rude arrows at the philosophic mark more successfully than a vast number of his learned and scientific successors. A consideration of what we have said above would show that early people felt their unity with Nature so deeply and intimately that--like the animals themselves--they did not think consciously or theorize about it. It was just their life to be--like the beasts of the field and the trees of the forest--a part of the whole flux of things, non-differentiated so to speak. What more natural or indeed more logically correct than for them to assume (when they first began to think or differentiate themselves) that these other creatures, these birds, beasts and plants, and even the sun and moon, were of the same blood as themselves, their first cousins, so to speak, and having the same interior nature? What more reasonable (if indeed they credited THEMSELVES with having some kind of soul or spirit) than to credit these other creatures with a similar soul or spirit? Im Thurn, speaking of the Guiana Indians, says that for them "the whole world swarms with beings." Surely this could not be taken to indicate an untutored mind--unless indeed a mind untutored in the nonsense of the Schools--but rather a very directly perceptive mind. And again what more reasonable (seeing that these people themselves were in the animal stage of evolution) than that they should pay great reverence to some ideal animal--first cousin or ancestor--who played an important part in their tribal existence, and make of this animal a totem emblem and a symbol of their common life? And, further still, what more natural than that when the tribe passed to some degree beyond the animal stage and began to realize a life more intelligent and emotional--more specially human in fact--than that of the beasts of the field, that it should then in its rituals and ceremonies throw off the beast-mask and pay reverence to the interior and more human spirit. Rising to a more enlightened consciousness of its own intimate quality, and still deeply penetrated with the sense of its kinship to external nature, it would inevitably and perfectly logically credit the latter with an inner life and intelligence, more distinctly human than before. Its religion in fact would become MORE 'anthropomorphic' instead of less so; and one sees that this is a process that is inevitable; and inevitable notwithstanding a certain parenthesis in the process, due to obvious elements in our 'Civilization' and to the temporary and fallacious domination of a leaden-eyed so-called 'Science.' According to this view the true evolution of Religion and Man's outlook on the world has proceeded not by the denial by man of his unity with the world, but by his seeing and understanding that unity more deeply. And the more deeply he understands himself the more certainly he will recognize in the external world a Being or beings resembling himself. W. H. Hudson--whose mind is certainly not of a quality to be jeered at--speaks of Animism as "the projection of ourselves into nature: the sense and apprehension of an intelligence like our own, but more powerful, in all visible things"; and continues, "old as I am this same primitive faculty which manifested itself in my early boyhood, still persists, and in those early years was so powerful that I am almost afraid to say how deeply I was moved by it." (1) Nor will it be quite forgotten that Shelley once said:-- The moveless pillar of a mountain's weight Is active living spirit. Every grain Is sentient both in unity and part, And the minutest atom comprehends A world of loves and hatreds. (1) Far Away and Long Ago, ch. xiii, p. 225. The tendency to animism and later to anthropomorphism is I say inevitable, and perfectly logical. But the great value of the work done by some of those investigators whom I have quoted has been to show that among quite primitive people (whose interior life and 'soul-sense' was only very feeble) their projections of intelligence into Nature were correspondingly feeble. The reflections of themselves projected into the world beyond could not reach the stature of eternal 'gods,' but were rather of the quality of ephemeral phantoms and ghosts; and the ceremonials and creeds of that period are consequently more properly described as, Magic than as Religion. There have indeed been great controversies as to whether there has or has not been, in the course of religious evolution, a PRE-animistic stage. Probably of course human evolution in this matter must have been perfectly continuous from stages presenting the very feeblest or an absolutely deficient animistic sense to the very highest manifestations of anthropomorphism; but as there is a good deal of evidence to show that ANIMALS (notably dogs and horses) see ghosts, the inquiry ought certainly to be enlarged so far as to include the pre-human species. Anyhow it must be remembered that the question is one of CONSCIOUSNESS--that is, of how far and to what degree consciousness of self has been developed in the animal or the primitive man or the civilized man, and therefore how far and to what degree the animal or human creature has credited the outside world with a similar consciousness. It is not a question of whether there IS an inner life and SUB-consciousness common to all these creatures of the earth and sky, because that, I take it, is a fact beyond question; they all emerge or have emerged from the same matrix, and are rooted in identity; but it is a question of how far they are AWARE of this, and how far by separation (which is the genius of evolution) each individual creature has become conscious of the interior nature both of itself and of the other creatures AND of the great whole which includes them all. Finally, and to avoid misunderstanding, let me say that Anthropomorphism, in man's conception of the gods, is itself of course only a stage and destined to pass away. In so far, that is, as the term indicates a belief in divine beings corresponding to our PRESENT conception of ourselves--that is as separate personalities having each a separate and limited character and function, and animated by the separatist motives of ambition, possession, power, vainglory, superiority, patronage, self-greed, self-satisfaction, etc.--in so far as anthropomorphism is the expression of that kind of belief it is of course destined, with the illusion from which it springs, to pass away. When man arrives at the final consciousness in which the idea of such a self, superior or inferior or in any way antagonistic to others, ceases to operate, then he will return to his first and primal condition, and will cease to need ANY special religion or gods, knowing himself and all his fellows to be divine and the origin and perfect fruition of all. VII. RITES OF EXPIATION AND REDEMPTION There is a passage in Richard Jefferies' imperishably beautiful book The Story of my Heart--a passage well known to all lovers of that prose-poet--in which he figures himself standing "in front of the Royal Exchange where the wide pavement reaches out like a promontory," and pondering on the vast crowd and the mystery of life. "Is there any theory, philosophy, or creed," he says, "is there any system of culture, any formulated method, able to meet and satisfy each separate item of this agitated pool of human life? By which they may be guided, by which they may hope, by which look forward? Not a mere illusion of the craving heart--something real, as real as the solid walls of fact against which, like seaweed, they are dashed; something to give each separate personality sunshine and a flower in its own existence now; something to shape this million-handed labor to an end and outcome that will leave more sunshine and more flowers to those who must succeed? Something real now, and not in the spirit-land; in this hour now, as I stand and the sun burns.... Full well aware that all has failed, yet, side by side with the sadness of that knowledge, there lives on in me an unquenchable belief, thought burning like the sun, that there is yet something to be found.... It must be dragged forth by the might of thought from the immense forces of the universe." In answer to this passage we may say "No,--a thousand times No! there is no theory, philosophy, creed, system or formulated method which will meet or ever satisfy the demand of each separate item of the human whirlpool." And happy are we to know there is no such thing! How terrible if one of these bloodless 'systems' which strew the history of religion and philosophy and the political and social paths of human endeavor HAD been found absolutely correct and universally applicable--so that every human being would be compelled to pass through its machine-like maw, every personality to be crushed under its Juggernath wheels! No, thank Heaven! there is no theory or creed or system; and yet there is something--as Jefferies prophetically felt and with a great longing desired--that CAN satisfy; and that, the root of all religion, has been hinted at in the last chapter. It is the CONSCIOUSNESS of the world-life burning, blazing, deep down within us: it is the Soul's intuition of its roots in Omnipresence and Eternity. The gods and the creeds of the past, as shown in the last chapter--whatever they may have been, animistic or anthropomorphic or transcendental, whether grossly brutish or serenely ideal and abstract--are essentially projections of the human mind; and no doubt those who are anxious to discredit the religious impulse generally will catch at this, saying "Yes, they are mere forms and phantoms of the mind, ephemeral dreams, projected on the background of Nature, and having no real substance or solid value. The history of Religion (they will say) is a history of delusion and illusion; why waste time over it? These divine grizzly Bears or Aesculapian Snakes, these cat-faced Pashts, this Isis, queen of heaven, and Astarte and Baal and Indra and Agni and Kali and Demeter and the Virgin Mary and Apollo and Jesus Christ and Satan and the Holy Ghost, are only shadows cast outwards onto a screen; the constitution of the human mind makes them all tend to be anthropomorphic; but that is all; they each and all inevitably pass away. Why waste time over them?" And this is in a sense a perfectly fair way of looking at the matter. These gods and creeds ARE only projections of the human mind. But all the same it misses, does this view, the essential fact. It misses the fact that there is no shadow without a fire, that the very existence of a shadow argues a light somewhere (though we may not directly see it) as well as the existence of a solid form which intercepts that light. Deep, deep in the human mind there is that burning blazing light of the world-consciousness--so deep indeed that the vast majority of individuals are hardly aware of its existence. Their gaze turned outwards is held and riveted by the gigantic figures and processions passing across their sky; they are unaware that the latter are only shadows--silhouettes of the forms inhabiting their own minds. (1) The vast majority of people have never observed their own minds; their own mental forms. They have only observed the reflections cast by these. Thus it may be said, in this matter, that there are three degrees of reality. There are the mere shadows--the least real and most evanescent; there are the actual mental outlines of humanity (and of the individual), much more real, but themselves also of course slowly changing; and most real of all, and permanent, there is the light "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world"--the glorious light of the world-consciousness. Of this last it may be said that it never changes. Every thing is known to it--even the very IMPEDIMENTS to its shining. But as it is from the impediments to the shining of a light that shadows are cast, so we now may understand that the things of this world and of humanity, though real in their degree, have chiefly a kind of negative value; they are opaquenesses, clouds, materialisms, ignorances, and the inner light falling upon them gradually reveals their negative character and gradually dissolves them away till they are lost in the extreme and eternal Splendor. I think Jefferies, when he asked that question with which I have begun this chapter, was in some sense subconsciously, if not quite consciously, aware of the answer. His frequent references to the burning blazing sun throughout The Story of the Heart seem to be an indication of his real deep-down attitude of mind. (1) See, in the same connection, Plato's allegory of the Cave, Republic, Book vii. The shadow-figures of the creeds and theogonies pass away truly like ephemeral dreams; but to say that time spent in their study is wasted, is a mistake, for they have value as being indications of things much more real than themselves, namely, of the stages of evolution of the human mind. The fact that a certain god-figure, however grotesque and queer, or a certain creed, however childish, cruel, and illogical, held sway for a considerable time over the hearts of men in any corner or continent of the world is good evidence that it represented a real formative urge at the time in the hearts of those good people, and a definite stage in their evolution and the evolution of humanity. Certainly it was destined to pass away, but it was a step, and a necessary step in the great process; and certainly it was opaque and brutish, but it is through the opaque things of the world, and not through the transparent, that we become aware of the light. It may be worth while to give instances of how some early rituals and creeds, in themselves apparently barbarous or preposterous, were really the indications of important moral and social conceptions evolving in the heart of man. Let us take, first, the religious customs connected with the ideas of Sacrifice and of Sin, of which such innumerable examples are now to be found in the modern books on Anthropology. If we assume, as I have done more than once, that the earliest state of Man was one in which he did not consciously separate himself from the world, animate and inanimate, which surrounded him, then (as I have also said) it was perfectly natural for him to take some animal which bulked large on his horizon--some food-animal for instance--and to pay respect to it as the benefactor of his tribe, its far-back ancestor and totem-symbol; or, seeing the boundless blessing of the cornfields, to believe in some kind of spirit of the corn (not exactly a god but rather a magical ghost) which, reincarnated every year, sprang up to save mankind from famine. But then no sooner had he done this than he was bound to perceive that in cutting down the corn or in eating his totem-bear or kangaroo he was slaying his own best self and benefactor. In that instant the consciousness of DISUNITY, the sense of sin in some undefined yet no less disturbing and alarming form would come in. If, before, his ritual magic had been concentrated on the simple purpose of multiplying the animal or, vegetable forms of his food, now in addition his magical endeavor would be turned to averting the just wrath of the spirits who animated these forms--just indeed, for the rudest savage would perceive the wrong done and the probability of its retribution. Clearly the wrong done could only be expiated by an equivalent sacrifice of some kind on the part of the man, or the tribe--that is by the offering to the totem-animal or to the corn-spirit of some victim whom these nature powers in their turn could feed upon and assimilate. In this way the nature-powers would be appeased, the sense of unity would be restored, and the first At-one-ment effected. It is hardly necessary to recite in any detail the cruel and hideous sacrifices which have been perpetrated in this sense all over the world, sometimes in appeasement of a wrong committed or supposed to have been committed by the tribe or some member of it, sometimes in placation or for the averting of death, or defeat, or plague, sometimes merely in fulfilment of some long-standing custom of forgotten origin--the flayings and floggings and burnings and crucifixions of victims without end, carried out in all deliberation and solemnity of established ritual. I have mentioned some cases connected with the sowing of the corn. The Bible is full of such things, from the intended sacrifice of Isaac by his father Abraham, to the actual crucifixion of Jesus by the Jews. The first-born sons were claimed by a god who called himself "jealous" and were only to be redeemed by a substitute. (1) Of the Canaanites it was said that "even their daughters they have BURNT in the fire to their gods"; (2) and of the King of Moab, that when he saw his army in danger of defeat, "he took his eldest son that should have reigned in his stead and offered him for a burnt-offering on the wall!" (3) Dr. Frazer (4) mentions the similar case of the Carthaginians (about B.C. 300) sacrificing two hundred children of good family as a propitiation to Baal and to save their beloved city from the assaults of the Sicilian tyrant Agathocles. And even so we hear that on that occasion three hundred more young folk VOLUNTEERED to die for the fatherland. (1) Exodus xxxiv. 20. (2) Deut. xii. 31. (3) 2 Kings iii. 27. (4) The Golden Bough, vol. "The Dying God," p. 167. The awful sacrifices made by the Aztecs in Mexico to their gods Huitzilopochtli, Texcatlipoca, and others are described in much detail by Sahagun, the Spanish missionary of the sixteenth century. The victims were mostly prisoners of war or young children; they were numbered by thousands. In one case Sahagun describes the huge Idol or figure of the god as largely plated with gold and holding his hands palm upward and in a downward sloping position over a cauldron or furnace placed below. The children, who had previously been borne in triumphal state on litters over the crowd and decorated with every ornamental device of feathers and flowers and wings, were placed one by one on the vast hands and ROLLED DOWN into the flames--as if the god were himself offering them. (1) As the procession approached the temple, the members of it wept and danced and sang, and here again the abundance of tears was taken for a good augury of rain. (2) (1) It is curious to find that exactly the same story (of the sloping hands and the children rolled down into the flames) is related concerning the above-mentioned Baal image at Carthage (see Diodorus Siculus, xx. 14; also Baring Gould's Religious Belief, vol. i, p. 375). (2) "A los ninos que mataban, componianlos en muchos atavios para llevarlos al sacrificio, y llevabos en unas literas sobre los hombros, estas literas iban adornadas con plumages y con flores: iban tanendo, cantando y bailando delante de ellos... Cuando Ileviban los ninos a matar, si llevaban y echaban muchos lagrimas, alegrabansi los que los llevaban porque tomaban pronostico de que habian de tener muchas aguas en aquel ano." Sahagun, Historia Nueva Espana, Bk. II, ch. i. Bernal Diaz describes how he saw one of these monstrous figures--that of Huitzilopochtli, the god of war, all inlaid with gold and precious stones; and beside it were "braziers, wherein burned the hearts of three Indians, torn from their bodies that very day, and the smoke of them and the savor of incense were the sacrifice." Sahagun again (in Book II, ch. 5) gives a long account of the sacrifice of a perfect youth at Easter-time--which date Sabagun connects with the Christian festival of the Resurrection. For a whole year the youth had been held in honor and adored by the people as the very image of the god (Tetzcatlipoca) to whom he was to be sacrificed. Every luxury and fulfilment of his last wish (including such four courtesans as he desired) had been granted him. At the last and on the fatal day, leaving his companions and his worshipers behind, be slowly ascended the Temple staircase; stripping on each step the ornaments from his body; and breaking and casting away his flutes and other musical instruments; till, reaching the summit, he was stretched, curved on his back, and belly upwards, over the altar stone, while the priest with obsidian knife cut his breast open and, snatching the heart out, held it up, yet beating, as an offering to the Sun. In the meantime, and while the heart still lived, his successor for the next year was chosen. In Book II, ch. 7 of the same work Sahagun describes the similar offering of a woman to a goddess. In both cases (he explains) of young man or young woman, the victims were richly adorned in the guise of the god or goddess to whom they were offered, and at the same time great largesse of food was distributed to all who needed. (Here we see the connection in the general mind between the gift of food (by the gods) and the sacrifice of precious blood (by the people).) More than once Sahagun mentions that the victims in these Mexican ceremonials not infrequently offered THEMSELVES as a voluntary sacrifice; and Prescott says (1) that the offering of one's life to the gods was "sometimes voluntarily embraced, as a most glorious death opening a sure passage into Paradise." (1) Conquest of Mexico, Bk. I, ch. 3. Dr. Frazer describes (1) the far-back Babylonian festival of the Sacaea in which "a prisoner, condemned to death, was dressed in the king's robes, seated on the king's throne, allowed to issue whatever commands he pleased, to eat, drink and enjoy himself, and even to lie with the king's concubines." But at the end of the five days he was stripped of his royal robes, scourged, and hanged or impaled. It is certainly astonishing to find customs so similar prevailing among peoples so far removed in space and time as the Aztecs of the sixteenth century A.D. and the Babylonians perhaps of the sixteenth century B.C. But we know that this subject of the yearly sacrifice of a victim attired as a king or god is one that Dr. Frazer has especially made his own, and for further information on it his classic work should be consulted. (1) Golden Bough, "The Dying God," p. 114. (See also S. Reinach, Cults, Myths and Religion, p. 94) on the martyrdom of St. Dasius. Andrew Lang also, with regard to the Aztecs, quotes largely from Sahagun, and summarizes his conclusions in the following passage: "The general theory of worship was the adoration of a deity, first by innumerable human sacrifices, next by the special sacrifice of a MAN for the male gods, of a WOMAN for each goddess. (1) The latter victims were regarded as the living images or incarnations of the divinities in, each case; for no system of worship carried farther the identification of the god with the sacrifice (? victim), and of both with the officiating pri connection was emphasized by the priests wearing the newly-flayed skins of the victims--just as in Greece, Egypt and Assyria, the fawn-skin or bull-hide or goat-skin or fish-skin of the victims is worn by the celebrants. Finally, an image of the god was made out of paste, and this was divided into morsels and eaten in a hideous sacrament by those who communicated." (2) (1) Compare the festival of Thargelia at Athens, originally connected with the ripening of the crops. A procession was formed and the first fruits of the year offered to Apollo, Artemis and the Horae. It was an expiatory feast, to purify the State from all guilt and avert the wrath of the god (the Sun). A man and a woman, as representing the male and female population, were led about with a garland of figs (fertility) round their necks, to the sound of flutes and singing. They were then scourged, sacrificed, and their bodies burned by the seashore. (Nettleship and Sandys.) (2) A Lang, Myth, Ritual and Religion, vol. ii, p. 97. Revolting as this whole picture is, it represents as we know a mere thumbnail sketch of the awful practices of human sacrifice all over the world. We hold up our hands in horror at the thought of Huitzilopochtli dropping children from his fingers into the flames, but we have to remember that our own most Christian Saint Augustine was content to describe unbaptized infants as crawling for ever about the floor of Hell! What sort of god, we may ask, did Augustine worship? The Being who could condemn children to such a fate was certainly no better than the Mexican Idol. And yet Augustine was a great and noble man, with some by no means unworthy conceptions of the greatness of his God. In the same way the Aztecs were in many respects a refined and artistic people, and their religion was not all superstition and bloodshed. Prescott says of them (1) that they believed in a supreme Creator and Lord "omnipresent, knowing all thoughts, giving all gifts, without whom Man is as nothing--invisible, incorporeal, one God, of perfect perfection and purity, under whose wings we find repose and a sure defence." How can we reconcile St. Augustine with his own devilish creed, or the religious belief of the Aztecs with their unspeakable cruelties? Perhaps we can only reconcile them by remembering out of what deeps of barbarism and what nightmares of haunting Fear, man has slowly emerged--and is even now only slowly emerging; by remembering also that the ancient ceremonies and rituals of Magic and Fear remained on and were cultivated by the multitude in each nation long after the bolder and nobler spirits had attained to breathe a purer air; by remembering that even to the present day in each individual the Old and the New are for a long period thus intricately intertangled. It is hard to believe that the practice of human and animal sacrifice (with whatever revolting details) should have been cultivated by nine-tenths of the human race over the globe out of sheer perversity and without some reason which at any rate to the perpetrators themselves appeared commanding and convincing. To-day (1918) we are witnessing in the Great European War a carnival of human slaughter which in magnitude and barbarity eclipses in one stroke all the accumulated ceremonial sacrifices of historical ages; and when we ask the why and wherefore of this horrid spectacle we are told, apparently in all sincerity, and by both the parties engaged, of the noble objects and commanding moralities which inspire and compel it. We can hardly, in this last case, disbelieve altogether in the genuineness of the plea, so why should we do so in the former case? In both cases we perceive that underneath the surface pretexts and moralities Fear is and was the great urging and commanding force. (1) Conquest of Mexico, Bk. I, ch. 3. The truth is that Sin and Sacrifice represent--if you once allow for the overwhelming sway of fear--perfectly reasonable views of human conduct, adopted instinctively by mankind since the earliest times. If in a moment of danger or an access of selfish greed you deserted your brother tribesman or took a mean advantage of him, you 'sinned' against him; and naturally you expiated the sin by an equivalent sacrifice of some kind made to the one you had wronged. Such an idea and such a practice were the very foundation of social life and human morality, and must have sprung up as soon as ever, in the course of evolution, man became CAPABLE of differentiating himself from his fellows and regarding his own conduct as that of a 'separate self.' It was in the very conception of a separate self that 'sin' and disunity first began; and it was by 'sacrifice' that unity and harmony were restored, appeasement and atonement effected. But in those earliest times, as I have already indicated more than once, man felt himself intimately related not only to his brother tribesman, but to the animals and to general Nature. It was not so much that he THOUGHT thus as that he never thought OTHERWISE! He FELT subconsciously that he was a part of all this outer world. And so he adopted for his totems or presiding spirits every possible animal, as we have seen, and all sorts of nature-phenomena, such as rain and fire and water and clouds, and sun, moon and stars--which WE consider quite senseless and inanimate. Towards these apparently senseless things therefore he felt the same compunction as I have described him feeling towards his brother tribesmen. He could sin against them too. He could sin against his totem-animal by eating it; he could sin against his 'brother the ox' by consuming its strength in the labor of the plough; he could sin against the corn by cutting it down and grinding it into flour, or against the precious and beautiful pine-tree by laying his axe to its roots and converting it into mere timber for his house. Further still, no doubt he could sin against elemental nature. This might be more difficult to be certain of, but when the signs of elemental displeasure were not to be mistaken--when the rain withheld itself for months, or the storms and lightning dealt death and destruction, when the crops failed or evil plagues afflicted mankind--then there could be little uncertainty that he had sinned; and Fear, which had haunted him like a demon from the first day when he became conscious of his separation from his fellows and from Nature, stood over him and urged to dreadful propitiations. In all these cases some sacrifice in reparation was the obvious thing. We have seen that to atone for the cutting-down of the corn a human victim would often be slaughtered. The corn-spirit clearly approved of this, for wherever the blood and remains of the victim were strewn the corn always sprang up more plentifully. The tribe or human group made reparation thus to the corn; the corn-spirit signified approval. The 'sin' was expiated and harmony restored. Sometimes the sacrifice was voluntarily offered by a tribesman; sometimes it was enforced, by lot or otherwise; sometimes the victim was a slave, or a captive enemy; sometimes even an animal. All that did not so much matter. The main thing was that the formal expiation had been carried out, and the wrath of the spirits averted. It is known that tribes whose chief food-animal was the bear felt it necessary to kill and cat a bear occasionally; but they could not do this without a sense of guilt, and some fear of vengeance from the great Bear-spirit. So they ate the slain bear at a communal feast in which the tribesmen shared the guilt and celebrated their community with their totem and with each other. And since they could not make any reparation directly to the slain animal itself AFTER its death, they made their reparation BEFORE, bringing all sorts of presents and food to it for a long anterior period, and paying every kind of worship and respect to it. The same with the bull and the ox. At the festival of the Bouphonia, in some of the cities of Greece as I have already mentioned, the actual bull sacrificed was the handsomest and most carefully nurtured that could be obtained; it was crowned with flowers and led in procession with every mark of reverence and worship. And when--as I have already pointed out--at the great Spring festival, instead of a bull or a goat or a ram, a HUMAN victim was immolated, it was a custom (which can be traced very widely over the world) to feed and indulge and honor the victim to the last degree for a WHOLE YEAR before the final ceremony, arraying him often as a king and placing a crown upon his head, by way of acknowledgment of the noble and necessary work he was doing for the general good. What a touching and beautiful ceremony was that--belonging especially to the North of Syria, and lands where the pine is so beneficent and beloved a tree--the mourning ceremony of the death and burial of Attis! when a pine-tree, felled by the axe, was hollowed out, and in the hollow an image (often itself carved out of pinewood) of the young Attis was placed. Could any symbolism express more tenderly the idea that the glorious youth--who represented Spring, too soon slain by the rude tusk of Winter--was himself the very human soul of the pine-tree? (1) At some earlier period, no doubt, a real youth had been sacrificed and his body bound within the pine; but now it was deemed sufficient for the maidens to sing their wild songs of lamentation; and for the priests and male enthusiasts to cut and gash themselves with knives, or to sacrifice (as they did) to the Earth-mother the precious blood offering of their virile organs--symbols of fertility in return for the promised and expected renewal of Nature and the crops in the coming Spring. For the ceremony, as we have already seen, did not end with death and lamentation, but led on, perfectly naturally, after a day or two to a festival of resurrection, when it was discovered--just as in the case of Osiris--that the pine-tree coffin was empty, and the immortal life had flown. How strange the similarity and parallelism of all these things to the story of Jesus in the Gospels--the sacrifice of a life made in order to bring salvation to men and expiation of sins, the crowning of the victim, and arraying in royal attire, the scourging and the mockery, the binding or nailing to a tree, the tears of Mary, and the resurrection and the empty coffin!--or how not at all strange when we consider in what numerous forms and among how many peoples, this same parable and ritual had as a matter of fact been celebrated, and how it had ultimately come down to bring its message of redemption into a somewhat obscure Syrian city, in the special shape with which we are familiar. (1) See Julius Firmicus, who says (De Errore, c. 28): "in sacris Phrygiis, quae Matris deum dicunt, per annos singulos arbor pinea caeditur, et in media arbore simulacrum uvenis subligatur. In Isiacis sacris de pinea arbore caeditur truncus; hujus trunci media pars subtiliter excavatur, illis de segminibus factum idolum Osiridis sepelitur. In Prosperpinae sacris caesa arbor in effigiem virginis formaraque componitur, et cum intra civitatem fuerit illata, quadraginta noctibus piangitur, quadragesima vero nocte comburitur." Though the parable or legend in its special Christian form bears with it the consciousness of the presence of beings whom we may call gods, it is important to remember that in many or most of its earlier forms, though it dealt in 'spirits'--the spirit of the corn, or the spirit of the Spring, or the spirits of the rain and the thunder, or the spirits of totem-animals--it had not yet quite risen to the idea of gods. It had not risen to the conception of eternal deities sitting apart and governing the world in solemn conclave--as from the slopes of Olympus or the recesses of the Christian Heaven. It belonged, in fact, in its inception, to the age of Magic. The creed of Sin and Sacrifice, or of Guilt and Expiation--whatever we like to call it--was evolved perfectly naturally out of the human mind when brought face to face with Life and Nature) at some early stage of its self-consciousness. It was essentially the result of man's deep, original and instinctive sense of solidarity with Nature, now denied and belied and to some degree broken up by the growth and conscious insistence of the self-regarding impulses. It was the consciousness of disharmony and disunity, causing men to feel all the more poignantly the desire and the need of reconciliation. It was a realization of union made clear by its very loss. It assumed of course, in a subconscious way as I have already indicated, that the external world was the HABITAT of a mind or minds similar to man's own; but THAT being granted, it is evident that the particular theories current in this or that place about the nature of the world--the theories, as we should say, of science or theology--did not alter the general outlines of the creed; they only colored its details and gave its ritual different dramatic settings. The mental attitudes, for instance, of Abraham sacrificing the ram, or of the Siberian angakout slaughtering a totem-bear, or of a modern and pious Christian contemplating the Saviour on the Cross are really almost exactly the same. I mention this because in tracing the origins or the evolution of religions it is important to distinguish clearly what is essential and universal from that which is merely local and temporary. Some people, no doubt, would be shocked at the comparisons just made; but surely it is much more inspiriting and encouraging to think that whatever progress HAS been made in the religious outlook of the world has come about through the gradual mental growth and consent of the peoples, rather than through some unique and miraculous event of a rather arbitrary and unexplained character--which indeed might never be repeated, and concerning which it would perhaps be impious to suggest that it SHOULD be repeated. The consciousness then of Sin (or of alienation from the life of the whole), and of restoration or redemption through Sacrifice, seems to have disclosed itself in the human race in very far-back times, and to have symbolized itself in some most ancient rituals; and if we are shocked sometimes at the barbarities which accompanied those rituals, yet we must allow that these barbarities show how intensely the early people felt the solemnity and importance of the whole matter; and we must allow too that the barbarities did sear and burn themselves into rude and ignorant minds with the sense of the NEED of Sacrifice, and with a result perhaps which could not have been compassed in any other way. For after all we see now that sacrifice is of the very essence of social life. "It is expedient that ONE man should die for the people"; and not only that one man should actually die, but (what is far more important) that each man should be ready and WILLING to die in that cause, when the occasion and the need arises. Taken in its larger meanings and implications Sacrifice, as conceived in the ancient world, was a perfectly reasonable thing. It SHOULD pervade modern life more than it does. All we have or enjoy flows from, or is implicated with, pain and suffering in others, and--if there is any justice in Nature or Humanity--it demands an equivalent readiness to suffer on our part. If Christianity has any real essence, that essence is perhaps expressed in some such ritual or practice of Sacrifice, and we see that the dim beginnings of this idea date from the far-back customs of savages coming down from a time anterior to all recorded history. VIII. PAGAN INITIATIONS AND THE SECOND BIRTH We have suggested in the last chapter how the conceptions of Sin and Sacrifice coming down to us from an extremely remote past, and embodied among the various peoples of the world sometimes in crude and bloodthirsty rites, sometimes in symbols and rituals of a gentler and more gracious character, descended at last into Christianity and became a part of its creed and of the creed of the modern world. On the whole perhaps we may trace a slow amelioration in this process and may flatter ourselves that the Christian centuries exhibit a more philosophical understanding of what Sin is, and a more humane conception of what Sacrifice SHOULD be, than the centuries preceding. But I fear that any very decided statement or sweeping generalization to that effect would be--to say the least--rash. Perhaps there IS a very slow amelioration; but the briefest glance at the history of the Christian churches--the horrible rancours and revenges of the clergy and the sects against each other in the fourth and fifth centuries A.D., the heresy-hunting crusades at Beziers and other places and the massacres of the Albigenses in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the witch-findings and burnings of the sixteenth and seventeenth, the hideous science-urged and bishop-blessed warfare of the twentieth--horrors fully as great as any we can charge to the account of the Aztecs or the Babylonians--must give us pause. Nor must we forget that if there is by chance a substantial amelioration in our modern outlook with regard to these matters the same had begun already before the advent of Christianity and can by no means be ascribed to any miraculous influence of that religion. Abraham was prompted to slay a ram as a substitute for his son, long before the Christians were thought of; the rather savage Artemis of the old Greek rites was (according to Pausanias) (1) honored by the yearly sacrifice of a perfect boy and girl, but later it was deemed sufficient to draw a knife across their throats as a symbol, with the result of spilling only a few drops of their blood, or to flog the boys (with the same result) upon her altar. Among the Khonds in old days many victims (meriahs) were sacrificed to the gods, "but in time the man was replaced by a horse, the horse by a bull, the bull by a ram, the ram by a kid, the kid by fowls, and the fowls by many flowers." (2) At one time, according to the Yajur-Veda, there was a festival at which one hundred and twenty-five victims, men and women, boys and girls, were sacrificed; "but reform supervened, and now the victims were bound as before to the stake, but afterwards amid litanies to the immolated (god) Narayana, the sacrificing priest brandished a knife and--severed the bonds of the captives." (3) At the Athenian festival of the Thargelia, to which I referred in the last chapter, it appears that the victims, in later times, instead of being slain, were tossed from a height into the sea, and after being rescued were then simply banished; while at Leucatas a similar festival the fall of the victim was graciously broken by tying feathers and even living birds to his body. (4) (1) vii. 19, and iii. 8, 16. (2) Primitive Folk, by Elie Reclus (Contemp. Science Series), p. 330. (3) Ibid. (4) Muller's Dorians Book II, ch. ii, par. 10. With the lapse of time and the general progress of mankind, we may, I think, perceive some such slow ameliorations in the matter of the brutality and superstition of the old religions. How far any later ameliorations were due to the direct influence of Christianity might be a difficult question; but what I think we can clearly see--and what especially interests us here--is that in respect to its main religious ideas, and the matter underlying them (exclusive of the MANNER of their treatment, which necessarily has varied among different peoples) Christianity is of one piece with the earlier pagan creeds and is for the most part a re-statement and renewed expression of world-wide doctrines whose first genesis is lost in the haze of the past, beyond all recorded history. I have illustrated this view with regard to the doctrine of Sin and Sacrifice. Let us take two or three other illustrations. Let us take the doctrine of Re-birth or Regeneration. The first few verses of St. John's Gospel are occupied with the subject of salvation through rebirth or regeneration. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."... "Except a man be born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." Our Baptismal Service begins by saying that "forasmuch as all men are conceived and born in sin; and that our Saviour Christ saith, None can enter into the kingdom of God except he be regenerate and born anew of water and the Holy Ghost"; therefore it is desirable that this child should be baptized, "received into Christ's Holy Church, and be made a lively member of the same." That, is to say, there is one birth, after the flesh, but a second birth is necessary, a birth after the Spirit and into the Church of Christ. Our Confirmation Service is simply a service repeating and confirming these views, at an age (fourteen to sixteen or so) when the boy or girl is capable of understanding what is being done. But our Baptismal and Confirmation ceremonies combined are clearly the exact correspondence and parallel of the old pagan ceremonies of Initiation, which are or have been observed in almost every primitive tribe over the world. "The rite of the second birth," says Jane Harrison, (1) "is widespread, universal, over half the savage world. With the savage to be twice-born is the rule. By his first birth he comes into the world; by his second he is born into his tribe. At his first birth he belongs to his mother and the women-folk; at his second he becomes a full-fledged man and passes into the society of the warriors of his tribe."... "These rites are very various, but they all point to one moral, that the former things are passed away and that the new-born man has entered upon a new life. Simplest of all, and most instructive, is the rite practised by the Kikuyu tribe of British East Africa, who require that every boy, just before circumcision, must be born again. The mother stands up with the boy crouching at her feet; she pretends to go through all the labour pains, and the boy on being reborn cries like a babe and is washed." (2) (1) Ancient Art and Ritual, p. 104. (2) See also Themis, p. 21. Let us pause for a moment. An Initiate is of course one who "enters in." He enters into the Tribe; he enters into the revelation of certain Mysteries; he becomes an associate of a certain Totem, a certain God; a member of a new Society, or Church--a church of Mithra, or Dionysus or Christ. To do any of these things he must be born again; he must die to the old life; he must pass through ceremonials which symbolize the change. One of these ceremonials is washing. As the new-born babe is washed, so must the new-born initiate be washed; and as by primitive man (and not without reason) BLOOD was considered the most vital and regenerative of fluids, the very elixir of life, so in earliest times it was common to wash the initiate with blood. If the initiate had to be born anew, it would seem reasonable to suppose that he must first die. So, not unfrequently, he was wounded, or scourged, and baptized with his own blood, or, in cases, one of the candidates was really killed and his blood used as a substitute for the blood of the others. No doubt HUMAN sacrifice attended the earliest initiations. But later it was sufficient to be half-drowned in the blood of a Bull as in the Mithra cult, (1) or 'washed in the blood of the Lamb' as in the Christian phraseology. Finally, with a growing sense of decency and aesthetic perception among the various peoples, washing with pure water came in the initiation-ceremonies to take the place of blood; and our baptismal service has reduced the ceremony to a mere sprinkling with water. (2) (1) See ch. iii. (2) For the virtue supposed to reside in blood see Westermarck's Moral Ideas, Ch. 46. To continue the quotation from Miss Harrison: "More often the new birth is stimulated, or imagined, as a death and a resurrection, either of the boys themselves or of some one else in their presence. Thus at initiation among some tribes of South-east Australia, when the boys are assembled an old man dressed in stringy bark-fibre lies down in a grave. He is covered up lightly with sticks and earth, and the grave is smoothed over. The buried man holds in his hand a small bush which seems to be growing from the ground, and other bushes are stuck in the ground round about. The novices are then brought to the edge of the grave and a song is sung. Gradually, as the song goes on, the bush held by the buried man begins to quiver. It moves more and more, and bit by bit the man himself starts up from the grave." Strange in our own Baptismal Service and just before the actual christening we read these words, "Then shall the Priest say: O merciful God, grant that old Adam in this child may be so BURIED that the new man may be raised up in him: grant that all carnal affections may die in him, and that all things belonging to the Spirit may live and grow in him!" Can we doubt that the Australian medicine-man, standing at the graveside of the re-arisen old black-fellow, pointed the same moral to the young initiates as the priest does to-day to those assembled before him in church--for indeed we know that among savage tribes initiations have always been before all things the occasions of moral and social teaching? Can we doubt that he said, in substance if not in actual words: "As this man has arisen from the grave, so you must also arise from your old childish life of amusement and self-gratification and, ENTER INTO the life of the tribe, the life of the Spirit of the tribe." "In totemistic societies," to quote Miss Harrison again, "and in the animal secret societies that seem to grow out of them, the novice is born again as THE SACRED ANIMAL. Thus among the Carrier Indians (1) when a man wants to become a Lulem or 'Bear,' however cold the season he tears off his clothes, puts on a bear-skin and dashes into the woods, where he will stay for three or four days. Every night his fellow-villagers will go out in search parties to find him. They cry out Yi! Kelulem (come on, Bear), and he answers with angry growls. Usually they fail to find him, but he comes back at last himself. He is met, and conducted to the ceremonial lodge, and there in company with the rest of the Bears dances solemnly his first appearance. Disappearance and reappearance is as common a rite in initiation as stimulated killing and resurrection, and has the same object. Both are rites of transition, of passing from one to another." In the Christian ceremonies the boy or girl puts away childish things and puts on the new man, but instead of putting on a bear-skin he puts on Christ. There is not so much difference as may appear on the surface. To be identified with your Totem is to be identified with the sacred being who watches over your tribe, who has given his life for your tribe; it is to be born again, to be washed not only with water but with the Holy Spirit of all your fellows. To be baptized into Christ ought to mean to be regenerated in the Holy Spirit of all humanity; and no doubt in cases it does mean this, but too often unfortunately it has only amounted to a pretence of religious sanction given to the meanest and bitterest quarrels of the Churches and the States. (1) Golden Bough, Section 2, III, p. 438. This idea of a New Birth at initiation explains the prevalent pagan custom of subjecting the initiates to serious ordeals, often painful and even dangerous. If one is to be born again, obviously one must be ready to face death; the one thing cannot be without the other. One must be able to endure pain, like the Red Indian braves; to go long periods fasting and without food or drink, like the choupan among the Western Inoits--who, wanders for whole nights over the ice-fields under the moon, scantily clothed and braving the intense cold; to overcome the very fear of death and danger, like the Australian novices who, at first terrified by the sound of the bull-roarer and threats of fire and the knife, learn finally to cast their fears away. (1) By so doing one puts off the old childish things, and qualifies oneself by firmness and courage to become a worthy member of the society into which one is called. (2) The rules of social life are taught--the duty to one's tribe, and to oneself, truth-speaking, defence of women and children, the care of cattle, the meaning of sex and marriage, and even the mysteries of such religious ideas and rudimentary science as the tribe possesses. And by so doing one really enters into a new life. Things of the spiritual world begin to dawn. Julius Firmicus, in describing the mysteries of the resurrection of Osiris, (3) says that when the worshipers had satiated themselves with lamentations over the death of the god then the priest would go round anointing them with oil and whispering, "Be of good cheer, O Neophytes of the new-arisen God, for to us too from our pains shall come salvation." (4) (1) According to accounts of the Wiradthuri tribe of Western Australia, in their initiations, the lads were frightened by a large fire being lighted near them, and hearing the awful sound of the bull-roarers, while they were told that Dhuramoolan was about to burn them; the legend being that Dhuramoolan, a powerful being, whose voice sounded like thunder, would take the boys into the bush and instruct them in all the laws, traditions and customs of the community. So he pretended that he always killed the boys, cut them up, and burnt them to ashes, after which he moulded the ashes into human shape, and restored them to life as new beings. (See R. H. Matthews, "The Wiradthuri tribes," Journal Anthrop. Inst., vol. xxv, 1896, pp. 297 sq.) (2) See Catlin's North-American Indians, vol. i, for initiations and ordeals among the Mandans. (3) De Errore, c. 22. (4) [gr Qarreite, mustai ton qeou seswsmenou,] [gr Estai gar hmin ek ponwn swthria.] It would seem that at some very early time in the history of tribal and priestly initiations an attempt was made to impress upon the neophytes the existence and over-shadowing presence of spiritual and ghostly beings. Perhaps the pains endured in the various ordeals, the long fastings, the silences in the depth of the forests or on the mountains or among the ice-floes, helped to rouse the visionary faculty. The developments of this faculty among the black and colored peoples--East-Indian, Burmese, African, American-Indian, etc.--are well known. Miss Alice Fletcher, who lived among the Omaha Indians for thirty years, gives a most interesting account (1) of the general philosophy of that people and their rites of initiation. "The Omahas regard all animate and inanimate forms, all phenomena, as pervaded by a common life, which was continuous with and similar to the will-power they were conscious of in themselves. This mysterious power in all things they called Wakonda, and through it all things were related to man and to each other. In the idea of the continuity of life a relation was maintained between the seen and the unseen, the dead and the living, and also between the fragment of anything and its entirety." (2) Thus an Omaha novice might at any time seek to obtain Wakonda by what was called THE RITE OF THE VISION. He would go out alone, fast, chant incantations, and finally fall into a trance (much resembling what in modern times has been called COSMIC CONSCIOUSNESS) in which he would perceive the inner relations of all things and the solidarity of the least object with the rest of the universe. (1) Summarized in Themis, pp. 68-71. (2) A. C. Fletcher, The Significance of the Scalp-lock, Journal of Anthropological Studies, xxvii (1897-8), p. 436. Another rite in connection with initiation, and common all over the pagan world--in Greece, America, Africa, Australia, New Mexico, etc.--was the daubing of the novice all over with clay or chalk or even dung, and then after a while removing the same. (1) The novice must have looked a sufficiently ugly and uncomfortable object in this state; but later, when he was thoroughly WASHED, the ceremony must have afforded a thrilling illustration of the idea of a new birth, and one which would dwell in the minds of the spectators. When the daubing was done as not infrequently happened with white clay or gypsum, and the ritual took place at night, it can easily be imagined that the figures of young men and boys moving about in the darkness would lend support to the idea that they were spirits belonging to some intermediate world--who had already passed through death and were now waiting for their second birth on earth (or into the tribe) which would be signalized by their thorough and ceremonial washing. It will be remembered that Herodotus (viii) gives a circumstantial account of how the Phocians in a battle with the Thessalians smeared six hundred of their bravest warriors with white clay so that, looking like supernatural beings, and falling upon the Thessalians by night, they terrified the latter and put them to instant flight. (1) See A. Lang's Myth, Ritual and Religion, i, 274 sq. Such then--though only very scantily described--were some of the rites of Initiation and Second Birth celebrated in the old Pagan world. The subject is far too large for adequate treatment within the present limits; but even so we cannot but be struck by the appropriateness in many cases of the teaching thus given to the young, the concreteness of the illustrations, the effectiveness of the symbols used, the dramatic character of the rites, the strong enforcement of lessons on the nature and duties of the life into which the candidates were about to enter. Christianity followed on, and inherited these traditions, but one feels that in its ceremonies of Baptism and Confirmation, which of course correspond to the Pagan Initiations, it falls short of the latter. Its ceremonies (certainly as we have them to-day in Protestant countries) are of a very milk-and-watery character; all allusion to and teaching on the immensely important subject of Sex is omitted, the details of social and industrial morality are passed by, and instruction is limited to a few rather commonplace lessons in general morality and religion. It may be appropriate here, before leaving the subject of the Second Birth, to inquire how it has come about that this doctrine--so remote and metaphysical as it might appear--has been taken up and embodied in their creeds and rituals by quite PRIMITIVE people all over the world, to such a degree indeed that it has ultimately been adopted and built into the foundations of the latter and more intellectual religions, like Hinduism, Mithraism, and the Egyptian and Christian cults. I think the answer to this question must be found in the now-familiar fact that the earliest peoples felt themselves so much a part of Nature and the animal and vegetable world around them that (whenever they thought about these matters at all) they never for a moment doubted that the things which were happening all round them in the external world were also happening within themselves. They saw the Sun, overclouded and nigh to death in winter, come to its birth again each year; they saw the Vegetation shoot forth anew in spring--the revival of the spirit of the Earth; the endless breeding of the Animals, the strange transformations of Worms and Insects; the obviously new life taken on by boys and girls at puberty; the same at a later age when the novice was transformed into the medicine-man--the choupan into the angakok among the Esquimaux, the Dacotah youth into the wakan among the Red Indians; and they felt in their sub-conscious way the same everlasting forces of rebirth and transformation working within themselves. In some of the Greek Mysteries the newly admitted Initiates were fed for some time after on milk only "as though we were being born again." (See Sallustius, quoted by Gilbert Murray.) When sub-conscious knowledge began to glimmer into direct consciousness one of the first aspects (and no doubt one of the truest) under which people saw life was just thus: as a series of rebirths and transformations. (1) The most modern science, I need hardly say, in biology as well as in chemistry and the field of inorganic Nature, supports that view. The savage in earliest times FELT the truth of some things which we to-day are only beginning intellectually to perceive and analyze. (1) The fervent and widespread belief in animal metamorphoses among early peoples is well known. Christianity adopted and absorbed--as it was bound to do--this world-wide doctrine of the second birth. Passing over its physiological and biological applications, it gave to it a fine spiritual significance--or rather it insisted especially on its spiritual significance, which (as we have seen) had been widely recognized before. Only--as I suppose must happen with all local religions--it narrowed the application and outlook of the doctrine down to a special case--"As in Adam all die, so in CHRIST shall all be made alive." The Universal Spirit which can give rebirth and salvation to EVERY child of man to whom it comes, was offered only under a very special form--that of Jesus Christ. (1) In this respect it was no better than the religions which preceded it. In some respects--that is, where it was especially fanatical, blinkered, and hostile to other sects--it was WORSE. But to those who perceive that the Great Spirit may bring new birth and salvation to some under the form of Osiris, equally well as to others under the form of Jesus, or again to some under the form of a Siberian totem-Bear equally as to others under the form of Osiris, these questionings and narrowings fall away as of no importance. We in this latter day can see the main thing, namely that Christianity was and is just one phase of a world-old religion, slowly perhaps expanding its scope, but whose chief attitudes and orientations have been the same through the centuries. (1) The same happened with regard to another great Pagan doctrine (to which I have just alluded), the doctrine of transformations and metamorphoses; and whereas the pagans believed in these things, as the common and possible heritage of EVERY man, the Christians only allowed themselves to entertain the idea in the special and unique instance of the Transfiguration of Christ. Many other illustrations might be taken of the truth of this view, but I will confine myself to two or three more. There is the instance of the Eucharist and its exceedingly widespread celebration (under very various forms) among the pagans all over the world--as well as among Christians. I have already said enough on this subject, and need not delay over it. By partaking of the sacramental meal, even in its wildest and crudest shapes, as in the mysteries of Dionysus, one was identified with and united to the god; in its milder and more spiritual aspects as in the Mithraic, Egyptian, Hindu and Christian cults, one passed behind the veil of maya and this ever-changing world, and entered into the region of divine peace and power. (1) (1) Baring Gould in his Orig. Relig. Belief, I. 401, says:--"Among the ancient Hindus Soma was a chief deity; he is called the Giver of Life and Health.... He became incarnate among men, was taken by them and slain, and brayed in a mortar (a god of corn and wine apparently). But he rose in flame to heaven to be 'the Benefactor of the World' and the 'Mediator between God and Man!' Through communion with him in his sacrifice, man (who partook of this god) has an assurance of immortality, for by that sacrament he obtains union with his divinity." Or again the doctrine of the Saviour. That also is one on which I need not add much to what has been said already. The number of pagan deities (mostly virgin-born and done to death in some way or other in their efforts to save mankind) is so great (1) as to be difficult to keep account of. The god Krishna in India, the god Indra in Nepaul and Thibet, spilt their blood for the salvation of men; Buddha said, according to Max Muller, (2) "Let all the sins that were in the world fall on me, that the world may be delivered"; the Chinese Tien, the Holy One--"one with God and existing with him from all eternity"--died to save the world; the Egyptian Osiris was called Saviour, so was Horus; so was the Persian Mithras; so was the Greek Hercules who overcame Death though his body was consumed in the burning garment of mortality, out of which he rose into heaven. So also was the Phrygian Attis called Saviour, and the Syrian Tammuz or Adonis likewise--both of whom, as we have seen, were nailed or tied to a tree, and afterwards rose again from their biers, or coffins. Prometheus, the greatest and earliest benefactor of the human race, was NAILED BY THE HANDS and feet, and with arms extended, to the rocks of Mount Caucasus. Bacchus or Dionysus, born of the virgin Semele to be the Liberator of mankind (Dionysus Eleutherios as he was called), was torn to pieces, not unlike Osiris. Even in far Mexico Quetzalcoatl, the Saviour, was born of a virgin, was tempted, and fasted forty days, was done to death, and his second coming looked for so eagerly that (as is well known) when Cortes appeared, the Mexicans, poor things, greeted HIM as the returning god! (3) In Peru and among the American Indians, North and South of the Equator, similar legends are, or were, to be found. (1) See for a considerable list Doane's Bible Myths, ch. xx. (2) Hist. Sanskrit Literature, p. 80. (3) See Kingsborough, Mexican Antiquities, vol. vi. Briefly sketched as all this is, it is enough to prove quite abundantly that the doctrine of the Saviour is world-wide and world-old, and that Christianity merely appropriated the same and (as the other cults did) gave it a special color. Probably the wide range of this doctrine would have been far better and more generally known, had not the Christian Church, all through, made the greatest of efforts and taken the greatest precautions to extinguish and snuff out all evidence of pagan claims on the subject. There is much to show that the early Church took this line with regard to pre-Christian saviours; (1) and in later times the same policy is remarkably illustrated by the treatment in the sixteenth century of the writings of Sahagun the Spanish missionary--to whose work I have already referred. Sahagun was a wonderfully broad-minded and fine man who, while he did not conceal the barbarities of the Aztec religion, was truthful enough to point out redeeming traits in the manners and customs of the people and some resemblances to Christian doctrine and practice. This infuriated the bigoted Catholics of the newly formed Mexican Church. They purloined the manuscripts of Sahagun's Historia and scattered and hid them about the country, and it was only after infinite labor and an appeal to the Spanish Court that he got them together again. Finally, at the age of eighty, having translated them into Spanish (from the original Mexican) he sent them in two big volumes home to Spain for safety; but there almost immediately THEY DISAPPEARED, and could not be found! It was only after TWO CENTURIES that they ultimately turned up (1790) in a Convent at Tolosa in Navarre. Lord Kingsborough published them in England in 1830. (1) See Tertullian's Apologia, c. 16; Ad Nationes, c. xii. I have thus dwelt upon several of the main doctrines of Christianity--namely, those of Sin and Sacrifice, the Eucharist, the Saviour, the Second Birth, and Transfiguration--as showing that they are by no means unique in our religion, but were common to nearly all the religions of the ancient world. The list might be much further extended, but there is no need to delay over a subject which is now very generally understood. I will, however, devote a page or two to one instance, which I think is very remarkable, and full of deep suggestion. There is no doctrine in Christianity which is more reverenced by the adherents of that religion, or held in higher estimation, than that God sacrificed his only Son for the salvation of the world; also that since the Son was not only of like nature but of the SAME nature with the Father, and equal to him as being the second Person of the Divine Trinity, the sacrifice amounted to an immolation of Himself for the good of mankind. The doctrine is so mystical, so remote, and in a sense so absurd and impossible, that it has been a favorite mark through the centuries for the ridicule of the scoffers and enemies of the Church; and here, it might easily be thought, is a belief which--whether it be considered glorious or whether contemptible--is at any rate unique, and peculiar to that Church. And yet the extraordinary fact is that a similar belief ranges all through the ancient religions, and can be traced back to the earliest times. The word host which is used in the Catholic Mass for the bread and wine on the Altar, supposed to be the transubstantiated body and blood of Christ, is from the Latin Hostia which the dictionary interprets as "an animal slain in sacrifice, a sin-offering." It takes us far far back to the Totem stage of folk-life, when the tribe, as I have already explained, crowned a victim-bull or bear or other animal with flowers, and honoring it with every offering of food and worship, sacrificed the victim to the Totem spirit of the tribe, and consumed it in an Eucharistic feast--the medicine-man or priest who conducted the ritual wearing a skin of the same beast as a sign that he represented the Totem-divinity, taking part in the sacrifice of 'himself to himself.' It reminds us of the Khonds of Bengal sacrificing their meriahs crowned and decorated as gods and goddesses; of the Aztecs doing the same; of Quetzalcoatl pricking his elbows and fingers so as to draw blood, which he offered on his own altar; or of Odin hanging by his own desire upon a tree. "I know I was hanged upon a tree shaken by the winds for nine long nights. I was transfixed by a spear; I was moved to Odin, myself to myself." And so on. The instances are endless. "I am the oblation," says the Lord Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita, (1) "I am the sacrifice, I the ancestral offering." "In the truly orthodox conception of sacrifice," says Elie Reclus, (2) "the consecrated offering, be it man, woman or virgin, lamb or heifer, cock or dove, represents THE DEITY HIMSELF.... Brahma is the 'imperishable sacrifice'; Indra, Soma, Hari and the other gods, became incarnate in animals to the sole end that they might be immolated. Perusha, the Universal Being, caused himself to be slain by the Immortals, and from his substance were born the birds of the air, wild and domestic animals, the offerings of butter and curds. The world, declared the Rishis, is a series of sacrifices disclosing other sacrifices. To stop them would be to suspend the life of Nature. The god Siva, to whom the Tipperahs of Bengal are supposed to have sacrificed as many as a thousand human victims a year, said to the Brahamins: 'It is I that am the actual offering; it is I that you butcher upon my altars.'" (1) Ch. ix, v. 16. (2) Primitive Folk, ch. vi. It was in allusion to this doctrine that R. W. Emerson, paraphrasing the Katha-Upanishad, wrote that immortal verse of his:-- If the red slayer thinks he slays, Or the slain thinks he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I take, and pass, and turn again. I say it is an astonishing thing to think and realize that this profound and mystic doctrine of the eternal sacrifice of Himself, ordained by the Great Spirit for the creation and salvation of the world--a doctrine which has attracted and fascinated many of the great thinkers and nobler minds of Europe, which has also inspired the religious teachings of the Indian sages and to a less philosophical degree the writings of the Christian Saints--should have been seized in its general outline and essence by rude and primitive people before the dawn of history, and embodied in their rites and ceremonials. What is the explanation of this fact? It is very puzzling. The whole subject is puzzling. The world-wide adoption of similar creeds and rituals (and, we may add, legends and fairy tales) among early peoples, and in far-sundered places and times is so remarkable that it has given the students of these subjects 'furiously to think' (1)--yet for the most part without great success in the way of finding a solution. The supposition that (1) the creed, rite or legend in question has sprung up, so to speak, accidentally, in one place, and then has travelled (owing to some inherent plausibility) over the rest of the world, is of course one that commends itself readily at first; but on closer examination the practical difficulties it presents are certainly very great. These include the migrations of customs and myths in quite early ages of the earth across trackless oceans and continents, and between races and peoples absolutely incapable of understanding each other. And if to avoid these difficulties it is assumed that the present human race all proceeds from one original stock which radiating from one centre--say in South-Eastern Asia (2)--overspread the world, carrying its rites and customs with it, why, then we are compelled to face the difficulty of supposing this radiation to have taken place at an enormous time ago (the continents being then all more or less conjoined) and at a period when it is doubtful if any religious rites and customs at all existed; not to mention the further difficulty of supposing all the four or five hundred languages now existing to be descended from one common source. The far tradition of the Island of Atlantis seems to afford a possible explanation of the community of rites and customs between the Old and New World, and this without assuming in any way that Atlantis (if it existed) was the original and SOLE cradle of the human race. (3) Anyhow it is clear that these origins of human culture must be of extreme antiquity, and that it would not be wise to be put off the track of the investigation of a possible common source merely by that fact of antiquity. (1) See A. Lang's Myth, Ritual and Religion, vol. ii. (2) See Hastings, Encycl. Religion and Ethics, art. "Ethnology." (3) E. J. Payne, History of the New World called America (vol. i, p. 93) says: "It is certain that Europe and America once formed a single continent," but inroads of the sea "left a vast island or peninsula stretching from Iceland to the Azores--which gradually disappeared." Also he speaks (i. 93) of the "Miocene Bridge" between Siberia and the New World. A second supposition, however, is (2) that the natural psychological evolution of the human mind has in the various times and climes led folk of the most diverse surroundings and heredity--and perhaps even sprung from separate anthropoid stocks--to develop their social and religious ideas along the same general lines--and that even to the extent of exhibiting at times a remarkable similarity in minute details. This is a theory which commends itself greatly to a deeper and more philosophical consideration; but it brings us up point-blank against another most difficult question (which we have already raised), namely, how to account for extremely rude and primitive peoples in the far past, and on the very borderland of the animal life, having been SUSCEPTIBLE to the germs of great religious ideas (such as we have mentioned) and having been instinctively--though not of course by any process of conscious reasoning--moved to express them in symbols and rites and ceremonials, and (later no doubt) in myths and legends, which satisfied their FEELINGS and sense of fitness--though they may not have known WHY--and afterwards were capable of being taken up and embodied in the great philosophical religions. This difficulty almost compels us to a view of human knowledge which has found supporters among some able thinkers--the view, namely, that a vast store of knowledge is already contained in the subconscious mind of man (and the animals) and only needs the provocation of outer experience to bring it to the surface; and that in the second stage of human psychology this process of crude and piecemeal externalization is taking place, in preparation for the final or third stage in which the knowledge will be re-absorbed and become direct and intuitional on a high and harmonious plane--something like the present intuition of the animals as we perceive it on the animal plane. However this general subject is one on which I shall touch again, and I do not propose to dwell on it at any length now. There is a third alternative theory (3)--a combination of (1) and (2)--namely, that if one accepts (2) and the idea that at any given stage of human development there is a PREDISPOSITION to certain symbols and rites belonging to that stage, then it is much more easy to accept theory (1) as an important factor in the spread of such symbols and rites; for clearly, then, the smallest germ of a custom or practice, transported from one country or people to another at the right time, would be sufficient to wake the development or growth in question and stimulate it into activity. It will be seen, therefore, that the important point towards the solution of this whole puzzling question is the discussion, of theory (2)--and to this theory, as illustrated by the world-wide myth of the Golden Age, I will now turn. IX. MYTH OF THE GOLDEN AGE The tradition of a "Golden Age" is widespread over the world, and it is not necessary to go at any length into the story of the Garden of Eden and the other legends which in almost every country illustrate this tradition. Without indulging in sentiment on the subject we may hold it not unlikely that the tradition is justified by the remembrance, among the people of every race, of a pre-civilization period of comparative harmony and happiness when two things, which to-day we perceive to be the prolific causes of discord and misery, were absent or only weakly developed--namely, PROPERTY and SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. (1) (1) For a fuller working out of this, see Civilisation: its Cause and Cure, by E. Carpenter, ch. i. During the first century B.C. there was a great spread of Messianic Ideas over the Roman world, and Virgil's 4th Eclogue, commonly called the Messianic Eclogue, reflects very clearly this state of the public mind. The expected babe in the poem was to be the son of Octavian (Augustus) the first Roman emperor, and a messianic halo surrounded it in Virgil's verse. Unfortunately it turned out to be a GIRL! However there is little doubt that Virgil did--in that very sad age of the world, an age of "misery and massacre," and in common with thousands of others--look for the coming of a great 'redeemer.' It was only a few years earlier--about B.C. 70--that the great revolt of the shamefully maltreated Roman slaves occurred, and that in revenge six thousand prisoners from Spartacus' army were nailed on crosses all the way from Rome to Capua (150 miles). But long before this Hesiod had recorded a past Golden Age when life had been gracious in communal fraternity and joyful in peace, when human beings and animals spoke the same language, when death had followed on sleep, without old age or disease, and after death men had moved as good daimones or genii over the lands. Pindar, three hundred years after Hesiod, had confirmed the existence of the Islands of the Blest, where the good led a blameless, tearless, life. Plato the same, (1) with further references to the fabled island of Atlantis; the Egyptians believed in a former golden age under the god R[a^] to which they looked back with regret and envy; the Persians had a garden of Eden similar to that of the Hebrews; the Greeks a garden of the Hesperides, in which dwelt the serpent whose head was ultimately crushed beneath the heel of Hercules; and so on. The references to a supposed far-back state of peace and happiness are indeed numerous. (1) See arts. by Margaret Scholes, Socialist Review, Nov. and Dec. 1912. So much so that latterly, and partly to explain their prevalence, a theory has been advanced which may be worth while mentioning. It is called the "Theory of intra-uterine Blessedness," and, remote as it may at first appear, it certainly has some claim for attention. The theory is that in the minds of mature people there still remain certain vague memories of their pre-natal days in the maternal womb--memories of a life which, though full of growing vigor and vitality, was yet at that time one of absolute harmony with the surroundings, and of perfect peace and contentment, spent within the body of the mother--the embryo indeed standing in the same relation to the mother as St. Paul says WE stand to God, "IN whom we live and move and have our being"; and that these vague memories of the intra-uterine life in the individual are referred back by the mature mind to a past age in the life of the RACE. Though it would not be easy at present to positively confirm this theory, yet one may say that it is neither improbable nor unworthy of consideration; also that it bears a certain likeness to the former ones about the Eden-gardens, etc. The well-known parallelism of the Individual history with the Race-history, the "recapitulation" by the embryo of the development of the race, does in fact afford an additional argument for its favorable reception. These considerations, and what we have said so often in the foregoing chapters about the unity of the Animals (and Early Man) with Nature, and their instinctive and age-long adjustment to the conditions of the world around them, bring us up hard and fast against the following conclusions, which I think we shall find difficult to avoid. We all recognize the extraordinary grace and beauty, in their different ways, of the (wild) animals; and not only their beauty but the extreme fitness of their actions and habits to their surroundings--their subtle and penetrating Intelligence in fact. Only we do not generally use the word "Intelligence." We use another word (Instinct)--and rightly perhaps, because their actions are plainly not the result of definite self-conscious reasoning, such as we use, carried out by each individual; but are (as has been abundantly proved by Samuel Butler and others) the systematic expression of experiences gathered up and sorted out and handed down from generation to generation in the bosom of the race--an Intelligence in fact, or Insight, of larger subtler scope than the other, and belonging to the tribal or racial Being rather than to the isolated individual--a super-consciousness in fact, ramifying afar in space and time. But if we allow (as we must) this unity and perfection of nature, and this somewhat cosmic character of the mind, to exist among the Animals, we can hardly refuse to believe that there must have been a period when Man, too, hardly as yet differentiated from them, did himself possess these same qualities--perhaps even in greater degree than the animals--of grace and beauty of body, perfection of movement and action, instinctive perception and knowledge (of course in limited spheres); and a period when he possessed above all a sense of unity with his fellows and with surrounding Nature which became the ground of a common consciousness between himself and his tribe, similar to that which Maeterlinck, in the case of the Bees, calls the Spirit of the Hive. (1) It would be difficult, nay impossible, to suppose that human beings on their first appearance formed an entire exception in the process of evolution, or that they were completely lacking in the very graces and faculties which we so admire in the animals--only of course we see that (LIKE the animals) they would not be SELF-conscious in these matters, and what perception they had of their relations to each other or to the world around them would be largely inarticulate and SUB-conscious--though none the less real for that. (1) See The Life of the Bee by Maurice Maeterlinck; and for numerous similar cases among other animals, P. Kropotkin's Mutual Aid: a factor in Evolution. Let us then grant this preliminary assumption--and it clearly is not a large or hazardous one--and what follows? It follows--since to-day discord is the rule, and Man has certainly lost the grace, both physical and mental, of the animals--that at some period a break must have occurred in the evolution-process, a discontinuity--similar perhaps to that which occurs in the life of a child at the moment when it is born into the world. Humanity took a new departure; but a departure which for the moment was signalized as a LOSS--the loss of its former harmony and self-adjustment. And the cause or accompaniment of this change was the growth of Self-consciousness. Into the general consciousness of the tribe (in relation to its environment) which in fact had constituted the mentality of the animals and of man up to this stage, there now was intruded another kind of consciousness, a consciousness centering round each little individual self and concerned almost entirely with the interests of the latter. Here was evidently a threat to the continuance of the former happy conditions. It was like the appearance of innumerable little ulcers in a human body--a menace which if continued would inevitably lead to the break-up of the body. It meant loss of tribal harmony and nature-adjustment. It meant instead of unity a myriad conflicting centres; it meant alienation from the spirit of the tribe, the separation of man from man, discord, recrimination, and the fatal unfolding of the sense of sin. The process symbolized itself in the legend of the Fall. Man ate of the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Sometimes people wonder why knowledge of any kind--and especially the knowledge of good and evil--should have brought a curse. But the reason is obvious. Into, the placid and harmonious life of the animal and human tribes fulfilling their days in obedience to the slow evolutions and age-long mandates of nature, Self-consciousness broke with its inconvenient and impossible query: "How do these arrangements suit ME? Are they good for me, are they evil for me? I want to know. I WILL KNOW!" Evidently knowledge (such knowledge as we understand by the word) only began, and could only begin, by queries relating to the little local self. There was no other way for it to begin. Knowledge and self-consciousness were born, as twins, together. Knowledge therefore meant Sin (1); for self-consciousness meant sin (and it means sin to-day). Sin is Separation. That is probably (though disputed) the etymology of the word--that which sunders. (2) The essence of sin is one's separation from the whole (the tribe or the god) of which one is a part. And knowledge--which separates subject from object, and in its inception is necessarily occupied with the 'good and evil' of the little local self, is the great engine of this separation. (Mark! I say nothing AGAINST this association of Self-consciousness with 'Sin' (so-called) and 'Knowledge' (so-called). The growth of all three together is an absolutely necessary part of human evolution, and to rail against it would be absurd. But we may as well open our eyes and see the fact straight instead of blinking it.) The culmination of the process and the fulfilment of the 'curse' we may watch to-day in the towering expansion of the self-conscious individualized Intellect--science as the handmaid of human Greed devastating the habitable world and destroying its unworthy civilization. And the process must go on--necessarily must go on--until Self-consciousness, ceasing its vain quest (vain in both senses) for the separate domination of life, surrenders itself back again into the arms of the Mother-consciousness from which it originally sprang--surrenders itself back, not to be merged in nonentity, but to be affiliated in loving dependence on and harmony with the cosmic life. (1) Compare also other myths, like Cupid and Psyche, Lohengrin etc., in which a fatal curiosity leads to tragedy. (2) German Sunde, sin, and sonder, separated; Dutch zonde, sin; Latin sons, guilty. Not unlikely that the German root Suhn, expiation, is connected; Suhn-bock, a scape-goat. All this I have dealt with in far more detail in Civilization: its Cause and Cure, and in The Art of Creation; but I have only repeated the outline of it as above, because some such outline is necessary for the proper ordering and understanding of the points which follow. We are not concerned now with the ultimate effects of the 'Fall' of Man or with the present-day fulfilment of the Eden-curse. What we want to understand is how the 'Fall' into self-consciousness led to that great panorama of Ritual and Religion which we have very briefly described and summarized in the preceding chapters of this book. We want for the present to fix our attention on the COMMENCEMENT of that process by which man lapsed away from his living community with Nature and his fellows into the desert of discord and toil, while the angels of the flaming sword closed the gates of Paradise behind him. It is evident I think that in that 'golden' stage when man was simply the crown and perfection of the animals--and it is hardly possible to refuse the belief in such a stage--he possessed in reality all the essentials of Religion. (1) It is not necessary to sentimentalize over him; he was probably raw and crude in his lusts of hunger and of sex; he was certainly ignorant and superstitious; he loved fighting with and persecuting 'enemies' (which things of course all religions to-day--except perhaps the Buddhist--love to do); he was dominated often by unreasoning Fear, and was consequently cruel. Yet he was full of that Faith which the animals have to such an admirable degree--unhesitating faith in the inner promptings of his OWN nature; he had the joy which comes of abounding vitality, springing up like a fountain whose outlet is free and unhindered; he rejoiced in an untroubled and unbroken sense of unity with his Tribe, and in elaborate social and friendly institutions within its borders; he had a marvelous sense-acuteness towards Nature and a gift in that direction verging towards "second-sight"; strengthened by a conviction--which had never become CONSCIOUS because it had never been QUESTIONED--of his own personal relation to the things outside him, the Earth, the Sky, the Vegetation, the Animals. Of such a Man we get glimpses in the far past--though indeed only glimpses, for the simple reason that all our knowledge of him comes through civilized channels; and wherever civilization has touched these early peoples it has already withered and corrupted them, even before it has had the sense to properly observe them. It is sufficient, however, just to mention peoples like some of the early Pacific Islanders, the Zulus and Kafirs of South Africa, the Fans of the Congo Region (of whom Winwood Reade (2) speaks so highly), some of the Malaysian and Himalayan tribes, the primitive Chinese, and even the evidence with regard to the neolithic peoples of Europe, (3) in order to show what I mean. (1) See S. Reinach, Cults, Myths, etc., introduction: "The primitive life of humanity, in so far as it is not purely animal, is religious. Religion is the parent stem which has thrown off, one by one, art, agriculture, law, morality, politics, etc." (2) Savage Africa, ch. xxxvii. (3) See Kropotkin's Mutual Aid, ch. iii. Perhaps one of the best ideas of the gulf of difference between the semi-civilized and the quite primal man is given by A. R. Wallace in his Life (Vol. i, p. 288): "A most unexpected sensation of surprise and delight was my first meeting and living with man in a state of nature with absolute uncontaminated savages! This was on the Uaupes river.... They were all going about their own work or pleasure, which had nothing to do with the white men or their ways; they walked with the free step of the independent forest-dweller... original and self-sustaining as the wild animals of the forests, absolutely independent of civilization... living their own lives in their own way, as they had done for countless generations before America was discovered. Indeed the true denizen of the Amazonian forests, like the forest itself, is unique and not to be forgotten." Elsewhere (3) Wallace speaks of the quiet, good-natured, inoffensive character of these copper-colored peoples, and of their quickness of hand and skill, and continues: "their figures are generally superb; and I have never felt so much pleasure in gazing at the finest statue as at these living illustrations of the beauty of the human form." (3) Travels on the Amazon (1853), ch. xvii. Though some of the peoples just mentioned may be said to belong to different grades or stages of human evolution and physically some no doubt were far superior to others, yet they mostly exhibit this simple grace of the bodily and mental organism, as well as that closeness of tribal solidarity of which I have spoken. The immense antiquity, of the clan organization, as shown by investigations into early marriage, points to the latter conclusion. Travellers among Bushmen, Hottentots, Fuegians, Esquimaux, Papuans and other peoples--peoples who have been pushed aside into unfavorable areas by the invasion of more warlike and better-equipped races, and who have suffered physically in consequence--confirm this. Kropotkin, speaking of the Hottentots, quotes the German author P. Kolben who travelled among them in 1275 or so. "He knew the Hottentots well and did not pass by their defects in silence, but could not praise their tribal morality highly enough. Their word is sacred, he wrote, they know nothing of the corruption and faithless arts of Europe. They live in great tranquillity and are seldom at war with their neighbors, and are all kindness and goodwill to one another." (1) Kropotkin further says: "Let me remark that when Kolben says 'they are certainly the most friendly, the most liberal and the most benevolent people to one another that ever appeared on the earth' he wrote a sentence which has continually appeared since in the description of savages. When first meeting with primitive races, the Europeans usually make a caricature of their life; but when an intelligent man has stayed among them for a longer time he generally describes them as the 'kindest' or the 'gentlest' race on the earth. These very same words have been applied to the Ostyaks, the Samoyedes, the Eskimos, the Dyaks, the Aleuts, the Papuans, and so on, by the highest authorities. I also remember having read them applied to the Tunguses, the Tchuktchis, the Sioux, and several others. The very frequency of that high commendation already speaks volumes in itself." (2) (1) P. Kropotkin, Mutual Aid, p. 90. W. J. Solias also speaks in terms of the highest praise of the Bushmen--"their energy, patience, courage, loyalty, affection, good manners and artistic sense" (Ancient Hunters, 1915, p. 425). (2) Ibid, p. 91. Many of the tribes, like the Aleuts, Eskimos, Dyaks, Papuans, Fuegians, etc., are themselves in the Neolithic stage of culture--though for the reason given above probably degenerated physically from the standard of their neolithic ancestors; and so the conclusion is forced upon one that there must have been an IMMENSE PERIOD, (1) prior to the first beginnings of 'civilization,' in which the human tribes in general led a peaceful and friendly life on the earth, comparatively little broken up by dissensions, in close contact with Nature and in that degree of sympathy with and understanding of the Animals which led to the establishment of the Totem system. Though it would be absurd to credit these tribes with any great degree of comfort and well-being according to our modern standards, yet we may well suppose that the memory of this long period lingered on for generations and generations and was ultimately idealized into the Golden Age, in contrast to the succeeding period of everlasting warfare, rancor and strife, which came in with the growth of Property with its greeds and jealousies, and the accentuation of Self-consciousness with all its vanities and ambitions. (1) See for estimates of periods ch. xiv; also, for the peacefulness of these early peoples, Havelock Ellis on "The Origin of War," where he says "We do not find the WEAPONS of warfare or the WOUNDS of warfare among these Palaeolithic remains ... it was with civilization that the art of killing developed, i. e. within the last 10,000 or 12,000 years when Neolithic men (who became our ancestors) were just arriving." I say that each tribe at this early stage of development had within it the ESSENTIALS of what we call Religion--namely a bedrock sense of its community with Nature, and of the Common life among its members--a sense so intimate and fundamental that it was hardly aware of itself (any more than the fish is aware of the sea in which it lives), but yet was really the matrix of tribal thought and the spring of tribal action. It was this sense of unity which was destined by the growth of SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS to come to light and evidence in the shape of all manner of rituals and ceremonials; and by the growth of the IMAGINATIVE INTELLECT to embody itself in the figures and forms of all manner of deities. Let us examine into this a little more closely. A lark soaring in the eye of the sun, and singing rapt between its "heaven and home" realizes no doubt in actual fact all that those two words mean to us; yet its realization is quite subconscious. It does not define its own experience: it FEELS but it does not THINK. In order to come to the stage of THINKING it would perhaps be necessary that the lark should be exiled from the earth and the sky, and confined in a cage. Early Man FELT the great truths and realities of Life--often I believe more purely than we do--but he could not give form to his experience. THAT stage came when he began to lose touch with these realities; and it showed itself in rites and ceremonials. The inbreak of self-consciousness brought OUT the facts of his inner life into ritualistic and afterwards into intellectual forms. Let me give examples. For a long time the Tribe is all in all; the individual is completely subject to the 'Spirit of the Hive'; he does not even THINK of contravening it. Then the day comes when self-interest, as apart from the Tribe, becomes sufficiently strong to drive him against some tribal custom. He breaks the tabu; he eats the forbidden apple; he sins against the tribe, and is cast out. Suddenly he finds himself an exile, lonely, condemned and deserted. A horrible sense of distress seizes him--something of which he had no experience before. He tries to think about it all, to understand the situation, but is dazed and cannot arrive at any conclusion. His one NECESSITY is Reconciliation, Atonement. He finds he cannot LIVE outside of and alienated from his tribe. He makes a Sacrifice, an offering to his fellows, as a seal of sincerity--an offering of his own bodily suffering or precious blood, or the blood of some food-animal, or some valuable gift or other--if only he may be allowed to return. The offering is accepted. The ritual is performed; and he is received back. I have already spoken of this perfectly natural evolution of the twin-ideas of Sin and Sacrifice, so I need not enlarge upon the subject. But two things we may note here: (1) that the ritual, being so concrete (and often severe), graves itself on the minds of those concerned, and expresses the feelings of the tribe, with an intensity and sharpness of outline which no words could rival, and (2) that such rituals may have, and probably did, come into use even while language itself was in an infantile condition and incapable of dealing with the psychological situation except by symbols. They, the rituals, were the first effort of the primitive mind to get beyond, subconscious feeling and emerge into a world of forms and definite thought. Let us carry the particular instance, given above, a stage farther, even to the confines of abstract Thought and Philosophy. I have spoken of "The Spirit of the Hive" as if the term were applicable to the Human as well as to the Bee tribe. The individual bee obviously has never THOUGHT about that 'Spirit,' nor mentally understood what Maeterlinck means by it; and yet in terms of actual experience it is an intense reality to the bee (ordaining for instance on some fateful day the slaughter of all the drones), controlling bee-movements and bee-morality generally. The individual tribesman similarly steeped in the age-long human life of his fellows has never thought of the Tribe as an ordaining being or Spirit, separate from himself--TILL that day when he is exiled and outcast from it. THEN he sees himself and the tribe as two opposing beings, himself of course an Intelligence or Spirit in his own limited degree, the Tribe as a much greater Intelligence or Spirit, standing against and over him. From that day the conception of a god arises on him. It may be only a totem-god--a divine Grizzly-Bear or what not--but still a god or supernatural Presence, embodied in the life of the tribe. This is what Sin has taught him. (1) This is what Fear, founded on self-consciousness, has revealed to him. The revelation may be true, or it may be fallacious (I do not prejudge it); but there it is--the beginning of that long series of human evolutions which we call Religion. (1) It is to be noted, in that charming idyll of the Eden garden, that it is only AFTER eating of the forbidden fruit that Adam and Eve perceive the Lord God walking in the garden, and converse with him (Genesis iii. 8). (For when the human mind has reached that stage of consciousness in which each man realizes his own 'self' as a rational and consistent being, "looking before and after," then, as I have said already, the mind projects on the background of Nature similarly rational Presences which we may call 'Gods'; and at that stage 'Religion' begins. Before that, when the mind is quite unformed and dream-like, and consists chiefly of broken and scattered rays, and when distinct self-consciousness is hardly yet developed, then the presences imagined in Nature are merely flickering and intermittent phantoms, and their propitiation and placation comes more properly under, the head of 'Magic.') So much for the genesis of the religious ideas of Sin and Sacrifice, and the rites connected with these ideas--their genesis through the in-break of self-consciousness upon the corporate SUB-consciousness of the life of the Community. But an exactly similar process may be observed in the case of the other religious ideas. I spoke of the doctrine of the SECOND BIRTH, and the rites connected with it both in Paganism and in Christianity. There is much to show that among quite primitive peoples there is less of shrinking from death and more of certainty about a continued life after death than we generally find among more intellectual and civilized folk. It is, or has been, quite, common among many tribes for the old and decrepit, who are becoming a burden to their fellows, to offer themselves for happy dispatch, and to take willing part in the ceremonial preparations for their own extinction; and this readiness is encouraged by their na[i:]ve and untroubled belief in a speedy transference to "happy hunting-grounds" beyond the grave. The truth is that when, as in such cases, the tribal life is very whole and unbroken--each individual identifying himself completely with the tribe--the idea of the individual's being dropped out at death, and left behind by the tribe, hardly arises. The individual is the tribe, has no other existence. The tribe goes on, living a life which is eternal, and only changes its hunting-grounds; and the individual, identified with the tribe, feels in some subconscious way the same about himself. But when one member has broken faith with the tribe, when he has sinned against it and become an outcast--ah! then the terrors of death and extinction loom large upon him. "The wages of sin is death." There comes a period in the evolution of tribal life when the primitive bonds are loosening, when the tendency towards SELF-will and SELF-determination (so necessary of course in the long run for the evolution of humanity) becomes a real danger to the tribe, and a terror to the wise men and elders of the community. It is seen that the children inherit this tendency--even from their infancy. They are no longer mere animals, easily herded; it seems that they are born in sin--or at least in ignorance and neglect of their tribal life and calling. The only cure is that they MUST BE BORN AGAIN. They must deliberately and of set purpose be adopted into the tribe, and be made to realize, even severely, in their own persons what is happening. They must go through the initiations necessary to impress this upon them. Thus a whole series of solemn rites spring up, different no doubt in every locality, but all having the same object and purpose. (And one can understand how the necessity of such initiations and second birth may easily have been itself felt in every race, at some stage of its evolution--and THAT quite as a spontaneous growth, and independently of any contagion of example caught from other races.) The same may be said about the world-wide practice of the Eucharist. No more effective method exists for impressing on the members of a body their community of life with each other, and causing them to forget their jangling self-interests, than to hold a feast in common. It is a method which has been honored in all ages as well as to-day. But when the flesh partaken of at the feast is that of the Totem--the guardian and presiding genius of the tribe--or perhaps of one of its chief food-animals--then clearly the feast takes on a holy and solemn character. It becomes a sacrament of unity--of the unity of all with the tribe, and with each other. Self-interests and self-consciousness are for the time submerged, and the common life asserts itself; but here again we see that a custom like this would not come into being as a deliberate rite UNTIL self-consciousness and the divisions consequent thereon had grown to be an obvious evil. The herd-animals (cows, sheep, and so forth) do not have Eucharists, simply because they are sensible enough to feed along the same pastures without quarrelling over the richest tufts of grass. When the flesh partaken of (either actually or symbolically) is not that of a divinized animal, but the flesh of a human-formed god--as in the mysteries of Dionysus or Osiris or Christ--then we are led to suspect (and of course this theory is widely held and supported) that the rites date from a very far-back period when a human being, as representative of the tribe, was actually slain, dismembered and partly devoured; though as time went on, the rite gradually became glossed over and mitigated into a love-communion through the sharing of bread and wine. It is curious anyhow that the dismemberment or division into fragments of the body of a god (as in the case of Dionysus, Osiris, Attis, Praj[a']pati and others) should be so frequent a tenet of the old religions, and so commonly associated with a love-feast of reconciliation and resurrection. It may be fairly interpreted as a symbol of Nature-dismemberment in Winter and resurrection in Spring; but we must also not forget that it may (and indeed must) have stood as an allegory of TRIBAL dismemberment and reconciliation--the tribe, conceived of as a divinity, having thus suffered and died through the inbreak of sin and the self-motive, and risen again into wholeness by the redemption of love and sacrifice. Whatever view the rank and file of the tribe may have taken of the matter, I think it is incontestable that the more thoughtful regarded these rites as full of mystic and spiritual meaning. It is of the nature, as I have said before, of these early symbols and ceremonies that they held so many meanings in solution; and it is this fact which gave them a poetic or creative quality, and their great hold upon the public mind. I use the word "tribe" in many places here as a matter of convenience; not forgetting however that in some cases "clan" might be more appropriate, as referring to a section of a tribe; or "people" or "folk" as referring to unions of SEVERAL tribes. It is impossible of course to follow out all the gradations of organization from tribal up to national life; but it may be remembered that while animal totems prevail as a rule in the earlier stages, human-formed gods become more conspicuous in the later developments. All through, the practice of the Eucharist goes on, in varying forms adapting itself to the surrounding conditions; and where in the later societies a religion like Mithraism or Christianity includes people of very various race, the Rite loses quite naturally its tribal significance and becomes a celebration of allegiance to a particular god--of unity within a special Church, in fact. Ultimately it may become--as for a brief moment in the history of the early Christians it seemed likely to do--a celebration of allegiance to all Humanity, irrespective of race or creed or color of skin or of mind: though unfortunately that day seems still far distant and remains yet unrealized. It must not be overlooked, however, that the religion of the Persian B[a^]b, first promulgated in 1845 to 1850--and a subject I shall deal with presently--had as a matter of fact this all embracing and universal scope. To return to the Golden Age or Garden of Eden. Our conclusion seems to be that there really was such a period of comparative harmony in human life--to which later generations were justified in looking back, and looking back with regret. It corresponded in the psychology of human Evolution to stage One. The second stage was that of the Fall; and so one is inevitably led to the conjecture and the hope that a third stage will redeem the earth and its inhabitants to a condition of comparative blessedness. X. THE SAVIOUR-GOD AND THE VIRGIN-MOTHER From the consideration of the world-wide belief in a past Golden Age, and the world-wide practice of the Eucharist, in the sense indicated in the last chapter, to that of the equally widespread belief in a human-divine Saviour, is a brief and easy step. Some thirty years ago, dealing with this subject, (1) I wrote as follows:--"The true Self of man consists in his organic relation with the whole body of his fellows; and when the man abandons his true Self he abandons also his true relation to his fellows. The mass-Man must rule in each unit-man, else the unit-man will drop off and die. But when the outer man tries to separate himself from the inner, the unit-man from the mass-Man, then the reign of individuality begins--a false and impossible individuality of course, but the only means of coming to the consciousness of the true individuality." And further, "Thus this divinity in each creature, being that which constitutes it and causes it to cohere together, was conceived of as that creature's saviour, healer--healer of wounds of body and wounds of heart--the Man within the man, whom it was not only possible to know, but whom to know and be united with was the alone salvation. This, I take it, was the law of health--and of holiness--as accepted at some elder time of human history, and by us seen as through a glass darkly." (1) See Civilisation: its Cause and Cure, ch. i. I think it is impossible not to see--however much in our pride of Civilization (!) we like to jeer at the pettinesses of tribal life--that these elder people perceived as a matter of fact and direct consciousness the redeeming presence (within each unit-member of the group) of the larger life to which he belonged. This larger life was a reality--"a Presence to be felt and known"; and whether he called it by the name of a Totem-animal, or by the name of a Nature-divinity, or by the name of some gracious human-limbed God--some Hercules, Mithra, Attis, Orpheus, or what-not--or even by the great name of Humanity itself, it was still in any case the Saviour, the living incarnate Being by the realization of whose presence the little mortal could be lifted out of exile and error and death and suffering into splendor and life eternal. It is impossible, I think, not to see that the myriad worship of "Saviours" all over the world, from China to Peru, can only be ascribed to the natural working of some such law of human and tribal psychology--from earliest times and in all races the same--springing up quite spontaneously and independently, and (so far) unaffected by the mere contagion of local tradition. To suppose that the Devil, long before the advent of Christianity, put the idea into the heads of all these earlier folk, is really to pay TOO great a compliment both to the power and the ingenuity of his Satanic Majesty--though the ingenuity with which the early Church DID itself suppress all information about these pre-Christian Saviours almost rivals that which it credited to Satan! And on the other hand to suppose this marvellous and universal consent of belief to have sprung by mere contagion from one accidental source would seem equally far-fetched and unlikely. But almost more remarkable than the world-encircling belief in human-divine Saviours is the equally widespread legend of their birth from Virgin-mothers. There is hardly a god--as we have already had occasion to see--whose worship as a benefactor of mankind attained popularity in any of the four continents, Europe, Asia, Africa and America--who was not reported to have been born from a Virgin, or at least from a mother who owed the Child not to any earthly father, but to an impregnation from Heaven. And this seems at first sight all the more astonishing because the belief in the possibility of such a thing is so entirely out of the line of our modern thought. So that while it would seem not unnatural that such a legend should have, sprung up spontaneously in some odd benighted corner of the world, we find it very difficult to understand how in that case it should have spread so rapidly in every direction, or--if it did not spread--how we are to account for its SPONTANEOUS appearance in all these widely sundered regions. I think here, and for the understanding of this problem, we are thrown back upon a very early age of human evolution--the age of Magic. Before any settled science or philosophy or religion existed, there were still certain Things--and consequently also certain Words--which had a tremendous influence on the human mind, which in fact affected it deeply. Such a word, for instance, is 'Thunder'; to hear thunder, to imitate it, even to mention it, are sure ways of rousing superstitious attention and imagination. Such another word is 'Serpent,' another 'Tree,' and so forth. There is no one who is insensible to the reverberation of these and other such words and images (1); and among them, standing prominently out, are the two 'Mother' and 'Virgin.' The word Mother touches the deepest springs of human feeling. As the earliest word learnt and clung to by the child, it twines itself with the heart-strings of the man even to his latest day. Nor must we forget that in a primitive state of society (the Matriarchate) that influence was probably even greater than now; for the father of the child being (often as not) UNKNOWN the attachment to the mother was all the more intense and undivided. The word Mother had a magic about it which has remained even until to-day. But if that word rooted itself deep in the heart of the Child, the other word 'virgin' had an obvious magic for the full grown and sexually mature Man--a magic which it, too, has never lost. (1) Nor is it difficult to see how out of the discreet use of such words and images, combined with elementary forms like the square, the triangle and the circle, and elementary numbers like 3, 4, 5, etc., quite a science, so to speak, of Magic arose. There is ample evidence that one of the very earliest objects of human worship was the Earth itself, conceived of as the fertile Mother of all things. Gaia or Ge (the earth) had temples and altars in almost all the cities of Greece. Rhea or Cybele, sprung from the Earth, was "mother of all the gods." Demeter ("earth mother") was honored far and wide as the gracious patroness of the crops and vegetation. Ceres, of course, the same. Maia in the Indian mythology and Isis in the Egyptian are forms of Nature and the Earth-spirit, represented as female; and so forth. The Earth, in these ancient cults, was the mystic source of all life, and to it, as a propitiation, life of all kinds was sacrificed. (There are strange accounts of a huge fire being made, with an altar to Cybele in the midst, and of deer and fawns and wild animals, and birds and sheep and corn and fruits being thrown pell-mell into the flames. (1)) It was, in a way, the most natural, as it seems to have been the earliest and most spontaneous of cults--the worship of the Earth-mother, the all-producing eternal source of life, and on account of her never-failing ever-renewed fertility conceived of as an immortal Virgin. (1) See Pausanias iv. 32. 6; and Lucian, De Syria Dea, 49. But when the Saviour-legend sprang up--as indeed I think it must have sprung up, in tribe after tribe and people after people, independently--then, whether it sprang from the divinization of some actual man who showed the way of light and deliverance to his fellows "sitting in darkness," or whether from the personification of the tribe itself as a god, in either case the question of the hero's parentage was bound to arise. If the 'saviour' was plainly a personification of the tribe, it was obviously impossible to suppose him the son of a mortal mother. In that case--and if the tribe was generally traced in the legends to some primeval Animal or Mountain or thing of Nature--it was probably easy to think of him (the saviour) as, born out of Nature's womb, descended perhaps from that pure Virgin of the World who is the Earth and Nature, who rules the skies at night, and stands in the changing phases of the Moon, and is worshiped (as we have seen) in the great constellation Virgo. If, on the other hand, he was the divinization of some actual man, more or less known either personally or by tradition to his fellows, then in all probability the name of his mortal mother would be recognized and accepted; but as to his father, that side of parentage being, as we have said, generally very uncertain, it would be easy to suppose some heavenly Annunciation, the midnight visit of a God, and what is usually termed a Virgin-birth. There are two elements to be remembered here, as conspiring to this conclusion. One is the condition of affairs in a remote matriarchial period, when descent was reckoned always through the maternal line, and the fatherhood in each generation was obscure or unknown or commonly left out of account; and the other is the fact--so strange and difficult for us to realize--that among some very primitive peoples, like the Australian aborigines, the necessity for a woman to have intercourse with a male, in order to bring about conception and child-birth, was actually not recognized. Scientific observation had not always got as far as that, and the matter was still under the domain of Magic! (1) A Virgin-Mother was therefore a quite imaginable (not to say 'conceivable') thing; and indeed a very beautiful and fascinating thing, combining in one image the potent magic of two very wonderful words. It does not seem impossible that considerations of this kind led to the adoption of the doctrine or legend of the virgin-mother and the heavenly father among so many races and in so many localities--even without any contagion of tradition among them. (1) Probably the long period (nine months) elapsing between cohabitation and childbirth confused early speculation on the subject. Then clearly cohabitation was NOT always followed by childbirth. And, more important still, the number of virgins of a mature age in primitive societies was so very minute that the fact of their childlessness attracted no attention--whereas in OUR societies the sterility of the whole class is patent to everyone. Anyhow, and as a matter of fact, the world-wide dissemination of the legend is most remarkable. Zeus, Father of the gods, visited Semele, it will be remembered, in the form of a thunderstorm; and she gave birth to the great saviour and deliverer Dionysus. Zeus, again, impregnated Danae in a shower of gold; and the child was Perseus, who slew the Gorgons (the powers of darkness) and saved Andromeda (the human soul (1)). Devaki, the radiant Virgin of the Hindu mythology, became the wife of the god Vishnu and bore Krishna, the beloved hero and prototype of Christ. With regard to Buddha St. Jerome says (2) "It is handed down among the Gymnosophists, of India that Buddha, the founder of their system, was brought forth by a Virgin from her side." The Egyptian Isis, with the child Horus, on her knee, was honored centuries before the Christian era, and worshiped under the names of "Our Lady," "Queen of Heaven," "Star of the Sea," "Mother of God," and so forth. Before her, Neith, the Virgin of the World, whose figure bends from the sky over the earthly plains and the children of men, was acclaimed as mother of the great god Osiris. The saviour Mithra, too, was born of a Virgin, as we have had occasion to notice before; and on the Mithrais monuments the mother suckling her child is a not uncommon figure. (3) (1) For this interpretation of the word Andromeda see The Perfect Way by Edward Maitland, preface to First Edition, 1881. (2) Contra Jovian, Book I; and quoted by Rhys Davids in his Buddhisim. (3) See Doane's Bible Myths, p. 332, and Dupuis' Origins of Religious Beliefs. The old Teutonic goddess Hertha (the Earth) was a Virgin, but was impregnated by the heavenly Spirit (the Sky); and her image with a child in her arms was to be seen in the sacred groves of Germany. (1) The Scandinavian Frigga, in much the same way, being caught in the embraces of Odin, the All-father, conceived and bore a son, the blessed Balder, healer and saviour of mankind. Quetzalcoatl, the (crucified) saviour of the Aztecs, was the son of Chimalman, the Virgin Queen of Heaven. (2) Even the Chinese had a mother-goddess and virgin with child in her arms (3); and the ancient Etruscans the same. (4) (1) R. P. Knight's Ancient Art and Mythology, p. 21. (2) See Kingsborough's Mexican Antiquities, vol. vi, p. 176, where it is said "an ambassador was sent from heaven on an embassy to a Virgin of Tulan, called Chimalman... announcing that it was the will of the God that she should conceive a son; and having delivered her the message he rose and left the house; and as soon as he had left it she conceived a son, without connection with man, who was called Quetzalcoat, who they say is the god of air." Further, it is explained that Quetzalcoatl sacrificed himself, drawing forth his own blood with thorns; and that the word Quetzalcoatlotopitzin means "our well-beloved son." (3) Doane, p. 327. (4) See Inman's Pagan and Christian Symbolism, p. 27. Finally, we have the curiously large number of BLACK virgin mothers who are or have been worshiped. Not only cases like Devaki the Indian goddess, or Isis the Egyptian, who would naturally appear black-skinned or dark; but the large number of images and paintings of the same kind, yet extant--especially in the Italian churches--and passing for representations of Mary and the infant Jesus. Such are the well-known image in the chapel at Loretto, and images and paintings besides in the churches at Genoa, Pisa, Padua, Munich and other places. It is difficult not to regard these as very old Pagan or pre-Christian relics which lingered on into Christian times and were baptized anew--as indeed we know many relics and images actually were--into the service of the Church. "Great is Diana of the Ephesians"; and there is I believe more than one black figure extant of this Diana, who, though of course a virgin, is represented with innumerable breasts (1)--not unlike some of the archaic statues of Artemis and Isis. At Paris, far on into Christian times there was, it is said, on the site of the present Cathedral of Notre Dame, a Temple dedicated to 'our Lady' Isis; and images belonging to the earlier shrine would in all probability be preserved with altered name in the later. (1) See illustration, p. 30, in Inman's Pagan and Christian Symbolism. All this illustrates not only the wide diffusion of the doctrine of the Virgin-mother, but its extreme antiquity. The subject is obscure, and worthy of more consideration than has yet been accorded it; and I do not feel able to add anything to the tentative explanations given a page or two back, except perhaps to suppose that the vision of the Perfect Man hovered dimly over the mind of the human race on its first emergence from the purely animal stage; and that a quite natural speculation with regard to such a being was that he would be born from a Perfect Woman--who according to early ideas would necessarily be the Virgin Earth itself, mother of all things. Anyhow it was a wonderful Intuition, slumbering as it would seem in the breast of early man, that the Great Earth after giving birth to all living creatures would at last bring forth a Child who should become the Saviour of the human race. There is of course the further theory, entertained by some, that virgin-parturition--a kind of Parthenogenesis--has as a matter of fact occasionally occurred among mortal women, and even still does occur. I should be the last to deny the POSSIBILITY of this (or of anything else in Nature), but, seeing the immense difficulties in the way of PROOF of any such asserted case, and the absence so far of any thoroughly attested and verified instance, it would, I think, be advisable to leave this theory out of account at present. But whether any of the EXPLANATIONS spoken of are right or wrong, and whatever explanation we adopt, there remains the FACT of the universality over the world of this legend--affording another instance of the practical solidarity and continuity of the Pagan Creeds with Christianity. XI. RITUAL DANCING It is unnecessary to labor the conclusion of the last two or three chapters, namely that Christianity grew out of the former Pagan Creeds and is in its general outlook and origins continuous and of one piece with them. I have not attempted to bring together ALL the evidence in favor of this contention, as such work would be too vast, but more illustrations of its truth will doubtless occur to readers, or will emerge as we proceed. I think we may take it as proved (1) that from the earliest ages, and before History, a great body of religious belief and ritual--first appearing among very primitive and unformed folk, whom we should call 'savages'--has come slowly down, broadening and differentiating itself on the way into a great variety of forms, but embodying always certain main ideas which became in time the accepted doctrines of the later Churches--the Indian, the Egyptian, the Mithraic, the Christian, and so forth. What these ideas in their general outline have been we can perhaps best judge from our "Apostles' Creed," as it is recited every Sunday in our churches. "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth: And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried. He descended into Hell; the third day he rose again from the dead, He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy Catholic Church; the communion of Saints; the Forgiveness of sins; the Resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen." Here we have the All-Father and Creator, descending from the Sky in the form of a spirit to impregnate the earthly Virgin-mother, who thus gives birth to a Saviour-hero. The latter is slain by the powers of Evil, is buried and descends into the lower world, but arises again as God into heaven and becomes the leader and judge of mankind. We have the confirmation of the Church (or, in earlier times, of the Tribe) by means of a Eucharist or Communion which binds together all the members, living or dead, and restores errant individuals through the Sacrifice of the hero and the Forgiveness of their sins; and we have the belief in a bodily Resurrection and continued life of the members within the fold of the Church (or Tribe), itself regarded as eternal. One has only, instead of the word 'Jesus,' to read Dionysus or Krishna or Hercules or Osiris or Attis, and instead of 'Mary' to insert Semele or Devaki or Alcmene or Neith or Nana, and for Pontius Pilate to use the name of any terrestrial tyrant who comes into the corresponding story, and lo! the creed fits in all particulars into the rites and worship of a pagan god. I need not enlarge upon a thesis which is self-evident from all that has gone before. I do not say, of course, that ALL the religious beliefs of Paganism are included and summarized in our Apostles' Creed, for--as I shall have occasion to note in the next chapter--I think some very important religious elements are there OMITTED; but I do think that all the beliefs which ARE summarized in the said creed had already been fully represented and elaborately expressed in the non-Christian religions and rituals of Paganism. Further (2) I think we may safely say that there is no certain proof that the body of beliefs just mentioned sprang from any one particular centre far back and radiated thence by dissemination and mental contagion over the rest of the world; but the evidence rather shows that these beliefs were, for the most part, the SPONTANEOUS outgrowths (in various localities) of the human mind at certain stages of its evolution; that they appeared, in the different races and peoples, at different periods according to the degree of evolution, and were largely independent of intercourse and contagion, though of course, in cases, considerably influenced by it; and that one great and all-important occasion and provocative of these beliefs was actually the RISE OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS--that is, the coming of the mind to a more or less distinct awareness of itself and of its own operation, and the consequent development and growth of Individualism, and of the Self-centred attitude in human thought and action. In the third place (3) I think we may see--and this is the special subject of the present chapter--that at a very early period, when humanity was hardly capable of systematic expression in what we call Philosophy or Science, it could not well rise to an ordered and literary expression of its beliefs, such as we find in the later religions and the 'Churches' (Babylonian, Jewish, East Indian, Christian, or what-not), and yet that it FELT these beliefs very intensely and was urged, almost compelled, to their utterance in some form or other. And so it came about that people expressed themselves in a vast mass of ritual and myth--customs, ceremonies, legends, stories--which on account of their popular and concrete form were handed down for generations, and some of which linger on still in the midst of our modern civilization. These rituals and legends were, many of them, absurd enough, rambling and childish in character, and preposterous in conception, yet they gave the expression needed; and some of them of course, as we have seen, were full of meaning and suggestion. A critical and commercial Civilization, such as ours, in which (notwithstanding much TALK about Art) the artistic sense is greatly lacking, or at any rate but little diffused, does not as a rule understand that poetic RITES, in the evolution of peoples, came naturally before anything like ordered poems or philosophy or systematized VIEWS about life and religion--such as WE love to wallow in! Things were FELT before they were spoken. The loading of diseases into disease-boats, of sins onto scape-goats, the propitiation of the forces of nature by victims, human or animal, sacrifices, ceremonies of re-birth, eucharistic feasts, sexual communions, orgiastic celebrations of the common life, and a host of other things--all SAID plainly enough what was meant, but not in WORDS. Partly no doubt it was that at some early time words were more difficult of command and less flexible in use than actions (and at all times are they not less expressive?). Partly it was that mankind was in the child-stage. The Child delights in ritual, in symbol, in expression through material objects and actions: See, at his feet some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart. And primitive man in the child-stage felt a positive joy in ritual celebrations, and indulged in expressions which we but little understand; for these had then his heart. One of the most pregnant of these expressions was DANCING. Children dance instinctively. They dance with rage; they dance with joy, with sheer vitality; they dance with pain, or sometimes with savage glee at the suffering of others; they delight in mimic combats, or in animal plays and disguises. There are such things as Courting-dances, when the mature male and female go through a ritual together--not only in civilized ball-rooms and the back-parlors of inns, but in the farmyards where the rooster pays his addresses to the hen, or the yearling bull to the cow--with quite recognized formalities; there are elaborate ceremonials performed by the Australian bower-birds and many other animals. All these things--at any rate in children and animals--come before speech; and anyhow we may say that LOVE-RITES, even in mature and civilized man, hardly ADMIT of speech. Words only vulgarize love and blunt its edge. So Dance to the savage and the early man was not merely an amusement or a gymnastic exercise (as the books often try to make out), but it was also a serious and intimate part of life, an expression of religion and the relation of man to non-human Powers. Imagine a young dancer--and the admitted age for ritual dancing was commonly from about eighteen to thirty--coming forward on the dancing-ground or platform for the INVOCATION OF RAIN. We have unfortunately no kinematic records, but it is not impossible or very difficult to imagine the various gestures and movements which might be considered appropriate to such a rite in different localities or among different peoples. A modern student of Dalcroze Eurhythmics would find the problem easy. After a time a certain ritual dance (for rain) would become stereotyped and generally adopted. Or imagine a young Greek leading an invocation to Apollo to STAY SOME PLAGUE which was ravaging the country. He might as well be accompanied by a small body of co-dancers; but he would be the leader and chief representative. Or it might be a WAR-DANCE--as a more or less magical preparation for the raid or foray. We are familiar enough with accounts of war-dances among American Indians. C. O. Muller in his History and Antiquities of the Doric Race (1) gives the following account of the Pyrrhic dance among the Greeks, which was danced in full armor:--"Plato says that it imitated all the attitudes of defence, by avoiding a thrust or a cast, retreating, springing up, and crouching-as also the opposite movements of attack with arrows and lances, and also of every kind of thrust. So strong was the attachment to this dance at Sparta that, long after it had in the other Greek states degenerated into a Bacchanalian revel, it was still danced by the Spartans as a warlike exercise, and boys of fifteen were instructed in it." Of the Hunting-dance I have already given instances. (2) It always had the character of Magic about it, by which the game or quarry might presumably be influenced; and it can easily be understood that if the Hunt was not successful the blame might well be attributed to some neglect of the usual ritual mimes or movements--no laughing matter for the leader of the dance. (1) Book IV, ch. 6, Section 7. (2) See also Winwood Reade's Savage Africa, ch. xviii, in which he speaks of the "gorilla dance," before hunting gorillas, as a "religious festival." Or there were dances belonging to the ceremonies of Initiation--dances both by the initiators and the initiated. Jane E. Harrison in Themis (p. 24) says, "Instruction among savage peoples is always imparted in more or less mimetic dances. At initiation you learn certain dances which confer on you definite social status. When a man is too old to dance, he hands over his dance to another and a younger, and he then among some tribes ceases to exist socially.... The dances taught to boys at initiation are frequently if not always ARMED dances. These are not necessarily warlike. The accoutrement of spear and shield was in part decorative, in part a provision for making the necessary hubbub." (Here Miss Harrison reproduces a photograph of an Initiation dance among the Akikuyu of British East Africa.) The Initiation-dances blend insensibly and naturally with the Mystery and Religion dances, for indeed initiation was for the most part an instruction in the mysteries and social rites of the Tribe. They were the expression of things which would be hard even for us, and which for rude folk would be impossible, to put into definite words. Hence arose the expression--whose meaning has been much discussed by the learned--"to dance out ([gr ezorceisqai]) a mystery." (1) Lucian, in a much-quoted passage, (2) observes: "You cannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing ... and this much all men know, that most people say of the revealers of the mysteries that they 'dance them out.'" Andrew Lang, commenting on this passage, (3) continues: "Clement of Alexandria uses the same term when speaking of his own 'appalling revelations.' So closely connected are mysteries with dancing among savages that when Mr. Orpen asked Qing, the Bushman hunter, about some doctrines in which Qing was not initiated, he said: 'Only the initiated men of that dance know these things.' To 'dance' this or that means to be acquainted with this or that myth, which is represented in a dance or ballet d'action. So widely distributed is the practice that Acosta in an interesting passage mentions it as familiar to the people of Peru before and after the Spanish conquest." (And we may say that when the 'mysteries' are of a sexual nature it can easily be understood that to 'dance them out' is the only way of explaining them!) (1) Meaning apparently either simply to represent, or, sometimes to DIVULGE, a mystery. (2) [gr peri 'Orchsews], Ch. xv. 277. (3) Myth, Ritual and Religion, i, 272. Thus we begin to appreciate the serious nature and the importance of the dance among primitive folk. To dub a youth "a good dancer" is to pay him a great compliment. Among the well-known inscriptions on the rocks in the island of Thera in the Aegean sea there are many which record in deeply graven letters the friendship and devotion to each other of Spartan warrior-comrades; it seems strange at first to find how often such an epithet of praise occurs as Bathycles DANCES WELL, Eumelos is a PERFECT DANCER ([gr aristos orcestas]). One hardly in general expects one warrior to praise another for his dancing! But when one realizes what is really meant--namely the fitness of the loved comrade to lead in religious and magical rituals--then indeed the compliment takes on a new complexion. Religious dances, in dedication to a god, have of course been honored in every country. Muller, in the work just cited, (1) describes a lively dance called the hyporchema which, accompanied by songs, was used in the worship of Apollo. "In this, besides the chorus of singers who usually danced around THE BLAZING ALTAR, several persons were appointed to accompany the action of the poem with an appropriate pantomimic display." It was probably some similar dance which is recorded in Exodus, ch. xxxii, when Aaron made the Israelites a golden Calf (image of the Egyptian Apis). There was an altar and a fire and burnt offerings for sacrifice, and the people dancing around. Whether in the Apollo ritual the dancers were naked I cannot say, but in the affair of the golden Calf they evidently were, for it will be remembered that it was just this which upset Moses' equanimity so badly--"when he SAW THAT THE PEOPLE WERE NAKED"--and led to the breaking of the two tables of stone and the slaughter of some thousands of folk. It will be remembered also that David on a sacrificial occasion danced naked before the Lord. (2) (1) Book II, ch. viii, Section 14. (2) 2 Sam. vi. It may seem strange that dances in honor of a god should be held naked; but there is abundant evidence that this was frequently the case, and it leads to an interesting speculation. Many of these rituals undoubtedly owed their sanctity and solemnity to their extreme antiquity. They came down in fact from very far back times when the average man or woman--as in some of the Central African tribes to-day--wore simply nothing at all; and like all religious ceremonies they tended to preserve their forms long after surrounding customs and conditions had altered. Consequently nakedness lingered on in sacrificial and other rites into periods when in ordinary life it had come to be abandoned or thought indecent and shameful. This comes out very clearly in both instances above--quoted from the Bible. For in Exodus xxxii. 25 it is said that "Aaron had made them (the dancers) naked UNTO THEIR SHAME among their enemies (READ opponents)," and in 2 Sam. vi. 20 we are told that Michal came out and sarcastically rebuked the "glorious king of Israel" for "shamelessly uncovering himself, like a vain fellow" (for which rebuke, I am sorry to say, David took a mean revenge on Michal). In both cases evidently custom had so far changed that to a considerable section of the population these naked exhibitions had become indecent, though as parts of an acknowledged ritual they were still retained and supported by others. The same conclusion may be derived from the commands recorded in Exodus xx. 26 and xxviii. 42, that the priests be not "uncovered" before the altar--commands which would hardly have been needed had not the practice been in vogue. Then there were dances (partly magical or religious) performed at rustic and agricultural festivals, like the Epilenios, celebrated in Greece at the gathering of the grapes. (1) Of such a dance we get a glimpse in the Bible (Judges xxi. 20) when the elders advised the children of Benjamin to go out and lie in wait in the vineyards, at the time of the yearly feast; and "when the daughters of Shiloh come out to dance in the dances, then come ye out of the vineyards and catch you every man a wife from the daughters of Shiloh"--a touching example apparently of early so-called 'marriage by capture'! Or there were dances, also partly or originally religious, of a quite orgiastic and Bacchanalian character, like the Bryallicha performed in Sparta by men and women in hideous masks, or the Deimalea by Sileni and Satyrs waltzing in a circle; or the Bibasis carried out by both men and women--a quite gymnastic exercise in which the performers took a special pride in striking their own buttocks with their heels! or others wilder still, which it would perhaps not be convenient to describe. (1) [gr Epilhnioi umnoi]: hymns sung over the winepress (Dictionary). We must see how important a part Dancing played in that great panorama of Ritual and Religion (spoken of in the last chapter) which, having originally been led up to by the 'Fall of Man,' has ever since the dawn of history gradually overspread the world with its strange procession of demons and deities, and its symbolic representations of human destiny. When it is remembered that ritual dancing was the matrix out of which the Drama sprang, and further that the drama in its inception (as still to-day in India) was an affair of religion and was acted in, or in connection with, the Temples, it becomes easier to understand how all this mass of ceremonial sacrifices, expiations, initiations, Sun and Nature festivals, eucharistic and orgiastic communions and celebrations, mystery-plays, dramatic representations, myths and legends, etc., which I have touched upon in the preceding chapters--together with all the emotions, the desires, the fears, the yearnings and the wonderment which they represented--have practically sprung from the same root: a root deep and necessary in the psychology of Man. Presently I hope to show that they will all practically converge again in the end to one meaning, and prepare the way for one great Synthesis to come--an evolution also necessary and inevitable in human psychology. In that truly inspired Ode from which I quoted a few pages back, occur those well-known words whose repetition now will, on account of their beauty, I am sure be excused:-- Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar; Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light and whence it flows He sees it in his joy; The youth who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away And fade into the light of common day. Wordsworth--though he had not the inestimable advantage of a nineteenth-century education and the inheritance of the Darwinian philosophy--does nevertheless put the matter of the Genius of the Child in a way which (with the alteration of a few conventional terms) we scientific moderns are quite inclined to accept. We all admit now that the Child does not come into the world with a mental tabula rasa of entire forgetfulness but on the contrary as the possessor of vast stores of sub-conscious memory, derived from its ancestral inheritances; we all admit that a certain grace and intuitive insight and even prophetic quality, in the child-nature, are due to the harmonization of these racial inheritances in the infant, even before it is born; and that after birth the impact of the outer world serves rather to break up and disintegrate this harmony than to confirm and strengthen it. Some psychologists indeed nowadays go so far as to maintain that the child is not only 'Father of the man,' but superior to the man, (1) and that Boyhood and Youth and Maturity are attained to not by any addition but by a process of loss and subtraction. It will be seen that the last ten lines of the above quotation rather favor this view. (1) "Man in the course of his life falls away more and more from the specifically HUMAN type of his early years, but the Ape in the course of his short life goes very much farther along the road of degradation and premature senility." (Man and Woman, by Havelock Ellis, p. 24). But my object in making the quotation was not to insist on the truth of its application to the individual Child, but rather to point out the remarkable way in which it illustrates what I have said about the Childhood of the Race. In fact, if the quotation be read over again with this interpretation (which I do not say Wordsworth intended) that the 'birth' spoken of is the birth or evolution of the distinctively self-conscious Man from the Animals and the animal-natured, unself-conscious human beings of a preceding age, then the parable unfolds itself perfectly naturally and convincingly. THAT birth certainly was sleep and a forgetting; the grace and intuition and instinctive perfection of the animals was lost. But the forgetfulness was not entire; the memory lingered long of an age of harmony, of an Eden-garden left behind. And trailing clouds of this remembrance the first tribal men, on the edge of but not yet WITHIN the civilization-period, appear in the dawn of History. As I have said before, the period of the dawn of Self-consciousness was also the period of the dawn of the practical and inquiring Intellect; it was the period of the babyhood of both; and so we perceive among these early people (as we also do among children) that while in the main the heart and the intuitions were right, the intellect was for a long period futile and rambling to a degree. As soon as the mind left the ancient bases of instinct and sub-conscious racial experience it fell into a hopeless bog, out of which it only slowly climbed by means of the painfully-gathered stepping-stones of logic and what we call Science. "Heaven lies about us in our infancy." Wordsworth perceived that wonderful world of inner experience and glory out of which the child emerges; and some even of us may perceive that similar world in which the untampered animals STILL dwell, and OUT of which self-regarding Man in the history of the race was long ago driven. But a curse went with the exile. As the Brain grew, the Heart withered. The inherited instincts and racially accumulated wisdom, on which the first men thrived and by means of which they achieved a kind of temporary Paradise, were broken up; delusions and disease and dissension set in. Cain turned upon his brother and slew him; and the shades of the prison-house began to close. The growing Boy, however, (by whom we may understand the early tribes of Mankind) had yet a radiance of Light and joy in his life; and the Youth--though travelling daily farther from the East--still remained Nature's priest, and by the vision splendid was on his way attended: but At length the Man perceived it die away. And fade into the light of common day. What a strangely apt picture in a few words (if we like to take it so) of the long pilgrimage of the Human Race, its early and pathetic clinging to the tradition of the Eden-garden, its careless and vigorous boyhood, its meditative youth, with consciousness of sin and endless expiatory ritual in Nature's bosom, its fleeting visions of salvation, and finally its complete disillusionment and despair in the world-slaughter and unbelief of the twentieth century! Leaving Wordsworth, however, and coming back to our main line of thought, we may point out that while early peoples were intellectually mere babies--with their endless yarns about heroes on horseback leaping over wide rivers or clouds of monks flying for hundreds of miles through the air, and their utter failure to understand the general concatenations of cause and effect--yet practically and in their instinct of life and destiny they were, as I have already said, by no means fools; certainly not such fools as many of the arm-chair students of these things delight to represent them. For just as, a few years ago, we modern civilizees studying outlying nations, the Chinese for instance, rejoiced (in our vanity) to pick out every quaint peculiarity and absurdity and monstrosity of a supposed topsyturvydom, and failed entirely to see the real picture of a great and eminently sensible people; so in the case of primitive men we have been, and even still are, far too prone to catalogue their cruelties and obscenities and idiotic superstitions, and to miss the sane and balanced setting of their actual lives. Mr. R. R. Marett, who has a good practical acquaintance with his subject, had in the Hibbert Journal for October 1918 an article on "The Primitive Medicine Man" in which he shows that the latter is as a rule anything but a fool and a knave--although like 'medicals' in all ages he hocuspocuses his patients occasionally! He instances the medicine-man's excellent management, in most cases, of childbirth, or of wounds and fractures, or his primeval skill in trepanning or trephining--all of which operations, he admits, may be accompanied with grotesque and superstitious ceremonies, yet show real perception and ability. We all know--though I think the article does not mention the matter--what a considerable list there is of drugs and herbs which the modern art of healing owes to the ancient medicine-man, and it may be again mentioned that one of the most up-to-date treatments--the use of a prolonged and exclusive diet of MILK as a means of giving the organism a new start in severe cases--has really come down to us through the ages from this early source. (1) The real medicine-man, Mr. Marett says, is largely a 'faith-healer' and 'soul-doctor'; he believes in his vocation, and undergoes much for the sake of it: "The main point is to grasp that by his special initiation and the rigid taboos which he practises--not to speak of occasional remarkable gifts, say of trance and ecstasy, which he may inherit by nature and have improved by art--he HAS access to a wonder-working power.... And the great need of primitive folk is for this healer of souls." Our author further insists on the enormous play and influence of Fear in the savage mind--a point we have touched on already--and gives instances of Thanatomania, or cases where, after a quite slight and superficial wound, the patient becomes so depressed that he, quite needlessly, persists in dying! Such cases, obviously, can only be countered by Faith, or something (whatever it may be) which restores courage, hope and energy to the mind. Nor need I point out that the situation is exactly the same among a vast number of 'patients' to-day. As to the value, in his degree, of the medicine-man many modern observers and students quite agree with the above. (2) Also as the present chapter is on Ritual Dancing it may not be out of place to call attention to the supposed healing of sick people in Ceylon and other places by Devil-dancing--the enormous output of energy and noise in the ritual possibly having the effect of reanimating the patient (if it does not kill him), or of expelling the disease from his organism. (1) Milk ("fast-milk" or vrata) was, says Mr. Hewitt, the only diet in the Soma-sacrifice. See Ruling Races of Prehistoric Times (preface). The Soma itself was a fermented drink prepared with ceremony from the milky and semen-like sap of certain plants, and much used in sacrificial offerings. (See Monier-Williams. Sanskrit Dictionary.) (2) See Winwood Reade (Savage Africa), Salamon Reinach (Cults, Myths and Religions), and others. With regard to the practical intelligence of primitive peoples, derived from their close contact with life and nature, Bishop Colenso's experiences among the Zulus may appropriately be remembered. When expounding the Bible to these supposedly backward 'niggers' he was met at all points by practical interrogations and arguments which he was perfectly unable to answer--especially over the recorded passage of the Red Sea by the Israelites in a single night. From the statistics given in the Sacred Book these naughty savages proved to him absolutely conclusively that the numbers of fugitives were such that even supposing them to have marched--men, women and children--FIVE ABREAST and in close order, they would have formed a column 100 miles long, and this not including the baggage, sheep and cattle! Of course the feat was absolutely impossible. They could not have passed the Red Sea in a night or a week of nights. But the sequel is still more amusing and instructive. Colenso, in his innocent sincerity, took the side of the Zulus, and feeling sure the Church at home would be quite glad to have its views with regard to the accuracy of Bible statistics corrected, wrote a book embodying the amendments needed. Modest as his criticisms were, they raised a STORM of protest and angry denunciation, which even led to his deposition for the time being from his bishopric! While at the same time an avalanche of books to oppose his heresy poured forth from the press. Lately I had the curiosity to look through the British Museum catalogue and found that in refutation of Colenso's Pentateuch Examined some 140 (a hundred and forty) volumes were at that time published! To-day, I need hardly say, all these arm-chair critics and their works have sunk into utter obscurity, but the arguments of the Zulus and their Bishop still stand unmoved and immovable. This is a case of searching intelligence shown by 'savages,' an intelligence founded on intimate knowledge of the needs of actual life. I think we may say that a similarly instinctive intelligence (sub-conscious if you like) has guided the tribes of men on the whole in their long passage through the Red Sea of the centuries, from those first days of which I speak even down to the present age, and has in some strange, even if fitful, way kept them along the path of that final emancipation towards which Humanity is inevitably moving. XII. THE SEX-TABOO In the course of the last few chapters I have spoken more than once of the solidarity and continuity of Christianity, in its essential doctrines, with the Pagan rites. There is, however, one notable exception to this statement. I refer of course to Christianity's treatment of Sex. It is certainly very remarkable that while the Pagan cults generally made a great deal of all sorts of sex-rites, laid much stress upon them, and introduced them in what we consider an unblushing and shameless way into the instincts connected with it. I say 'the Christian Church,' on the whole took quite the opposite line--ignored sex, condemned it, and did much despite to the perfectly natural instincts connected with it. I say 'the Christian Church,' because there is nothing to show that Jesus himself (if we admit his figure as historical) adopted any such extreme or doctrinaire attitude; and the quite early Christian teachers (with the chief exception of Paul) do not exhibit this bias to any great degree. In fact, as is well known, strong currents of pagan usage and belief ran through the Christian assemblies of the first three or four centuries. "The Christian art of this period remained delightfully pagan. In the catacombs we see the Saviour as a beardless youth, like a young Greek god; sometimes represented, like Hermes the guardian of the flocks, bearing a ram or lamb round his neck; sometimes as Orpheus tuning his lute among the wild animals." (1) The followers of Jesus were at times even accused--whether rightly or wrongly I know not--of celebrating sexual mysteries at their love-feasts. But as the Church through the centuries grew in power and scope--with its monks and their mutilations and asceticisms, and its celibate clergy, and its absolute refusal to recognize the sexual meaning of its own acclaimed symbols (like the Cross, the three fingers of Benediction, the Fleur de Lys and so forth)--it more and more consistently defined itself as anti-sexual in its outlook, and stood out in that way in marked contrast to the earlier Nature-religions. (1) Angels' Wings, by E. Carpenter, p. 104. It may be said of course that this anti-sexual tendency can be traced in other of the pre-Christian Churches, especially the later ones, like the Buddhist, the Egyptian, and so forth; and this is perfectly true; but it would seem that in many ways the Christian Church marked the culmination of the tendency; and the fact that other cults participated in the taboo makes us all the more ready and anxious to inquire into its real cause. To go into a disquisition on the Sex-rites of the various pre-Christian religions would be 'a large order'--larger than I could attempt to fill; but the general facts in this connection are fairly patent. We know, of course, from the Bible that the Syrians in Palestine were given to sexual worships. There were erect images (phallic) and "groves" (sexual symbols) on every high hill and under every green tree; (1) and these same images and the rites connected with them crept into the Jewish Temple and were popular enough to maintain their footing there for a long period from King Rehoboam onwards, notwithstanding the efforts of Josiah (2) and other reformers to extirpate them. Moreover there were girls and men (hierodouloi) regularly attached during this period to the Jewish Temple as to the heathen Temples, for the rendering of sexual services, which were recognized in many cases as part of the ritual. Women were persuaded that it was an honor and a privilege to be fertilized by a 'holy man' (a priest or other man connected with the rites), and children resulting from such unions were often called "Children of God"--an appellation which no doubt sometimes led to a legend of miraculous birth! Girls who took their place as hierodouloi in the Temple or Temple-precincts were expected to surrender themselves to men-worshipers in the Temple, much in the same way, probably, as Herodotus describes in the temple of the Babylonian Venus Mylitta, where every native woman, once in her life, was supposed to sit in the Temple and have intercourse with some stranger. (3) Indeed the Syrian and Jewish rites dated largely from Babylonia. "The Hebrews entering Syria," says Richard Burton (4) "found it religionized by Assyria and Babylonia, when the Accadian Ishtar had passed West, and had become Ashtoreth, Ashtaroth, or Ashirah, the Anaitis of Armenia, the Phoenician Astarte, and the Greek Aphrodite, the great Moon-goddess who is queen of Heaven and Love." The word translated "grove" as above, in our Bible, is in fact Asherah, which connects it pretty clearly with the Babylonian Queen of Heaven. (1) 1 Kings xiv. 22-24. (2) 2 Kings xxiii. (3) See Herodotus i. 199; also a reference to this custom in the apocryphal Baruch, vi. 42, 43. (4) The Thousand Nights and a Night (1886 edn.), vol. x, p. 229. In India again, in connection with the Hindu Temples and their rites, we have exactly the same institution of girls attached to the Temple service--the Nautch-girls--whose functions in past times were certainly sexual, and whose dances in honor of the god are, even down to the present day, decidedly amatory in character. Then we have the very numerous lingams (conventional representations of the male organ) to be seen, scores and scores of them, in the arcades and cloisters of the Hindu Temples--to which women of all classes, especially those who wish to become mothers, resort, anointing them copiously with oil, and signalizing their respect and devotion to them in a very practical way. As to the lingam as representing the male organ, in some form or other--as upright stone or pillar or obelisk or slender round tower--it occurs all over the world, notably in Ireland, and forms such a memorial of the adoration paid by early folk to the great emblem and instrument of human fertility, as cannot be mistaken. The pillars set up by Solomon in front of his temple were obviously from their names--Jachin and Boaz (1)--meant to be emblems of this kind; and the fact that they were crowned with pomegranates--the universally accepted symbol of the female--confirms and clinches this interpretation. The obelisks before the Egyptians' temples were signs of the same character. The well-known T-shaped cross was in use in pagan lands long before Christianity, as a representation of the male member, and also at the same time of the 'tree' on which the god (Attis or Adonis or Krishna or whoever it might be) was crucified; and the same symbol combined with the oval (or yoni) formed THE Crux Ansata {Ankh} of the old Egyptian ritual--a figure which is to-day sold in Cairo as a potent charm, and confessedly indicates the conjunction of the two sexes in one design. (2) MacLennan in The Fortnightly Review (Oct. 1869) quotes with approval the words of Sanchoniathon, as saying that "men first worship plants, next the heavenly bodies, supposed to be animals, then 'pillars' (emblems of the Procreator), and last, the anthropomorphic gods." (1) "He shall establish" and "In it is strength" are in the Bible the marginal interpretations of these two words. (2) The connection between the production of fire by means of the fire-drill and the generation of life by sex-intercourse is a very obvious one, and lends itself to magical ideas. J. E. Hewitt in his Ruling Races of Prehistoric Times (1894) says (vol. i, p. 8) that "Magha, the mother-goddess worshipped in Asia Minor, was originally the socket-block from which fire was generated by the fire-drill." Hence we have, he says, the Magi of Persia, and the Maghadas of Indian History, also the word "Magic." It is not necessary to enlarge on this subject. The facts of the connection of sexual rites with religious services nearly everywhere in the early world are, as I say, sufficiently patent to every inquirer. But it IS necessary to try to understand the rationale of this connection. To dispatch all such cases under the mere term "religious prostitution" is no explanation. The term suggests, of course, that the plea of religion was used simply as an excuse and a cover for sexual familiarities; but though this kind of explanation commends itself, no doubt, to the modern man--whose religion is as commercial as his sex-relationships are--and though in CASES no doubt it was a true explanation--yet it is obvious that among people who took religion seriously, as a matter of life and death and who did not need hypocritical excuses or covers for sex-relationships, it cannot be accepted as in general the RIGHT explanation. No, the real explanation is--and I will return to this presently--that sexual relationships are so deep and intimate a part of human nature that from the first it has been simply impossible to keep them OUT of religion--it being of course the object of religion to bring the whole human being into some intelligible relation with the physical, moral, and if you like supernatural order of the great world around him. Sex was felt from the first to be part, and a foundational part, of the great order of the world and of human nature; and therefore to separate it from Religion was unthinkable and a kind of contradiction in terms. (1) (1) For further development of this subject see ch. xv. If that is true--it will be asked--how was it that that divorce DID take place--that the taboo did arise? How was it that the Jews, under the influence of Josiah and the Hebrew prophets, turned their faces away from sex and strenuously opposed the Syrian cults? How was it that this reaction extended into Christianity and became even more definite in the Christian Church--that monks went by thousands into the deserts of the Thebaid, and that the early Fathers and Christian apologists could not find terms foul enough to hurl at Woman as the symbol (to them) of nothing but sex-corruption and delusion? How was it that this contempt of the body and degradation of sex-things went on far into the Middle Ages of Europe, and ultimately created an organized system of hypocrisy, and concealment and suppression of sex-instincts, which, acting as cover to a vile commercial Prostitution and as a breeding ground for horrible Disease, has lasted on even to the edge of the present day? This is a fair question, and one which demands an answer. There must have been a reason, and a deep-rooted one, for this remarkable reaction and volte-face which has characterized Christianity, and, perhaps to a lesser degree, other both earlier and later cults like those of the Buddhists, the Egyptians, the Aztecs, (1) and so forth. (1) For the Aztecs, see Acosta, vol. ii, p. 324 (London, 1604). It may be said--and this is a fair answer on the SURFACE of the problem--that the main reason WAS something in the nature of a reaction. The excesses and corruptions of sex in Syria had evidently become pretty bad, and that very fact may have led to a pendulum-swing of the Jewish Church in the opposite direction; and again in the same way the general laxity of morals in the decay of the Roman empire may have confirmed the Church of early Christendom in its determination to keep along the great high road of asceticism. The Christian followed on the Jewish and Egyptian Churches, and in this way a great tradition of sexual continence and anti-pagan morality came right down the centuries even into modern times. This seems so far a reasonable theory; but I think we shall go farther and get nearer the heart of the problem if we revert to the general clue which I have followed already more than once--the clue of the necessary evolution of human Consciousnss. In the first or animal stage of human evolution, Sex was (as among the animals) a perfectly necessary, instinctive and unself-conscious activity. It was harmonious with itself, natural, and unproductive of evil. But when the second stage set in, in which man became preponderantly SELF-conscious, he inevitably set about deflecting sex-activities to his own private pleasure and advantage; he employed his budding intellect in scheming the derailment of passion and desire from tribal needs and, Nature's uses to the poor details of his own gratification. If the first stage of harmonious sex-instinct and activity may be held as characteristic of the Golden Age, the second stage must be taken to represent the Fall of man and his expulsion from Paradise in the Garden of Eden story. The pleasure and glory of Sex having been turned to self-purposes, Sex itself became the great Sin. A sense of guilt overspread man's thoughts on the subject. "He knew that he was naked," and he fled from the voice and face of the Lord. From that moment one of the main objects of his life (in its inner and newer activities) came to be the DENIAL of Sex. Sex was conceived of as the great Antagonist, the old Serpent lying ever in wait to betray him; and there arrived a moment in the history of every race, and of every representative religion, when the sexual rites and ceremonies of the older time lost their naive and quasi-innocent character and became afflicted with a sense of guilt and indecency. This extraordinarily interesting and dramatic moment in human evolution was of course that in which self-consciousness grew powerful enough to penetrate to the centre of human vitality, the sanctumof man's inner life, his sexual instinct, and to deal it a terrific blow--a blow from which it has never yet recovered, and from which indeed it will not recover, until the very nature of man's inner life is changed. It may be said that it was very foolish of Man to deny and to try to expel a perfectly natural and sensible thing, a necessary and indispensable part of his own nature. And that, as far as I can see, is perfectly true. But sometimes it is unavoidable, it would seem, to do foolish things--if only to convince oneself of one's own foolishness. On the other hand, this policy on the part of Man was certainly very wise--wiser than he knew--for in attempting to drive out Sex (which of course he could not do) he entered into a conflict which was bound to end in the expulsion of SOMETHING; and that something was the domination, within himself, of self-consciousness, the very thing which makes and ever has made sex detestable. Man did not succeed in driving the snake out of the Garden, but he drove himself out, taking the real old serpent of self-greed and self-gratification with him. When some day he returns to Paradise this latter will have died in his bosom and been cast away, but he will find the good Snake there as of old, full of healing and friendliness, among the branches of the Tree of Life. Besides it is evident from other considerations that this moment of the denial of sex HAD to come. When one thinks of the enormous power of this passion, and its age-long, hold upon the human race, one realizes that once liberated from the instinctive bonds of nature, and backed by a self-conscious and self-seeking human intelligence it was on the way to become a fearful curse. A monstrous Eft was of old the Lord and Master of Earth; For him did his high sun flame, and his river billowing ran. And this may have been all very well and appropriate in the carboniferous Epoch, but WE in the end of Time have no desire to fall under any such preposterous domination, or to return to the primal swamps from which organic nature has so slowly and painfully emerged. I say it was the entry of self-consciousness into the sphere of Sex, and the consequent use of the latter for private ends, which poisoned this great race-power at its root. For above all, Sex, as representing through Childbirth the life of the Race (or of the Tribe, or, if you like, of Humanity at large) should be sacred and guarded from merely selfish aims, and therefore to use it only for such aims is indeed a desecration. And even if--as some maintain and I think rightly (1)--sex is not MERELY for child-birth and physical procreation, but for mutual vitalizing and invigoration, it still subserves union and not egotism; and to use it egotistically is to commit the sin of Separation indeed. It is to cast away and corrupt the very bond of life and fellowship. The ancient peoples at any rate threw an illumination of religious (that is, of communal and public) value over sex-acts, and to a great extent made them into matters either of Temple-ritual and the worship of the gods, or of communal and pandemic celebration, as in the Saturnalia and other similar festivals. We have certainly no right to regard these celebrations--of either kind--as insincere. They were, at any rate in their inception, genuinely religious or genuinely social and festal; and from either point of view they were far better than the secrecy of private indulgence which characterizes our modern world in these matters. The thorough and shameless commercialism of Sex has alas! been reserved for what is called "Christian civilization," and with it (perhaps as a necessary consequence) Prostitution and Syphilis have grown into appalling evils, accompanied by a gigantic degradation of social standards, and upgrowth of petty Philistinism and niaiserie. Love, in fact, having in this modern world-movement been denied, and its natural manifestations affected with a sense of guilt and of sin, has really languished and ceased to play its natural part in life; and a vast number of people--both men and women, finding themselves barred or derailed from the main object of existence, have turned their energies to 'business' or 'money-making' or 'social advancement' or something equally futile, as the only poor substitute and pis aller open to them. (1) See Havelock Ellis, The Objects of Marriage, a pamphlet published by the "British Society for the Study of Sex-psychology." Why (again we ask) did Christianity make this apparently great mistake? And again we must reply: Perhaps the mistake was not so great as it appears to be. Perhaps this was another case of the necessity of learning by loss. Love had to be denied, in the form of sex, in order that it might thus the better learn its own true values and needs. Sex had to be rejected, or defiled with the sense of guilt and self-seeking, in order that having cast out its defilement it might return one day, transformed in the embrace of love. The whole process has had a deep and strange world-significance. It has led to an immensely long period of suppression--suppression of two great instincts--the physical instinct of sex and the emotional instinct of love. Two things which should naturally be conjoined have been separated; and both have suffered. And we know from the Freudian teachings what suppressions in the root-instincts necessarily mean. We know that they inevitably terminate in diseases and distortions of proper action, either in the body or in the mind, or in both; and that these evils can only be cured by the liberation of the said instincts again to their proper expression and harmonious functioning in the whole organism. No wonder then that, with this agelong suppression (necessary in a sense though it may have been) which marks the Christian dispensation, there should have been associated endless Sickness and Crime and sordid Poverty, the Crucifixion of animals in the name of Science and of human workers in the name of Wealth, and wars and horrors innumerable! Hercules writhing in the Nessus-shirt or Prometheus nailed to the rocks are only as figures of a toy miniature compared with this vision of the great and divine Spirit of Man caught in the clutches of those dread Diseases which through the centuries have been eating into his very heart and vitals. It would not be fair to pile on the Christian Church the blame for all this. It had, no doubt, its part to play in the whole great scheme, namely, to accentuate the self-motive; and it played the part very thoroughly and successfully. For it must be remembered (what I have again and again insisted on) that in the pagan cults it was always the salvation of the CLAN, the TRIBE, the people that was the main consideration; the advantage of the individual took only a very secondary part. But in Christendom--after the communal enthusiasms of apostolic days and of the medieval and monastic brotherhoods and sisterhoods had died down--religion occupied itself more and more with each man or woman's INDIVIDUAL salvation, regardless of what might happen to the community; till, with the rise of Protestantism and Puritanism, this tendency reached such an extreme that, as some one has said, each man was absorbed in polishing up his own little soul in a corner to himself, in entire disregard to the damnation which might come to his neighbor. Religion, and Morality too, under the commercial regime became, as was natural, perfectly selfish. It was always: "Am _I_ saved? Am _I_ doing the right thing? Am _I_ winning the favor of God and man? Will my claims to salvation be allowed? Did _I_ make a good bargain in allowing Jesus to be crucified for me?" The poison of a diseased self-consciousness entered into the whole human system. As I say, one must not blame the Christians too much for all this--partly because, AFTER the communal periods which I have just mentioned, Christianity was evidently deeply influenced by the rise of COMMERCIALISM, to which during the last two centuries it has so carefully and piously adapted itself; and partly because--if our view is anywhere near right--this microbial injection of self-consciousness was just the necessary work which (in conjunction with commercialism) it HAD to perform. But though one does not blame Christianity one cannot blind oneself to its defects--the defects necessarily arising from the part it had to play. When one compares a healthy Pagan ritual--say of Apollo or Dionysus--including its rude and crude sacrifices if you like, but also including its whole-hearted spontaneity and dedication to the common life and welfare--with the morbid self-introspection of the Christian and the eternally recurring question "What shall I do to be saved?"--the comparison is not favorable to the latter. There is (at any rate in modern days) a mawkish milk-and-wateriness about the Christian attitude, and also a painful self-consciousness, which is not pleasant; and though Nietzsche's blonde beast is a sufficiently disagreeable animal, one almost thinks that it were better to be THAT than to go about with one's head meekly hanging on one side, and talking always of altruism and self-sacrifice, while in reality one's heart was entirely occupied with the question of one's own salvation. There is besides a lamentable want of grit and substance about the Christian doctrines and ceremonials. Somehow under the sex-taboo they became spiritualized and etherealized out of all human use. Study the initiation-rites of any savage tribe--with their strict discipline of the young braves in fortitude, and the overcoming of pain and fear; with their very detailed lessons in the arts of war and life and the duties of the grown man to his tribe; and with their quite practical instruction in matters of Sex; and then read our little Baptismal and Confirmation services, which ought to correspond thereto. How thin and attenuated and weak the latter appear! Or compare the Holy Communion, as celebrated in the sentimental atmosphere of a Protestant Church, with an ancient Eucharistic feast of real jollity and community of life under the acknowledged presence of the god; or the Roman Catholic service of the Mass, including its genuflexions and mock oblations and droning ritual sing-song, with the actual sacrifice in early days of an animal-god-victim on a blazing altar; and I think my meaning will be clear. We do not want, of course, to return to all the crudities and barbarities of the past; but also we do not want to become attenuated and spiritualized out of all mundane sense and recognition, and to live in an otherworld Paradise void of application to earthly affairs. The sex-taboo in Christianity was apparently, as I have said, an effort of the human soul to wrest itself free from the entanglement of physical lust--which lust, though normal and appropriate and in a way gracious among the animals, had through the domination of self-consciousness become diseased and morbid or monstrous in Man. The work thus done has probably been of the greatest value to the human race; but, just as in other cases it has sometimes happened that the effort to do a certain work has resulted in the end in an unbalanced exaggeration so here. We are beginning to see now the harmful side of the repression of sex, and are tentatively finding our way back again to a more pagan attitude. And as this return-movement is taking place at a time when, from many obvious signs, the self-conscious, grasping, commercial conception of life is preparing to go on the wane, and the sense of solidarity to re-establish itself, there is really good hope that our return-journey may prove in some degree successful. Man progresses generally, not both legs at once like a sparrow, but by putting one leg forward first, and then the other. There was this advantage in the Christian taboo of sex that by discouraging the physical and sensual side of love it did for the time being allow the spiritual side to come forward. But, as I have just now indicated, there is a limit to that process. We cannot always keep one leg first in walking, and we do not want, in life, always to put the spiritual first, nor always the material and sensual. The two sides in the long run have to keep pace with each other. And it may be that a great number of the very curious and seemingly senseless taboos that we find among the primitive peoples can be partly explained in this way: that is, that by ruling out certain directions of activity they enabled people to concentrate more effectually, for the time being, on other directions. To primitive folk the great world, whose ways are puzzling enough in all conscience to us, must have been simply bewildering in its dangers and complications. It was an amazement of Fear and Ignorance. Thunderbolts might come at any moment out of the blue sky, or a demon out of an old tree trunk, or a devastating plague out of a bad smell--or apparently even out of nothing at all! Under those circumstances it was perhaps wise, wherever there was the smallest SUSPICION of danger or ill-luck, to create a hard and fast TABOO--just as we tell our children ON NO ACCOUNT to walk under a ladder (thereby creating a superstition in their minds), partly because it would take too long to explain all about the real dangers of paint-pots and other things, and partly because for the children themselves it seems simpler to have a fixed and inviolable law than to argue over every case that occurs. The priests and elders among early folk no doubt took the line of FORBIDDAL of activities, as safer and simpler, even if carried sometimes too far, than the opposite, of easy permission and encouragement. Taboos multiplied--many of them quite senseless--but perhaps in this perilous maze of the world, of which I have spoken, it really WAS simpler to cut out a large part of the labyrinth, as forbidden ground, thus rendering it easier for the people to find their way in those portions of the labyrinth which remained. If you read in Deuteronomy (ch. xiv) the list of birds and beasts and fishes permitted for food among the Israelites, or tabooed, you will find the list on the whole reasonable, but you will be struck by some curious exceptions (according to our ideas), which are probably to be explained by the necessity of making the rules simple enough to be comprehended by everybody--even if they included the forbiddal of some quite eatable animals. At some early period, in Babylonia or Assyria, a very stringent taboo on the Sabbath arose, which, taken up in turn by the Jewish and Christian Churches, has ruled the Western World for three thousand years or more, and still survives in a quite senseless form among some of our rural populations, who will see their corn rot in the fields rather than save it on a Sunday. (1) It is quite likely that this taboo in its first beginning was due not to any need of a weekly rest-day (a need which could never be felt among nomad savages, but would only occur in some kind of industrial and stationary civilization), but to some superstitious fear, connected with such things as the changes of the Moon, and the probable ILL-LUCK of any enterprise undertaken on the seventh day, or any day of Moon-change. It is probable, however, that as time went on and Society became more complex, the advantages of a weekly REST-DAY (or market-day) became more obvious and that the priests and legislators deliberately turned the taboo to a social use. (2) The learned modern Ethnologists, however, will generally have none of this latter idea. As a rule they delight in representing early peoples as totally destitute of common sense (which is supposed to be a monopoly of us moderns!); and if the Sabbath-arrangement has had any value or use they insist on ascribing this to pure accident, and not to the application of any sane argument or reason. (1) For other absurd Sunday taboos see Westermarck on The Moral Ideas, vol. ii, p. 289. (2) For a tracing of this taboo from useless superstition to practical utility see Hastings's Encycl. Religion and Ethics, art. "The Sabbath." It is true indeed that a taboo--in order to be a proper taboo--must not rest in the general mind on argument or reason. It may have had good sense in the past or even an underlying good sense in the present, but its foundation must rest on something beyond. It must be an absolute fiat--something of the nature of a Mystery (1) or of Religion or Magic-and not to be disputed. This gives it its blood-curdling quality. The rustic does not know what would happen to him if he garnered his corn on Sunday, nor does the diner-out in polite society know what would happen if he spooned up his food with his knife--but they both are stricken with a sort of paralysis at the very suggestion of infringing these taboos. (1) See Westermarck, Ibid., ii. 586. Marriage-customs have always been a fertile field for the generation of taboos. It seems doubtful whether anything like absolute promiscuity ever prevailed among the human race, but there is much to show that wide choice and intercourse were common among primitive folk and that the tendency of later marriage custom has been on the whole to LIMIT this range of choice. At some early period the forbiddal of marriage between those who bore the same totem-name took place. Thus in Australia "no man of the Emu stock might marry an Emu woman; no Blacksnake might marry a Blacksnake woman, and so forth." (1) Among the Kamilaroi and the Arunta of S. Australia the tribe was divided into classes or clans, sometimes four, sometimes eight, and a man of one particular clan was only marriageable with a woman of another particular clan--say (1) with (3) or (2) with (4), and so on. (2) Customs with a similar tendency, but different in detail, seem to have prevailed among native tribes in Central Africa and N. America. And the regulations in all this matter have been so (apparently) entirely arbitrary in the various cases that it would almost appear as if the bar of kinship through the Totem had been the EXCUSE, originating perhaps in some superstition, but that the real and more abiding object was simply limitation. And this perhaps was a wise line to take. A taboo on promiscuity had to be created, and for this purpose any current prejudice could be made use of. (3) (1) Myth, Ritual and Religion, i, p. 66. (2) See Spencer and Gillen, Native Tribes of Australia. (3) The author of The Mystic Rose seems to take this view. See p. 214 of that book. With us moderns the whole matter has taken a different complexion. When we consider the enormous amount of suffering and disease, both of mind and body, arising from the sex-suppression of which I have just spoken, especially among women, we see that mere unreasoning taboos--which possibly had their place and use in the past--can be tolerated no longer. We are bound to turn the searchlight of reason and science on a number of superstitions which still linger in the dark and musty places of the Churches and the Law courts. Modern inquiry has shown conclusively not only the foundational importance of sex in the evolution of each human being, but also the very great VARIETY of spontaneous manifestations in different individuals and the vital necessity that these should be recognized, if society is ever to expand into a rational human form. It is not my object here to sketch the future of marriage and sex-relations generally--a subject which is now being dealt with very effectively from many sides; but only to insist on our using our good sense in the whole matter, and refusing any longer to be bound by senseless pre-judgments. Something of the same kind may be said with regard to Nakedness, which in modern Civilization has become the object of a very serious and indeed harmful taboo; both of speech and act. As someone has said, it became in the end of the nineteenth century almost a crime to mention by name any portion of the human body within a radius of about twenty inches from its centre (!) and as a matter of fact a few dress-reformers of that period were actually brought into court and treated as criminals for going about with legs bare up to the knees, and shoulders and chest uncovered! Public follies such as these have been responsible for much of the bodily and mental disease and suppression just mentioned, and the sooner they are sent to limbo the better. No sensible person would advocate promiscuous nakedness any more than promiscuous sex-relationship; nor is it likely that aged and deformed people would at any time wish to expose themselves. But surely there is enough good sense and appreciation of grace and fitness in the average human mind for it to be able to liberate the body from senseless concealment, and give it its due expression. The Greeks of old, having on the whole clean bodies, treated them with respect and distinction. The young men appeared quite naked in the palaestra, and even the girls of Sparta ran races publicly in the same condition; (1) and some day when our bodies (and minds too) have become clean we shall return to similar institutions. But that will not be just yet. As long as the defilement of this commercial civilization is on us we shall prefer our dirt and concealment. The powers that be will protest against change. Heinrich Scham, in his charming little pamphlet Nackende Menschen, (2) describes the consternation of the commercial people at such ideas: "'What will become of us,' cried the tailors, 'if you go naked?' "And all the lot of them, hat, cravat, shirt, and shoemakers joined in the chorus. "'AND WHERE SHALL I CARRY MY MONEY?' cried one who had just been made a director." (1) See Theocritus, Idyll xviii. (2) Published at Leipzig about 1893. XIII. THE GENESIS OF CHRISTIANITY Referring back to the existence of something resembling a great World-religion which has come down the centuries, continually expanding and branching in the process, we have now to consider the genesis of that special brand or branch of it which we call Christianity. Each religion or cult, pagan or Christian, has had, as we have seen, a vast amount in common with the general World-religion; yet each has had its own special characteristics. What have been the main characteristics of the Christian branch, as differentiating it from the other branches? We saw in the last chapter that a certain ascetic attitude towards Sex was one of the most salient marks of the Christian Church; and that whereas most of the pagan cults (though occasionally favoring frightful austerities and cruel sacrifices) did on the whole rejoice in pleasure and the world of the senses, Christianity--following largely on Judaism--displayed a tendency towards renunciation of the world and the flesh, and a withdrawal into the inner and more spiritual regions of the mind. The same tendency may be traced in the Egyptian and Phrygian cults of that period. It will be remembered how Juvenal (Sat. VI, 510-40) chaffs the priests of Cybele at Rome for making themselves "eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake," or the rich Roman lady for plunging in the wintry Tiber for a propitiation to Isis. No doubt among the later pagans "the long intolerable tyranny of the senses over the soul" had become a very serious matter. But Christianity represented perhaps the most powerful reaction against this; and this reaction had, as indicated in the last chapter, the enormously valuable result that (for the time) it disentangled love from sex and established Love, pure and undefiled, as ruler of the world. "God is Love." But, as also indicated, the divorce between the two elements of human nature, carried to an extreme, led in time to a crippling of both elements and the development of a certain morbidity and self-consciousness which, it cannot be denied, is painfully marked among some sections of Christians--especially those of the altruistic and 'philanthropic' type. Another characteristic of Christianity which is also very fine in its way but has its limits of utility, has been its insistence on "morality." Some modern writers indeed have gone so far--forgetting, I suppose, the Stoics--as to claim that Christianity's chief mark is its high morality, and that the pagans generally were quite wanting in the moral sense! This, of course, is a profound mistake. I should say that, in the true sense of the word, the early and tribal peoples have been much more 'moral' as a rule--that is, ready as individuals to pay respect to the needs of the community--than the later and more civilized societies. But the mistake arises from the different interpretations of the word; for whereas all the pagan religions insisted very strongly on the just-mentioned kind of morality, which we should call CIVIC DUTY TO ONE'S NEIGHBOR, the Christian made morality to consist more especially in a mans DUTY TO GOD. It became with them a private affair between a mans self and-God, rather than a public affair; and thus led in the end to a very obnoxious and quite pharisaic kind of morality, whose chief inspiration was not the helping of one's fellow-man but the saving of one's own soul. There may perhaps be other salient points of differentiation between Christianity and the preceding pagan religions; but for the present we may recognize these two--(a) the tendency towards a renunciation of the world, and the consequent cultivation of a purely spiritual love and (b) the insistence on a morality whose inspiration was a private sense of duty to God rather than a public sense of duty to one's neighbor and to society generally. It may be interesting to trace the causes which led to this differentiation. Three centuries before our era the conquests of Alexander had had the effect of spreading the Greek thought and culture over most of the known world. A vast number of small bodies of worshipers of local deities, with their various rituals and religious customs, had thus been broken up, or at least brought into contact with each other and partially modified and hellenized. The orbit of a more general conception of life and religion was already being traced. By the time of the founding of the first Christian Church the immense conquests of Rome had greatly extended and established the process. The Mediterranean had become a great Roman lake. Merchant ships and routes of traffic crossed it in all directions; tourists visited its shores. The known world had become one. The numberless peoples, tribes, nations, societies within the girdle of the Empire, with their various languages, creeds, customs, religions, philosophies, were profoundly influencing each other. (1) A great fusion was taking place; and it was becoming inevitable that the next great religious movement would have a world-wide character. (1) For an enlargement on this theme see Glover's Conflict of Religions in the early Roman Empire; also S. J. Case, Evolution of Early Christianity (University of Chicago, 1914). The Adonis worship, for instance (a resurrection-cult), "was still thriving in Syria and Cyprus when Paul preached there," and the worship of Isis and Serapis had already reached then, Rome and Naples. It was probable that this new religion would combine many elements from the preceding rituals in one cult. In connection with the fine temples and elaborate services of Isis and Cybele and Mithra there was growing up a powerful priesthood; Franz Cumont (1) speaks of "the learned priests of the Asiatic cults" as building up, on the foundations of old fetichism and superstition, a complete religious philosophy--just as the Brahmins had built the monism of the Vedanta on the "monstrous idolatries of Hinduism." And it was likely that a similar process would evolve the new religion expected. Toutain again calls attention to the patronage accorded to all these cults by the Roman Emperors, as favoring a new combination and synthesis:--"Hadrien, Commode, Septime Severe, Julia Domna, Elagabal, Alexandre Severe, en particulier ont contribue personnellement a la popularite et au succes des cultes qui se celebraient en l'honneur de Serapis et d'Isis, des divinites syriennes et de Mithra." (2) (1) See Cumont, Religions Orientales dans le Paganisme Romain (Paris, 1906), p. 253. (2) Cultes paiens dans l'Empire Romain (2 vols., 1911), vol. ii, p. 263. It was also probable that this new Religion would show (as indicated in the last chapter) a reaction against mere sex-indulgence; and, as regards its standard of Morality generally, that, among so many conflicting peoples with their various civic and local customs, it could not well identify itself with any ONE of these but would evolve an inner inspiration of its own which in its best form would be love of the neighbor, regardless of the race, creed or customs of the neighbor, and whose sanction would not reside in any of the external authorities thus conflicting with each other, but in the sense of the soul's direct responsibility to God. So much for what we might expect a priori as to the influence of the surroundings on the general form of the new Religion. And what about the kind of creed or creeds which that religion would favor? Here again we must see that the influence of the surroundings compelled a certain result. Those doctrines which we have described in the preceding chapters--doctrines of Sin and Sacrifice, a Savior, the Eucharist, the Trinity, the Virgin-birth, and so forth--were in their various forms seething, so to speak, all around. It was impossible for any new religious synthesis to escape them; all it could do would be to appropriate them, and to give them perhaps a color of its own. Thus it is into the midst of this germinating mass that we must imagine the various pagan cults, like fertilizing streams, descending. To trace all these streams would of course be an impossible task; but it may be of use, as an example of the process, to take the case of some particular belief. Let us take the belief in the coming of a Savior-god; and this will be the more suitable as it is a belief which has in the past been commonly held to be distinctive of Christianity. Of course we know now that it is not in any sense distinctive, but that the long tradition of the Savior comes down from the remotest times, and perhaps from every country of the world. (1) The Messianic prophecies of the Jews and the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah emptied themselves into the Christian teachings, and infected them to some degree with a Judaic tinge. The "Messiah" means of course the Anointed One. The Hebrew word occurs some 40 times in the Old Testament; and each time in the Septuagint or Greek translation (made mainly in the third century BEFORE our era) the word is translated [gr cristos], or Christos, which again means Anointed. Thus we see that the idea or the word "The Christ" was in vogue in Alexandria as far back certainly as 280 B.C., or nearly three centuries before Jesus. And what the word "The Anointed" strictly speaking means, and from what the expression is probably derived, will appear later. In The Book of Enoch, written not later than B.C. 170, (2) the Christ is spoken of as already existing in heaven, and about to come as judge of all men, and is definitely called "the Son of Man." The Book of Revelations is FULL of passages from Enoch; so are the Epistles of Paul; so too the Gospels. The Book of Enoch believes in a Golden Age that is to come; it has Dantesque visions of Heaven and Hell, and of Angels good and evil, and it speaks of a "garden of Righteousness" with the "Tree of Wisdom" in its midst. Everywhere, says Prof. Drews, in the first century B.C., there was the longing for a coming Savior. (1) Even to-day, the Arabian lands are always vibrating with prophecies of a coming Mahdi. (2) See Edition by R. H. Charles (1893). But the Savior-god, as we also know, was a familiar figure in Egypt. The great Osiris was the Savior of the world, both in his life and death: in his life through the noble works he wrought for the benefit of mankind, and in his death through his betrayal by the powers of darkness and his resurrection from the tomb and ascent into heaven. (1) The Egyptian doctrines descended through Alexandria into Christianity--and though they did not influence the latter deeply until about 300 A.D., yet they then succeeded in reaching the Christian Churches, giving a color to their teachings with regard to the Savior, and persuading them to accept and honor the Egyptian worship of Isis in the Christian form of the Virgin Mary. (1) See ch. ii. Again, another great stream of influence descended from Persia in the form of the cult of Mithra. Mithra, as we have seen, (1) stood as a great Mediator between God and man. With his baptisms and eucharists, and his twelve disciples, and his birth in a cave, and so forth, he seemed to the early Fathers an invention of the devil and a most dangerous mockery on Christianity--and all the more so because his worship was becoming so exceedingly popular. The cult seems to have reached Rome about B.C. 70. It spread far and wide through the Empire. It extended to Great Britain, and numerous remains of Mithraic monuments and sculptures in this country--at York, Chester and other places--testify to its wide acceptance even here. At Rome the vogue of Mithraism became so great that in the third century A. D., it was quite doubtful (2) whether it OR Christianity would triumph; the Emperor Aurelian in 273 founded a cult of the Invincible Sun in connection with Mithraism; (3) and as St. Jerome tells us in his letters, (4) the latter cult had at a later time to be suppressed in Rome and Alexandria by PHYSICAL FORCE, so powerful was it. (1) Ch. ii. (2) See Cumont, op. cit., who says, p. 171:--"Jamais, pas meme a l'epoque des invasions mussulmanes, l'Europe ne sembla plus pres de devenir asiatique qu'au moment ou Diocletien reconnaissait officiellement en Mithra, le protecteur de l'empire reconstitue." See also Cumont's Mysteres de Mithra, preface. The Roman Army, in fact, stuck to Mithra throughout, as against Christianity; and so did the Roman nobility. (See S. Augustine's Confessions, Book VIII, ch. 2.) (3) Cumont indeed says that the identification of Mithra with the Sun (the emblem of imperial power) formed one reason why Mithraism was NOT persecuted at that time. (4) Epist. cvii, ad Laetam. See Robertson's Pagan Christs, p. 350. Nor was force the only method employed. IMITATION is not only the sincerest flattery, but it is often the most subtle and effective way of defeating a rival. The priests of the rising Christian Church were, like the priests of ALL religions, not wanting in craft; and at this moment when the question of a World-religion was in the balance, it was an obvious policy for them to throw into their own scale as many elements as possible of the popular Pagan cults. Mithraism had been flourishing for 600 years; and it is, to say the least, CURIOUS that the Mithraic doctrines and legends which I have just mentioned should all have been adopted (quite unintentionally of course!) into Christianity; and still more so that some others from the same source, like the legend of the Shepherds at the Nativity and the doctrine of the Resurrection and Ascension, which are NOT mentioned at all in the original draft of the earliest Gospel (St. Mark), should have made their appearance, in the Christian writings at a later time, when Mithraism was making great forward strides. History shows that as a Church progresses and expands it generally feels compelled to enlarge and fortify its own foundations by inserting material which was not there at first. I shall shortly give another illustration of this; at present I will merely point out that the Christian writers, as time went on, not only introduced new doctrines, legends, miracles and so forth--most of which we can trace to antecedent pagan sources--but that they took especial pains to destroy the pagan records and so obliterate the evidence of their own dishonesty. We learn from Porphyry (1) that there were several elaborate treatises setting forth the religion of Mithra; and J. M. Robertson adds (Pagan Christs, p. 325): "everyone of these has been destroyed by the care of the Church, and it is remarkable that even the treatise of Firmicus is mutilated at a passage (v.) where he seems to be accusing Christians of following Mithraic usages." While again Professor Murray says, "The polemic literature of Christianity is loud and triumphant; the books of the Pagans have been DESTROYED." (2) (1) De Abstinentia, ii. 56; iv. 16. (2) Four Stages, p. 180. We have probably an instance of this destruction in the total disappearance of Celsus' lively attack on Christianity (180 A.D.), of which, however, portions have been fortunately preserved in Origen's rather prolix refutation of the same. Returning to the doctrine of the Savior, I have already in preceding chapters given so many instances of belief in such a deity among the pagans--whether he be called Krishna or Mithra or Osiris or Horus or Apollo or Hercules--that it is not necessary to dwell on the subject any further in order to persuade the reader that the doctrine was 'in the air' at the time of the advent of Christianity. Even Dionysus, then a prominent figure in the 'Mysteries,' was called Eleutherios, The Deliverer. But it may be of interest to trace the same doctrine among the PRE-CHRISTIAN sects of Gnostics. The Gnostics, says Professor Murray, (1) "are still commonly thought of as a body of CHRISTIAN heretics. In reality there were Gnostic sects scattered over the Hellenistic world BEFORE Christianity as well as after. They must have been established in Antioch and probably in Tarsus well before the days of Paul or Apollos. Their Savior, like the Jewish Messiah, was established in men's minds before the Savior of the Christians. 'If we look close,' says Professor Bousset, 'the result emerges with great clearness that the figure of the Redeemer as such did not wait for Christianity to force its way into the religion of Gnosis, but was already present there under various forms.'" (1) Four Stages, p. 143. This Gnostic Redeemer, continues Professor Murray, "is descended by a fairly clear genealogy from the 'Tritos Soter' ('third Savior') (1) of early Greece, contaminated with similar figures, like Attis and Adonis from Asia Minor, Osiris from Egypt, and the special Jewish conception of the Messiah of the Chosen people. He has various names, which the name of Jesus or 'Christos,' 'the Anointed,' tends gradually to supersede. Above all, he is in some sense Man, or 'the second Man' or 'the Son of Man'... He is the real, the ultimate, the perfect and eternal Man, of whom all bodily men are feeble copies." (2) (1) There seems to be some doubt about the exact meaning of this expression. Even Zeus himself was sometimes called 'Soter,' and at feasts, it is said, the THIRD goblet was always drunk in his honor. (2) See also The Gnostic Story of Jesus Christ, by Gilbert T. Sadler (C. W. Daniel, 1919). This passage brings vividly before the mind the process of which I have spoken, namely, the fusion and mutual interchange of ideas on the subject of the Savior during the period anterior to our era. Also it exemplifies to us through what an abstract sphere of Gnostic religious speculation the doctrine had to travel before reaching its expression in Christianity. (1) This exalted and high philosophical conception passed on and came out again to some degree in the Fourth Gospel and the Pauline Epistles (especially I Cor. xv); but I need hardly say it was not maintained. The enthusiasm of the little scattered Christian bodies--with their communism of practice with regard to THIS world and their intensity of faith with regard to the next--began to wane in the second and third centuries A.D. As the Church (with capital initial) grew, so was it less and less occupied with real religious feeling, and more and more with its battles against persecution from outside, and its quarrels and dissensions concerning heresies within its own borders. And when at the Council of Nicaea (325 A.D.) it endeavored to establish an official creed, the strife and bitterness only increased. "There is no wild beast," said the Emperor Julian, "like an angry theologian." Where the fourth Evangelist had preached the gospel of Love, and Paul had announced redemption by an inner and spiritual identification with Christ, "As in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all be made alive"; and whereas some at any rate of the Pagan cults had taught a glorious salvation by the new birth of a divine being within each man: "Be of good cheer, O initiates in the mystery of the liberated god; For to you too out of all your labors and sorrows shall come Liberation"--the Nicene creed had nothing to propound except some extremely futile speculations about the relation to each other of the Father and the Son, and the relation of BOTH to the Holy Ghost, and of all THREE to the Virgin Mary--speculations which only served for the renewal of shameful strife and animosities--riots and bloodshed and murder--within the Church, and the mockery of the heathen without. And as far as it dealt with the crucifixion, death and resurrection of the Lord it did not differ from the score of preceding pagan creeds, except in the thorough materialism and lack of poetry in statement which it exhibits. After the Council of Nicaea, in fact, the Judaic tinge in the doctrines of the Church becomes more apparent, and more and more its Scheme of Salvation through Christ takes the character of a rather sordid and huckstering bargain by which Man gets the better of God by persuading the latter to sacrifice his own Son for the redemption of the world! With the exception of a few episodes like the formation during the Middle Ages of the noble brotherhoods and sisterhoods of Frairs and Nuns, dedicated to the help and healing of suffering humanity, and the appearance of a few real lovers of mankind (and the animals) like St. Francis--(and these manifestations can hardly be claimed by the Church, which pretty consistently opposed them)--it may be said that after about the fourth century the real spirit and light of early Christian enthusiasm died away. The incursions of barbarian tribes from the North and East, and later of Moors and Arabs from the South, familiarized the European peoples with the ideas of bloodshed and violence; gross and material conceptions of life were in the ascendant; and a romantic and aspiring Christianity gave place to a worldly and vulgar Churchianity. (1) When travelling in India I found that the Gnanis or Wise Men there quite commonly maintained that Jesus (judging from his teaching) must have been initiated at some time in the esoteric doctrines of the Vedanta. I have in these two or three pages dealt only--and that very briefly--with the entry of the pagan doctrine of the Savior into the Christian field, showing its transformation there and how Christianity could not well escape having a doctrine of a Savior, or avoid giving a color of its own to that doctrine. To follow out the same course with other doctrines, like those which I have mentioned above, would obviously be an endless task--which must be left to each student or reader to pursue according to his opportunity and capacity. It is clear anyhow, that all these elements of the pagan religions--pouring down into the vast reservoir, or rather whirlpool, of the Roman Empire, and mixing among all these numerous brotherhoods, societies, collegia, mystery-clubs, and groups which were at that time looking out intently for some new revelation or inspiration--did more or less automatically act and react upon each other, and by the general conditions prevailing were modified, till they ultimately combined and took united shape in the movement which we call Christianity, but which only--as I have said--narrowly escaped being called Mithraism--so nearly related and closely allied were these cults with each other. At this point it will naturally be asked: "And where in this scheme of the Genesis of Christianity is the chief figure and accredited leader of the movement--namely Jesus Christ himself--for to all appearance in the account here given of the matter he is practically non-existent or a negligible quantity?" And the question is a very pertinent one, and very difficult to answer. "Where is the founder of the Religion?"--or to put it in another form: "Is it necessary to suppose a human and visible Founder at all?" A few years ago such a mere question would have been accounted rank blasphemy, and would only--if passed over--have been ignored on account of its supposed absurdity. To-day, however, owing to the enormous amount of work which has been done of late on the subject of Christian origins, the question takes on quite a different complexion. And from Strauss onwards a growingly influential and learned body of critics is inclined to regard the whole story of the Gospels as LEGENDARY. Arthur Drews, for instance, a professor at Karlsruhe, in his celebrated book The Christ-Myth, (1) places David F. Strauss as first in the myth field--though he allows that Dupuis in L'origine de tous les cultes (1795) had given the clue to the whole idea. He then mentions Bruno Bauer (1877) as contending that Jesus was a pure invention of Mark's, and John M. Robertson as having in his Christianity and Mythology (1900) given the first thoroughly reasoned exposition of the legendary theory; also Emilio Bossi in Italy, who wrote Jesu Christo non e mai esistito, and similar authors in Holland, Poland, and other countries, including W. Benjamin Smith, the American author of The Pre-christian Jesus (1906), and P. Jensen in Das Gilgamesch Epos in den Welt-literatur (1906), who makes the Jesus-story a variant of the Babylonian epic, 2000 B.C. A pretty strong list! (2) "But," continues Drews, "ordinary historians still ignore all this." Finally, he dismisses Jesus as "a figure swimming obscurely in the mists of tradition." Nevertheless I need hardly remark that, large and learned as the body of opinion here represented is, a still larger (but less learned) body fights desperately for the actual HISTORICITY of Jesus, and some even still for the old view of him as a quite unique and miraculous revelation of Godhood on earth. (1) Die Christus-mythe: verbesserte und erweitezte Ausgabe, Jena, 1910. (2) To which we may also add Schweitzer's Quest of the historical Jesus (1910). At first, no doubt, the LEGENDARY theory seems a little TOO far-fetched. There is a fashion in all these things, and it MAY be that there is a fashion even here. But when you reflect how rapidly legends grow up even in these days of exact Science and an omniscient Press; how the figure of Shakespeare, dead only 300 years, is almost completely lost in the mist of Time, and even the authenticity of his works has become a subject of controversy; when you find that William Tell, supposed to have lived some 300 years again before Shakespeare, and whose deeds in minutest detail have been recited and honored all over Europe, is almost certainly a pure invention, and never existed; when you remember--as mentioned earlier in this book (1)--that it was more than five hundred years after the supposed birth of Jesus before any serious effort was made to establish the date of that birth--and that then a purely mythical date was chosen: the 25th December, the day of the SUN'S new birth after the winter solstice, and the time of the supposed birth of Apollo, Bacchus, and the other Sungods; when, moreover, you think for a moment what the state of historical criticism must have been, and the general standard of credibility, 1,900 years ago, in a country like Syria, and among an ignorant population, where any story circulating from lip to lip was assured of credence if sufficiently marvelous or imaginative;--why, then the legendary theory does not seem so improbable. There is no doubt that after the destruction of Jerusalem (in A.D. 70), little groups of believers in a redeeming 'Christ' were formed there and in other places, just as there had certainly existed, in the first century B.C., groups of Gnostics, Therapeutae, Essenes and others whose teachings were very SIMILAR to the Christian, and there was now a demand from many of these groups for 'writings' and 'histories' which should hearten and confirm the young and growing Churches. The Gospels and Epistles, of which there are still extant a great abundance, both apocryphal and canonical, met this demand; but how far their records of the person of Jesus of Nazareth are reliable history, or how far they are merely imaginative pictures of the kind of man the Saviour might be expected to be, (2) is a question which, as I have already said, is a difficult one for skilled critics to answer, and one on which I certainly have no intention of giving a positive verdict. Personally I must say I think the 'legendary' solution quite likely, and in some ways more satisfactory than the opposite one--for the simple reason that it seems much more encouraging to suppose that the story of Jesus, (gracious and beautiful as it is) is a myth which gradually formed itself in the conscience of mankind, and thus points the way of humanity's future evolution, than to suppose it to be the mere record of an unique and miraculous interposition of Providence, which depended entirely on the powers above, and could hardly be expected to occur again. (1) Ch. II. (2) One of Celsus' accusations against the Christians was that their Gospels had been written "several times over" (see Origen, Contra Celsum, ii. 26, 27). However, the question is not what we desire, but what we can prove to be the actual fact. And certainly the difficulties in the way of regarding the Gospel story (or stories, for there is not one consistent story) as TRUE are enormous. If anyone will read, for instance, in the four Gospels, the events of the night preceding the crucifixion and reckon the time which they would necessarily have taken to enact--the Last Supper, the agony in the Garden, the betrayal by Judas, the haling before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin, and then before Pilate in the Hall of judgment (though courts for the trial of malefactors do not GENERALLY sit in the middle of the night); then--in Luke--the interposed visit to Herod, and the RETURN to Pilate; Pilate's speeches and washing of hands before the crowd; then the scourging and the mocking and the arraying of Jesus in purple robe as a king; then the preparation of a Cross and the long and painful journey to Golgotha; and finally the Crucifixion at sunrise;--he will see--as has often been pointed out--that the whole story is physically impossible. As a record of actual events the story is impossible; but as a record or series of notes derived from the witnessing of a "mystery-play"--and such plays with VERY SIMILAR incidents were common enough in antiquity in connection with cults of a dying Savior, it very likely IS true (one can see the very dramatic character of the incidents: the washing of hands, the threefold denial by Peter, the purple robe and crown of thorns, and so forth); and as such it is now accepted by many well-qualified authorities. (1) (1) Dr. Frazer in The Golden Bough (vol. ix, "The Scapegoat," p. 400) speaks of the frequency in antiquity of a Mystery-play relating to a God-man who gives his life and blood for the people; and he puts forward tentatively and by no means dogmatically the following note:--"Such a drama, if we are right, was the original story of Esther and Mordecai, or (to give their older names) Ishtar and Marduk. It was played in Babylonia, and from Babylonia the returning Captives brought it to Judaea, where it was acted, rather as an historical than a mythical piece, by players who, having to die in grim earnest on a cross or gallows, were naturally drawn from the gaol rather than the green-room. A chain of causes, which because we cannot follow them might--in the loose language of common life--be called an accident, determined that the part of the dying god in this annual play should be thrust upon Jesus of Nazareth, whom the enemies he had made in high places by his outspoken strictures were resolved to put out of the way." See also vol. iv, "The Dying God," in the same book. There are many other difficulties. The raising of Lazarus, already dead three days, the turning of water into wine (a miracle attributed to Bacchus, of old), the feeding of the five thousand, and others of the marvels are, to say the least, not easy of digestion. The "Sermon on the Mount" which, with the "Lord's Prayer" embedded in it, forms the great and accepted repository of 'Christian' teaching and piety, is well known to be a collection of sayings from pre-christian writings, including the Psalms, Isaiah, Ecclesiasticus, the Secrets of Enoch, the Shemonehesreh (a book of Hebrew prayers), and others; and the fact that this collection was really made AFTER the time of Jesus, and could not have originated from him, is clear from the stress which it lays on "persecutions" and "false prophets"--things which were certainly not a source of trouble at the time Jesus is supposed to be speaking, though they were at a later time--as well as from the occurrence of the word "Gentiles," which being here used apparently in contra-distinction to "Christians" could not well be appropriate at a time when no recognized Christian bodies as yet existed. But the most remarkable point in this connection is the absolute silence of the Gospel of Mark on the subject of the Resurrection and Ascension--that is, of the ORIGINAL Gospel, for it is now allowed on all hands that the twelve verses Mark xvi. 9 to the end, are a later insertion. Considering the nature of this event, astounding indeed, if physically true, and unique in the history of the world, it is strange that this Gospel--the earliest written of the four Gospels, and nearest in time to the actual evidence--makes no mention of it. The next Gospel in point of time--that of Matthew--mentions the matter rather briefly and timidly, and reports the story that the body had been STOLEN from the sepulchre. Luke enlarges considerably and gives a whole long chapter to the resurrection and ascension; while the Fourth Gospel, written fully twenty years later still--say about A. D. 120--gives two chapters and a GREAT VARIETY OF DETAILS! This increase of detail, however, as one gets farther and farther from the actual event is just what one always finds, as I have said before, in legendary traditions. A very interesting example of this has lately come to light in the case of the traditions concerning the life and death of the Persian Bab. The Bab, as most of my readers will know, was the Founder of a great religious movement which now numbers (or numbered before the Great War) some millions of adherents, chiefly Mahommedans, Christians, Jews and Parsees. The period of his missionary activity was from 1845 to 1850. His Gospel was singularly like that of Jesus--a gospel of love to mankind--only (as might be expected from the difference of date) with an even wider and more deliberate inclusion of all classes, creeds and races, sinners and saints; and the incidents and entourage of his ministry were also singularly similar. He was born at Shiraz in 1820, and growing up a promising boy and youth, fell at the age Of 21 under the influence of a certain Seyyid Kazim, leader of a heterodox sect, and a kind of fore-runner or John the Baptist to the Bab. The result was a period of mental trouble (like the "temptation in the wilderness"), after which the youth returned to Shiraz and at the age of twenty-five began his own mission. His real name was Mirza Ali Muhammad, but he called himself thenceforth The Bab, i.e. the Gate ("I am the Way"); and gradually there gathered round him disciples, drawn by the fascination of his personality and the devotion of his character. But with the rapid increase of his following great jealousy and hatred were excited among the Mullahs, the upholders of a fanatical and narrow-minded Mahommedanism and quite corresponding to the Scribes and Pharisees of the New Testament. By them he was denounced to the Turkish Government. He was arrested on a charge of causing political disturbance, and was condemned to death. Among his disciples was one favorite, (1) who was absolutely devoted to his Master and refused to leave him at the last. So together they were suspended over the city wall (at Tabriz) and simultaneously shot. This was on the 8th July, 1850. (1) Mirza Muhammad Ali; and one should note the similarity of the two names. In November 1850--or between that date and October 1851, a book appeared, written by one of the B[a^]b's earliest and most enthusiastic disciples--a merchant of Kashan--and giving in quite simple and unpretending form a record of the above events. There is in it no account of miracles or of great pretensions to godhood and the like. It is just a plain history of the life and death of a beloved teacher. It was cordially received and circulated far and wide; and we have no reason for doubting its essential veracity. And even if proved now to be inaccurate in one or two details, this would not invalidate the moral of the rest of the story--which is as follows: After the death of the Bab a great persecution took place (in 1852); there were many Babi martyrs, and for some years the general followers were scattered. But in time they gathered themselves together again; successors to the original prophet were appointed--though not without dissensions--and a Babi church, chiefly at Acca or Acre in Syria, began to be formed. It was during this period that a great number of legends grew up--legends of miraculous babyhood and boyhood, legends of miracles performed by the mature Bab, and so forth; and when the newly-forming Church came to look into the matter it concluded (quite naturally!) that such a simple history as I have outlined above would never do for the foundation of its plans, now grown somewhat ambitious. So a new Gospel was framed, called the Tarikh-i-Jadid ("The new History" or "The new Way"), embodying and including a lot of legendary matter, and issued with the authority of "the Church." This was in 1881-2; and comparing this with the original record (called The point of Kaf) we get a luminous view of the growth of fable in those thirty brief years which had elapsed since the Bab's death. Meanwhile it became very necessary of course to withdraw from circulation as far as possible all copies of the original record, lest they should give the lie to the later 'Gospel'; and this apparently was done very effectively--so effectively indeed that Professor Edward Browne (to whom the world owes so much on account of his labors in connection with Babism), after arduous search, came at one time to the conclusion that the original was no longer extant. Most fortunately, however, the well-known Comte de Gobineau had in the course of his studies on Eastern Religions acquired a copy of The point of Kaf; and this, after his death, was found among his literary treasures and identified (as was most fitting) by Professor Browne himself. Such in brief is the history of the early Babi Church (1)--a Church which has grown up and expanded greatly within the memory of many yet living. Much might be written about it, but the chief point at present is for us to note the well-verified and interesting example it gives of the rapid growth in Syria of a religious legend and the reasons which contributed to this growth--and to be warned how much more rapidly similar legends probably grew up in the same land in the middle of the First Century, A.D. The story of the Bab is also interesting to us because, while this mass of legend was formed around it, there is no possible doubt about the actual existence of a historical nucleus in the person of Mirza Ali Muhammad. (1) For literature, see Edward G. Browne's Traveller's Narrative on the Episode of the Bab (1891), and his New History of the Bab translated from the Persian of the Tarikh-i-Jadid (Cambridge, 1893). Also Sermons and Essays by Herbert Rix (Williams and Norgate, 1907), pp. 295-325, "The Persian Bab." On the whole, one is sometimes inclined to doubt whether any great movement ever makes itself felt in the world, without dating first from some powerful personality or group of personalities, ROUND which the idealizing and myth-making genius of mankind tends to crystallize. But one must not even here be too certain. Something of the Apostle Paul we know, and something of 'John' the Evangelist and writer of the Epistle I John; and that the 'Christian' doctrines dated largely from the preaching and teaching of these two we cannot doubt; but Paul never saw Jesus (except "in the Spirit"), nor does he ever mention the man personally, or any incident of his actual life (the "crucified Christ" being always an ideal figure); and 'John' who wrote the Gospel was certainly not the same as the disciple who "lay in Jesus' bosom"--though an intercalated verse, the last but one in the Gospel, asserts the identity. (1) (1) It is obvious, in fact, that the WHOLE of the last chapter of St. John is a later insertion, and again that the two last verses of that chapter are later than the chapter itself! There may have been a historic Jesus--and if so, to get a reliable outline of his life would indeed be a treasure; but at present it would seem there is no sign of that. If the historicity of Jesus, in any degree, could be proved, it would give us reason for supposing--what I have personally always been inclined to believe--that there was also a historical nucleus for such personages as Osiris, Mithra, Krishna, Hercules, Apollo and the rest. The question, in fact, narrows itself down to this, Have there been in the course of human evolution certain, so to speak, NODAL points or periods at which the psychologic currents ran together and condensed themselves for a new start; and has each such node or point of condensation been marked by the appearance of an actual and heroic man (or woman) who supplied a necessary impetus for the new departure, and gave his name to the resulting movement? OR is it sufficient to suppose the automatic formation of such nodes or starting-points without the intervention of any special hero or genius, and to imagine that in each case the myth-making tendency of mankind CREATED a legendary and inspiring figure and worshiped the same for a long period afterwards as a god? As I have said before, this is a question which, interesting as it is, is not really very important. The main thing being that the prophetic and creative spirit of mankind HAS from time to time evolved those figures as idealizations of its "heart's desire" and placed a halo round their heads. The long procession of them becomes a REAL piece of History--the history of the evolution of the human heart, and of human consciousness. But with the psychology of the whole subject I shall deal in the next chapter. I may here, however, dwell for a moment on two other points which belong properly to this chapter. I have already mentioned the great reliance placed by the advocates of a unique 'revelation' on the high morality taught in the Gospels and the New Testament generally. There is no need of course to challenge that morality or to depreciate it unduly; but the argument assumes that it is so greatly superior to anything of the kind that had been taught before that we are compelled to suppose something like a revelation to explain its appearance--whereas of course anyone familiar with the writings of antiquity, among the Greeks or Romans or Egyptians or Hindus or later Jews, knows perfectly well that the reported sayings of Jesus and the Apostles may be paralleled abundantly from these sources. I have illustrated this already from the Sermon on the Mount. If anyone will glance at the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs--a Jewish book composed about 120 B. C.--he will see that it is full of moral precepts, and especially precepts of love and forgiveness, so ardent and so noble that it hardly suffers in any way when compared with the New Testament teaching, and that consequently no special miracle is required to explain the appearance of the latter. The twelve Patriarchs in question are the twelve sons of Jacob, and the book consists of their supposed deathbed scenes, in which each patriarch in turn recites his own (more or less imaginary) life and deeds and gives pious counsel to his children and successors. It is composed in a fine and poetic style, and is full of lofty thought, remindful in scores of passages of the Gospels--words and all--the coincidences being too striking to be accidental. It evidently had a deep influence on the authors of the Gospels, as well as on St. Paul. It affirms a belief in the coming of a Messiah, and in salvation for the Gentiles. The following are some quotations from it: (1) Testament of Zebulun (p. 116): "My children, I bid you keep the commands of the Lord, and show mercy to your neighbours, and have compassion towards all, not towards men only, but also towards beasts." Dan (p. 127): "Love the Lord through all your life, and one another with a true heart." Joseph (p. 173): "I was sick, and the Lord visited me; in prison, and my God showed favor unto me." Benjamin (p. 209): "For as the sun is not defiled by shining on dung and mire, but rather drieth up both and driveth away the evil smell, so also the pure mind, encompassed by the defilements of earth, rather cleanseth them and is not itself defiled." (1) The references being to the Edition by R. H. Charles (1907). I think these quotations are sufficient to prove the high standard of this book, which was written in the Second Century B. C., and FROM which the New Testament authors copiously borrowed. The other point has to do with my statement at the beginning of this chapter that two of the main 'characteristics' of Christianity were its insistence on (a) a tendency towards renunciation of the world, and a consequent cultivation of a purely spiritual love, and (b) on a morality whose inspiration was a private sense of duty to God rather than a public sense of duty to one's neighbor and to society generally. I think, however, that the last-mentioned characteristic ought to be viewed in relation to a third, namely, (c) the extraordinarily DEMOCRATIC tendency of the new Religion. (1) Celsus (A.D. 200) jeered at the early Christians for their extreme democracy: "It is only the simpletons, the ignoble, the senseless--slaves and womenfolk and children--whom they wish to persuade (to join their churches) or CAN persuade"--"wool-dressers and cobblers and fullers, the most uneducated and vulgar persons," and "whosoever is a sinner, or unintelligent or a fool, in a word, whoever is god-forsaken ([gr kakodaimwn]), him the Kingdom of God will receive." (2) Thus Celsus, the accomplished, clever, philosophic and withal humorous critic, laughed at the new religionists, and prophesied their speedy extinction. Nevertheless he was mistaken. There is little doubt that just the inclusion of women and weaklings and outcasts did contribute LARGELY to the spread of Christianity (and Mithraism). It brought hope and a sense of human dignity to the despised and rejected of the earth. Of the immense numbers of lesser officials who carried on the vast organization of the Roman Empire, most perhaps, were taken from the ranks of the freedmen and quondam slaves, drawn from a great variety of races and already familiar with pagan cults of all kinds--Egyptian, Syrian, Chaldean, Iranian, and so forth. (3) This fact helped to give to Christianity--under the fine tolerance of the Empire--its democratic character and also its willingness to accept all. The rude and menial masses, who had hitherto been almost beneath the notice of Greek and Roman culture, flocked in; and though this was doubtless, as time went on, a source of weakness to the Church, and a cause of dissension and superstition, yet it was in the inevitable line of human evolution, and had a psychological basis which I must now endeavor to explain. (1) It is important to note, however, that this same democratic tendency was very marked in Mithraism. "Il est certain," says Cumont, "qu'il a fait ses premieres conquetes dans les classes inferieures de la societe et c'est l'a un fait considerable; le mithracisme est reste longtemps la religion des humbles." Mysteres de Mithra, p. 68. (2) See Glover's Conflict of Religions in the early Roman Empire, ch. viii. (3) See Toutain, Cultes paiens, vol. ii, conclusion. XIV. THE MEANING OF IT ALL The general drift and meaning of the present book must now, I think, from many hints scattered in the course of it, be growing clear. But it will be well perhaps in this chapter, at the risk of some repetition, to bring the whole argument together. And the argument is that since the dawn of humanity on the earth--many hundreds of thousands or perhaps a million years ago--there has been a slow psychologic evolution, a gradual development or refinement of Consciousness, which at a certain stage has spontaneously given birth in the human race to the phenomena of religious belief and religious ritual--these phenomena (whether in the race at large or in any branch of it) always following, step by step, a certain order depending on the degrees of psychologic evolution concerned; and that it is this general fact which accounts for the strange similarities of belief and ritual which have been observed all over the world and in places far remote from each other, and which have been briefly noted in the preceding chapters. And the main stages of this psychologic evolution--those at any rate with which we are here concerned--are Three: the stage of Simple Consciousness, the stage of Self-consciousness, and a third Stage which for want of a better word we may term the stage of Universal Consciousness. Of course these three stages may at some future time be analyzed into lesser degrees, with useful result--but at present I only desire to draw attention to them in the rough, so to speak, to show that it is from them and from their passage one into another that there has flowed by a perfectly natural logic and concatenation the strange panorama of humanity's religious evolution--its superstitions and magic and sacrifices and dancings and ritual generally, and later its incantations and prophecies, and services of speech and verse, and paintings and forms of art and figures of the gods. A wonderful Panorama indeed, or poem of the Centuries, or, if you like, World-symphony with three great leading motives! And first we have the stage of Simple Consciousness. For hundreds of centuries (we cannot doubt) Man possessed a degree of consciousness not radically different from that of the higher Animals, though probably more quick and varied. He saw, he heard, he felt, he noted. He acted or reacted, quickly or slowly, in response to these impressions. But the consciousness of himSELF, as a being separate from his impressions, as separate from his surroundings, had not yet arisen or taken hold on him. He was an instinctive part, of Nature. And in this respect he was very near to the Animals. Self-consciousness in the animals, in a germinal form is there, no doubt, but EMBEDDED, so to speak, in the general world consciousness. It is on this account that the animals have such a marvellously acute perception and instinct, being embedded in Nature. And primitive Man had the same. Also we must, as I have said before, allow that man in that stage must have had the same sort of grace and perfection of form and movement as we admire in the (wild) animals now. It would be quite unreasonable to suppose that he, the crown in the same sense of creation, was from the beginning a lame and ill-made abortion. For a long period the tribes of men, like the tribes of the higher animals, must have been (on the whole, and allowing for occasional privations and sufferings and conflicts) well adapted to their surroundings and harmonious with the earth and with each other. There must have been a period resembling a Golden Age--some condition at any rate which, compared with subsequent miseries, merited the epithet 'golden.' It was during this period apparently that the system of Totems arose. The tribes felt their relationship to their winged and fourfooted mates (including also other objects of nature) so deeply and intensely that they adopted the latter as their emblems. The pre-civilization Man fairly worshipped, the animals and was proud to be called after them. Of course we moderns find this strange. We, whose conceptions of these beautiful creatures are mostly derived from a broken-down cab-horse, or a melancholy milk-rummaged cow in a sooty field, or a diseased and despondent lion or eagle at the Zoo, have never even seen or loved them and have only wondered with our true commercial instinct what profit we could extract from them. But they, the primitives, loved and admired the animals; they domesticated many of them by the force of a natural friendship, (1) and accorded them a kind of divinity. This was the age of tribal solidarity and of a latent sense of solidarity with Nature. And the point of it all is (with regard to the subject we have in hand) that this was also the age from which by a natural evolution the sense of Religion came to mankind. If Religion in man is the sense of ties binding his inner self to the powers of the universe around him, then it is evident I think that primitive man as I have described him possessed the REALITY of this sense--though so far buried and subconscious that he was hardly aware of it. It was only later, and with the coming of the Second Stage, that this sense began to rise distinctly into consciousness. (1) See ch. iv. Tylor in his Primitive Culture (vol. i, p. 460, edn. 1903) says: "The sense of an absolute psychical distinction between man and beast, so prevalent in the civilized world, is hardly to be found among the lower races." Let us pass then to the Second Stage. There is a moment in the evolution of a child--somewhere perhaps about the age of three (1)--when the simple almost animal-like consciousness of the babe is troubled by a new element--SELF-consciousness. The change is so marked, so definite, that (in the depth of the infant's eyes) you can almost SEE it take place. So in the evolution of the human race there has been a period--also marked and definite, though extending intermittent over a vast interval of time--when on men in general there dawned the consciousness of THEMSELVES, of their own thoughts and actions. The old simple acceptance of sensations and experiences gave place to REFLECTION. The question arose: "How do these sensations and experiences affect ME? What can _I_ do to modify them, to encourage the pleasurable, to avoid or inhibit the painful, and so on?" From that moment a new motive was added to life. The mind revolved round a new centre. It began to spin like a little eddy round its own axis. It studied ITSELF first and became deeply concerned about its own pleasures and pains, losing touch the while with the larger life which once dominated it--the life of Nature, the life of the Tribe. The old unity of the spirit, the old solidarity, were broken up. (1) See Bucke's Cosmic Consciousness (Philadelphia, 1901), pp. 1 and 39; also W. McDougall's Social Psychology (1908), p. 146--where the same age is tentatively suggested. I have touched on this subject before, but it is so important that the reader must excuse repetition. There came an inevitable severance, an inevitable period of strife. The magic mirror of the soul, reflecting nature as heretofore in calm and simple grace, was suddenly cracked across. The new self-conscious man (not all at once but gradually) became alienated from his tribe. He lapsed into strife with his fellows. Ambition, vanity, greed, the love of domination, the desire for property and possessions, set in. The influences of fellowship and solidarity grew feebler. He became alienated from his great Mother. His instincts were less and less sure--and that in proportion as brain-activity and self-regarding calculation took their place. Love and mutual help were less compelling in proportion as the demands of self-interest grew louder and more insistent. Ultimately the crisis came. Cain murdered his brother and became an outcast. The Garden of Eden and the Golden Age closed their gates behind him. He entered upon a period of suffering--a period of labor and toil and sorrow such as he had never before known, and such as the animals certainly have never known. And in that distressful state, in that doleful valley of his long pilgrimage, he still remains to-day. Thus has the canker of self-consciousness done its work. It would be foolish and useless to rail against the process, or to blame any one for it. It had to be. Through this dismal vale of self-seeking mankind had to pass--if only in order at last to find the True Self which was (and still remains) its goal. The pilgrimage will not last for ever. Indeed there are signs that the recent Great War and the following Events mark the lowest point of descent and the beginning of the human soul's return to sanity and ascent towards the heavenly Kingdom. No doubt Man will arrive again SOME day at the grace, composure and leisurely beauty of life which the animals realized long ago, though he seems a precious long time about it; and when all this nightmare of Greed and Vanity and Self-conceit and Cruelty and Lust of oppression and domination, which marks the present period, is past--and it WILL pass--then Humanity will come again to its Golden Age and to that Paradise of redemption and peace which has for so long been prophesied. But we are dealing with the origins of Religion; and what I want the reader to see is that it was just this breaking up of the old psychologic unity and continuity of man with his surroundings which led to the whole panorama of the rituals and creeds. Man, centering round himself, necessarily became an exile from the great Whole. He committed the sin (if it was a sin) of Separation. Anyhow Nemesis was swift. The sense of loneliness and the sense of guilt came on him. The realization of himself as a separate conscious being necessarily led to his attributing a similar consciousness of some kind to the great Life around him. Action and reaction are equal and opposite. Whatever he may have felt before, it became clear to him now that beings more or less like himself--though doubtless vaster and more powerful--moved behind the veil of the visible world. From that moment the belief in Magic and Demons and Gods arose or slowly developed itself; and in the midst of this turmoil of perilous and conflicting powers, he perceived himself an alien and an exile, stricken with Fear, stricken with the sense of Sin. If before, he had experienced fear--in the kind of automatic way of self-preservation in which the animals feel it--he now, with fevered self-regard and excited imagination, experienced it in double or treble degree. And if, before, he had been aware that fortune and chance were not always friendly and propitious to his designs, he now perceived or thought he perceived in every adverse happening the deliberate persecution of the powers, and an accusation of guilt directed against him for some neglect or deficiency in his relation to them. Hence by a perfectly logical and natural sequence there arose the belief in other-world or supernatural powers, whether purely fortuitous and magical or more distinctly rational and personal; there arose the sense of Sin, or of offence against these powers; there arose a complex ritual of Expiation--whether by personal sacrifice and suffering or by the sacrifice of victims. There arose too a whole catalogue of ceremonies--ceremonies of Initiation, by which the novice should learn to keep within the good grace of the Powers, and under the blessing of his Tribe and the protection of its Totem; ceremonies of Eucharistic meals which should restore the lost sanctity of the common life and remove the sense of guilt and isolation; ceremonies of Marriage and rules and rites of sex-connection, fitted to curb the terrific and demonic violence of passions which else indeed might easily rend the community asunder. And so on. It is easy to see that granted an early stage of simple unreflecting nature-consciousness, and granting this broken into and, after a time, shattered by the arrival of SELF-consciousness there would necessarily follow in spontaneous yet logical order a whole series of religious institutions and beliefs, which phantasmal and unreal as they may appear to us, were by no means unreal to our ancestors. It is easy also to see that as the psychological process was necessarily of similar general character in every branch of the human race and all over the world, so the religious evolutions--the creeds and rituals--took on much the same complexion everywhere; and, though they differed in details according to climate and other influences, ran on such remarkably parallel lines as we have noted. Finally, to make the whole matter clear, let me repeat that this event, the inbreak of Self-consciousness, took place, or BEGAN to take place, an enormous time ago, perhaps in the beginning of the Neolithic Age. I dwell on the word "began" because I think it is probable that in its beginnings, and for a long period after, this newborn consciousness had an infantile and very innocent character, quite different from its later and more aggressive forms--just as we see self-consciousness in a little child has a charm and a grace which it loses later in a boastful or grasping boyhood and manhood. So we may understand that though self-consciousness may have begun to appear in the human race at this very early time (and more or less contemporaneously with the invention of very rude tools and unformed language), there probably did elapse a very long period--perhaps the whole of the Neolithic Age--before the evils of this second stage of human evolution came to a head. Max Muller has pointed out that among the words which are common to the various branches of Aryan language, and which therefore belong to the very early period before the separation of these branches, there are not found the words denoting war and conflict and the weapons and instruments of strife--a fact which suggests a long continuance of peaceful habit among mankind AFTER the first formation and use of language. That the birth of language and the birth of self-consciousness were APPROXIMATELY simultaneous is a probable theory, and one favored by many thinkers; (1) but the slow beginnings of both must have been so very protracted that it is perhaps useless to attempt any very exact determination. Late researches seem to show that language began in what might be called TRIBAL expressions of mood and feeling (holophrases like "go-hunting-kill-bear") without reference to individual personalities and relationships; and that it was only at a later stage that words like "I" and "Thou" came into use, and the holophrases broke up into "parts of speech" and took on a definite grammatical structure. (2) If true, these facts point clearly to a long foreground of rude communal language, something like though greatly superior to that of the animals, preceding or preparing the evolution of Self-consciousness proper, in the forms of "I" and "Thou" and the grammar of personal actions and relations. "They show that the plural and all other forms of number in grammar arise not by multiplication of an original 'I,' but by selection and gradual EXCLUSION from an original collective 'we.'" (3) According to this view the birth of self-consciousness in the human family, or in any particular race or section of the human family, must have been equally slow and hesitating; and it would be easy to imagine, as just said, that there may have been a very long and 'golden' period at its beginning, before the new consciousness took on its maturer and harsher forms. (1) Dr. Bucke (Cosmic Consciousness) insists on their simultaneity, but places both events excessively far back, as we should think, i.e. 200,000 or 300,000 years ago. Possibly he does not differentiate sufficiently between the rude language of the holophrase and the much later growth of formed and grammatical speech. (2) See A. E. Crawley's Idea of the Soul, ch. ii; Jane Harrison's Themis, pp. 473-5; and E. J. Payne's History of the New World called America, vol. ii, pp. 115 sq., where the beginning of self-consciousness is associated with the break-up of the holophrase. (3) Themis, p. 471. All estimates of the Time involved in these evolutions of early man are notoriously most divergent and most difficult to be sure of; but if we take 500,000 years ago for the first appearance of veritable Man (homo primigenius), (2) and (following Professor W. J. Sollas) (3) 30,000 or 40,000 years ago for the first tool-using men (homo sapiens) of the Chellean Age (palaeolithic), 15,000 for the rock-paintings and inscriptions of the Aurignacian and Magdalenian peoples, and 5,000 years ago for the first actual historical records that have come down to us, we may perhaps get something like a proportion between the different periods. That is to say, half a million years for the purely animal man in his different forms and grades of evolution. Then somewhere towards the end of palaeolithic or commencement of neolithic times Self-consciousness dimly beginning and, after some 10,000 years of slow germination and pre-historic culture, culminating in the actual historic period and the dawn of civilization 40 or 50 centuries ago, and to-day (we hope), reaching the climax which precedes or foretells its abatement and transformation. (2) Though Dr. Arthur Keith, Ancient Types of Man (1911), pp. 93 and 102, puts the figure at more like a million. (3) See Ancient Hunters (1915); also Hastings's Encycl. art. "Ethnology"; and Havelock Ellis, "The Origin of War," in The Philosophy of Conflict and other Essays. No doubt many geologists and anthropologists would favor periods greatly LONGER than those here mentioned; but possibly there would be some agreement as to the RATIO to each other of the times concerned: that is, the said authorities would probably allow for a VERY long animal-man (1)-period corresponding to the first stage; for a much shorter aggressively 'self conscious' period, corresponding to the Second Stage--perhaps lasting only one thirtieth or fiftieth of the time of the first period; and then--if they looked forward at all to a third stage--would be inclined for obvious reasons to attribute to that again a very extended duration. (1) I use the phrase 'animal-man' here, not with any flavor of contempt or reprobation, as the dear Victorians would have used it, but with a sense of genuine respect and admiration such as one feels towards the animals themselves. However, all this is very speculative. To return to the difficulty about Language and the consideration of those early times when words adequate to the expression of religious or magical ideas simply did not exist, it is clear that the only available, or at any rate the CHIEF means of expression, in those times, must have consisted in gestures, in attitudes, in ceremonial ACTIONS--in a more or less elaborate ritual, in fact. (1) Such ideas as Adoration, Thanksgiving, confession of Guilt, placation of Wrath, Expiation, Sacrifice, Celebration of Community, sacramental Atonement, and a score of others could at that time be expressed by appropriate rites--and as a matter of fact are often so expressed even now--MORE readily and directly than by language. 'Dancing'--when that word came to be invented--did not mean a mere flinging about of the limbs in recreation, but any expressive movements of the body which might be used to convey the feelings of the dancer or of the audience whom he represented. And so the 'religious dance' became a most important part of ritual. (1) See ch. ix and xi. So much for the second stage of Consciousness. Let us now pass on to the Third Stage. It is evident that the process of disruption and dissolution--disruption both of the human mind, and of society round about it, due to the action of the Second Stage--could not go on indefinitely. There are hundreds of thousands of people at the present moment who are dying of mental or bodily disease--their nervous systems broken down by troubles connected with excessive self-consciousness--selfish fears and worries and restlessness. Society at large is perishing both in industry and in warfare through the domination in its organism of the self-motives of greed and vanity and ambition. This cannot go on for ever. Things must either continue in the same strain, in which case it is evident that we are approaching a crisis of utter dissolution, OR a new element must enter in, a new inspiration of life, and we (as individuals) and the society of which we form a part, must make a fresh start. What is that new and necessary element of regeneration? It is evident that it must be a new birth--the entry into a further stage of consciousness which must supersede the present one. Through some such crisis as we have spoken of, through the extreme of suffering, the mind of Man, AS AT PRESENT CONSTITUTED, has to die. (1) Self-consciousness has to die, and be buried, and rise again in a new form. Probably nothing but the extreme of suffering can bring this about. (2) And what is this new form in which consciousness has to rearise? Obviously, since the miseries of the world during countless centuries have dated from that fatal attempt to make the little personal SELF the centre of effort and activity, and since that attempt has inevitably led to disunity and discord and death, both within the mind itself and within the body of society, there is nothing left but the return to a Consciousness which shall have Unity as its foundation-principle, and which shall proceed from the direct SENSE AND PERCEPTION of such an unity throughout creation. The simple mind of Early Man and the Animals was of that character--a consciousness, so to speak, continuous through nature, and though running to points of illumination and foci of special activity in individuals, yet at no point essentially broken or imprisoned in separate compartments. (And it is this CONTINUITY of the primitive mind which enables us, as I have already explained, to understand the mysterious workings of instinct and intuition.) To some such unity-consciousness we have to return; but clearly it will be--it is not--of the simple inchoate character of the First Stage, for it has been enriched, deepened, and greatly extended by the experience of the Second Stage. It is in fact, a new order of mentality--the consciousness of the Third Stage. (1) "The mind must be restrained in the heart till it comes to an end," says the Maitrayana-Brahmana-Upanishad. (2) One may remember in this connection the tapas of the Hindu yogi, or the ordeals of initiates into the pagan Mysteries generally. In order to understand the operation and qualities of this Third Consciousness, it may be of assistance just now to consider in what more or less rudimentary way or ways it figured in the pagan rituals and in Christianity. We have seen the rude Siberyaks in North-Eastern Asia or the 'Grizzly' tribes of North American Indians in the neighborhood of Mount Shasta paying their respects and adoration to a captive bear--at once the food-animal, and the divinity of the Tribe. A tribesman had slain a bear--and, be it said, had slain it not in a public hunt with all due ceremonies observed, but privately for his own satisfaction. He had committed, therefore, a sin theoretically unpardonable; for had he not--to gratify his personal desire for food--levelled a blow at the guardian spirit of the Tribe? Had he not alienated himself from his fellows by destroying its very symbol? There was only one way by which he could regain the fellowship of his companions. He must make amends by some public sacrifice, and instead of retaining the flesh of the animal for himself he must share it with the whole tribe (or clan) in a common feast, while at the same time, tensest prayers and thanks are offered to the animal for the gift of his body for food. The Magic formula demanded nothing less than this--else dread disaster would fall upon the man who sinned, and upon the whole brotherhood. Here, and in a hundred similar rites, we see the three phases of tribal psychology--the first, in which the individual member simply remains within the compass of the tribal mind, and only acts in harmony with it; the second, in which the individual steps outside and to gratify his personal SELF performs an action which alienates him from his fellows; and the third, in which, to make amends and to prove his sincerity, he submits to some sacrifice, and by a common feast or some such ceremony is received back again into the unity of the fellowship. The body of the animal-divinity is consumed, and the latter becomes, both in the spirit and in the flesh, the Savior of the tribe. In course of time, when the Totem or Guardian-spirit is no longer merely an Animal, or animal-headed Genius, but a quite human-formed Divinity, still the same general outline of ideas is preserved--only with gathered intensity owing to the specially human interest of the drama. The Divinity who gives his life for his flock is no longer just an ordinary Bull or Lamb, but Adonis or Osiris or Dionysus or Jesus. He is betrayed by one of his own followers, and suffers death, but rises again redeeming all with himself in the one fellowship; and the corn and the wine and the wild flesh which were his body, and which he gave for the sustenance of mankind, are consumed in a holy supper of reconciliation. It is always the return to unity which is the ritual of Salvation, and of which the symbol is the Eucharist--the second birth, the formation of "a new creature when old things are passed away." For "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God"; and "the first man is of the earth, earthly, but the second man is the Lord from heaven." Like a strange refrain, and from centuries before our era, comes down this belief in a god who is imprisoned in each man, and whose liberation is a new birth and the beginning of a new creature: "Rejoice, ye initiates in the mystery of the liberated god"--rejoice in the thought of the hero who died as a mortal in the coffin, but rises again as Lord of all! Who then was this "Christos" for whom the world was waiting three centuries before our era (and indeed centuries before that)? Who was this "thrice Savior" whom the Greek Gnostics acclaimed? What was the meaning of that "coming of the Son of Man" whom Daniel beheld in vision among the clouds of heaven? or of the "perfect man" who, Paul declared, should deliver us from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God? What was this salvation which time after time and times again the pagan deities promised to their devotees, and which the Eleusinian and other Mysteries represented in their religious dramas with such convincing enthusiasm that even Pindar could say "Happy is he who has seen them (the Mysteries) before he goes beneath the hollow earth: that man knows the true end of life and its source divine"; and concerning which Sophocles and Aeschylus were equally enthusiastic? (1) (1) See Farnell's Cults of the Greek States, vol. iii, p. 194; also The Mysteries, Pagan and Christian, by S. Cheetham, D.D. (London, 1897). Can we doubt, in the light of all that we have already said, what the answer to these questions is? As with the first blossoming of self-consciousness in the human mind came the dawn of an immense cycle of experience--a cycle indeed of exile from Eden, of suffering and toil and blind wanderings in the wilderness, yet a cycle absolutely necessary and unavoidable--so now the redemption, the return, the restoration has to come through another forward step, in the same domain. Abandoning the quest and the glorification of the separate isolated self we have to return to the cosmic universal life. It is the blossoming indeed of this 'new' life in the deeps of our minds which is salvation, and which all the expressions which I have just cited have indicated. It is this presence which all down the ages has been hailed as Savior and Liberator: the daybreak of a consciousness so much vaster, so much more glorious, than all that has gone before that the little candle of the local self is swallowed up in its rays. It is the return home, the return into direct touch with Nature and Man--the liberation from the long exile of separation, from the painful sense of isolation and the odious nightmare of guilt and 'sin.' Can we doubt that this new birth--this third stage of consciousness, if we like to call it so--has to come, that it is indeed not merely a pious hope or a tentative theory, but a FACT testified to already by a cloud of witnesses in the past--witnesses shining in their own easily recognizable and authentic light, yet for the most part isolated from each other among the arid and unfruitful wastes of Civilization, like glow-worms in the dry grass of a summer night? Since the first dim evolution of human self-consciousness an immense period, as we have said--perhaps 30,000 years, perhaps even more--has elapsed. Now, in the present day this period is reaching its culmination, and though it will not terminate immediately, its end is, so to speak, in sight. Meanwhile, during all the historical age behind us--say for the last 4,000 or 5,000 years--evidence has been coming in (partly in the religious rites recorded, partly in oracles, poems and prophetic literature) of the onset of this further illumination--"the light which never was on sea or land"--and the cloud of witnesses, scattered at first, has in these later centuries become so evident and so notable that we are tempted to believe in or to anticipate a great and general new birth, as now not so very far off. (1) (We should, h that many a time already in the history the Millennium has been prophesied, and yet not arrived punctual to date, and to take to ourselves the words of 'Peter,' who somewhat grievously disappointed at the long-delayed second coming of the Lord Jesus in the clouds of heaven, wrote in his second Epistle: "There shall come in the last days scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying, Where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation." (2)) (1) For an amplification of all this theme, see Dr. Bucke's remarkable and epoch-making book, Cosmic Consciousness (first published at Philadelphia, 1901). (2) 2 Peter iii. 4; written probably about A.D. 150. I say that all through the historical age behind us there has been evidence--even though scattered--of salvation and the return of the Cosmic life. Man has never been so completely submerged in the bitter sea of self-centredness but what he has occasionally been able to dash the spray from his eyes and glimpse the sun and the glorious light of heaven. From how far back we cannot say, but from an immense antiquity come the beautiful myths which indicate this. Cinderella, the cinder-maiden, sits unbeknown in her earthly. hutch; Gibed and jeered at she bewails her lonely fate; Nevertheless youngest-born she surpasses her sisters and endues a garment of the sun and stars; From a tiny spark she ascends and irradiates the universe, and is wedded to the prince of heaven. How lovely this vision of the little maiden sitting unbeknown close to the Hearth-fire of the universe--herself indeed just a little spark from it; despised and rejected; rejected by the world, despised by her two elder sisters (the body and the intellect); yet she, the soul, though latest-born, by far the most beautiful of the three. And of the Prince of Love who redeems and sets her free; and of her wedding garment the glory and beauty of all nature and of the heavens! The parables of Jesus are charming in their way, but they hardly reach this height of inspiration. Or the world-old myth of Eros and Psyche. How strange that here again there are three sisters (the three stages of human evolution), and the latest-born the most beautiful of the three, and the jealousies and persecutions heaped on the youngest by the others, and especially by Aphrodite the goddess of mere sensual charm. And again the coming of the unknown, the unseen Lover, on whom it is not permitted for mortals to look; and the long, long tests and sufferings and trials which Psyche has to undergo before Eros may really take her to his arms and translate her to the heights of heaven. Can we not imagine how when these things were represented in the Mysteries the world flocked to see them, and the poets indeed said, "Happy are they that see and seeing can understand?" Can we not understand how it was that the Amphictyonic decree of the second century B.C. spoke of these same Mysteries as enforcing the lesson that "the greatest of human blessings is fellowship and mutual trust"? XV. THE ANCIENT MYSTERIES Thus we come to a thing which we must not pass over, because it throws great light on the meaning and interpretation of all these rites and ceremonies of the great World-religion. I mean the subject of the Ancient Mysteries. And to this I will give a few pages. These Mysteries were probably survivals of the oldest religious rites of the Greek races, and in their earlier forms consisted not so much in worship of the gods of Heaven as of the divinities of Earth, and of Nature and Death. Crude, no doubt, at first, they gradually became (especially in their Eleusinian form) more refined and philosophical; the rites were gradually thrown open, on certain conditions, not only to men generally, but also to women, and even to slaves; and in the end they influenced Christianity deeply. (1) (1) See Edwin Hatch, D.D., The Influence of Greek Ideas and Usages on the Christian Church (London, 1890), pp. 283-5. There were apparently three forms of teaching made use of in these rites: these were [gr legomena], things SAID; [gr deiknumena], things SHOWN; and [gr drwmena], things PERFORMED or ACTED. (1) I have given already some instances of things said-texts whispered for consolation in the neophyte's car, and so forth; of the THIRD group, things enacted, we have a fair amount of evidence. There were ritual dramas or passion-plays, of which an important one dealt with the descent of Kore or Proserpine into the underworld, as in the Eleusinian representations, (2) and her redemption and restoration to the upper world in Spring; another with the sufferings of Psyche and her rescue by Eros, as described by Apuleius (3)--himself an initiate in the cult of Isis. There is a parody by Lucian, which tells of the birth of Apollo, the marriage of Coronis, and the coming of Aesculapius as Savior; there was the dying and rising again of Dionysus (chief divinity of the Orphic cult); and sometimes the mystery of the birth of Dionysus as a holy child. (4) There was, every year at Eleusis, a solemn and lengthy procession or pilgrimage made, symbolic of the long pilgrimage of the human soul, its sufferings and deliverance. (1) Cheetham, op. cit., pp. 49-61 sq. (2) See Farnell, op. cit., iii. 158 sq. (3) See The Golden Ass. (4) Farnell, ii, 177. "Almost always," says Dr. Cheetham, "the suffering of a god--suffering followed by triumph--seems to have been the subject of the sacred drama." Then occasionally to the Neophytes, after taking part in the pilgrimage, and when their minds had been prepared by an ordeal of darkness and fatigue and terrors, was accorded a revelation of Paradise, and even a vision of Transfiguration--the form of the Hierophant himself, or teacher of the Mysteries, being seen half-lost in a blaze of light. (1) Finally, there was the eating of food and drinking of barley-drink from the sacred chest (2)--a kind of Communion or Eucharist. (1) Ibid., 179 sq. (2) Ibid., 186. Sacred chests, in which holy things were kept, figure frequently in early rites and legends--as in the case of the ark of the Jewish tabernacle, the ark or box carried in celebrations of the mysteries of Bacchus (Theocritus, Idyll xxvi), the legend of Pandora's box which contained the seeds of all good and evil, the ark of Noah which saved all living creatures from the flood, the Argo of the argonauts, the moonshaped boat in which Isis floating over the waters gathered together the severed limbs of Osiris, and so brought about his resurrection, and the many chests or coffins out of which the various gods (Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Jesus), having been laid there in death, rose again for the redemption of the world. They all evidently refer to the mystic womb of Nature and of Woman, and are symbols of salvation and redemption (For a full discussion of this subject, see The Great Law of religious origins, by W. Williamson, ch. iv.) Apuleius in The Golden Ass gives an interesting account of his induction into the mysteries of Isis: how, bidding farewell one evening to the general congregation outside, and clothed in a new linen garment, he was handed by the priest into the inner recesses of the temple itself; how he "approached the confines of death, and having trod on the threshold of Proserpine (the Underworld), returned therefrom, being borne through all the elements. At midnight I saw the sun shining with its brilliant light: and I approached the presence of the Gods beneath and the Gods above, and stood near and worshipped them." During the night things happened which must not be disclosed; but in the morning he came forth "consecrated by being dressed in twelve stoles painted with the figures of animals." (1) He ascended a pulpit in the midst of the Temple, carrying in his right hand a burning torch, while a chaplet encircled his head, from which palm-leaves projected like rays of light. "Thus arrayed like the Sun, and placed so as to resemble a statue, on a sudden the curtains being drawn aside, I was exposed to the gaze of the multitude. After this I celebrated the most joyful day of my initiation, as my natal day (day of the New Birth) and there was a joyous banquet and mirthful conversation." (1) An allusion no doubt to the twelve signs of the Zodiac, the pathway of the Sun, as well as to the practice of the ancient priests of wearing the skins of totem-animals in sign of their divinity. One can hardly refuse to recognize in this account the description of some kind of ceremony which was supposed to seal the illumination of a man and his new birth into divinity--the animal origin, the circling of all experience, the terrors of death, and the resurrection in the form of the Sun, the symbol of all light and life. The very word "illumination" carries the ideas of light and a new birth with it. Reitzenstein in his very interesting book on the Greek Mysteries (1) speaks over and over again of the illumination ([gr fwtismos]) which was held to attend Initiation and Salvation. The doctrine of Salvation indeed ([gr swthria]) was, as we have already seen, rife and widely current in the Second Century B. C. It represented a real experience, and the man who shared this experience became a [gr qeios] [gr anqrwpos] or divine man. (2) In the Orphic Tablets the phrase "I am a child of earth and the starry heaven, but my race is of heaven (alone)" occurs more than once. In one of the longest of them the dead man is instructed "after he has passed the waters (of Lethe) where the white Cypress and the House of Hades are" to address these very words to the guardians of the Lake of Memory while he asks for a drink of cold water from that Lake. In another the dead person himself is thus addressed: "Hail, thou who hast endured the Suffering, such as indeed thou hadst never suffered before; thou hast become god from man!" (3) Ecstacy was the acme of the religious life; and, what is especially interesting to us, Salvation or the divine nature was open to all men--to all, that is, who should go through the necessary stages of preparation for it. (4) (1) Die hellenistischen Mysterien-Religionen, by R. Reitzenstein, Leipzig, 1910. (2) Reitzenstein, p. 12. (3) These Tablets (so-called) are instructions to the dead as to their passage into the other world, and have been found in the tombs, in Italy and elsewhere, inscribed on very thin gold plates and buried with the departed. See Manual of Greek Antiquities by Percy Gardner and F. B. Jerome (1896); also Prolegomena to Greek Religion by Jane E. Harrison (1908). (4) Reitzenstein, pp. 15 and 18; also S. J. Case, Evolution of Early Christianity, p. 301. Reitzenstein contends (p. 26) that in the Mysteries, transfiguration ([gr metamorfwsis]), salvation ([gr swthria]), and new birth ([gr paliggenesia]) were often conjoined. He says (p. 31), that in the Egyptian Osiris-cult, the Initiate acquires a nature "equal to God" ([gr isoqeos]), the very same expression as that used of Christ Jesus in Philippians ii. 6; he mentions Apollonius of Tyana and Sergius Paulus as instances of men who by their contemporaries were considered to have attained this nature; and he quotes Akhnaton (Pharaoh of Egypt in 1375 B.C.) as having said, "Thou art in my heart; none other knows Thee, save thy son Akhnaton; Thou hast initiated him into thy wisdom and into thy power." He also quotes the words of Hermes (Trismegistus)--"Come unto Me, even as children to their mother's bosom: Thou art I, and I am Thou; what is thine is mine, and what is mine is thine; for indeed I am thine image ([gr eidwlon])," and refers to the dialogue between Hermes and Tat, in which they speak of the great and mystic New Birth and Union with the All--with all Elements, Plants and Animals, Time and Space. "The Mysteries," says Dr. Cheetham very candidly, "influenced Christianity considerably and modified it in some important respects"; and Dr. Hatch, as we have seen, not only supports this general view, but follows it out in detail. (1) He points out that the membership of the Mystery-societies was very numerous in the earliest times, A.D.; that their general aims were good, including a sense of true religion, decent life, and brotherhood; that cleanness from crime and confession were demanded from the neophyte; that confession was followed by baptism ([gr kaqarsis]) and THAT by sacrifice; that the term [gr fwtismos] (illumination) was adopted by the Christian Church as the name for the new birth of baptism; that the Christian usage of placing a seal on the forehead came from the same source; that baptism itself after a time was called a mystery ([gr musihriou]); that the sacred cakes and barley-drink of the Mysteries became the milk and honey and bread and wine of the first Christian Eucharists, and that the occasional sacrifice of a lamb on the Christian altar ("whose mention is often suppressed") probably originated in the same way. Indeed, the conception of the communion-table AS an altar and many other points of ritual gradually established themselves from these sources as time went on. (2) It is hardly necessary to say more in proof of the extent to which in these ancient representations "things said" and "scenes enacted" forestalled the doctrines and ceremonials of Christianity. (1) See Hatch, op. cit., pp. 290 sq. (2) See Dionysus Areop. (end of fifth century), who describes the Christian rites generally in Mystery language (Hatch, 296). "But what of the second group above-mentioned, the "things SHOWN"? It is not so easy naturally to get exact information concerning these, but they seem to have been specially holy objects, probably things connected with very ancient rituals in the past--such as sacred stones, old and rude images of the gods, magic nature-symbols, like that half-disclosed ear of corn above-mentioned (Ch. V.). "In the Temple of Isis at Philae," says Dr. Cheetham, "the dead body of Osiris is represented with stalks of corn springing from it, which a priest waters from a vessel. An inscription says: 'This is the form of him whom we may not name, Osiris of the Mysteries who sprang from the returning waters' (the Nile)." Above all, no doubt, there were images of the phallus and the vulva, the great symbols of human fertility. We have seen (Ch. XII) that the lingam and the yoni are, even down to to-day, commonly retained and honored as holy objects in the S. Indian Temples, and anointed with oil (some of them) for a very practical reason. Sir J. G. Frazer, in his lately published volumes on The Folk-lore of the Old Testament, has a chapter (in vol. ii) on the very numerous sacred stones of various shapes and sizes found or spoken of in Palestine and other parts of the world. Though uncertain as to the meaning of these stones he mentions that they are "frequently, though not always, UPRIGHT." Anointing them with oil, he assures us, "is a widespread practice, sometimes by women who wish to obtain children." And he concludes the chapter by saying: "The holy stone at Bethel was probably one of those massive standing stones or rough pillars which the Hebrews called masseboth, and which, as we have seen, were regular adjuncts of Canaanite and early Israelitish sanctuaries." We have already mentioned the pillars Jachin and Boaz which stood before the Temple of Solomon, and which had an acknowledged sexual significance; and so it seems probable that a great number of these holy stones had a similar meaning. (1) Following this clue it would appear likely that the lingam thus anointed and worshipped in the Temples of India and elsewhere IS the original [gr cristos] (2) adored by the human race from the very beginning, and that at a later time, when the Priest and the King, as objects of worship, took the place of the Lingam, THEY also were anointed with the chrism of fertility. That the exhibition of these emblems should be part of the original 'Mystery'-rituals was perfectly natural--especially because, as we have explained already (3) old customs often continued on in a quite naive fashion in the rituals, when they had come to be thought indecent or improper by a later public opinion; and (we may say) was perfectly in order, because there is plenty of evidence to show that in SAVAGE initiations, of which the Mysteries were the linear descendants, all these things WERE explained to the novices, and their use actually taught. (4) No doubt also there were some representations or dramatic incidents of a fairly coarse character, as deriving from these ancient sources. (5) It is, however, quaint to observe how the mere mention of such things has caused an almost hysterical commotion among the critics of the Mysteries--from the day of the early Christians who (in order to belaud their own religion) were never tired of abusing the Pagans, onward to the present day when modern scholars either on the one hand follow the early Christians in representing the Mysteries as sinks of iniquity or on the other (knowing this charge could not be substantiated except in the period of their final decadence) take the line of ignoring the sexual interest attaching to them as non-existent or at any rate unworthy of attention. The good Archdeacon Cheetham, for instance, while writing an interesting book on the Mysteries passes by this side of the subject ALMOST as if it did not exist; while the learned Dr. Farnell, overcome apparently by the weight of his learning, and unable to confront the alarming obstacle presented by these sexual rites and aspects, hides himself behind the rather non-committal remark (speaking of the Eleusinian rites) "we have no right to imagine any part of this solemn ceremony as coarse or obscene." (6) As Nature, however, has been known (quite frequently) to be coarse or obscene, and as the initiators of the Mysteries were probably neither 'good' nor 'learned,' but were simply anxious to interpret Nature as best they could, we cannot find fault with the latter for the way they handled the problem, nor indeed well see how they could have handled it better. (1) F. Nork, Der Mystagog, mentions that the Roman Penates were commonly anointed with oil. J. Stuart Hay, in his Life of Elagabalus (1911), says that "Elagabal was worshipped under the symbol of a great black stone or meteorite, in the shape of a Phallus, which having fallen from the heavens represented a true portion of the Godhead, much after the style of those black stone images popularly venerated in Norway and other parts of Europe." (2) J. E. Hewitt, in his Ruling Races of Pre-historic Times (p. 64), gives a long list of pre-historic races who worshipped the lingam. (3) See Ch. XI. (4) See Ernest Crawley's Mystic Rose, ch. xiii, pp. 310 and 313: "In certain tribes of Central Africa both boys and girls after initiation must as soon as possible have intercourse." Initiation being not merely preliminary to, but often ACTUALLY marriage. The same among Kaffirs, Congo tribes, Senegalese, etc. Also among the Arunta of Australia. (5) Professor Diederichs has said that "in much ancient ritual it was thought that mystic communion with the deity could be obtained through the semblance of sex-intercourse--as in the Attis-Cybele worship, and the Isis-ritual." (Farnell.) Reitzenstein says (op. cit., p. 20.) that the Initiates, like some of the Christian Nuns at a later time, believed in union with God through receiving the seed. (6) Farnell, op. cit., iii. 176. Messrs. Gardner and Jevons, in their Manual of Greek Antiquities, above-quoted, compare the Eleusinian Mysteries favorably with some of the others, like the Arcadian, the Troezenian, the Aeginaean, and the very primitive Samothracian: saying (p. 278) that of the last-mentioned "we know little, but safely conjecture that in them the ideas of sex and procreation dominated EVEN MORE than in those of Eleusis." After all it is pretty clear that the early peoples saw in Sex the great cohesive force which kept (we will not say Humanity but at any rate) the Tribe together, and sustained the race. In the stage of simple Consciousness this must have been one of the first things that the budding intellect perceived. Sex became one of the earliest divinities, and there is abundant evidence that its organs and processes generally were invested with a religious sense of awe and sanctity. It was in fact the symbol (or rather the actuality) of the permanent undying life of the race, and as such was sacred to the uses of the race. Whatever taboos may have, among different peoples, guarded its operations, it was not essentially a thing to be concealed, or ashamed of. Rather the contrary. For instance the early Christian writer, Hippolytus, Bishop of Pontus (A.D. 200), in his Refutation of all Heresies, Book V, says that the Samothracian Mysteries, just mentioned, celebrate Adam as the primal or archetypal Man eternal in the heavens; and he then continues: "Habitually there stand in the temple of the Samothracians two images of naked men having both hands stretched aloft towards heaven, and their pudenda turned upwards, as is also the case with the statue of Mercury on Mt. Cyllene. And the aforesaid images are figures of the primal man, and of that spiritual one that is born again, in every respect of the same substance with that (first) man." This extract from Hippolytus occurs in the long discourse in which he 'exposes' the heresy of the so-called Naassene doctrines and mysteries. But the whole discourse should be read by those who wish to understand the Gnostic philosophy of the period contemporary with and anterior to the birth of Christianity. A translation of the discourse, carefully analyzed and annotated, is given in G. R. S. Mead's Thrice-greatest Hermes (1) (vol. i); and Mead himself, speaking of it, says (p. 141): "The claim of these Gnostics was practically that the good news of the Christ (the Christos) was the consummation of the inner doctrine of the Mystery-institutions of all the nations; the end of them all being the revelation of the Mystery of Man." Further, he explains that the Soul, in these doctrines, was regarded as synonymous with the Cause of All; and that its loves were twain--of Aphrodite (or Life), and of Persephone (or Death and the other world). Also that Attis, abandoning his sex in the worship of the Mother-Goddess (Dea Syria), ascends to Heaven--a new man, Male-female, and the origin of all things: the hidden Mystery being the Phallus itself, erected as Hermes in all roads and boundaries and temples, the Conductor and Reconductor of Souls. (1) Reitzenstein, op. cit., quotes the discourse largely. The Thrice-greatest Hermes may also be consulted for a translation of Plutarch's Isis and Osiris. All this may sound strange, but one may fairly say that it represented in its degree, and in that first 'unfallen' stage of human thought and psychology, a true conception of the cosmic Life, and indeed a conception quite sensible and admirable, until, of course, the Second Stage brought corruption. No sooner was this great force of the cosmic life diverted from its true uses of Generation and Regeneration (1) and appropriated by the individual to his own private pleasure--no sooner was its religious character as a tribal service (2), (often rendered within the Temple precincts) lost sight of or degraded into a commercial transaction--than every kind of evil fell upon mankind. Corruptio optimi pessima. It must be remembered too that simultaneous with this sexual disruption occurred the disruption of other human relations; and we cease to be surprised that disease and selfish passions, greed, jealousy, slander, cruelty, and wholesale murder, raged--and have raged ever since. (1) For the special meaning of these two terms, see The Drama of Love and Death, by E. Carpenter, pp. 59-61. (2) Ernest Crawley in The Mystic Rose challenges this identification of Religion with tribal interests; yet his arguments are not very convincing. On p. 5 he admits that "there is a religious meaning inherent in the primitive conception and practice of ALL human relations"; and a large part of his ch. xii is taken up in showing that even such institutions as the Saturnalia were religious in confirming the sense of social union and leading to 'extended identity.' But for the human soul--whatever its fate, and whatever the dangers and disasters that threaten it--there is always redemption waiting. As we saw in the last chapter, this corruption of Sex led (quite naturally) to its denial and rejection; and its denial led to the differentiation from it of Love. Humanity gained by the enthronement And deification of Love, pure and undefiled, and (for the time being) exalted beyond this mortal world, and free from all earthly contracts. But again in the end, the divorce thus introduced between the physical and the spiritual led to the crippling of both. Love relegated, so to speak, to heaven as a purely philanthropical, pious and 'spiritual' affair, became exceedingly DULL; and sex, remaining on earth, but deserted by the redeeming presence, fell into mere "carnal curiosity and wretchedness of unclean living." Obviously for the human race there remains nothing, in the final event, but the reconciliation of the physical and the spiritual, and after many sufferings, the reunion of Eros and Psyche. There is still, however, much to be said about the Third State of Consciousness. Let us examine into it a little more closely. Clearly, since it is a new state, and not merely an extension of a former one, one cannot arrive at it by argument derived from the Second state, for all conscious Thought such as we habitually use simply keeps us IN the Second state. No animal or quite primitive man could possibly understand what we mean by Self-consciousness till he had experienced it. Mere argument would not enlighten him. And so no one in the Second state can quite realize the Third state till he has experienced it. Still, explanations may help us to perceive in what direction to look, and to recognize in some of our experiences an approach to the condition sought. Evidently it is a mental condition in some respects more similar to the first than to the second stage. The second stage of human psychologic evolution is an aberration, a divorce, a parenthesis. With its culmination and dismissal the mind passes back into the simple state of union with the Whole. (The state of Ekagrata in the Hindu philosophy: one-pointedness, singleness of mind.) And the consciousness of the Whole, and of things past and things to come and things far around--which consciousness had been shut out by the concentration on the local self--begins to return again. This is not to say, of course, that the excursus in the second stage has been a loss and a defect. On the contrary, it means that the Return is a bringing of all that has been gained during the period of exile (all sorts of mental and technical knowledge and skill, emotional developments, finesse and adaptability of mind) BACK into harmony with the Whole. It means ultimately a great gain. The Man, perfected, comes back to a vastly extended harmony. He enters again into a real understanding and confidential relationship with his physical body and with the body of the society in which he dwells--from both of which he has been sadly divorced; and he takes up again the broken thread of the Cosmic Life. Everyone has noticed the extraordinary consent sometimes observable among the members of an animal community--how a flock of 500 birds (e. g. starlings) will suddenly change its direction of flight--the light on the wings shifting INSTANTANEOUSLY, as if the impulse to veer came to all at the same identical moment; or how bees will swarm or otherwise act with one accord, or migrating creatures (lemmings, deer, gossamer spiders, winged ants) the same. Whatever explanation of these facts we favor--whether the possession of swifter and finer means of external communication than we can perceive, or whether a common and inner sensitivity to the genius of the Tribe (the "Spirit of the Hive") or to the promptings of great Nature around--in any case these facts of animal life appear to throw light on the possibilities of an accord and consent among the members of emaciated humanity, such as we dream of now, and seem to bid us have good hope for the future. It is here, perhaps, that the ancient worship of the Lingam comes in. The word itself is apparently connected with our word 'link,' and has originally the same meaning. (1) It is the link between the generations. Beginning with the worship of the physical Race-life, the course of psychologic evolution has been first to the worship of the Tribe (or of the Totem which represents the tribe); then to the worship of the human-formed God of the tribe--the God who dies and rises again eternally, as the tribe passes on eternal--though its members perpetually perish; then to the conception of an undying Savior, and the realization and distinct experience of some kind of Super-consciousness which does certainly reside, more or less hidden, in the deeps of the mind, and has been waiting through the ages for its disclosure and recognition. Then again to the recognition that in the sacrifices, the Slayer and the Slain are one--the strange and profoundly mystic perception that the God and the Victim are in essence the same--the dedication of 'Himself to Himself' (2) and simultaneously with this the interpretation of the Eucharist as meaning, even for the individual, the participation in Eternal Life--the continuing life of the Tribe, or ultimately of Humanity. (3) The Tribal order rises to Humanity; love ascends from the lingam to yogam, from physical union alone to the union with the Whole--which of course includes physical and all other kinds of union. No wonder that the good St. Paul, witnessing that extraordinary whirlpool of beliefs and practices, new and old, there in the first century A.D.--the unabashed adoration of sex side by side with the transcendental devotions of the Vedic sages and the Gnostics--became somewhat confused himself and even a little violent, scolding his disciples (I Cor. x. 21) for their undiscriminating acceptance, as it seemed to him, of things utterly alien and antagonistic. "Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord's table and the table of devils." (1) See Sanskrit Dictionary. (2) See Ch. VIII. (3) There are many indications in literature--in prophetic or poetic form--of this awareness and distinct conviction of an eternal life, reached through love and an inner sense of union with others and with humanity at large; indications which bear the mark of absolute genuineness and sincerity of feeling. See, for instance, Whitman's poem, "To the Garden the World" (Leaves of Grass, complete edition, p. 79). But an eternal life of the third order; not, thank heaven! an eternity of the meddling and muddling self-conscious Intellect! Every careful reader has noticed the confusedness of Paul's mind and arguments. Even taking only those Epistles (Galatians, Romans and Corinthians) which the critics assign to his pen, the thing is observable--and some learned Germans even speak of TWO Pauls. (1) But also the thing is quite natural. There can be little doubt that Paul of Tarsus, a Jew brought up in the strictest sect of the Pharisees, did at some time fall deeply under the influence of Greek thought, and quite possibly became an initiate in the Mysteries. It would be difficult otherwise to account for his constant use of the Mystery-language. Reitzenstein says (p. 59): "The hellenistic religious literature MUST have been read by him; he uses its terms, and is saturated with its thoughts (see Rom. vi. 1-14." And this conjoined with his Jewish experience gave him creative power. "A great deal in his sentiment and thought may have REMAINED Jewish, but to his Hellenism he was indebted for his love of freedom and his firm belief in his apostleship." He adopts terms (like [gr sarkikos], [gr yucikos] and [gr pneumatikos]) (2) which were in use among the hellenistic sects of the time; and he writes, as in Romans vi. 4, 5, about being "buried" with Christ or "planted" in the likeness of his death, in words which might well have been used (with change of the name) by a follower of Attis or Osiris after witnessing the corresponding 'mysteries'; certainly the allusion to these ancient deities would have been understood by every religionist of that day. These few points are sufficient to acentuate{sic} the two elements in Paul, the Jewish and the Greek, and to explain (so far) the seeming confusion in his utterances. Further it is interesting to note--as showing the pagan influences in the N. T. writings--the degree to which the Epistle to Philemon (ascribed to Paul) is FULL--short as it is--of expressions like PRISONER of the Lord, FELLOW SOLDIER, CAPTIVE or BONDMAN, (3) which were so common at the time as to be almost a cant in Mithraism and the allied cults. In I Peter ii. 2 (4), we have the verse "As newborn babes, desire ye the sincere MILK of the word, that ye may grow thereby." And again we may say that no one in that day could mistake the reference herein contained to old initiation ceremonies and the new birth (as described in Chapter VIII above), for indeed milk was the well-known diet of the novice in the Isis mysteries, as well as On some savage tribes) of the Medicine-man when practising his calling. (1) "Die Mysterien-anschauungen, die bei Paulus im Hintergrunde stehen, drangen sich in dem sogenarmten Deuteropaulinismus machtig vor" (Reitzenstein). (2) Remindful of our Three Stages: the Animal, the Self-conscious, and the Cosmic. (3) [gr desmios, stratiwths, doulos]. (4) See also I Cor. iii. 2. And here too Democracy comes in--strangely foreboded from the first in all this matter. (1) Not only does the Third Stage bring illumination, intuitive understanding of processes in Nature and Humanity, sympathy with the animals, artistic capacity, and so forth, but it necessarily brings a new Order of Society. A preposterous--one may almost say a hideous--social Age is surely drawing to its end, The debacle we are witnessing to-day all over Europe (including the British Islands), the break-up of old institutions, the generally materialistic outlook on life, the coming to the surface of huge masses of diseased and fatuous populations, the scum and dregs created by the past order, all point to the End of a Dispensation. Protestantism and Commercialism, in the two fields of religion and daily life have, as I have indicated before, been occupied in concentrating the mind of each man solely on his OWN welfare, the salvation of his OWN soul or body. These two forces have therefore been disruptive to the last degree; they mark the culmination of the Self-conscious Age--a culmination in War, Greed, Materialism, and the general principle of Devil-take-the-hindmost--and the clearing of the ground for the new order which is to come. So there is hope for the human race. Its evolution is not all a mere formless craze and jumble. There is an inner necessity by which Humanity unfolds from one degree or plane of consciousness to another. And if there has been a great 'Fall' or Lapse into conflict and disease and 'sin' and misery, occupying the major part of the Historical period hitherto, we see that this period is only brief, so to speak, in comparison with the whole curve of growth and expansion. We see also that, as I have said before, the belief in a state of salvation or deliverance has in the past ages never left itself quite without a witness in the creeds and rituals and poems and prophecies of mankind. Art, in some form or other, as an activity or inspiration dating not from the conscious Intellect, but from deeper regions of sub-conscious feeling and intuition, has continually come to us as a message from and an evidence of the Third stage or state, and as a promise of its more complete realization under other conditions. Through the long night-time where the Nations wander From Eden past to Paradise to be, Art's sacred flowers, like fair stars shining yonder, Alone illumine Life's obscurity. O gracious Artists, out of your deep hearts 'Tis some great Sun, I doubt, by men unguessed, Whose rays come struggling thus, in slender darts, To shadow what Is, till Time shall manifest. (1) See the germs of Democracy in the yoga teaching of the Hindus, and in the Upanishads, the Bhagavat Gita, and other books. With the Cosmic stage comes also necessarily the rehabilitation of the WHOLE of Society in one fellowship (the true Democracy). Not the rule or domination of one class or caste--as of the Intellectual, the Pious, the Commercial or the Military--but the fusion or at least consentaneous organization of ALL (as in the corresponding functions of the human Body). Class rule has been the mark of that second period of human evolution, and has inevitably given birth during that period to wars and self-agrandizements of classes and sections, and their consequent greeds and tyrannies over other classes and sections. It is not found in the primitive human tribes and societies, and will not be found in the final forms of human association. The liberated and emancipated Man passes unconstrained and unconstraining through all grades and planes of human fellowship, equal and undisturbed, and never leaving his true home and abiding place in the heart of all. Equally necessarily with the rehabilitation of Society as an entirety will follow the rehabilitation of the entire physical body IN each member of Society. We have spoken already of Nakedness: its meaning and likely extent of adoption (Ch. XII). The idea that the head and the hands are the only seemly and presentable members of the organism, and that the other members are unworthy and indecent, is obviously as onesided and lopsided as that which honors certain classes in the commonwealth and despises others. Why should the head brag of its ascendancy and domination, and the heart be smothered up and hidden? It will only be a life far more in the open air than that which we lead at present, which will restore the balance and ultimately bring us back to sanity and health. XVI. THE EXODUS OF CHRISTIANITY We have dealt with the Genesis of Christianity; we now come to the Exodus. For that Christianity can CONTINUE to hold the field of Religion in the Western World is neither probable nor desirable. It is true, as I have remarked already, that there is a certain trouble about defining what we mean by "Christianity" similar to that about the word "Civilization." If we select out of the great mass of doctrines and rites favored by the various Christian Churches just those which commend themselves to the most modern and humane and rational human mind and choose to call that resulting (but rather small) body of belief and practice 'Christianity' we are, of course, entitled to do so, and to hope (as we do hope) that this residuum will survive and go forward into the future. But this sort of proceeding is hardly fair and certainly not logical. It enables Christianity to pose as an angel of light while at the same time keeping discreetly out of sight all its own abominations and deeds of darkness. The Church--which began its career by destroying, distorting and denying the pagan sources from which it sprang; whose bishops and other ecclesiastics assassinated each other in their theological rancour "of wild beasts," which encouraged the wicked folly of the Crusades--especially the Children's Crusades--and the shameful murders of the Manicheans, the Albigenses, and the Huguenots; which burned at the stake thousands and thousands of poor 'witches' and 'heretics'; which has hardly ever spoken a generous word in favor or defence of the animals; which in modern times has supported vivisection as against the latter, Capitalism and Commercialism as against the poorer classes of mankind; and whose priests in the forms of its various sects, Greek or Catholic, Lutheran or Protestant, have in these last days rushed forth to urge the nations to slaughter each other with every diabolical device of Science, and to glorify the war-cry of Patriotism in defiance of the principle of universal Brotherhood--such a Church can hardly claim to have established the angelic character of its mission among mankind! And if it be said--as it often IS SAID: "Oh! but you must go back to the genuine article, and the Church's real origin and one foundation in the person and teaching of Jesus Christ," then indeed you come back to the point which this book, as above, enforces: namely, that as to the person of Jesus, there is no CERTAINTY at all that he ever existed; and as to the teaching credited to him, it is certain that that comes down from a period long anterior to 'Christianity' and is part of what may justly be called a very ancient World-religion. So, as in the case of 'Civilization,' we are compelled to see that it is useless to apply the word to some ideal state of affairs or doctrine (an ideal by no means the same in all people's minds, or in all localities and times), but that the only reasonable thing to do is to apply it in each case to a HISTORICAL PERIOD. In the case of Christianity the historical period has lasted nearly 2,000 years, and, as I say, we can hardly expect or wish that it should last much longer. The very thorough and careful investigation of religious origins which has been made during late years by a great number of students and observers undoubtedly tends to show that there has been something like a great World-religion coming down the centuries from the remotest times and gradually expanding and branching as it has come--that is to say that the similarity (in ESSENCE though not always in external detail) between the creeds and rituals of widely sundered tribes and peoples is so great as to justify the view--advanced in the present volume--that these creeds and rituals are the necessary outgrowths of human psychology, slowly evolving, and that consequently they have a common origin and in their various forms a common expression. Of this great World-religion, so coming down, Christianity is undoubtedly a branch, and an important branch. But there have been important branches before; and while it may be true that Christianity emphasizes some points which may have been overlooked or neglected in the Vedic teachings or in Buddhism, or in the Persian and Egyptian and Syrian cults, or in Mahommedanism, and so forth, it is also equally true that Christianity has itself overlooked or neglected valuable points in these religions. It has, in fact, the defects of its qualities. If the World-religion is like a great tree, one cannot expect or desire that all its branches should be directed towards the same point of the compass. Reinach, whose studies of religious origins are always interesting and characterized by a certain Gallic grace and nettete, though with a somewhat Jewish non-perception of the mystic element in life, defines Religion as a combination of animism and scruples. This is good in a way, because it gives the two aspects of the subject: the inner, animism, consisting of the sense of contact with more or less intelligent beings moving in Nature; and the outer, consisting in scruples or taboos. The one aspect shows the feeling which INSPIRES religion, the other, the checks and limitations which DEFINE it and give birth to ritual. But like most anthropologists he (Reinach) is a little TOO patronizing towards the "poor Indian with untutored mind." He is sorry for people so foolish as to be animistic in their outlook, and he is always careful to point out that the scruples and taboos were quite senseless in their origin, though occasionally (by accident) they turned out useful. Yet--as I have said before--Animism is a perfectly sensible, logical and NECESSARY attitude of the human mind. It is a necessary attribute of man's psychical nature, by which he projects into the great World around him the image of his own mind. When that mind is in a very primitive, inchoate, and fragmentary condition, the images so projected are those of fragmentary intelligences ('spirits,' gnomes, etc.--the age of magic); when the mind rises to distinct consciousness of itself the reflections of it are anthropomorphic 'gods'; when finally it reaches the universal or cosmic state it perceives the presence of a universal Being behind all phenomena--which Being is indeed itself--"Himself to Himself." If you like you may call the whole process by the name of Animism. It is perfectly sensible throughout. The only proviso is that you should also be sensible, and distinguish the different stages in the process. Jane Harrison makes considerable efforts to show that Religion is primarily a reflection of the SOCIAL Conscience (see Themis, pp. 482-92)--that is, that the sense in Man of a "Power that makes for righteousness" outside (and also inside) him is derived from his feeling of continuity with the Tribe and his instinctive obedience to its behests, confirmed by ages of collective habit and experience. He cannot in fact sever the navel-string which connects him with his tribal Mother, even though he desires to do so. And no doubt this view of the origin of Religion is perfectly correct. But it must be pointed out that it does not by any means exclude the view that religion derives also from an Animism by which man recognizes in general Nature his foster-mother and feels himself in closest touch with HER. Which may have come first, the Social affiliation or the Nature affiliation, I leave to the professors to determine. The term Animism may, as far as I can see, be quite well applied to the social affiliation, for the latter is evidently only a case in which the individual projects his own degree of consciousness into the human group around him instead of into the animals or the trees, but it is a case of which the justice is so obvious that the modern man can intellectually seize and understand it, and consequently he does not tar it with the 'animistic' brush. And Miss Harrison, it must be noticed, does, in other passages of the same book (see Themis, pp. 68, 69), admit that Religion has its origin not only from unity with the Tribe but from the sense of affiliation to Nature--the sense of "a world of unseen power lying behind the visible universe, a world which is the sphere, as will be seen, of magical activity and the medium of mysticism. The mystical element, the oneness and continuousness comes out very clearly in the notion of Wakonda among the Sioux Indians.... The Omahas regarded all animate and inanimate forms, all phenomena, as pervaded by a common life, which was continuous and similar to the will-power they were conscious of in themselves. This mysterious power in all things they called Wakonda, and through it all things were related to man, and to each other. In the idea of the continuity of life, a relation was maintained between the seen and the unseen, the dead and the living, and also between the fragment of anything and its entirety." Thus our general position is confirmed, that Religion in its origin has been INSPIRED by a deep instinctive conviction or actual sense of continuity with a being or beings in the world around, while it has derived its FORM and ritual by slow degrees from a vast number of taboos, generated in the first instance chiefly by superstitious fears, but gradually with the growth of reason and observation becoming simplified and rationalized into forms of use. On the one side there has been the positive impulse--of mere animal Desire and the animal urge of self-expression; on the other there has been the negative force of Fear based on ignorance--the latter continually carving, moulding and shaping the former. According to this an organized study and classification of taboos might yield some interesting results; because indeed it would throw light on the earliest forms of both religion and science. It would be seen that some taboos, like those of CONTACT (say with a menstruous woman, or a mother-in-law, or a lightning-struck tree) had an obvious basis of observation, justifiable but very crude; while others, like the taboo against harming an enemy who had contracted blood-friendship with one of your own tribe, or against giving decent burial to a murderer, were equally rough and rude expressions or indications of the growing moral sentiment of mankind. All the same there would be left, in any case, a large residuum of taboos which could only be judged as senseless, and the mere rubbish of the savage mind. So much for the first origins of the World-religion; and I think enough has been said in the various chapters of this book to show that the same general process has obtained throughout. Man, like the animals, began with this deep, subconscious sense of unity with surrounding Nature. When this became (in Man) fairly conscious, it led to Magic and Totemism. More conscious, and it branched, on the one hand, into figures of Gods and definite forms of Creeds, on the other into elaborate Scientific Theories--the latter based on a strong INTELLECTUAL belief in Unity, but fervently denying any 'anthropomorphic' or 'animistic' SENSE of that unity. Finally, it seems that we are now on the edge of a further stage when the theories and the creeds, scientific and religious, are on the verge of collapsing, but in such a way as to leave the sense and the perception of Unity--the real content of the whole process--not only undestroyed, but immensely heightened and illuminated. Meanwhile the taboos--of which there remain some still, both religious and scientific--have been gradually breaking up and merging themselves into a reasonable and humane order of life and philosophy. I have said that out of this World-religion Christianity really sprang. It is evident that the time has arrived when it must either acknowledge its source and frankly endeavor to affiliate itself to the same, or failing that must perish. In the first case it will probably have to change its name; in the second the question of its name 'will interest it no more.' With regard to the first of these alternatives, I might venture--though with indifference--to make a few suggestions. Why should we not have--instead of a Holy Roman Church--a Holy HUMAN Church, rehabilitating the ancient symbols and rituals, a Christianity (if you still desire to call it so) frankly and gladly acknowledging its own sources? This seems a reasonable and even feasible proposition. If such a church wished to celebrate a Mass or Communion or Eucharist it would have a great variety of rites and customs of that kind to select from; those that were not appropriate for use in our times or were connected with the worship of strange gods need not be rejected or condemned, but could still be commented on and explained as approaches to the same idea--the idea of dedication to the Common Life, and of reinvigoration in the partaking of it. If the Church wished to celebrate the Crucifixion or betrayal of its Founder, a hundred instances of such celebrations would be to hand, and still the thought that has underlain such celebrations since the beginning of the world could easily be disentangled and presented in concrete form anew. In the light of such teaching expressions like "I know that my Redeemer liveth" would be traced to their origin, and men would understand that notwithstanding the mass of rubbish, cant and humbug which has collected round them they really do mean something and represent the age-long instinct of Humanity feeling its way towards a more extended revelation, a new order of being, a third stage of consciousness and illumination. In such a Church or religious organization EVERY quality of human nature would have to be represented, every practice and custom allowed for and its place accorded--the magical and astronomical meanings, the rites connected with sun-worship, or with sex, or with the worship of animals; the consecration of corn and wine and other products of the ground, initiations, sacrifices, and so forth--all (if indeed it claimed to be a World-religion) would have to be represented and recognized. For they all have their long human origin and descent in and through the pagan creeds, and they all have penetrated into and become embodied to some degree in Christianity. Christianity therefore, as I say, must either now come frankly forward and, acknowledging its parentage from the great Order of the past, seek to rehabilitate THAT and carry mankind one step forward in the path of evolution--or else it must perish. There is no other alternative. (1) (1) Comte in founding his philosophy of Positivism seems to have had in view some such Holy Human Church, but he succeeded in making it all so profoundly dull that it never flourished, The seed of Life was not in it. Let me give an instance of how a fragment of ancient ritual which has survived from the far Past and is still celebrated, but with little intelligence or understanding, in the Catholic Church of to-day, might be adopted in such a Church as I have spoken of, interpreted, and made eloquent of meaning to modern humanity. When I was in Ceylon nearly 30 years ago I was fortunate enough to witness a night-festival in a Hindu Temple--the great festival of Taipusam, which takes place every year in January. Of course, it was full moon, and great was the blowing up of trumpets in the huge courtyard of the Temple. The moon shone down above from among the fronds of tall coco-palms, on a dense crowd of native worshipers--men and a few women--the men for the most part clad in little more than a loin-cloth, the women picturesque in their colored saris and jewelled ear and nose rings. The images of Siva and two other gods were carried in procession round and round the temple--three or four times; nautch girls danced before the images, musicians, blowing horns and huge shells, or piping on flageolets or beating tom-toms, accompanied them. The crowd carrying torches or high crates with flaming coco-nuts, walked or rather danced along on each side, elated and excited with the sense of the present divinity, yet pleasantly free from any abject awe. The whole thing indeed reminded one of some bas-relief of a Bacchanalian procession carved on a Greek sarcophagus--and especially so in its hilarity and suggestion of friendly intimacy with the god. There were singing of hymns and the floating of the chief actors on a raft round a sacred lake. And then came the final Act. Siva, or his image, very weighty and borne on the shoulders of strong men, was carried into the first chamber or hall of the Temple and placed on an altar with a curtain hanging in front. The crowd followed with a rush; and then there was more music, recital of hymns, and reading from sacred books. From where we stood we could see the rite which was performed behind the curtain. Two five-branched candlesticks were lighted; and the manner of their lighting was as follows. Each branch ended in a little cup, and in the cups five pieces of camphor were placed, all approximately equal in size. After offerings had been made, of fruit, flowers and sandalwood, the five camphors in each candlestick were lighted. As the camphor flames burned out the music became more wild and exciting, and then at the moment of their extinction the curtains were drawn aside and the congregation outside suddenly beheld the god revealed and in a blaze of light. This burning of camphor was, like other things in the service, emblematic. The five lights represent the five senses. Just as camphor consumes itself and leaves no residue behind, so should the five senses, being offered to the god, consume themselves and disappear. When this is done, that happens in the soul which was now figured in the ritual--the God is revealed in the inner light. (1) (1) For a more detailed account of this Temple-festival, see Adam's Peak to Elephanta by E. Carpenter, ch. vii. We are familiar with this parting or rending of the veil. We hear of it in the Jewish Temple, and in the Greek and Egyptian Mysteries. It had a mystically religious, and also obviously sexual, signification. It occurs here and there in the Roman Catholic ritual. In Spain, some ancient Catholic ceremonials are kept up with a brilliance and splendor hardly found elsewhere in Europe. In the Cathedral, at Seville the service of the Passion, carried out on Good Friday with great solemnity and accompanied with fine music, culminates on the Saturday morning--i.e. in the interval between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection--in a spectacle similar to that described in Ceylon. A rich velvet-black curtain hangs before the High Altar. At the appropriate moment and as the very emotional strains of voices and instruments reach their climax in the "Gloria in Excelsis," the curtain with a sudden burst of sound (thunder and the ringing of all the bells) is rent asunder, and the crucified Jesus is seen hanging there revealed in a halo of glory. There is also held at Seville Cathedral and before the High Altar every year, the very curious Dance of the Seises (sixes), performed now by 16 instead of (as of old) by 12 boys, quaintly dressed. It seems to be a survival of some very ancient ritual, probably astronomical, in which the two sets of six represent the signs of the Zodiac, and is celebrated during the festivals of Corpus Christi, the Immaculate Conception, and the Carnival. Numerous instances might of course be adduced of how a Church aspiring to be a real Church of Humanity might adopt and re-create the rituals of the past in the light of a modern inspiration. Indeed the difficulty would be to limit the process, for EVERY ancient ritual, we can now see, has had a meaning and a message, and it would be a real joy to disentangle these and to expose the profound solidarity of humanity and aspiration from the very dawn of civilization down to the present day. Nor would it be necessary to imagine any Act of Uniformity or dead level of ceremonial in the matter. Different groups might concentrate on different phases of religious thought and practice. The only necessity would be that they should approach the subject with a real love of Humanity in their hearts and a real desire to come into touch with the deep inner life and mystic growing-pains of the souls of men and women in all ages. In this direction M. Loisy has done noble and excellent work; but the dead weight and selfish blinkerdom of the Catholic organization has hampered him to that degree that he has been unable to get justice done to his liberalizing designs--or, perhaps, even to reveal the full extent of them. And the same difficulty will remain. On the one hand no spiritual movement which does not take up the attitude of a World-religion has now in this age, any chance of success; on the other, all the existing Churches--whether Roman Catholic, or Greek, or Protestant or Secularist--whether Christian or Jewish or Persian or Hindu--will in all probability adopt the same blind and blinkered and selfish attitude as that described above, and so disqualify themselves for the great role of world-wide emancipation, which some religion at some time will certainly have to play. It is the same difficulty which is looming large in modern World-politics, where the local selfishness and vainglorious "patriotisms" of the Nations are sadly impeding and obstructing the development of that sense of Internationalism and Brotherhood which is the clearly indicated form of the future, and which alone can give each nation deliverance from fear, and a promise of growth, and the confident assurance of power. I say that Christianity must either frankly adopt this generous attitude and confess itself a branch of the great World-religion, anxious only to do honor to its source--or else it must perish and pass away. There is no other alternative. The hour of its Exodus has come. It may be, of course, that neither the Christian Church nor any branch of it, nor any other religious organization, will step into the gap. It may be--but I do not think this is likely--that the time of rites and ceremonies and formal creeds is PAST, and churches of any kind will be no more needed in the world: not likely, I say, because of the still far backwardness of the human masses, and their considerable dependence yet on laws and forms and rituals. Still, if it should prove that that age of dependence IS really approaching its end, that would surely be a matter for congratulation. It would mean that mankind was moving into a knowledge of the REALITY which has underlain these outer shows--that it was coming into the Third stage of its Consciousness. Having found this there would be no need for it to dwell any longer in the land of superstitions and formulae. It would have come to the place of which these latter are only the outlying indications. It may, therefore, happen--and this quite independently of the growth of a World-cult such as I have described, though by no means in antagonism to it--that a religious philosophy or Theosophy might develop and spread, similar to the Gnonam of the Hindus or the Gnomsis of the pre-Christian sects, which would become, first among individuals and afterwards among large bodies over the world, the religion of--or perhaps one should say the religious approach to the Third State. Books like the Upanishads of the Vedic seers, and the Bhagavat Gita, though garbled and obscured by priestly interferences and mystifications, do undoubtedly represent and give expression to the highest utterance of religious experience to be found anywhere in the world. They are indeed the manuals of human entrance into the cosmic state. But as I say, and as has happened in the case of other sacred books, a vast deal of rubbish has accreted round their essential teachings, and has to be cleared away. To go into a serious explication of the meaning of these books would be far too large an affair, and would be foreign to the purpose of the present volume; but I have in the Appendix below inserted two papers, (on "Rest" and "The Nature of the Self") containing the substance of lectures given on the above books. These papers or lectures are couched in the very simplest language, free from Sanskrit terms and the usual 'jargon of the Schools,' and may, I hope, even on that account be of use in familiarizing readers who are not specially STUDENTS with the ideas and mental attitudes of the cosmic state. Non-differentiation (Advaita (1)) is the root attitude of the mind inculcated. (1) The word means "not-two-ness." Here we see a great subtlety of definition. It is not to be "one" with others that is urged, but to be "not two." We have seen that there has been an age of non-differentiation in the Past-non-differentiation from other members of the Tribe, from the Animals, from Nature and the Spirit or Spirits of nature; why should there not arise a similar sense of non-differentiation in the FUTURE--similar but more extended more intelligent? Certainly this WILL arrive, in its own appointed time. There will be a surpassing of the bounds of separation and division. There will be a surpassing of all Taboos. We have seen the use and function of Taboos in the early stages of Evolution and how progress and growth have been very much a matter of their gradual extinction and assimilation into the general body of rational thought and feeling. Unreasoning and idiotic taboos still linger, but they grow weaker. A new Morality will come which will shake itself free from them. The sense of kinship with the animals (as in the old rituals) (1) will be restored; the sense of kinship with all the races of mankind will grow and become consolidated; the sense of the defilement and impurity of the human body will (with the adoption of a generally clean and wholesome life) pass away; and the body itself will come to be regarded more as a collection of shrines in which the gods may be worshiped and less as a mere organ of trivial self-gratifications; (2) there will be no form of Nature, or of human life or of the lesser creatures, which will be barred from the approach of Man or from the intimate and penetrating invasion of his spirit; and as in certain ceremonies and after honorable toils and labors a citizen is sometimes received into the community of his own city, so the emancipated human being on the completion of his long long pilgrimage on Earth will be presented with the Freedom of the Universe. (1) The record of the Roman Catholic Church has been sadly Callous and inhuman in this matter of the animals. (2) See The Art of Creation, by E. Carpenter. XVII. CONCLUSION In conclusion there does not seem much to say, except to accentuate certain points which may still appear doubtful or capable of being understood. The fact that the main argument of this volume is along the lines of psychological evolution will no doubt commend it to some, while on the other hand it will discredit the book to others whose eyes, being fixed on purely MATERIAL causes, can see no impetus in History except through these. But it must be remembered that there is not the least reason for SEPARATING the two factors. The fact that psychologically man has evolved from simple consciousness to self-consciousness, and is now in process of evolution towards another and more extended kind of consciousness, does not in the least bar the simultaneous appearance and influence of material evolution. It is clear indeed that the two must largely go together, acting and reacting on each other. Whatever the physical conditions of the animal brain may be which connect themselves with simple (unreflected and unreflecting) consciousness, it is evident that these conditions--in animals and primitive man--lasted for an enormous period, before the distinct consciousness of the individual and separate SELF arose. This second order of consciousness seems to have germinated at or about the same period as the discovery of the use of Tools (tools of stone, copper, bronze, &c.), the adoption of picture-writing and the use of reflective words (like "I" and "Thou"); and it led on to the appreciation of gold and of iron with their ornamental and practical values, the accumulation of Property, the establishment of slavery of various kinds, the subjection of Women, the encouragement of luxury and self-indulgence, the growth of crowded cities and the endless conflicts and wars so resulting. We can see plainly that the incoming of the self-motive exercised a direct stimulus on the pursuit of these material objects and adaptations; and that the material adaptations in their turn did largely accentuate the self-motive; but to insist that the real explanation of the whole process is only to be found along one channel--the material OR the psychical--is clearly quite unnecessary. Those who understand that all matter is conscious in some degree, and that all consciousness has a material form of some kind, will be the first to admit this. The same remarks apply to the Third Stage. We can see that in modern times the huge and unlimited powers of production by machinery, united with a growing tendency towards intelligent Birth-control, are preparing the way for an age of Communism and communal Plenty which will inevitably be associated (partly as cause and partly as effect) with a new general phase of consciousness, involving the mitigation of the struggle for existence, the growth of intuitional and psychical perception, the spread of amity and solidarity, the disappearance of War, and the realization (in degree) of the Cosmic life. Perhaps the greatest difficulty or stumbling-block to the general acceptance of the belief in a third (or 'Golden-Age') phase of human evolution is the obstinate and obdurate pre-judgment that the passing of Humanity out of the Second stage can only mean the entire ABANDONMENT OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS; and this people say--and quite rightly--is both impossible and undesirable. Throughout the preceding chapters I have striven, wherever feasible, to counter this misunderstanding--but I have little hope of success. The DETERMINATION of the world to misunderstand or misinterpret anything a little new or unfamiliar is a thing which perhaps only an author can duly appreciate. But while it is clear that self-consciousness originally came into being through a process of alienation and exile and fear which marked it with the Cain-like brand of loneliness and apartness, it is equally clear that to think of that apartness as an absolute and permanent separation is an illusion, since no being can really continue to live divorced from the source of its life. For a period in evolution the SELF took on this illusive form in consciousness, as of an ignis fatuus--the form of a being sundered from all other beings, atomic, lonely, without refuge, surrounded by dangers and struggling, for itself alone and for its own salvation in the midst of a hostile environment. Perhaps some such terrible imagination was necessary at first, as it were to start Humanity on its new path. But it had its compensation, for the sufferings and tortures, mental and bodily, the privations, persecutions, accusations, hatreds, the wars and conflicts--so endured by millions of individuals and whole races--have at length stamped upon the human mind a sense of individual responsibility which otherwise perhaps would never have emerged, and whose mark can now be effaced; ultimately, too, these things have searched our inner nature to its very depths and exposed its bed-rock foundation. They have convinced us that this idea of ultimate separation is an illusion, and that in truth we are all indefeasible and indestructible parts of one great Unity in which "we live and move and have our being." That being so, it is clear that there remains in the end a self-consciousness which need by no means be abandoned, which indeed only comes to its true fruition and understanding when it recognizes its affiliation with the Whole, and glories in an individuality which is an expression both of itself AND of the whole. The human child at its mother's knee probably comes first to know it HAS a 'self' on some fateful day when having wandered afar it goes lost among alien houses and streets or in the trackless fields. That appalling experience--the sense of danger, of fear, of loneliness--is never forgotten; it stamps some new sense of Being upon the childish mind, but that sense, instead of being destroyed, becomes all the prouder and more radiant in the hour of return to the mother's arms. The return, the salvation, for which humanity looks, is the return of the little individual self to harmony and union with the great Self of the universe, but by no means its extinction or abandonment--rather the finding of its own true nature as never before. There is another thing which may be said here: namely, that the disentanglement, as above, of three main stages of psychological evolution as great formative influences in the history of mankind, does not by any means preclude the establishment of lesser stages within the boundaries of these. In all probability subdivisions of all the three will come in time to be recognized and allowed for. To take the Second stage only, it MAY appear that Self-consciousness in its first development is characterized by an accentuation of Timidity; in its second development by a more deliberate pursuit of sensual Pleasure (lust, food, drink, &c.); in its third by the pursuit of mental gratifications (vanities, ambitions, enslavement of others); in its fourth by the pursuit of Property, as a means of attaining these objects; in its fifth by the access of enmities, jealousies, wars and so forth, consequent on all these things; and so on. I have no intention at present of following out this line of thought, but only wish to suggest its feasibility and the degree to which it may throw light on the social evolutions of the Past. (1) (1) For an analysis of the nature of Self-consciousness see vol. iii, p. 375 sq. of the three ponderous tomes by Wilhelm Wundt--Grund-zuge der Physiologischen Psychologie--in which amid an enormous mass of verbiage occasional gleams of useful suggestion are to be found. As a kind of rude general philosophy we may say that there are only two main factors in life, namely, Love and Ignorance. And of these we may also say that the two are not in the same plane: one is positive and substantial, the other is negative and merely illusory. It may be thought at first that Fear and Hatred and Cruelty, and the like, are very positive things, but in the end we see that they are due merely to ABSENCE of perception, to dulness of understanding. Or we may put the statement in a rather less crude form, and say that there are only two factors in life: (1) the sense of Unity with others (and with Nature)--which covers Love, Faith, Courage, Truth, and so forth, and (2) Non-perception of the same--which covers Enmity, Fear, Hatred, Self-pity, Cruelty, Jealousy, Meanness and an endless similar list. The present world which we see around us, with its idiotic wars, its senseless jealousies of nations and classes, its fears and greeds and vanities and its futile endeavors--as of people struggling in a swamp--to find one's own salvation by treading others underfoot, is a negative phenomenon. Ignorance, non-perception, are at the root of it. But it is the blessed virtue of Ignorance and of non-perception that they inevitably-if only slowly and painfully--DESTROY THEMSELVES. All experience serves to dissipate them. The world, as it is, carries' the doom of its own transformation in its bosom; and in proportion as that which is negative disappears the positive element must establish itself more and more. So we come back to that with which we began, (1) to Fear bred by Ignorance. From that source has sprung the long catalogue of follies, cruelties and sufferings which mark the records of the human race since the dawn of history; and to the overcoming of this Fear we perforce must look for our future deliverance, and for the discovery, even in the midst of this world, of our true Home. The time is coming when the positive constructive element must dominate. It is inevitable that Man must ever build a state of society around him after the pattern and image of his own interior state. The whole futile and idiotic structure of commerce and industry in which we are now imprisoned springs from that falsehood of individualistic self-seeking which marks the second stage of human evolution. That stage is already tottering to its fall, destroyed by the very flood of egotistic passions and interests, of vanities, greeds, and cruelties, all warring with each other, which are the sure outcome and culmination of its operation. With the restoration of the sentiment of the Common Life, and the gradual growth of a mental attitude corresponding, there will emerge from the flood something like a solid earth--something on which it will be possible to build with good hope for the future. Schemes of reconstruction are well enough in their way, but if there is no ground of REAL HUMAN SOLIDARITY beneath, of what avail are they? (1) See Introduction, Ch. I. An industrial system which is no real industrial order, but only (on the part of the employers) a devil's device for securing private profit under the guise of public utility, and (on the part of the employed) a dismal and poor-spirited renunciation--for the sake of a bare living--of all real interest in life and work: such a 'system' must infallibly pass away. It cannot in the nature of things be permanent. The first condition of social happiness and prosperity must be the sense of the Common Life. This sense, which instinctively underlay the whole Tribal order of the far past--which first came to consciousness in the worship of a thousand pagan divinities, and in the rituals of countless sacrifices, initiations, redemptions, love-feasts and communions, which inspired the dreams of the Golden Age, and flashed out for a time in the Communism of the early Christians and in their adorations of the risen Savior--must in the end be the creative condition of a new order: it must provide the material of which the Golden City waits to be built. The long travail of the World-religion will not have been in vain, which assures this consummation. What the signs and conditions of any general advance into this new order of life and consciousness will be, we know not. It may be that as to individuals the revelation of a new vision often comes quite suddenly, and GENERALLY perhaps after a period of great suffering, so to society at large a similar revelation will arrive--like "the lightning which cometh out of the East and shineth even unto the West"--with unexpected swiftness. On the other hand it would perhaps be wise not to count too much on any such sudden transformation. When we look abroad (and at home) in this year of grace and hoped-for peace, 1919, and see the spirits of rancour and revenge, the fears, the selfish blindness and the ignorance, which still hold in their paralyzing grasp huge classes and coteries in every country in the world, we see that the second stage of human development is by no means yet at its full term, and that, as in some vast chrysalis, for the liberation of the creature within still more and more terrible struggles MAY be necessary. We can only pray that such may not be the case. Anyhow, if we have followed the argument of this book we can hardly doubt that the destruction (which is going on everywhere) of the outer form of the present society marks the first stage of man's final liberation; and that, sooner or later, and in its own good time, that further 'divine event' will surely be realized. Nor need we fear that Humanity, when it has once entered into the great Deliverance, will be again overpowered by evil. From Knowledge back to Ignorance there is no complete return. The nations that have come to enlightenment need entertain no dread of those others (however hostile they appear) who are still plunging darkly in the troubled waters of self-greed. The dastardly Fears which inspire all brutishness and cruelty of warfare--whether of White against White or it may be of White against Yellow or Black--may be dismissed for good and all by that blest race which once shall have gained the shore--since from the very nature of the case those who are on dry land can fear nothing and need fear nothing from the unfortunates who are yet tossing in the welter and turmoil of the waves. Dr. Frazer, in the conclusion of his great work The Golden Bough, (1) bids farewell to his readers with the following words: "The laws of Nature are merely hypotheses devised to explain that ever-shifting phantasmagoria of thought which we dignify with the high-sounding names of the World and the Universe. In the last analysis magic, religion and science are nothing but theories (of thought); and as Science has supplanted its predecessors so it may hereafter itself be superseded by some more perfect hypothesis, perhaps by some perfectly different way of looking at phenomena--of registering the shadows on the screen--of which we in this generation can form no idea." I imagine Dr. Frazer is right in thinking that "a way of looking at phenomena" different from the way of Science, may some day prevail. But I think this change will come, not so much by the growth of Science itself or the extension of its 'hypotheses,' as by a growth and expansion of the human HEART and a change in its psychology and powers of perception. Perhaps some of the preceding chapters will help to show how much the outlook of humanity on the world has been guided through the centuries by the slow evolution of its inner consciousness. Gradually, out of an infinite mass of folly and delusion, the human soul has in this way disentangled itself, and will in the future disentangle itself, to emerge at length in the light of true FREEDOM. All the taboos, the insane terrors, the fatuous forbiddals of this and that (with their consequent heart-searchings and distress) may perhaps have been in their way necessary, in order to rivet and define the meaning and the understanding of that word. To-day these taboos and terrors still linger, many of them, in the form of conventions of morality, uneasy strivings of conscience, doubts and desperations of religion; but ultimately Man will emerge from all these things, FREE--familiar, that is, with them all, making use of all, allowing generously for the values of all, but hampered and bound by NONE. He will realize the inner meaning of the creeds and rituals of the ancient religions, and will hail with joy the fulfilment of their far prophecy down the ages--finding after all the long-expected Saviour of the world within his own breast, and Paradise in the disclosure there of the everlasting peace of the soul. (1) See "Balder," vol. ii, pp. 306, 307. ("Farewell to Nemi.") APPENDIX THE TEACHING OF THE UPANISHADS BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF TWO LECTURES TO POPULAR AUDIENCES I. REST II. THE NATURE OF THE SELF I. REST To some, in the present whirlpool of life and affairs it may seem almost an absurdity to talk about Rest. For long enough now rest has seemed a thing far off and unattainable. With the posts knocking at our doors ten or twelve times a day, with telegrams arriving every hour, and the telephone bell constantly ringing; with motors rushing wildly about the streets, and aeroplanes whizzing overhead, with work speeded up in every direction, and the drive in the workshops becoming more intolerable every day; with the pace of the walkers and the pace of the talkers from hour to hour insanely increasing--what room, it may well be asked, is there for Rest? And now the issues of war, redoubling the urgency of all questions, are on us. The problem is obviously a serious one. So urgent is it that I think one may safely say the amount of insanity due to the pressure of daily life is increasing; nursing-homes have sprung up for the special purpose of treating such cases; and doctors are starting special courses of tuition in the art--now becoming very important--of systematically doing nothing! And yet it is difficult to see the outcome of it all. The clock of what is called Progress is not easily turned backward. We should not very readily agree nowadays to the abolition of telegrams or to a regulation compelling express trains to stop at every station! We can't ALL go to Nursing Homes, or afford to enjoy a winter's rest-cure in Egypt. And, if not, is the speeding-up process to go on indefinitely, incapable of being checked, and destined ultimately to land civilization in the mad-house? It is, I say, a serious and an urgent problem. And it is, I think, forcing a certain answer on us--which I will now endeavor to explain. If we cannot turn back and reverse this fatal onrush of modern life (and it is evident that we cannot do so in any very brief time--though of course ultimately we might succeed) then I think there are clearly only two alternatives left--either to go forward to general dislocation and madness, or--to learn to rest even in the very midst of the hurry and the scurry. To explain what I mean, let me use an illustration. The typhoons and cyclones of the China Seas are some of the most formidable storms that ships can encounter. Their paths in the past have been strewn with wrecks and disaster. But now with increased knowledge much of their danger has been averted. It is known that they are CIRCULAR in character, and that though the wind on their outskirts often reaches a speed of 100 miles an hour, in the centre of the storm there is a space of complete calm--not a calm of the SEA certainly, but a complete absence of wind. The skilled navigator, if he cannot escape the storm, steers right into the heart of it, and rests there. Even in the midst of the clatter he finds a place of quiet where he can trim his sails and adjust his future course. He knows too from his position in what direction at every point around him the wind is moving and where it will strike him when at last his ship emerges from the charmed circle. Is it not possible, we may ask, that in the very midst of the cyclone of daily life we may find a similar resting-place? If we can, our case is by no means hopeless. If we cannot, then indeed there is danger. Looking back in History we seem to see that in old times people took life much more leisurely than they do now. The elder generations gave more scope in their customs and their religions for contentment and peace of mind. We associate a certain quietism and passivity with the thought of the Eastern peoples. But as civilization traveled Westward external activity and the pace of life increased--less and less time was left for meditation and repose--till with the rise of Western Europe and America, the dominant note of life seems to have simply become one of feverish and ceaseless activity--of activity merely for the sake of activity, without any clear idea of its own purpose or object. Such a prospect does not at first seem very hopeful; but on second thoughts we see that we are not forced to draw any very pessimistic conclusion from it. The direction of human evolution need not remain always the same. The movement, in fact, of civilization from East to West has now clearly completed itself. The globe has been circled, and we cannot go any FARTHER to the West without coming round to the East again. It is a commonplace to say that our psychology, our philosophy and our religious sense are already taking on an Eastern color; nor is it difficult to imagine that with the end of the present dispensation a new era may perfectly naturally arrive in which the St. Vitus' dance of money-making and ambition will cease to be the chief end of existence. In the history of nations as in the history of individuals there are periods when the formative ideals of life (through some hidden influence) change; and the mode of life and evolution in consequence changes also. I remember when I was a boy wishing--like many other boys--to go to sea. I wanted to join the Navy. It was not, I am sure, that I was so very anxious to defend my country. No, there was a much simpler and more prosaic motive than that. The ships of those days with their complex rigging suggested a perfect paradise of CLIMBING, and I know that it was the thought of THAT which influenced me. To be able to climb indefinitely among those ropes and spars! How delightful! Of course I knew perfectly well that I should not always have free access to the rigging; but then--some day, no doubt, I should be an Admiral, and who then could prevent me? I remember seeing myself in my mind's eye, with cocked hat on my head and spy-glass under my arm, roaming at my own sweet will up aloft, regardless of the remonstrances which might reach me from below! Such was my childish ideal. But a time came--needless to say--when I conceived a different idea of the object of life. It is said that John Tyndall, whose lectures on Science were so much sought after in their time, being on one occasion in New York was accosted after his discourse by a very successful American business man, who urged him to devote his scientific knowledge and ability to commercial pursuits, promising that if he did so, he, Tyndall, would easily make "a big pile." Tyndall very calmly replied, "Well, I myself thought of that once, but I soon abandoned the idea, having come to the conclusion that I had NO TIME TO WASTE IN MAKING MONEY." The man of dollars nearly sank into the ground. Such a conception of life had never entered his head before. But to Tyndall no doubt it was obvious that if he chained himself to the commercial ideal all the joy and glory of his days would be gone. We sometimes hear of the awful doom of some of the Russian convicts in the quarries and mines of Siberia, who are (or were) chained permanently to their wheelbarrows. It is difficult to imagine a more dreadful fate: the despair, the disgust, the deadly loathing of the accursed thing from which there is no escape day or night--which is the companion not only of the prisoner's work but of his hours of rest--with which he has to sleep, to feed, to take his recreation if he has any, and to fulfil all the offices of nature. Could anything be more crushing? And yet, and yet... is it not true that we, most of us, in our various ways are chained to our wheelbarrows--is it not too often true that to these beggarly things we have for the most part chained OURSELVES? Let me be understood. Of course we all have (or ought to have) our work to do. We have our living to get, our families to support, our trade, our art, our profession to pursue. In that sense no doubt we are tied; but I take it that these things are like the wheelbarrow which a man uses while he is at work. It may irk him at times, but he sticks to it with a good heart, and with a certain joy because it is the instrument of a noble purpose. That is all right. But to be chained to it, not to be able to leave it when the work of the day is done--that is indeed an ignoble slavery. I would say, then, take care that even with these things, these necessary arts of life, you preserve your independence, that even if to some degree they may confine your body they do not enslave your mind. For it is the freedom of the mind which counts. We are all no doubt caught in the toils of the earth-life. One man is largely dominated by sensual indulgence, another by ambition, another by the pursuit of money. Well, these things are all right in themselves. Without the pleasures of the senses we should be dull mokes indeed; without ambition much of the zest and enterprise of life would be gone; gold, in the present order of affairs, is a very useful servant. These things are right enough--but to be CHAINED to them, to be unable to think of anything else--what a fate! The subject reminds one of a not uncommon spectacle. It is a glorious day; the sun is bright, small white clouds float in the transparent blue--a day when you linger perforce on the road to enjoy the scene. But suddenly here comes a man painfully running all hot and dusty and mopping his head, and with no eye, clearly, for anything around him. What is the matter? He is absorbed by one idea. He is running to catch a train! And one cannot help wondering what EXCEEDINGLY important business it must be for which all this glory and beauty is sacrificed, and passed by as if it did not exist. Further we must remember that in our foolishness we very commonly chain ourselves, not only to things like sense-pleasures and ambitions which are on the edge, so to speak, of being vices; but also to other things which are accounted virtues, and which as far as I can see are just as bad, if we once become enslaved to them. I have known people who were so exceedingly 'spiritual' and 'good' that one really felt quite depressed in their company; I have known others whose sense of duty, dear things, was so strong that they seemed quite unable to REST, or even to allow their friends to rest; and I have wondered whether, after all, worriting about one's duty might not be as bad--as deteriorating to oneself, as distressing to one's friends--as sinning a good solid sin. No, in this respect virtues MAY be no better than vices; and to be chained to a wheelbarrow made of alabaster is no way preferable to being chained to one of wood. To sacrifice the immortal freedom of the mind in order to become a prey to self-regarding cares and anxieties, self-estimating virtues and vices, self-chaining duties and indulgences, is a mistake. And I warn you, it is quite useless. For the destiny of Freedom is ultimately upon every one, and if refusing it for a time you heap your life persistently upon one object--however blameless in itself that object may be--Beware! For one day--and when you least expect it--the gods will send a thunderbolt upon you. One day the thing for which you have toiled and spent laborious days and sleepless nights will lie broken before you--your reputation will be ruined, your ambition will be dashed, your savings of years will be lost--and for the moment you will be inclined to think that your life has been in vain. But presently you will wake up and find that something quite different has happened. You will find that the thunderbolt which you thought was your ruin has been your salvation--that it has broken the chain which bound you to your wheelbarrow, and that you are free! -------- I think you will now see what I mean by Rest. Rest is the loosing of the chains which bind us to the whirligig of the world, it is the passing into the centre of the Cyclone; it is the Stilling of Thought. For (with regard to this last) it is Thought, it is the Attachment of the Mind, which binds us to outer things. The outer things themselves are all right. It is only through our thoughts that they make slaves of us. Obtain power over your thoughts and you are free. You can then use the outer things or dismiss them at your pleasure. There is nothing new of course in all this. It has been known for ages; and is part of the ancient philosophy of the world. In the Katha Upanishad you will find these words (Max Muller's translation): "As rainwater that has fallen on a mountain ridge runs down on all sides, thus does he who sees a difference between qualities run after them on all sides." This is the figure of the man who does NOT rest. And it is a powerful likeness. The thunder shower descends on the mountain top; torrents of water pour down the crags in every direction. Imagine the state of mind of a man--however thirsty he may be--who endeavors to pursue and intercept all these streams! But then the Upanishad goes on: "As pure water poured into pure water remains the same, thus, O Gautama, is the Self of a thinker who knows." What a perfect image of rest! Imagine a cistern before you with transparent glass sides and filled with pure water. And then imagine some one comes with a phial, also of pure water, and pours the contents gently into the cistern. What will happen? Almost nothing. The pure water will glide into the pure water--"remaining the same." There will be no dislocation, no discoloration (as might happen if MUDDY water were poured in); there will be only perfect harmony. I imagine here that the meaning is something like this. The cistern is the great Reservoir of the Universe which contains the pure and perfect Spirit of all life. Each one of us, and every mortal creature, represents a drop from that reservoir--a drop indeed which is also pure and perfect (though the phial in which it is contained may not always be so). When we, each of us, descend into the world and meet the great Ocean of Life which dwells there behind all mortal forms, it is like the little phial being poured into the great reservoir. If the tiny canful which is our selves is pure and unsoiled, then when it meets the world it will blend with the Spirit which informs the world perfectly harmoniously, without distress or dislocation. It will pass through and be at one with it. How can one describe such a state of affairs? You will have the key to every person that you meet, because indeed you are conscious that the real essence of that person is the same as your own. You will have the solution of every event which happens. For every event is (and is felt to be) the touch of the great Spirit on yours. Can any description of Rest be more perfect than that? Pure water poured into pure water.... There is no need to hurry, for everything will come in its good time. There is no need to leave your place, for all you desire is close at hand. Here is another verse (from the Vagasaneyi-Samhita Upanishad) embodying the same idea: "And he who beholds all beings in the Self, and the Self in all beings, he never turns away from It. When, to a man who understands, the Self has become all things, what sorrow, what trouble, can there be to him--having once beheld that Unity?"--What trouble, what sorrow, indeed, when the universe has become transparent with the presences of all we love, held firm in the One enfolding Presence? But it will be said: "Our minds are NOT pure and transparent. More often they are muddy and soiled--soiled, if not in their real essence, yet by reason of the mortal phial in which they are contained." And that alas! is true. If you pour a phial of muddy water into that reservoir which we described--what will you see? You will see a queer and ugly cloud formed. And to how many of us, in our dealings with the world, does life take on just such a form--of a queer and ugly cloud? Now not so very long after those Upanishads were written there lived in China that great Teacher, Lao-tze; and he too had considered these things. And he wrote--in the Tao-Teh-King--"Who is there who can make muddy water clear?" The question sounds like a conundrum. For a moment one hesitates to answer it. Lao-tze, however, has an answer ready. He says: "But if you LEAVE IT ALONE it will become clear of itself." That muddy water of the mind, muddied by all the foolish little thoughts which like a sediment infest it--but if you leave it alone it will become clear of itself. Sometimes walking along the common road after a shower you have seen pools of water lying here and there, dirty and unsightly with the mud stirred up by the hoofs of men and animals. And then returning some hours afterwards along the same road--in the evening and after the cessation of traffic--you have looked again, and lo! each pool has cleared itself to a perfect calm, and has become a lovely mirror reflecting the trees and the clouds and the sunset and the stars. So this mirror of the mind. Leave it alone. Let the ugly sediment of tiresome thoughts and anxieties, and of fussing over one's self-importances and duties, settle down--and presently you will look on it, and see something there which you never knew or imagined before--something more beautiful than you ever yet beheld--a reflection of the real and eternal world such is only given to the mind that rests. Do not recklessly spill the waters of your mind in this direction and in that, lest you become like a spring lost and dissipated in the desert. But draw them together into a little compass, and hold them still, so still; And let them become clear, so clear--so limpid, so mirror-like; At last the mountains and the sky shall glass themselves in peaceful beauty, And the antelope shall descend to drink, and the lion to quench his thirst, And Love himself shall come and bend over, and catch his own likeness in you. (1) (1) Towards Democracy, p. 373. Yes, there is this priceless thing within us, but hoofing along the roads in the mud we fail to find it; there is this region of calm, but the cyclone of the world raging around guards us from entering it. Perhaps it is best so--best that the access to it should not be made too easy. One day, some time ago, in the course of conversation with Rabindranath Tagore in London, I asked him what impressed him most in visiting the great city. He said, "The restless incessant movement of everybody." I said, "Yes, they seem as if they were all rushing about looking for something." He replied, "It is because each person does not know of the great treasure he has within himself." -------- How then are we to reach this treasure and make it our own? How are we to attain to this Stilling of the Mind, which is the secret of all power and possession? The thing is difficult, no doubt; yet as I tried to show at the outset of this discourse, we Moderns MUST reach it; we have got to attain to it--for the penalty of failure is and must be widespread Madness. The power to still the mind--to be ABLE, mark you, when you want, to enter into the region of Rest, and to dismiss or command your Thoughts--is a condition of Health; it is a condition of all Power and Energy. For all health, whether of mind or body, resides in one's relation to the central Life within. If one cannot get into touch with THAT, then the life-forces cannot flow down into the organism. Most, perhaps all, disease arises from the disturbance of this connection. All mere hurry, all mere running after external things (as of the man after the water-streams on the mountain-top), inevitably breaks it. Let a pond be allowed calmly under the influence of frost to crystallize, and most beautiful flowers and spears of ice will be formed, but keep stirring the water all the time with a stick or a pole and nothing will result but an ugly brash of half-frozen stuff. The condition of the exercise of power and energy is that it should proceed from a center of Rest within one. So convinced am I of this, that whenever I find myself hurrying over my work, I pause and say, "Now you are not producing anything good!" and I generally find that that is true. It is curious, but I think very noticeable, that the places where people hurry most--as for instance the City of London or Wall Street, New York--are just the places where the work being done is of LEAST importance (being mostly money-gambling); whereas if you go and look at a ploughman ploughing--doing perhaps the most important of human work--you find all his movements most deliberate and leisurely, as if indeed he had infinite time at command; the truth being that in dealing (like a ploughman) with the earth and the horses and the weather and the things of Nature generally you can no more hurry than Nature herself hurries. Following this line of thought it might seem that one would arrive at a hopeless paradox. If it be true that the less one hurries the better the work resulting, then it might seem that by sitting still and merely twirling one's thumbs one would arrive at the very greatest activity and efficiency! And indeed (if understood aright) there is a truth even in this, which--like the other points I have mentioned--has been known and taught long ages ago. Says that humorous old sage, Lao-tze, whom I have already quoted: "By non-action there is nothing that cannot be done." At first this sounds like mere foolery or worse; but afterwards thinking on it one sees there is a meaning hidden. There is a secret by which Nature and the powers of the universal life will do all for you. The Bhagavat Gita also says, "He who discovers inaction in action and action in inaction is wise among mortals." It is worth while dwelling for a moment on these texts. We are all--as I said earlier on--involved in work belonging to our place and station; we are tied to some degree in the bonds of action. But that fact need not imprison our inner minds. While acting even with keenness and energy along the external and necessary path before us, it is perfectly possible to hold the mind free and untied--so that the RESULT of our action (which of course is not ours to command) shall remain indifferent and incapable of unduly affecting us. Similarly, when it is our part to remain externally INACTIVE, we may discover that underneath this apparent inaction we may be taking part in the currents of a deeper life which are moving on to a definite end, to an end or object which in a sense is ours and in a sense is NOT ours. The lighthouse beam flies over land and sea with incredible velocity, and you think the light itself must be in swiftest movement; but when you climb up thither you find the lamp absolutely stationary. It is only the reflection that is moving. The rider on horseback may gallop to and fro wherever he will, but it is hard to say that HE is acting. The horse guided by the slightest indication of the man's will performs an the action that is needed. If we can get into right touch with the immense, the incalculable powers of Nature, is there anything which we may not be able to do? If a man worship the Self only as his true state," says the Brihad-aranyaka Upanishad, "his work cannot fail, for whatever he desires, that he obtains from the Self." What a wonderful saying, and how infallibly true! For obviously if you succeed in identifying your true being with the great Self of the universe, then whatever you desire the great Self will also desire, and therefore every power of Nature will be at your service and will conspire to fulfil your need. There are marvelous things here "well wrapped up"--difficult to describe, yet not impossible to experience. And they all depend upon that power of stilling Thought, that ability to pass unharmed and undismayed through the grinning legions of the lower mind into the very heart of Paradise. The question inevitably arises, How can this power be obtained? And there is only one answer--the same answer which has to be given for the attainment of ANY power or faculty. There is no royal road. The only way is (however imperfectly) to DO the thing in question, to practice it. If you would learn to play cricket, the only way is to play cricket; if you would be able to speak a language, the only way is to speak it. If you would learn to swim, the only way is to practice swimming. Or would you wish to be like the man who when his companions were bathing and bidding him come and join them, said: "Yes, I am longing to join you, but I am not going to be such a fool as to go into the water TILL I KNOW HOW TO SWIM!" There is nothing but practice. If you want to obtain that priceless power of commanding Thought--of using it or dismissing it (for the two things go together) at will--there is no way but practice. And the practice consists in two exercises: (a) that of concentration--in holding the thought steadily for a time on one subject, or point of a subject; and (b) that of effacement--in effacing any given thought from the mind, and determining NOT to entertain it for such and such a time. Both these exercises are difficult. Failure in practicing them is certain--and may even extend over years. But the power equally certainly grows WITH practice. And ultimately there may come a time when the learner is not only able to efface from his mind any given thought (however importunate), but may even succeed in effacing, during short periods, ALL thought of any kind. When this stage is reached, the veil of illusion which surrounds all mortal things is pierced, and the entrance to the Paradise of Rest (and of universal power and knowledge) is found. Of indirect or auxiliary methods of reaching this great conclusion, there are more than one. I think of life in the open air, if not absolutely necessary, at least most important. The gods--though sometimes out of compassion they visit the interiors of houses--are not fond of such places and the evil effluvium they find there, and avoid them as much as they can. It is not merely a question of breathing oxygen instead of carbonic acid. There is a presence and an influence in Nature and the Open which expands the mind and causes brigand cares and worries to drop off--whereas in confined places foolish and futile thoughts of all kinds swarm like microbes and cloud and conceal the soul. Experto Crede. It is only necessary to try this experiment in order to prove its truth. Another thing which corresponds in some degree to living physically in the open air, is the living mentally and emotionally in the atmosphere of love. A large charity of mind, which refuses absolutely to shut itself in little secluded places of prejudice, bigotry and contempt for others, and which attains to a great and universal sympathy, helps, most obviously, to open the way to that region of calm and freedom of which we have spoken, while conversely all petty enmity, meanness and spite, conspire to imprison the soul and make its deliverance more difficult. It is not necessary to labor these points. As we said, the way to attain is to sincerely TRY to attain, to consistently PRACTICE attainment. Whoever does this will find that the way will open out by degrees, as of one emerging from a vast and gloomy forest, till out of darkness the path becomes clear. For whomsoever really TRIES there is no failure; for every effort in that region is success, and every onward push, however small, and however little result it may show, is really a move forward, and one step nearer the light. II. THE NATURE OF THE SELF The true nature of the Self is a matter by no means easy to compass. We have all probably at some time or other attempted to fathom the deeps of personality, and been baffled. Some people say they can quite distinctly remember a moment in early childhood, about the age of THREE (though the exact period is of course only approximate) when self-consciousness--the awareness of being a little separate Self--first dawned in the mind. It was generally at some moment of childish tension--alone perhaps in a garden, or lost from the mother's protecting hand--that this happened; and it was the beginning of a whole range of new experience. Before some such period there is in childhood strictly speaking no distinct self-consciousness. As Tennyson says (In Memoriam xliv): The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast, Hath never thought that "This is I." It has consciousness truly, but no distinctive self-consciousness. It is this absence or deficiency which explains many things which at first sight seem obscure in the psychology of children and of animals. The baby (it has often been noticed) experiences little or no sense of FEAR. It does not know enough to be afraid; it has never formed any image of itself, as of a thing which might be injured. It may shrink from actual pain or discomfort, but it does not LOOK FORWARD--which is of the essence of fear--to pain in the future. Fear and self-consciousness are closely interlinked. Similarly with animals, we often wonder how a horse or a cow can endure to stand out in a field all night, exposed to cold and rain, in the lethargic patient way that they exhibit. It is not that they do not FEEL the discomfort, but it is that they do not envisage THEMSELVES as enduring this pain and suffering for all those coming hours; and as we know with ourselves that nine-tenths of our miseries really consist in looking forward to future miseries, so we understand that the absence or at any rate slight prevalence of self-consciousness in animals enables them to endure forms of distress which would drive us mad. In time then the babe arrives at self-consciousness; and, as one might expect, the growing boy or girl often becomes intensely aware of Self. His or her self-consciousness is crude, no doubt, but it has very little misgiving. If the question of the nature of the Self is propounded to the boy as a problem he has no difficulty in solving it. He says "I know well enough who I am: I am the boy with red hair what gave Jimmy Brown such a jolly good licking last Monday week." He knows well enough--or thinks he knows--who he is. And at a later age, though his definition may change and he may describe himself chiefly as a good cricketer or successful in certain examinations, his method is practically the same. He fixes his mind on a certain bundle of qualities and capacities which he is supposed to possess, and calls that bundle Himself. And in a more elaborate way we most of us, I imagine, do the same. Presently, however, with more careful thought, we begin to see difficulties in this view. I see that directly I think of myself as a certain bundle of qualities--and for that matter it is of no account whether the qualities are good or bad, or in what sort of charming confusion they are mixed--I see at once that I am merely looking at a bundle of qualities: and that the real "I," the Self, is not that bundle, but is the being INSPECTING the same--something beyond and behind, as it were. So I now concentrate my thoughts upon that inner Something, in order to find out what it really is. I imagine perhaps an inner being, of 'astral' or ethereal nature, and possessing a new range of much finer and more subtle qualities than the body--a being inhabiting the body and perceiving through its senses, but quite capable of surviving the tenement in which it dwells and I think of that as the Self. But no sooner have I taken this step than I perceive that I am committing the same mistake as before. I am only contemplating a new image or picture, and "I" still remain beyond and behind that which I contemplate. No sooner do I turn my attention on the subjective being than it becomes OBJECTIVE, and the real subject retires into the background. And so on indefinitely. I am baffled; and unable to say positively what the Self is. Meanwhile there are people who look upon the foregoing speculations about an interior Self as merely unpractical. Being perhaps of a more materialistic type of mind they fix their attention on the body. Frankly they try to define the Self by the body and all that is connected therewith--that is by the mental as well as corporeal qualities which exhibit themselves in that connection; and they say, "At any rate the Self--whatever it may be--is in some way limited by the body; each person studies the interest of his body and of the feelings, emotions and mentality directly associated with it, and you cannot get beyond that; it isn't in human nature to do so. The Self is limited by this corporeal phenomenon and doubtless it perishes when the body perishes." But here again the conclusion, though specious at first, soon appears to be quite inadequate. For though it is possibly true that a man, if left alone in a Robinson Crusoe life on a desert island, might ultimately subside into a mere gratification of his corporeal needs and of those mental needs which were directly concerned with the body, yet we know that such a case would by no means be representative. On the contrary we know that vast numbers of people spend their lives in considering other people, and often so far as to sacrifice their own bodily and mental comfort and well-being. The mother spends her life thinking almost day and night about her babe and the other children--spending all her thoughts and efforts on them. You may call her selfish if you will, but her selfishness clearly extends beyond her personal body and mind, and extends to the personalities of her children around her; her "body"--if you insist on your definition--must be held to include the bodies of all her children. And again, the husband who is toiling for the support of the family, he is thinking and working and toiling and suffering for a 'self' which includes his wife and children. Do you mean that the whole family is his "body"? Or a man belongs to some society, to a church or to a social league of some kind, and his activities are largely ruled by the interests of this larger group. Or he sacrifices his life--as many have been doing of late--with extraordinary bravery and heroism for the sake of the nation to which he belongs. Must we say then that the whole nation is really a part of the man's body? Or again, he gives his life and goes to the stake for his religion. Whether his religion is right or wrong does not matter, the point is that there is that in him which can carry him far beyond his local self and the ordinary instincts of his physical organism, to dedicate his life and powers to a something of far wider circumference and scope. Thus in the FIRST of these two examples of a search for the nature of the Self we are led INWARDS from point to point, into interior and ever subtler regions of our being, and still in the end are baffled; while in the SECOND we are carried outwards into an ever wider and wider circumference in our quest of the Ego, and still feel that we have failed to reach its ultimate nature. We are driven in fact by these two arguments to the conclusion that that which we are seeking is indeed something very vast--something far extending around, yet also buried deep in the hidden recesses of our minds. How far, how deep, we do not know. We can only say that as far as the indications point the true self is profounder and more far-reaching than anything we have yet fathomed. In the ordinary commonplace life we shrink to ordinary commonplace selves, but it is one of the blessings of great experiences, even though they are tragic or painful, that they throw us out into that enormously greater self to which we belong. Sometimes, in moments of inspiration, of intense enthusiasm, of revelation, such as a man feels in the midst of a battle, in moments of love and dedication to another person, and in moments of religious ecstasy, an immense world is opened up to the astonished gaze of the inner man, who sees disclosed a self stretched far beyond anything he had ever imagined. We have all had experiences more or less of that kind. I have known quite a few people, and most of you have known some, who at some time, even if only once in their lives, have experienced such an extraordinary lifting of the veil, an opening out of the back of their minds as it were, and have had such a vision of the world, that they have never afterwards forgotten it. They have seen into the heart of creation, and have perceived their union with the rest of mankind. They have had glimpses of a strange immortality belonging to them, a glimpse of their belonging to a far greater being than they have ever imagined. Just once--and a man has never forgotten it, and even if it has not recurred it has colored all the rest of his life. Now, this subject has been thought about--since the beginning of the world, I was going to say--but it has been thought about since the beginnings of history. Some three thousand years ago certain groups of--I hardly like to call them philosophers--but, let us say, people who were meditating and thinking upon these problems, were in the habit of locating themselves in the forests of Northern India; and schools arose there. In the case of each school some teacher went into the woods and collected groups of disciples around him, who lived there in his company and listened to his words. Such schools were formed in very considerable numbers, and the doctrines of these teachers were gathered together, generally by their disciples, in notes, which notes were brought together into little pamphlets or tracts, forming the books which are called the 'Upanishads' of the Indian sages. They contain some extraordinary words of wisdom, some of which I want to bring before you. The conclusions arrived at were not so much what we should call philosophy in the modern sense. They were not so much the result of the analysis of the mind and the following out of concatenations of strict argument; but they were flashes of intuition and experience, and all through the 'Upanishads' you find these extraordinary flashes embedded in the midst of a great deal of what we should call a rather rubbishy kind of argument, and a good deal of merely conventional Brahmanical talk of those days. But the people who wrote and spoke thus had an intuition into the heart of things which I make bold to say very few people in modern life have. These 'Upanisihads,' however various their subject, practically agree on one point--in the definition of the "self." They agree in saying: that the self of each man is continuous with and in a sense identical with the Self of the universe. Now that seems an extraordinary conclusion, and one which almost staggers the modern mind to conceive of. But that is the conclusion, that is the thread which runs all through the 'Upanishads'--the identity of the self of each individual with the self of every other individual throughout mankind, and even with the selves of the animals and other creatures. Those who have read the Khandogya Upanishad remember how in that treatise the father instructs his son Svetakeitu on this very subject--pointing him out in succession the objects of Nature and on each occasion exhorting him to realize his identity with the very essence of the object--"Tat twam asi, THAT thou art." He calls Svetaketu's attention to a tree. What is the ESSENCE of the tree? When they have rejected the external characteristics--the leaves, the branches, etc.--and agreed that the SAP is the essence, then the father says, "TAT TWAM ASI--THAT thou art." He gives his son a crystal of salt, and asks him what is the essence of that. The son is puzzled. Clearly neither the form nor the transparent quality are essential. The father says, "Put the crystal in water." Then when it is melted he says, "Where is the crystal?" The son replies, "I do not know." "Dip your finger in the bowl," says the father, "and taste." Then Svetaketu dips here and there, and everywhere there is a salt flavor. They agree that THAT is the essence of salt; and the father says again, "TAt twam asi." I am of course neither defending nor criticizing the scientific attitude here adopted. I am only pointing out that this psychological identification of the observer with the object observed runs through the Upanishads, and is I think worthy of the deepest consideration. In the 'Bhagavat Gita,' which is a later book, the author speaks of "him whose soul is purified, whose self is the Self of all creatures." A phrase like that challenges opposition. It is so bold, so sweeping, and so immense, that we hesitate to give our adhesion to what it implies. But what does it mean--"whose soul is purified"? I believe that it means this, that with most of us our souls are anything but clean or purified, they are by no means transparent, so that all the time we are continually deceiving ourselves and making clouds between us and others. We are all the time grasping things from other people, and, if not in words, are mentally boasting ourselves against others, trying to think of our own superiority to the rest of the people around us. Sometimes we try to run our neighbors down a little, just to show that they are not quite equal to our level. We try to snatch from others some things which belong to them, or take credit to ourselves for things to which we are not fairly entitled. But all the time we are acting so it is perfectly obvious that we are weaving veils between ourselves and others. You cannot have dealings with another person in a purely truthful way, and be continually trying to cheat that person out of money, or out of his good name and reputation. If you are doing that, however much in the background you may be doing it, you are not looking the person fairly in the face--there is a cloud between you all the time. So long as your soul is not purified from all these really absurd and ridiculous little desires and superiorities and self-satisfactions, which make up so much of our lives, just so long as that happens you do not and you cannot see the truth. But when it happens to a person, as it does happen in times of great and deep and bitter experience; when it happens that all these trumpery little objects of life are swept away; then occasionally, with astonishment, the soul sees that. It is also the soul of the others around. Even if it does not become aware of an absolute identity, it perceives that there is a deep relationship and communion between itself and others, and it comes to understand how it may really be true that to him whose soul is purified the self is literally the Self of all creatures. Ordinary men and those who go on more intellectual and less intuitional lines will say that these ideas are really contrary to human nature and to nature generally. Yet I think that those people who say this in the name of Science are extremely unscientific, because a very superficial glance at nature reveals that the very same thing is taking place throughout nature. Consider the madrepores, corallines, or sponges. You find, for instance, that constantly the little self of the coralline or sponge is functioning at the end of a stem and casting forth its tentacles into the water to gain food and to breathe the air out of the water. That little animalcule there, which is living in that way, imagines no doubt that it is working all for itself, and yet it is united down the stem at whose extremity it stands, with the life of the whole madrepore or sponge to which it belongs. There is the common life of the whole and the individual life of each, and while the little creature at the end of the stem is thinking (if it is conscious at all) that its whole energies are absorbed in its own maintenance, it really is feeding the common life through the stem to which it belongs, and in its turn it is being fed by that common life. You have only to look at an ordinary tree to see the same thing going on. Each little leaf on a tree may very naturally have sufficient consciousness to believe that it is an entirely separate being maintaining itself in the sunlight and the air, withering away and dying when the winter comes on--and there is an end of it. It probably does not realize that all the time it is being supported by the sap which flows from the trunk of the tree, and that in its turn it is feeding the tree, too--that its self is the self of the whole tree. If the leaf could really understand itself, it would see that its self was deeply, intimately connected, practically one with the life of the whole tree. Therefore, I say that this Indian view is not unscientific. On the contrary, I am sure that it is thoroughly scientific. Let us take another passage, out of the 'Svetasvatara Upanishad,' which, speaking of the self says: "He is the one God, hidden in all creatures, all pervading, the self within all, watching over all works, shadowing all creatures, the witness, the perceiver, the only one free from qualities." And now we can return to the point where we left the argument at the beginning of this discourse. We said, you remember, that the Self is certainly no mere bundle of qualities--that the very nature of the mind forbids us thinking that. For however fine and subtle any quality or group of qualities may be, we are irresistibly compelled by the nature of the mind itself to look for the Self, not in any quality or qualities, but in the being that PERCEIVES those qualities. The passage I have just quoted says that being is "The one God, hidden in all creatures, all pervading, the self within all... the witness, the perceiver, the only one free from qualities." And the more you think about it the clearer I think you will see that this passage is correct--that there can be only ONE witness, ONE perceiver, and that is the one God hidden in all creatures, "Sarva Sakshi," the Universal Witness. Have you ever had that curious feeling, not uncommon, especially in moments of vivid experience and emotion, that there was at the back of your mind a witness, watching everything that was going on, yet too deep for your ordinary thought to grasp? Has it not occurred to you--in a moment say of great danger when the mind was agitated to the last degree by fears and anxieties--suddenly to become perfectly calm and collected, to realize that NOTHING can harm you, that you are identified with some great and universal being lifted far over this mortal world and unaffected by its storms? Is it not obvious that the real Self MUST be something of this nature, a being perceiving all, but itself remaining unperceived? For indeed if it were perceived it would fall under the head of some definable quality, and so becoming the object of thought would cease to be the subject, would cease to be the Self. The witness is and must be "free from qualities." For since it is capable of perceiving ALL qualities it must obviously not be itself imprisoned or tied in any quality--it must either be entirely without quality, or if it have the potentiality of quality in it, it must have the potentiality of EVERY quality; but in either case it cannot be in bondage to any quality, and in either case it would appear that there can be only ONE such ultimate Witness in the universe. For if there were two or more such Witnesses, then we should be compelled to suppose them distinguished from one another by something, and that something could only be a difference of qualities, which would be contrary to our conclusion that such a Witness cannot be in bondage to any quality. There is then I take it--as the text in question says--only one Witness, one Self, throughout the universe. It is hidden in all living things, men and animals and plants; it pervades all creation. In every thing that has consciousness it is the Self; it watches over all operations, it overshadows all creatures, it moves in the depths of our hearts, the perceiver, the only being that is cognizant of all and yet free from all. Once you really appropriate this truth, and assimilate it in the depths of your mind, a vast change (you can easily imagine) will take place within you. The whole world will be transformed, and every thought and act of which you are capable will take on a different color and complexion. Indeed the revolution will be so vast that it would be quite impossible for me within the limits of this discourse to describe it. I will, however, occupy the rest of my time in dealing with some points and conclusions, and some mental changes which will flow perfectly naturally from this axiomatic change taking place at the very root of life. "Free from qualities." We generally pride ourselves a little on our qualities. Some of us think a great deal of our good qualities, and some of us are rather ashamed of our bad ones! I would say: "Do not trouble very much about all that. What good qualities you have--well you may be quite sure they do not really amount to much; and what bad qualities, you may be sure they are not very important! Do not make too much fuss about either. Do you see? The thing is that you, you yourself, are not ANY of your qualities--you are the being that perceives them. The thing to see to is that they should not confuse you, bamboozle you, and hide you from the knowledge of yourself--that they should not be erected into a screen, to hide you from others, or the others from you. If you cease from running after qualities, then after a little time your soul will become purified, and you will KNOW that your self is the Self of all creatures; and when you can feel that you will know that the other things do not much matter. Sometimes people are so awfully good that their very goodness hides them from other people. They really cannot be on a level with others, and they feel that the others are far below them. Consequently their 'selves' are blinded or hidden by their 'goodness.' It is a sad end to come to! And sometimes it happens that very 'bad' people--just because they are so bad--do not erect any screens or veils between themselves and others. Indeed they are only too glad if others will recognize them, or if they may be allowed to recognize others. And so, after all, they come nearer the truth than the very good people. "The Self is free from qualities." That thing which is so deep, which belongs to all, it either--as I have already said--has ALL qualities, or it has none. You, to whom I am speaking now, your qualities, good and bad, are all mine. I am perfectly willing to accept them. They are all right enough and in place--if one can only find the places for them. But I know that in most cases they have got so confused and mixed up that they cause great conflict and pain in the souls that harbor them. If you attain to knowing yourself to be other than and separate from the qualities, then you will pass below and beyond them all. You will be able to accept ALL your qualities and harmonize them, and your soul will be at peace. You will be free from the domination of qualities then because you will know that among all the multitudes of them there are none of any importance! If you should happen some day to reach that state of mind in connection with which this revelation comes, then you will find the experience a most extraordinary one. You will become conscious that there is no barrier in your path; that the way is open in all directions; that all men and women belong to you, are part of you. You will feel that there is a great open immense world around, which you had never suspected before, which belongs to you, and the riches of which are all yours, waiting for you. It may, of course, take centuries and thousands of years to realize this thoroughly, but there it is. You are just at the threshold, peeping in at the door. What did Shakespeare say? "To thine own self be true, and it must follow as the night the day, thou can'st not then be false to any man." What a profound bit of philosophy in three lines! I doubt if anywhere the basis of all human life has been expressed more perfectly and tersely. One of the Upanishads (the Maitrayana-Brahmana) says: "The happiness belonging to a mind, which through deep inwardness (1) (or understanding) has been washed clean and has entered into the Self, is a thing beyond the power of words to describe: it can only be perceived by an inner faculty." Observe the conviction, the intensity with which this joy, this happiness is described, which comes to those whose minds have been washed clean (from all the silly trumpery sediment of self-thought) and have become transparent, so that the great universal Being residing there in the depths can be perceived. What sorrow indeed, what, grief, can come to such an one who has seen this vision? It is truly a thing beyond the power of words to describe: it can only be PERCEIVED--and that by an inner faculty. The external apparatus of thought is of no use. Argument is of no use. But experience and direct perception are possible; and probably all the experiences of life and of mankind through the ages are gradually deepening our powers of perception to that point where the vision will at last rise upon the inward eye. (1) The word in the Max Muller translation is "meditation." But that is, I think, a somewhat misleading word. It suggests to most people the turning inward of the THINKING faculty to grope and delve in the interior of the mind. This is just what should NOT be done. Meditation in the proper sense should mean the inward deepening of FEELING and consciousness till the region of the universal self is reached; but THOUGHT should not interfere there. That should be turned on outward things to mould them into expression of the inner consciousness. Another text, from the Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad (which I have already quoted in the paper on "Rest"), says: "If a man worship the Self only as his true state, his work cannot fail, for whatever he desires, that he obtains from the Self." Is that not magnificent? If you truly realize your identity and union with the great Self who inspires and informs the world, then obviously whatever you desire the great Self win desire, and the whole world will conspire to bring it to you. "He maketh the winds his angels, and the flaming fires his ministers." (I need not say that I am not asking you to try and identify yourself with the great Self universal IN ORDER to get riches, "opulence," and other things of that kind which you desire; because in that quest you will probably not succeed. The Great Self is not such a fool as to be taken in in that way. It may be true--and it is true--that if ye seek FIRST the Kingdom of Heaven all these things shall be added unto you; but you must seek it first, not second.) Here is a passage from Towards Democracy: "As space spreads everywhere, and all things move and change within it, but it moves not nor changes, "So I am the space within the soul, of which the space without is but the similitude and mental image; "Comest thou to inhabit me, thou hast the entrance to all life--death shall no longer divide thee from whom thou lovest. "I am the Sun that shines upon all creatures from within--gazest thou upon me, thou shalt be filled with joy eternal." Yes, this great sun is there, always shining, but most of the time it is hidden from us by the clouds of which I have spoken, and we fail to see it. We complain of being out in the cold; and in the cold, for the time being, no doubt we are; but our return to the warmth and the light has now become possible. Thus at last the Ego, the mortal immortal self--disclosed at first in darkness and fear and ignorance in the growing babe--FINDS ITS TRUE IDENTITY. For a long period it is baffled in trying to understand what it is. It goes through a vast experience. It is tormented by the sense of separation and alienation--alienation from other people, and persecution by all the great powers and forces of the universe; and it is pursued by a sense of its own doom. Its doom truly is irrevocable. The hour of fulfilment approaches, the veil lifts, and the soul beholds at last ITS OWN TRUE BEING. We are accustomed to think of the external world around us as a nasty tiresome old thing of which all we can say for certain is that it works by a "law of cussedness"--so that, whichever way we want to go, that way seems always barred, and we only bump against blind walls without making any progress. But that uncomfortable state of affairs arises from ourselves. Once we have passed a certain barrier, which at present looks so frowning and impossible, but which fades into nothing immediately we have passed it--once we have found the open secret of identity--then the way is indeed open in every direction. The world in which we live--the world into which we are tumbled as children at the first onset of self-consciousness--denies this great fact of unity. It is a world in which the principle of separation rules. Instead of a common life and union with each other, the contrary principle (especially in the later civilizations) has been the one recognized--and to such an extent that always there prevails the obsession of separation, and the conviction that each person is an isolated unit. The whole of our modern society has been founded on this delusive idea, WHICH IS FALSE. You go into the markets, and every man's hand is against the others--that is the ruling principle. You go into the Law Courts where justice is, or should be, administered, and you find that the principle which denies unity is the one that prevails. The criminal (whose actions have really been determined by the society around him) is cast out, disacknowledged, and condemned to further isolation in a prison cell. 'Property' again is the principle which rules and determines our modern civilization--namely that which is proper to, or can be appropriated by, each person, as AGAINST the others. In the moral world the doom of separation comes to us in the shape of the sense of sin. For sin is separation. Sin is actually (and that is its only real meaning) the separation from others, and the non-acknowledgment of unity. And so it has come about that during all this civilization-period the sense of sin has ruled and ranged to such an extraordinary degree. Society has been built on a false base, not true to fact or life--and has had a dim uneasy consciousness of its falseness. Meanwhile at the heart of it all--and within all the frantic external strife and warfare--there is all the time this real great life brooding. The kingdom of Heaven, as we said before, is still within. The word Democracy indicates something of the kind--the rule of the Demos, that is of the common life. The coming of that will transform, not only our Markets and our Law Courts and our sense of Property, and other institutions, into something really great and glorious instead of the dismal masses of rubbish which they at present are; but it will transform our sense of Morality. Our Morality at present consists in the idea of self-goodness--one of the most pernicious and disgusting ideas which has ever infested the human brain. If any one should follow and assimilate what I have just said about the true nature of the Self he will realize that it will never again be possible for him to congratulate himself on his own goodness or morality or superiority; for the moment he does so he will separate himself from the universal life, and proclaim the sin of his own separation. I agree that this conclusion is for some people a most sad and disheartening one--but it cannot be helped! A man may truly be 'good' and 'moral' in some real sense; but only on the condition that he is not aware of it. He can only BE good when not thinking about the matter; to be conscious of one's own goodness is already to have fallen! We began by thinking of the self as just a little local self; then we extended it to the family, the cause, the nation--ever to a larger and vaster being. At last there comes a time when we recognize--or see that we SHALL have to recognize--an inner Equality between ourselves and all others; not of course an external equality--for that would be absurd and impossible--but an inner and profound and universal Equality. And so we come again to the mystic root-conception of Democracy. And now it will be said: "But after all this talk you have not defined the Self, or given us any intellectual outline of what you mean by the word." No--and I do not intend to. If I could, by any sort of copybook definition, describe and show the boundaries of myself, I should obviously lose all interest in the subject. Nothing more dull could be imagined. I may be able to define and describe fairly exhaustively this inkpot on the table; but for you or for me to give the limits and boundaries of ourselves is, I am glad to say, impossible. That does not, however, mean that we cannot FEEL and be CONSCIOUS of ourselves, and of our relations to other selves, and to the great Whole. On the contrary I think it is clear that the more vividly we feel our organic unity with the whole, the less shall we be able to separate off the local self and enclose it within any definition. I take it that we can and do become ever more vividly conscious of our true Self, but that the mental statement of it always does and probably always will lie beyond us. All life and all our action and experience consist in the gradual manifestation of that which is within us--of our inner being. In that sense--and reading its handwriting on the outer world--we come to know the soul's true nature more and more intimately; we enter into the mind of that great artist who beholds himself in his own creation. 
14764	----	Transcriber's Note: (Gutenberg preparation by Ge J. Snoek 2004: g.snoek3@chello.nl The original printed paper book pages are marked as <xxx> right aligned, (because lots of pages are referenced: omitting page nrs troubles comfortable searching, while footnotes are marked/numbered between square [123] hooks.) JOHAN M. SNOEK THE GREY BOOK A COLLECTION OF PROTESTS AGAINST ANTI-SEMITISM AND PERSECUTION OF JEWS ISSUED BY NON-ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCHES AND CHURCH LEADERS DURING HITLERS RULE INTRODUCTION BY URIEL TAL Van Gorcum & Comp. N.V. dr. H.J. Prakke & H.M.G. Prakke--Assen, 1969 CONTENTS INTRODUCTION (by Uriel Tal) Part I 1 PROBLEMS OF EVALUATION 2 FACTORS LEADING TO PUBLIC PROTESTS 3 RESULTS 4 HELP TO CHRISTIANS OF JEWISH ORIGIN 5 "MERCY-BAPTISMS" Part II 6 HISTORICAL EVENTS 7 GERMANY 8 THE NETHERLANDS 9 BELGIUM 10 FRANCE 11 SWITZERLAND 12 DENMARK 13 SWEDEN 14 HUNGARY 15 RUMANIA 16 GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND 17 THE UNITED STATES 18 INTERNATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS OF CHURCHES Part III 19 HISTORICAL EVENTS, 1939-1945 20 GERMANY 21 NORWAY 22 THE NETHERLANDS 23 FRANCE 24 YUGOSLAVIA 25 GREECE 26 DENMARK 27 SLOVAKIA 28 RUMANIA 29 BULGARIA 30 HUNGARY 31 SWITZERLAND 32 SWEDEN 33 GREAT BRITAIN 34 THE UNITED STATES 35 THE WORLD COUNCIL OF CHURCHES 36 TERRITORIES IN WHICH THE CHURCHES REMAINED SILENT 37 IN CONCLUSION APPENDIX I APPENDIX II BIBLIOGRAPHY PERIODICALS AND REPORTS INTRODUCTION (by Uriel Tal) The protests of the non-Roman Catholic Churches against the persecution and extermination of the Jews during the Nazi period, carefully compiled and amply documented in this volume, possess a significance that is not confined to the history of Christian-Jewish relations. They constitute an important chapter in the history of Christianity itself in that they reveal the deeper aspects of the Church's antagonism to the anti-religious and hence anti-Christian character of Nazi anti-semitism. The well-attested facts presented to us in this volume are a clear confirmation of the Church's reputation of Nazi doctrines, not only when these doctrines were directed against the Jews but, first and foremost, when they threatened the very existence of the Church itself, both as a system of theological doctrines and beliefs and as an historical institution. The Church regarded freedom, freedom of man as well as its own, as an inalienable right rooted in the nature of man as a rational being created in God's image. Hence, when the Church was deprived at the right of self-determination, it felt its very existence endangered, and it was then that it recognized the full symbolic import of Jewish persecution. This view was plainly set forth at the beginning of the persecution of the Jews by the Nazi-regime in Holland, by D. J. Slotemaker de Bruine, Protestant pastor and Minister of State, who declared: "...Freedom of the spirit is our life-blood. By that I mean freedom in questions of the spirit, freedom of conscience, freedom of the Church, freedom of instruction, freedom of the Word of God, freedom to bear witness..." [1] <I> In the light of this statement it is obvious that the Church was provoked to raise its voice in protest chiefly because the Nazis appropriated the messianic structure of religion which they exploited to their own ideological and political ends. This was made clear already in the early days of the Third Reich by "Die Geistlichen Mitglieder der Vorlaufigen Leitung der Evangelischen Kirche" who, in a memorandum (Denkschrift) addressed to the Fuehrer (May 1936), accuse Hitler of pursuing a policy that is not only directed against the Church but which is designed "to de-Christianize the German people" (das deutsche Volk zu entchristlichen), quoting, among other things, the words of Reichsorganisationsleiter Dr. Robert Ley: "The Party lays total claim to the soul of the German people...and hence we demand the last German, whether Protestant or Catholic..." [2] To those Church circles that raised their voices in protest this totalitarian structure of the Nazi regime presented a double threat to the very existence of the Church. First, the pseudo-religious and pseudomessianic character of Nazism was calculated to weaken the Church from within and to mislead the Christian community, especially its youth. It became increasingly clear to these circles that the Nazi racial doctrine - which Hitler and also the "Deutsche Christen" had called positive Christianity in their first formulation as early as 5 May 1932 - constituted a kind of additional gospel of messianic redemption that ostensibly strengthened Christianity as an institution and as a religion of revelation. Secondly, this pseudo- messianic and pseudo-religious authority that the Nazi regime arrogated to itself was able by means of its repressive measures to curtail the influence of the Church and even to reduce it to silence. This danger was perceived at an early date by the "Bekenntnissynode der Deutschen Evangelischen Kirche" in its Botschaft (Part I, par 2, 5) adopted by the Conference held in Berlin- Dahlem 19-20 October 1934, which stated: <II> "The National Church that the Reich's bishop has in view under the slogan: One State - one People - one Church, simply means that the Gospel is no longer valid for the German Evangelical Church and that the mission of the Church is delivered to the powers of this world.... The introduction of the Fuehrer principle into the Church and the demand of unconditional obedience based upon this principle are contrary to the Word of Scripture and bind the officials of the Church to the Church regiment instead of to Christ... [3] Towards the end of the period that is dealt with in the sources collected in this volume, in the year 1943, we also meet with a clear expression of the Church's opposition to this pseudo-religious and pseudo-messianic character of Nazism in the "Pastoral concerning National Socialist Philosophy" that was sent in Holland: ... to parochial church councillors to give them the necessary basis for their opposition in the struggle against National Socialist ideology, and especially against the intangible, but all the more dangerous religious ideas and expressions of National Socialism which will exercise an influence even after the war." In its penetrating analysis of the totalitarian character of Nazism this Pastoral observes: "...It is not surprising that National Socialism has the power to become the religion of the masses, and its assemblies to take the form of a kind of popular worship in which a great deal of latent religious emotion is released.... In carrying out its ministry the Church must therefore make its work in this connection even more definite in character, and must tell its members very clearly and resolutely that what is at stake here is the first commandment: Thou shalt have no other gods besides me...!" [4] <III> This pseudo-religious and pseudo-messianic character of Nazism was by no means accidental or the product of mass hysteria induced by some skilful propagandists. It was rather an ideological structure that was consciously given definite patterns and developed within a conceptual system in accordance with its own laws of logic. In this development the traditional theological concepts of Christianity were retained but given an altogether different meaning. Values that had previously been regarded as relative in the culture of Christianity and of the West now became absolute; and values that had formerly been considered absolute, being interpreted as metaphorical or visionary, became relative. Phenomena with an imminent historical essence were lifted to a meta-historical plane. Means were converted to ends, and ends were endowed with absolute authority in so far as they sanctified the means. In this manner the fundamental concepts of religion were not invalidated nor the integrative functions served by these concepts impaired, such as those cohesive factors that hold together the social structure and ensure its normal functioning. The Nazis retained these concepts and their functions as a legitimate part of their racial theory and, after depriving them of their authentic historical content, turned them into political expedients to be used in their attack against humanism, religion and Christian values. Basic theological concepts such as God, redemption, sin and revelation were now used as anthropological and political concepts. God became man, but not in the theological Christian sense of the incarnation of the Word: "...and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..." (John 1. 14) or in the Pauline conception of the incarnation of God in Christ in whom "the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily" (Colossians 2. 9). In the new conception God becomes man in a political sense as a member of the Aryan race whose highest representative on earth is the Fuehrer. This change in the essential meaning of the concepts God-man is, from the standpoint of cognition, effected by converting the relative into the absolute and, from the standpoint of theology, by transferring the Pauline conception (Ephesians 4. 24; Colossians 3. 10) from the plane of metaphysics and eschatology to that of nationality rind politics. <IV> It was this radical change from Christian doctrines to pagan myths that aroused the Churches to express their protest against Nazism, and also against the persecution of the Jews, in the above Pastoral of the year 1943: "And there is now a return to the worship of life and power by accepting and exalting the old Adam as the original and eternal MAN. There is an attempt at self-salvation - the old Adam is not crucified with Christ (Rom. 6. 6) but by his very own inmost strength achieves a new life and a heightened vitality..." [5] Similarly, the theological concepts of sin and redemption were transferred to a legal category of administrative regulations that demanded outer conformity and inner obedience. The traditional conception of sin and redemption that was common to all currents of Christian thought held that man's redemption, and hence eschatological existence, depends on his faith: "the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ... since all have sinned and... they are justified by grace... through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus..."(Rom. 3. 22-24). In the totalitarian Nazi regime the concepts sin and redemption were used as means by the State or the Party to convert man into a loyal subject whose allegiance is assured by his constant fear not only of violating some concrete ordinance or governmental decree but simply of just deviating from the official ideology. The Christian belief that man could be saved through faith in the forgiveness of Jesus who died for his sins, "so that the sinful body might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin" (Rom. 6.6), was transferred from the theological to the secular, political plane. Even the comforting assurance of the believer that his sins shall be forgiven and that he shall be found worthy of the purifying influences of grace could now be gained only by the individual's complete identification with the State, the Party and the superior Aryan race. An instructive illustration of this shift from theology to ideology is to be found in the circular letters (Rundschreiben) and in the speeches of the Reichsorganisationsleiter Dr. Robert Ley, for example in his words of 26. June 1935: "Strength through joy (Kraft durch Freude) is the embodiment of National Socialism. <V> Over against sin we put discipline, over against penitence pride! Over against the weak and their infirmities we put strength... " [6] This doctrine was not mere Aryan propaganda; it became an integral part of school studies and was systematically inculcated into the minds of the young. The following is an example of a dictation given in 1934 to the third grade of an elementary school: "Just as Jesus redeemed mankind from sin and hell, so did Hitler rescue the German people from destruction. Jesus and Hitler were persecuted; but whereas Jesus was crucified, Hitler rose to be Chancellor... Jesus worked for heaven, Hitler for the German soil..." [7] This same pattern of reversing meanings was also applied by the totalitarian Nazi regime to the basic concepts of western culture. Nationalism as an historical phenomenon of a people with a common language and culture and with the consciousness of a common destiny was raised to a mythical, meta-historical plane. The essence of national unity was discovered to reside in race and soil; the cultural and spiritual creations of the nation were attributed to man's biological resources. Similarly, the State became an end in itself, an ideal meta-historical entity that was identical with the national spirit. [8] This view was critically described by the Dutch Church as follows: "... The whole cult of National Socialism finds its most powerful manifestation in a State which claims to support, lead and fill in the material and spiritual, educational, cultural and religious spheres, the whole life of its subjects. Not only does the State order the life of the individual, but it takes a creative part in it. It becomes the founder of the true religion and the dispenser of the true philosophy; it furnishes the data for knowledge..." [9] <VI> Mythical nationality in the totalitarian regime thus developed a monolithic structure which functioned as the only ontological framework in which the individual may acquire his own identity, his selfknowledge and understanding. While in a different, non-totalitarian civilization man establishes his inner freedom by means of intellectual autonomy, the Nazi regime made the actual biological belonging to the Aryan race into the ultimate condition for the self-realization of Man. Hence one who could not belong to the Aryan race, the prototype of whom was the Jew, was doomed to be completely alienated, deprived not only of all rights, but of the very justification to exist. It was this reversal of the status of the individual which prepared the ground for subsequent developments against which the Church protested, such as forced labour, the repression of independent thought, the indoctrination of the young by the State and their estrangement from their parents, teachers and preachers. An example of this tendency towards the total dehumanization of the individual, as reflected in the persecution of the Jews, and that provoked the Church to protest, was the decree authorizing sterilization. The stand of the Church in this matter was stated in the "Letter on the Question of Sterilization" that was sent in May 1943 by the Protestant and Catholic Churches in Holland to the officials of the Reich and in which, among other things, we find the following: "...In the last few weeks the sterilization of the so-called mixed marriages has begun. But God, who created heaven and earth and whose commandments are for all men, and to whom even your Excellency will have to give account one day, has said to mankind: 'Be fruitful and multiply' (Gen. 1. 18). Sterilization is a physical and spiritual mutilation directly at variance with God's commandment that we shall not dishonour, hate, wound or kill our neighbours. Sterilization constitutes a violation of the divine commandment as well as of human rights. It is the last consequence of an anti-Christian racial doctrine that destroys nations, and of a boundless self-exaltation. It represents a view of the world and of life which undermines true Christian human life, rendering it ultimately impossible... [10] <VII> The fact that the protest of the Church against the persecution and annihilation of the Jews was an inseparable part of its general protest against the inhuman and anti-Christian character of modern anti-semitism places the documents collected in this volume in a broad historical context. These documents offer ample evidence of the Church's opposition to an historical phenomenon rooted long before the Nazis came to power, hence also prior to the rise of modern anti-semitism. The protest of the Church was fundamentally directed against those pagan and mythological elements that had crept into Christianity itself in the course of its historical development among the heathen. To many of the fathers of modern anti-semitism, which is the racial and political Anti-semitism that arose towards the end of the 19th century and reached its highest stage during the Third Reich, the rejection of Judaism was tantamount to the rejection of religion in general. This view goes back to Feuerbach's anthropological criticism of religion, to the young Hegelians (Max Stirner, Bruno Bauer) and to the early Romantics who longed to return to the primitive forms of a religion called "vorchristliches Germanenthum". [11] Modern anti-semitism was influenced by these streams of thought through Nietzsche's concept of the 'Antichrist', although Nietzsche himself kept aloof from the more vulgar manifestations of political anti-semitism of his day. In him the anthropological view reaches its culmination - God, who is nothing more than the deified form of man [12] is finally overthrown by Dionysian man who found courage to assert his instinctive life and abjure the gross and enslaving notions of Christianity that men <VIII> are equal and can be redeemed by faith, the gospel of the downtrodden and everything that creeps on earth. [13] These views, inimical to religion and to Christianity, were already being expounded with great vigour towards the end of the 19th century. Christian doctrine was accused of perverting man's instinctive life, vitiating his natural enthusiasm, inflaming his ego, invading his private life over which it declares its dominance only to enslave human nature, to weaken and alienate man, by imposing upon him "un-natural" restraint such as the anguish of his conscience. Wilhelm Marr, one of the early fathers of modem racial and political Anti-semitism and the man who during the late 70's coined the term 'anti-semitism'[14] included in the rejection of Judaism his critique of Christianity as early as the year 1862. In a polemical work called "Der Christenspiegel von anti-Marr" by Moritz Freystadt, a member of the "Society for History and Theology" in Leipzig, written in answer to Marr's "Judenspiegel", the author interprets Marr's rejection of Judaism as a rejection of monotheism, based on his anthropological view of God as a subjective product of our conscious life - an antireligious analysis Marr evidently borrowed from Voltaire, Feuerbach and Bruno Bauer. [15] With Marr's intensification of anti-Jewish propaganda inspired by the new racial anti-semitism we find increased criticism of Christianity both as a system of beliefs and as an institution. In one of his popular books "Religioese Streifzuege eines Philosophischen Touristen" (1876) Marr, relying on theories propounded by Voltaire and Feuerbach, observes that from the atheistic point of view it is evident: <IX> "that Christianity, in its dogmas and precepts, is like every religion, a malady of human consciousness. The philosopher explains... every religion as a product of man's conscious life and relegates to the sphere of phantasm the so-called 'revelations' of which all people boast depending on the state of their culture..." [16] Most additional factors in the rejection of Judaism, Marr continues, go beyond the attack directed against Christianity as a system of beliefs and superstitions that demoralizes man and corrupts his nature. Anti-semitism is not only called to combat religion and Christianity; its chief aim is to save the German nation and the whole world from Jewish domination and from the moral depredation of the Jewish race. Christianity is not yet fully cognizant of the gravity of the problem, and it deceives itself when it thinks that baptism or conversion is a gratuitous deliverance from native corruption, for the Jew's aberrations are not religious but biological and hence incorrigible. The Jewish question, Marr concludes, is a racial question for the infidelity of the Jew is essentially biological, and hence Christianity is in no position to save the world from the perils of the Semitic-Jewish race. [17] <X> We here encounter a primary distinction between the doctrines of racial anti-semitism and those of the Christian Heilsgeschichte, a contradiction that awoke the Church to the dangers of Nazism when, in 1933, it opposed the "Arierparagraph". This racial law rejected the notion that the Jews could still hope for redemption, and for a renewed status of election, assured them in the New Testament (Rom. 9-11) on condition that they acknowledge their error and accept the redeeming truth of Christianity. Even in the early years of racial anti-semitism, in the seventies and eighties of the last century, we already find this inner contradiction between a racial theory that regards Jews as the ontological embodiment of an ineradicable evil and the views of the Heilgeschichte that believes this evil to be remedial if only the Jews could be persuaded that salvation comes from the Savior who was sent first of all to the Jews themselves, and who atoned for the sins of all mankind. It is this inner tension between the recalcitrance of the Jew and the incorrigibility of Judaism that refuses to acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah, already conspicuous in the change that took place in Luther's attitude to the Jews between 1523 and 1543, which charactarizes the theological and political attitude of Adolf Stoecker, court preacher in the Bismarck era and one of the leading figures of modern anti-semitism. Until recently historians concentrated much on his importance in preparing the ground for racial and political anti-semitism. It is true that without his powerful influence during the last decades of the 19th century the rise of modern political anti-semitism would be incomprehensible. A more balanced approach has been taken lately, as may be seen in the instructive study by Walter Holsten on the part played by Stoecker in the rise of modern anti-semitism. The author shows that many phases of Stoecker's anti-semitism had their roots in the conservative tradition of Lutheranism and at the same time were opposed to the anti-Christian tendencies of racial anti-semitism. [18] <XI> The early phases of Stoecker's activity already reveal the ambivalent nature of his attitude to the Jews and to Judaism, an ambivalency that characterized the anti-Christian elements in antisemitic "Christian" ideology throughout the days of the Third Reich. In his speeches after the political defeat of his Christian Social Labor Party in the summer of 1878, Stoecker insisted on making a distinction between the anti-Jewish attitude that arises in conjunction with or flows from Christianity and the antisemitic attitude which at the same time also impugns Christian ethics. In his well-known antisemitic speech as early as 19.9.1879 Stoecker warns his listeners: "We can already detect here and there a hatred directed against the Jews that is contrary to the Gospels". [19] Even in his most violent speeches against the Jews Stoecker did not draw the extreme biological consequences of his racial theories and continued to maintain that conversion was the only authentic solution to the Jewish question that would complete the universal mission of Christianity and that only baptism could save the Jews from their ignominious belief in the validity of the halacha after the coming of Jesus. The salvation promised to the Jew then is to be saved from his Judaism. The final redemption, however, will not raise the Jews above the nations of the world, as promised in the Old Testament, but this position of eminence and election will pass, or actually has already passed, from the Jews not just to the Christians but to Christian Germany. The redemption promised to the Jews is thus to be attained by way of the baptismal font at the entrance to the Church: <XII> "All Israel will be saved when the fullness of the heathen shall have come to an end. This was Paul's promise to his beloved people - final salvation and not a future glory that will raise Israel above the other nations as proclaimed in the Old Testament... and every believing Christian knows well what a rejoicing there will be in the Kingdom of God when the people of the Old Testament finally acknowledge their sin against Christ and repent. This event will be hailed by all Christendom and by the angelic hosts with paeans of praise, and it will be turned by the Church in the End of Days into glory and renown when Israel will bring to it its uncommon religious talents and intellectual gifts..." [20] The inner tension between the theological view that sees the solution of the Jewish question in the liquidation of Judaism and the racial view that sees it in the liquidation of the Jews is clearly expressed in an address delivered by Stoecker on 8.2.1882 about the danger to the German Reich from Jews in public life, in which he states: "We regard the Jewish question not as a religious nor indeed as a racial question. Although it is at bottom both of these, it appears in its external form as a social-ethical question, and is treated by us as such. No people can tolerate the preponderance of an alien spirit without degenerating and being destroyed? We would not solve the Jewish question radically by force, but gradually in a spirit of peace and amity... We must keep the wounds open until they are healed..." [21] Although Stoecker himself was opposed to the use of force, modern political anti-semitism, which was to no small degree influenced by him, did not shrink from advocating violence in its hostility to Judaism, to religion and finally to Christianity. A significant contribution in this direction was made by the Darwinian racial doctrines of Eugen Duehring and his antisemitic disciples. Whereas Marr had formulated the anti-religious meaning of modern anti-semitism in ominous terms of the Jewish domination of Europe and especially Germany, Dühring adopted a so-called constructive approach by suggesting an alternative to religion and religious culture, namely, race. In his antisemitic writings after 1880 Judaism serves as the prototype of religion in general, including Christianity. <XIII> The primary aim of this anti-Christian anti-semitism was for Duehring the struggle against Jews and Judaism, and this also entailed the struggle against the monotheistic religions and all forces that suppressed what he called "the instinct of the free, natural life." In his anti-religious book "Wert des Lebens" (1877), and especially in the third edition issued four years later, he points out that Christianity as a monotheistic religion is opposed to life and that all religious systems are nothing but pathological maladies (ein Stueck weltgeschichtliche Krankheitslehre des Geistes). Christianity is thus not interested "in ennobling man, but rather in suppressing his natural instincts" as is evident, for example, in the "paradox Christian doctrine" of the crucifixion of the flesh. [22] Hence, it is absurd and hopeless to conduct the struggle against the Jews with Christian theological concepts borrowed from Judaism, and those Christians who attach importance to this only deceive themselves for it is plain that: "...their anti-semitism lacks the primary truth, namely, that Christianity itself is Semitism, a truth... that must serve as the terminus a quo for all genuine anti-Hebraism..." [23] As long as the Christians fail to disavow their Jewish source and their Jewishness they themselves will be tainted by its anti-natural influence. But since Christianity is inextricably bound to its Jewish origins, and even the New Testament is nothing but "a racially Jewish tradition" (eine rassenjuedische Ueberlieferung), the only hope for struggling humanity is to throw off once for all this humiliating yoke, meaning the religious heritage of Jews and Christians alike. The liberation from the Jewish-Christian heritage, on the one hand, and the strengthening of the Nordic German race on the other cannot be achieved through the process of education or civilization but only by means of racial purity which will cleanse man of religious depravities and restore the vital sources of his instinctive life. Christianity is inadequate for this struggle since it is itself ineradicably debased by its complicity with Judaism: <XIV> "Those who would cling to Christian tradition are in no position to combat Judaism effectively. ...An understanding Christian cannot be a serious antisemite... The Nordic gods are rooted in nature itself, and no millennial diversion can eradicate them... We here see a vivid phantasy in operation that is incomparably loftier than the Jewish slave-imagination..." [24] This basic thesis that racial anti-semitism must also be directed against Christianity continued to be elaborated from the end of the 19th century onwards by Theodor Fritsch as well as in a number of journals: the Antisemititche Correspondenz, which in 1888 became the official organ of the D.A.P. under the name of Deutsche-Soziale Blaetter, the Antisemiten-Katechismus which was later called Handbuch zur judenfrage and, in the early years of the present century, the influential journal Hammer. The general tendency of this movement was directed against Christianity as an ecclesiastical institution, sometimes chiefly against the Catholic Church which was suspected of "ultramontanist" sympathies for a foreign ecclesiastical power. Christianity was also opposed as a system of beliefs and practices that tended to debilitate the German Aryan race in its struggle for existence. Finally, Christianity was opposed because of its Jewish origins which deteriorate the whole human race by elevating spirit over body, rational thought over the wisdom of the senses, abstract ideas over direct and spontaneous experience, and the discursive intellect over the vital emotions. In the course of this debate the antisemitic movement displayed a readiness to reconcile itself to the continued existence of Christianity on condition that it subsitute the biological values of the Aryan race for its Jewish origins, as was recommended by the idealogues who made Jesus a member of the Aryan race - Julius Langbehn, Max Bewer, Houston Stewart Chamberlain, Leopold Werner, and the German Christians in the days of the Third Reich. [25] <XV> We find the same line of thought pursued by the followers of Duehring, such as Prof. Paul Foerster, as well as in those circles connected with the antisemitic journals, such as Heimdall, Freideutschland, Staatsburger Zeitung, also some of the functionaries connected with the imperialist Der Alldeutscher Verband, such as Friedrich Lange, the author of the anti-Christian Reines Deutschtum (1893), and numerous writers, historians, orientalists, scientists and students influenced by anthropology, materialism and Darwinism. A popular exposition that reveals the national and Romantic roots of this ideology appeared in the Hammer (Oct. 1908), and reads in part as follows: "What shall we do with a Christ whose kingdom is not of this world? A Bluecher, a Gneisenau, a Koerner, an Arndt can always be useful for Germany, but not a Christ. The God who was called upon at Leuthen, Leipzig and Sedan was not the God of love, nor the God of Abraham. Christ comforts the lowly, the weak and the sick. We too are sorry for these poor folk and try to alleviate their condition; but they are of no use to us and to our future. They only degrade that which we deem to be the highest good - the German character. Strength, health, the joy of life are what we need. The kingdom of Heaven can be left to the lowly and the wretched, as long as we possess the earth. Give the Bible to the sick and the lonely, the shut-ins and the scholars who wear their faces on their backs!..." [26] Similarly, the antisemitic propagandist, Dr. Ernst Wachler, writes in the same journal (Jan. 1911): "Away with the stones and tales, the doctrines and precepts of Jews as well as of Christians!... Not only the free-thinkers, but our basic Aryan instincts demand: the Church with all its trappings must be done away with..." [27] <XVI + (whole page XVII is footnote)> The available historical sources, including the documents collected in this volume, clearly indicate that the protests of the Church against the persecution of the Jews, with its human and ethical concern for their fate, were an inseparable part of a more comprehensive opposition directed against the pseudo-messianic and hence anti-Christian character of Nazism. Seen in this context, the protest of the Church gives rise to a number of historical and theological questions that require further study. The questions that arise fall into three groups. A. To what extent did the secularizing tendencies of the last century, the rationalistic attacks on religion, the Romantic philosophies, pagan mythology, Darwinism and the anthropological critique of religion, contribute to the anti-Christian character of modern anti-semitism? How did the process of secularization influence the teachings and art of Richard Wagner, the Christian mythology of Houston St. Chamberlain, Julius Langbehn, Ernst Bergmann and the movement of the "German Christians", or the "Mythus" of Alfred Rosenberg? Can modem historiography support the psychoanalytical Freudian explanation of anti-Christian anti-Semitism in terms of a revival of vestigial pagan elements which were latent in Christianity itself, and which consequently revolted against the ethical Judaic basis of Christianity and against the Jews who were now made responsible for all that disturbed the Christian conscience? From the vast literature that has grown up around these problems [28] we see that side by side with the all-pervasive secularization of life there were also historical and theological factors embedded in Christianity which later turned against Christianity itself. Through further study, we might find in the history of Christianity traditions <XVIII> that originated in the barbarism of the pagan world, turned anti-Christian by that very paganism, then continued as anti-Jewish attitudes and policies on the part of the Christian world - and finally culminating dialectically into a destructive force that was directed not only against Judaism, but through Judaism against Humanity and hence also against Christianity. One of these powerful anti-Jewish elements which rooted in Christianity, and after having been secularized became an effective means used by totalitarianism against the Jews as well as against the Jews as the symbol of non-conformism, as the embodiment of the human quest for a free existence, for the right to be different and yet to be, is the very concept of Collective Guilt. Its origin is the idea of guilt for the crucifixion of God who took on Flesh (Matt. 27. 25; I Thess. 2. 15), a guilt which lies as a heavy yoke on the shoulders of all the Jews till the end of the days. It was applied to social life by various Church Synods (such as Elvira in 306, Clermont in 535, Orleans in 538, the Lateran Councils of 1179 and 1215) with their succession of repressive measures and harassments directed against the Jews. It culminated under the influence of blood libels in the late Middle Ages (Andreas of Ryn p. 1462, Simon of Trient 1475) [29], and in Modern Times (Tisza-Esslar, Korfu, Xanten, Polna, Konitz) - down to the days of the Third Reich. By using the very pattern of a Collective Guilt, the Christian projected on to the Jew the frailties common to all human beings. This mechanism enabled the Christian to see his own weakness reflected in the Jew so that by persecuting the Jew, moreover by exterminating him, the Christian could obliterate his own image as a sinner, and cleanse his conscience from the burden of guilt. These patterns of thought and conduct, these models of generalization, projection and prejudice that originally were established by Christianity with respect to the Jews - to what extent were they now employed by the Nazi regime against Humanity, as well as against the Church itself whenever the racial antisemites attacked its ethical Judaic basis? <XIX> B. The second group of questions concerns the problems as to whether the survival of the Jews on the one hand, and their ultimate Christianization on the other, are both indispensable to Christianity. Since the promise made to the Jews in the Old Testament (Gen. 22 .18; II Sam. 7. 12; Isaiah 7.14), will be fulfilled or perhaps superseded by those of the New Testament (Rom. 9-11) when the Jews return in penitence and acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah, it seems that the Christian concern for the fate of the Jews, even in the days of the holocaust, is unavoidably accompanied by an interest in his salvation. Alas, his salvation is conceived by the Christian in terms that are unacceptable for the Jew as long as he wishes to adhere to Judaism as a religion, a people and an unfulfilled eschatology. As we study the documents before us in their total historical context including parts not directly relevant to the very protest and therefore not printed in this volume, we are impressed with the following fact; while the Church raised its voice against the persecution of the Jews out of human motives, as well as in the hope of thereby strengthening its own members, the traditional, dogmatic concept of the Jew continued to be dominant. According to this view the persecution of the Jews constitutes an error, not only for reasons of humanity, but mainly because persecution prevents the Jew from seeking redemption among his persecutors. It prevents the Jew from turning to Jesus as the Messiah and from seeking in the New Testament that salvation which not only is promised him, but without which Christianity itself is doomed to remain unfulfilled. From the theological point of view regarding the right of Judaism to exist, the Church in its protest against the Nazis reverted to the original attitude of Luther, as expressed in "Das Jesus Christus eyn geborener Jude sey" of 1523. When Luther protested against the anti-Jewish policy of the Church, claiming that the Church treated the Jews "als waren es hunde", and that under such circumstances he himself would: "...ehe eyn saw geworden denn eyn Christe", this very protest was also not based on an acknowledgment of the right of Judaism to exist as an independent, autonomous religion. The motive that inspired this protest was the hope that Christianity would mitigate the persecution of the Jews and apply to them instead the Christian Commandment of love and tolerance, as written by Luther: <xx> "...Ob etliche halsstarrig sind was ligt daran? Sind wyr doch auch nicht alle gute Christen...". In that case, and only in that case, Christians might be hopeful that the Jews would return in penitence and believe in the salvation brought to them by their own Messiah. Against this historical background [30] it seems that even during the Holocaust, Christianity continued to identify the Jew not in his own, authentic, terms, but according to the classical traditions. The Jew is one who persists in the impenitent rejection of Christ, but must be saved, for it is the Jew who has to complete the eschatological process of the Heilsgeschichte. Therefore Jews, and especially converts, have to be rescued from racial discrimination. Moreover, since Judaism continues to be an integral part of Christianity, the very notion of the Jews as a race can have no basis whatsoever in Christian theology. [31] This has been stated as early as September 1933 by the theological faculty of the University of Marburg in its statement against the "Arierparagraph". Similar statements were issued by theologians such as Rudolf Bultmann and the members of the Bekenntnis der Vaeter und die bekennende Gemeinde (Betheler Bekenntnis), 1934 [32]. Thus, even at the height of Nazi persecution and in times of the extermination of the Jews, the Church would not acknowledge Judaism as a religion in its own right and on its own terms, but insisted that a Jew who became a Christian was merely fulfilling his predestined role; such a Jew did not leave his faith, he returned to his true faith. It is most symptomatic and instructive to note that in the controversy between Heinrich Vogel, one of the leaders in the protests against the persecution of Jews and the author of the "65 Theses of Protest" (March 1933) and Friedrich Gebhart, a spokesman of the "German Christians" and the author of the "Reply to the 65 Theses" (May 1933), <XXI> both sides, despite their theological and political contradictions adhere to the same traditional Christian view that the Jews are in a state of rejection (Verwerfung). One view holds that the Jew can abrogate his old covenant with Jehovah and step over to the side of the Redeemer; the other holds that the derelict Jew is beyond salvation and the redeeming influences of the Church, that Ueberzeuging cannot overcome Zeugung, that the Vollendung of Judaism in Christ should be turned into the Endloesung of Jewish existence. Both, however, despite the far reaching differences and contradictions between them, deny the Jew the right to live on his own terms and according to his own autonomy. This approach to the Jewish question on the part of those who protested against the persecution of the Jews was not confined to the Bekennende Kirche in Germany. Even the Dutch Church, in the early forties, did not deviate from its theological tradition. A typical illustration is to be found in the Pastoral Letter written by the General Synod of the Dutch Reformed Church (Sept. 1941), a document that will go down in history as a striking witness to spiritual integrity and moral courage. Although the Letter emphasizes the fact that the New Testament is dependent on the Old Testament (Deut. 6, 4-5; Mark 12, 29-31) and that the love of one's fellowman also applies to the treatment of the Jew (Lev. 19, 18; Matt. 22, 39), it defines Judaism as a religion that is destined to disappear by being redeemed through and in Christianity. Again, this is in keeping with Christian tradition which holds that the metaphysical status of election and the promise of eschatological salvation as given to the Jews in the Old Testament are fulfilled in Jesus who is "...the fulfilment of all God's promises to Israel, the true king of this nation sent by God..." [33] Hence, the document continues, having rejected Jesus as the redeemer, the Jews are still sunk in sin: "...Israel did not recognize Him, but rejected Him... In this way they hardened their hearts against the grace of God... They are no longer Israel in the original sense of the lord, they are 'Jews' now. A Jew is a man of Israel who rejects Jesus Christ, and thus is to us a sign of human hostility to the Gospel..." [34] The Church that protested Jewish persecution by the Nazis with such courage and religious conviction still finds it indispensable to advocate conversion as the only solution to the problem of Jewish stubborn existence, an existence which equals infidelity: <XXII> "...The true destiny of the Jewish people lies in its Conversion to Christ, by joining the Christian Church. The Jew remains a Jew in the bitter sense which this word has for him first and foremost; the Jew cannot free himself from himself, as long as he does not come to Christ..." [35] Are there any pronouncements of the Church that offer a Christian-Jewish relationship other than that of conversion? [36] Is there a possibility that the Church may acknowledge the inherent right of self-determination for the Jew, so that he could retain his identity and not seek to "free himself from himself?" This "bitter sense" of the Jew the Church spoke about even when protesting against Nazism, is it indigenous to Judaism or rather the result of the social and political conditions in a Christian world? Similar questions arise when we read the documents in Appendix I which do not deal with the period of the Third Reich but with the period after the Second World War. In these documents we find a number of explicit statements by eminent Christian theologians condemning anti-semitism. But even here we find no acknowledgment of the right of Judaism to exist on its own terms. Nor do we find such acknowledgment in the special declaration of a group of theologians, during the Second Assembly of the World Council of Churches which convened in Evanston in 1954, entitled "Hope of Israel" [37]. In this declaration a systematic attempt is made to renew relations with <XXIII> Judaism since"... to be a member of the Christian Church is to be involved with the Jews... and the people of the New Covenant cannot be separated from the people of the Old Covenant..." [38] Jews, however, are still regarded as candidates for salvation on Christian terms, so that even in this enlightened document - a document which was composed years after the wholesale extermination of the Jews by the Nazis - theologians find no other solution but "...to hope for the conversion of the Jewish people..." [39]. Moreover, when these circles in the Church desire for reasons of conscience and remorse to express "...the grievous guilt of the Christian people towards the Jews throughout the history of the church...", they find no better way to express their deep sorrow than to revert to the "Findings of the pre-Evanston Conference of the American committee on the Christian Approach to the Jews" (Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, August 8-11, 1954) which states that '... the Church cannot rest until the title of Christ to the Kingdom is recognized by His own People according to the flesh...'" [40]. Another typical example of this attitude is the proclamation of the Joint Committee of the World Council of Churches and the International Missionary Council, after its Consultation at the Ecumenical Institute, Bossey, Sept. 12-18, 1956. An attempt was made to elevate the missionary activities of the Church, to seek the salvation of the Jews by the power of the spirit only: "...Our hope for the Jews does not mean that we can calculate the time or define the nature of the coming of Christ in his Kingdom... We may find a further warning against too precise speculation with regard to the Second Coming of Christ..." (Ch. III, par. c, d.). [41] In conclusion, however, the Joint Committee could not help adding a declaration which for the Jew makes any authentic dialogue meaningless if not impossible: "... The Jewish people will not find their true destiny until they return and acknowledge Jesus as Christ and Lord" (Cf. Chap. IV, 6) [42]. <XXIV> C. The third group of questions that arise from reading the documents and require careful study, deal with the actual situation as it existed during the Nazi regime. Were the protests of the Church effective, in rescuing Jews and then in strengthening the spirit of resistance, or even the religious feelings among Christians? Were the protests raised at the right time and under the proper circumstances, to mitigate the persecution or to postpone the annihilation of the Jews? Was the protest the most useful means of rescuing Jews, or would it have been more helpful for the Church to keep quiet so that it could devote itself more to actual underground activities - but, then, could the Church keep quiet? Was the Church, in its protest, ready to endanger its members as well as their relatives for the sake of an effective anti-Nazi struggle, or did the protest function as a Catharsis, relieving the members of the Church from the burden of moral responsibility towards the persecuted? Did the protests create a new, perhaps even a revolutionary non-conformist stand of the Church over against political power? How was the protest of the Church related to the concept of obedience to the existing regime, as expressed in Paul's Letter to the Romans Ch. 13, and in Luther's "Von weltlicher Obrigkeit wie weit man ihr Gehorsam schuldig ist" 1523? Finally, what was the reaction of the Jews who were persecuted, and especially of those Jews who lived in free countries and who might have been expected to exert themselves to save their brethren? Did they endanger their personal safety to rescue their fellow-Jews and display a deeper sense of responsibility towards them than the Church? This collection of sources, by concentrating on only one aspect of the entire interrelationship between Christianity and Judaism during the period of the holocaust may confuse the reader in thinking that the Protest was the prime characteristic and policy of the Church regarding anti-semitism, the persecution of the Jews and their extermination. The author of this book, the Rev. Johan M. Snoek, is correct in bringing to our attention that the Protest must be viewed as one and only one aspect of the position of the Church and of the Christian world as a whole during the Nazi regime. A collection of sources on the Protest of the Church does not preclude the fact that there existed other positions among Christians; the position of cooperation with antisemites, whether it was active or passive, direct or indirect, with knowledge of without, whether voluntary or <XXV> through coercion. This volume does not attempt to research the entire and definite historical and theological position of the Church during the Holocaust. Its purpose is to bring light upon one aspect, which until now has not been sufficiently investigated. By having gathered these documents, and by having placed them before us in their historical and geo-political order, a major contribution has been made towards a more balanced and varied understanding of this period. Uriel Tal The Hebrew University, Jerusalem <XXVI> PREFACE Much has been published as to whether the Pope remained silent during the persecution of the Jews in Europe, primarily as a reaction to Rolf Hochhuth's play "The Representative" (Der Stellvertreter in German or in Dutch "Plaatsbekleder"). Not so much, however, has been published about the attitude of the non-Roman Catholic Churches. When there is a vacuum in our knowledge, it is an excellent breeding place for myths. We should fill a gap therefore as well as possible. There exist certain myths, which die hard. Many people still believe that it was Richard III who murdered the princes in the Tower, though this has been shown to be false. The Dutch people for instance did not behave as courageously during the Second World War as is generally believed, but the myth seems to be firmly established; just as is the story that the King of Denmark walked through the streets of Copenhagen wearing the yellow badge in protest against the German measures concerning the Jews. One should not lightly dismiss the existence of such historical untruths on the assumption that there is always a grain of truth in every myth. Sometimes a myth is completely false, as in the case of murdered princes. Moreover, this type of myth is sometimes very harmful. We need only remind ourselves of the infamous ritual-murder myth, suggesting that the Jews used the blood of a Christian child for ritual purposes. <1> It is undeniable that throughout the ages many Christians took an active part in the persecution of Jews. [43] This fact has been officially and repeatedly admitted by Christian bodies. Some of the statements in this documentation unequivocally plead guilty in this respect. Small wonder, then, that many Christians, as well as Jews, honestly believe that "there was a complete and terrible silence on the part of the Church" [44]. In the process of creation of anti-Jewish myths, there is a tendency to generalize: "The Jews have ..." We like to think in general terms because stereotypes are so easy, whilst it costs us much more mental effort to discriminate. Let us not commit the same offence against logic as the anti-Semites have and let us remember that it is just as fallacious to talk about "the Churches" as about "the Jews". It is important for many reasons not to overrate the positive things the Churches did and said. It is also important, again for many reasons, not to belittle them. We certainly must denounce acts of anti-Semitism, even when outstanding leaders of the Church were the perpetrators, but this remains a negative. We must also mention the positive, which is more encouraging. I believe this is one of the underlying intentions of "Yad Vashem's" competent Department in trying to seek out and honour the "righteous of all Nations": non-Jews who helped Jews at the risk of their own lives. [45] It seems far too early to come to a definite evaluation of many aspects of the holocaust. Far be it from me, to claim that I can say the last word about that one aspect under discussion here: the attitude <2> of the non-Roman Catholic Churches. I can and must try to be objective, but I cannot be detached, as probably none of our generation can: we were all involved, in one way or another. [46] But I am convinced that our generation can and must do the groundwork. It must collect the material that may otherwise be completely lost or forgotten, and investigate it before even more people, who were personally involved, have passed away. Collecting these documents was like trying to make a jigsaw puzzle from which many pieces are missing, the difference being that in this case one often does not even know that something is missing. However, the lack of other pieces is known. [47] As regards my own country (the Netherlands), I am fairly sure that the collection of documents is well-nigh complete. Some statements issued by Churches were published in Bulgarian or Slovak, etc., but not in English. Even such documents as were available in English were not generally known. Most of the material in this book had to be translated from Hebrew, French, German, Dutch, Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, Slovak, Hungarian, Bulgarian or Greek. Initially, I sent a circular letter to the heads of Churches in Eastern Europe asking for information and I received some replies, though not many. Some replies stated that no documents were available because everything had been destroyed during the war. This seems quite possible, and perhaps we must give the Churches in question the benefit of the doubt. Moreover, it was not advisable, for security reasons, to keep certain documents. Thus, for instance, all documents of the World Council of Churches and its preceding organizations, which might incriminate Christian leaders in Germany, were destroyed when, in 1940, it was feared that Germany would invade Switzerland. [48] <3> Yet, some Churches, which probably could have sent material, and which in some cases as, for example, the Churches in Bulgaria and Greece, had a good record of resistance against anti-Semitism, failed to do so. It would appear that Church archives are sometimes the safest place in the world for documents not to be found. The Library and Archives of "Yad Vashem", in Jerusalem, had much material. I was also able to spend some days in the Wiener Library, in London, and in the Library of the World Council of Churches, at Geneva. I could never have succeeded in finding the material and having it translated without the help of many interested friends, Jews as well as Christians, to whom I am deeply indebted. It would be difficult to mention all their names, but I should like at least to express here my indebtedness to the late Director of "Yad Vashem", Dr. Arjeh Leon Kubovy, of blessed memory; and to Dr. Shaul Esh, of blessed memory, who made valuable suggestions for the chapters on Germany. I am also especially indebted to Dr. J. Robinson, of New York, and Prof. Dr. C. Augustijn, of Amsterdam, who read the manuscript and suggested many improvements. Of course the responsibility for any eventual mistakes solely rests on me. I am deeply grateful for all the kind help rendered to me by the Chief Librarian of "Yad Vashem", Miss Ora Alcalay, and her assistants. Most of the chapters in Part III (During the War) have some particulars about anti-Semitic measures taken by the Germans: I wanted to give some historical background for the statements issued by Churches. For the background of statements issued in the different countries before the Second World War, the historical survey and the chapter on Germany in part II should be consulted. One can never have too much knowledge of the situation and background in the countries concerned, if one is to see facts clearly in their historical context and interpret them correctly. Thus, more publications are mentioned in the notes for further study. Some figures concerning the membership of Churches are given in Appendix II, though they are of limited value. Many territorial changes took place in Central and Eastern Europe. Some Churches count as members all who were baptized, whether they ever attended services or not; others count <4> "communicants"; the Baptists do not count the children. But one will at least acquire a conception of the numerical strength of a certain Church. An investigation into the question whether the non-Roman Catholic Churches kept silent, must necessarily have certain limitations. Firstly, no statement issued by a Church under the authority of the Pope are recorded in this book, with the exception, of course, of joint statements issued by Protestants and Roman Catholics, as was the case in the Netherlands. Thus I have recorded nothing from the Polish Greek Catholic Metropolitan Sheptitsky, or from the Maronite Patriarch of Syria, Mgr. Arida. [49] Secondly, this investigation is not concerned with the acts of individual Christians, unless they were leaders of the Church and clearly spoke in the name of their Church. [50] Thirdly, I have not recorded the contents of protests issued solely against the treatment of Christians of Jewish origin. It was certainly the duty of the Churches to do all in their power to protect those Christians, but this is not my subject. I am interested in what manner the Churches acted or failed to act on behalf of the Jews in general. This book is first of all an attempt to draw up an inventory, rather than to draw up the balance-sheet. However, the fact that I have often had the privilege of lecturing on the subject to Jewish, Christian or mixed audiences, always followed by brisk discussion, encourages me to feel that I have correctly understood some of the problems and questions which arise. The Introduction arrived only just in time to be printed. I am particularly grateful to Dr. Uriel Tal for his penetrating comment and questions. It stands to reason that our views need not agree in every detail, but <5> Christians should know that such questions as are raised in the Introduction are asked by many Jews. It is of the utmost importance for Jewish-Christian relations to discuss them as frankly as Dr. Tal did. <6> I GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS 1 PROBLEMS OF EVALUATION Commentators on the attitude of the Churches in certain lands frequently contradict one another. Some Christians, such as Rev. Niemoeller [51] and Rev. Buskes [52] for instance, pass a severe verdict on the Churches and include themselves also. It seems to me that at least one Jewish commentator gives too positive a picture about the attitude of the population in his country, Greece.[53] He may, consciously or unconsciously, have tried not to embarrass the people amongst whom he still lived when he wrote his book. But also the opinion of a Christian that "the hundreds of thousands of Jews that escaped the doom decreed for them owed their survival more to the rescue activities of individuals and private groups, above all the Churches, than to governmental resistance policy" [54], seems to me too favourable. It must be difficult for Jews who know of anti-Semitic actions perpetrated by Church leaders throughout the centuries, and who personally suffered and lost their relatives in the holocaust, to believe that not merely a few "righteous of all Nations" but also Churches publicly and unequivocally spoke out against Hitler's murderous anti-Semitism. On the other hand, Christians are in danger of trying to whitewash the Church and ignoring the many instances when the Church failed. We all tend to forget our failures and to remember our victories. Some commentators tend to forget how the actual situation was in those days. Indeed, it is difficult even for people who themselves lived through it, to project themselves back into the time when Hitler seemed all-powerful. Moreover, we now have the benefit of living after the events, and thus we know many facts, which were not generally known in those days. <9> It seems unbelievable now, but in the summer of 1940, when some people somewhere in the Netherlands formed a resistance group, their leader stated that the British would not liberate us before Christmas 1940, and everybody present felt sorely disappointed. This kind of unwarranted optimism was fostered by many people throughout the war, and thus they underestimated the danger to the Jews and believed that, if German action against them could be delayed by some kind of compromise, much, and perhaps all, would be won. Many people in occupied Europe, in Great Britain and in the United States thought, that the information about the gas-chambers was "atrocity propaganda". The President of the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. stated, on May 1, 1943: "What is happening to the Jews on the Continent of Europe is so horrible that we are in danger of assuming that it is exaggerated" [55]. We quote the following from "Unity in Dispersion": "The undertaking was so staggering that, until the revelation about the Maidanek camp, a majority of the people in the United States as well as in England dismissed the facts of extermination as 'atrocity mongering'... It should be conceded, as extenuating circumstances, that never before in history had states descended to such depths of bad faith, deceit, and treachery as did Germany and some of her satellites in their resolve to murder. In 1942, tens of thousands of Polish Jews volunteered for cunningly disguised 'resettlement' and agricultural work in the territories recently conquered by the Germans in the East, and thus entered of their own accord on a road at the end of which destruction awaited them." [56] The Germans tried to deceive the victims about their aims as well as the people amongst whom these victims lived, and they succeeded in this to a considerable extent. [57] <10> They had, in occupied Europe, all the instruments of mass communication, such as press and radio, at their disposal. All these and other factors are mentioned in "Unity in Dispersion" [58] in order to explain to some extent "the failure of organized Jewry to halt or even to slow down the most terrible catastrophe in Jewish history". Much of it is, mutatis mutandis, also applicable to "organized Christianity". On the other hand, when the true facts became known, there was danger mentioned by the Archbishop of Canterbury: "It is one of the most terrible consequences of war that the sensitiveness of people tends to become hardened... There is a great moral danger in the paralysis of feeling that is liable to be brought about." [59] We now are in danger of forgetting that so many other problems burdened people in those days. The British people were fighting their life-and-death struggle against the Third Reich, but were free. In the occupied countries, many young people were sent to Germany for compulsory labour; food was rationed and became more and more scarce. People went out in the night to cut wood illegally as there was hardly any fuel. One cannot understand what happened in occupied Europe without remembering these things; neither can one understand, without realising the power of human egoism and the will to survive. No one who has never really been hungry, nor has been deprived of his liberty, can understand what it meant in practice to "love one's neighbour" during the Second World War. The persecution of the Jews was not the only challenge confronting the Churches in those days, though we only now can perceive better that it was the most important one. The list of steps taken by the Churches in the Netherlands shows the type of problems which faced the Churches: intercession in church services for the Queen; arrest of pastors; suppression of the Church press; compulsory labour for youth; requisition of church bells; deportation of labourers to Germany; closing down of the Bible Society; ban on Church conferences; death sentences: plea for mercy; deportation of students, and national-socialist education in Christian schools. [60] <11> We tend now to underestimate the power of the Hitlerite terror. It has been said that all the Dutch should have blocked the railways with their own bodies, thus preventing the deportation of the Jews, because Hitler could not have murdered the entire Dutch population. I do not doubt that he could have and he would have done precisely that. [61] It is not surprising then that many lay members of the Church and Church leaders were afraid, and therefore failed to fulfil their duties. Gerstein said, in Rolf Hochhuth's play: "A Christian in these days cannot survive if he is truly Christian". [62] Dr. Banning said: "If the Church had fully exercised the obedience of faith, no pastor or priest would have come out alive. [63] But the greatness of the risks matched the appalling need to help: the Germans committed genocide. Whenever the Church remained silent in view of the holocaust, it was guilty. "Nevertheless a crime of such magnitude falls in no small measure to the responsibility of those witnesses who never cried out against it - whatever the reason for their silence." [64] Therefore, all the considerations mentioned above cannot exempt Churches, Christians or non-Christians, though they can help us to be fairer in our judgment. One is sometimes in danger of becoming irritated by people who did not stand the test themselves, and yet claim to know exactly what should have been said and done. There recently appeared a book [65] in which the author sharply criticizes much what was done, or was not done, during the German occupation of the Netherlands. <12> He himself took a very active part in the struggle. Perhaps that is the reason why his criticism is not without compassion, and that it is to a large extent self-criticism. In order to understand how difficult it was to risk one's life or even freedom on behalf of others, one had to have been in it oneself. I, who am now living in Israel, have sometimes, when lecturing on the subject, invited my audience to imagine for a moment that (God forbid!) some foreign power should occupy the land of Israel, say in the year 1980; and that this foreign power should deport many Jews for compulsory labour abroad, and also ration all food supplies, but that the Jewish part of the population should not risk their lives when complying with the demands of the enemy; that, however, the Christian minority in Israel should be deported and exterminated; that they should be deprived of their ration cards, that their identity cards should be stamped with a C, and that they must wear a yellow badge in the form of a cross, in order to distinguish them as Christians. I then asked the question: "would you be willing, in such a situation, to hide my wife, one of my children or me, who all look very "Aryan", though you knew that, as in every community, you were in danger of being betrayed and in even greater danger of being given away by careless talk of other people? Or would you, if you were the Chief Rabbi, be prepared to denounce the anti-Christian measures publicly and unequivocally?" 2 FACTORS LEADING TO PUBLIC PROTESTS There were many factors that led Churches to protest publicly. One of them is mentioned by the Executive Council of the Federal Council of Churches in the U.S.A. in 1941: "No true Christian Can be anti-Semitic in thought, word or deed without being untrue to his own Christian heritance." [66] But how often true Christians were untrue... <13> The National Council of the Reformed Church in France made a similar statement, in September, 1942, declaring: "A Christian Church would lose its soul and the reason for its existence, were it not to maintain... the Divine law above human contingencies." [67] The Bible (the Old as well as the New Testament) was frequently cited in the protests. This may appear strange to people who only knew that the New Testament was used as a source of anti-Semitic influence. The same applies, by the way, to the Old Testament. [68] In my opinion, this use is quite indefensible. We list some of the texts cited in the protests: "Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy. (Proverbs 31, 8-9). Indirect reference, particularly in Switzerland and Germany, was made to Ezekiel 33, when the Church's office as Watchman is mentioned. "When I bring the sword upon a land, if the people of the land take a man of their coasts, and set him for their watchman: if when he seeth the sword come upon the land, he blow the trumpet and warn the people; then whosoever heareth the sound of the trumpet, and taketh not warning; if the sword come, and take him away, his blood shall be upon his own head... But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand. So thou, O son of man, I have set thee a watchman unto the house of Israel..." (Ezekiel 33, 2-4, 6-7). "With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." (Matthew 7, 1). "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matthew 25, 40). "We ought to obey God rather than man." (Acts 5, 29). "...and (God) hath made of one blood all the nations of men..." (Acts 17, 26). "There is neither Jew nor Greek...: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3, 28). <14> In addition to this, the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10, 30 - 37) was quoted. It was frequently pointed out, though the wordings differ, that Jesus was born a Jew. With regard to the Churches in the Netherlands, it has been stated that "the moral implications of Christian doctrine motivated the resistance of the Churches". [69] Such a statement seems to me to oversimplify matters. I believe that the Christian doctrine (or rather: the teachings of the Bible) demanded the resistance of the Churches, but it is always possible to find convenient excuses to escape a challenge, as for example the opinion that the Church should not interfere in political matters. I once tried to convince a devout Protestant (he was an elder of the Church) that he should hide a Jewish child, by reminding him that one day he would have to give account of his deeds to the Supreme Judge. The man, who certainly could have hidden that child (he had a large farm) flatly refused, not because he denied that he would have to give account of his deeds, but because he was afraid, - too afraid to hide the child. I pointed out to him that he should rather fear God and not man, but my words simply had no effect. Christian teaching did not work in this case, though that does not mean that it did not work in other cases. Chief Rabbi Safran spoke to the Rumanian Patriarch Nicodemus of the terrible responsibility he was taking upon his conscience in the eyes of the Supreme Judge [70], and in this case it worked, though there were probably other motivations as well. Everybody's decisions are also motivated by the principles to which he adheres, and thus a Christian's decisions are influenced by Christian principles, though it must be admitted that mostly there are many other influences and motivations, probably more than the person who makes a decision, realizes. <15> The whole matter of the attitude of the Churches during the war was once discussed at a conference, and one of the speakers began by expressing as his opinion that Hitler and Eichmann were Christians, but later on he said that Mr. Johannes Bogaard, one of the "righteous of all Nations" who saved many Jews and whose father, brother and son were murdered by the Germans, was "just a courageous Dutchman". I happen to know Mr. Bogaard very well and I am convinced that he acted as he did during the war, primarily because he is a committed Christian. Of course this does not alter the fact that many Christians did not do very much, if anything, on behalf of their neighbours, the Jews; nor should it be denied that many non-Christians did do what they could, out of national, socialist, humanist or communist convictions. The same applies to the attitudes of a community. A member of a left wing kibbutz stated his views very clearly to me, and I know that many people hold views similar to his: "Allow me to express my position which is based on dialectical materialism. The Protestant Churches were active everywhere according to the local circumstances, first of all according to the nature of the people amongst whom they lived. The Churches did not act in a vacuum. For instance, in the countries of Western-Europe, such as Holland, Norway and Denmark, where the 'final solution' met with the resistance of all sections of the population, the courageous stand of those nations found its vehement expression in the attitude of the different Churches. The non-Roman Catholic Churches merely reflected the opinion and reactions of the people." It seems to me that there is more than a grain of truth in such a view and certainly no Church ever acted in a vacuum. Much in the protests issued by Churches in countries such as Bulgaria and Greece, points to nationalist rather than to spiritual-Christian considerations. Reading and analysing the contents of the statements may be of some help when assessing the motivations of Christians and groups of Christians who resisted the persecution of Jews. <16> If, however, one indeed believes that everything can be explained by the influences of local circumstances etc., one should be consistent and stop holding Churches responsible for acts of anti-Semitism committed by Churches or by people professing to be Christians throughout the ages, for in such a case they were also "merely reflecting the opinion and reactions of the people amongst whom they lived". In the case of such a rigid determinism, it seems difficult to hold anyone anywhere responsible for his acts and decisions. In my opinion we are all influenced by the people amongst whom we live, by social circumstances and by many other factors. We are all subject to a kind of mimicry, but that does not necessarily mean that we are just chameleons and nothing else. Churches are certainly influenced, just like any other group of people, by circumstances and surroundings, but they on their part influence these circumstances and surroundings. There is interplay of factors. Similar to the opinion mentioned above is the viewpoint that Churches always tend to support the Establishment. The United States and Great Britain were at war with Germany, and the Churches participated in the crusade against the enemy. The same applies to Churches in occupied Europe, even when their own Government was in exile. I think that the Old Testament already gives us many examples of organized religion supporting the Establishment, but it also gives us some instances when religious leaders (the prophets!) refused to do so. [71] It is doubtful whether the British Government was pleased with the Church's protest against the pogroms of the "Crystal Night", just after the Munich agreement. [72] The Archbishop of Canterbury's speech in the House of Lords and the Bishop of Chichester's letters to The Times, in 1943, must have embarrassed political leaders who were of the opinion that the main object was to win the war, and that attempts to rescue Jews were of less importance. [73] The Swiss Churches could hardly be accused of supporting the Establishment, when they protested against the decision of the Swiss Government to return refugees to Nazi Germany who had illegally entered Switzerland. [74] Similar examples can be given regarding the United States, Sweden and other lands. The little that was said by the "Confessing Church" in Germany on behalf of the Jews was certainly not in support of the Establishment. <17> A Church must try to be the conscience of nation and Government, even though this may mean that its leaders have to speak out against the seeming interests of their nation. Churches frequently failed to do so, but we should refrain from generalizing. Whenever Churches were conscious of belonging to a worldwide fellowship, this contributed to their making a stand against anti-Semitism. Church leaders in the Netherlands followed the struggle of the "Confessing Church" in Germany, and were on the alert when they were challenged themselves. The Church in Sweden was moved to protest by the statement issued by the Church of Norway. Church leaders in Hungary realized, when they did not carry their protest before the Hungarian public, that this course would "incur... the reproach and accusation of the leading bodies of the Christian Churches" and stated that, if their intervention proved ineffective, they would be obliged "to testify before the congregations of our Church and the Protestants of the world that we did not suppress the message of God". [75] Many of the Church leaders who took a clear stand, knew one another personally. [76] In view of the attempts of the Germans to deceive world opinion as to their ultimate aims concerning the Jews, and in view of the tendency to dismiss reports about what was going on as "atrocity propaganda", the importance of the information given by the World Council of Churches through its Press Service and by other means can hardly be overestimated. The need to combine efforts and thus break through denominational barriers in order to come to a joint stand, was understood in some countries. In the Netherlands, Protestants and Roman Catholics began a new chapter in their relationship by protesting together. In France and Hungary there was consultation between Roman Catholics and Protestants, but it is to be regretted that they did not achieve a common front. <18> Sometimes there existed close contact between Christian and Jewish leaders, as for example in the United States, in Great Britain, in Bulgaria and between the leaders of the World Council of Churches and the World Jewish Congress, in Geneva. Thus, again, information about what was going on was communicated and action could be co-ordinated. The negative implication is also clear: whenever a spirit of particularism, provincialism and isolationism was strong in a Church, it did not fulfil its duty toward the persecuted Jews. 3 RESULTS In order to ascertain the practical effects that could be expected from steps taken by the Churches, the political and geographical position of the countries concerned, as well as the time factor, must be born in mind. Where there was a national Government, as was the case in Slovakia, Hungary, Rumania and Bulgaria, protests had a better chance of some success than in countries under direct Nazi control. Yet even then what Jeno Levai stated about Hungary was sometimes true: "The Church was not in a position to promise or to threaten. Thus, in spite of their very best intentions, they could obtain only very little. Naturally this little meant life to the persons concerned." [77] Typical were the differences between the Scandinavian countries: Sweden was neutral; Finland was an ally of the Germans; Denmark was occupied but it had its own King and was officially not even in a state of war with Germany; Norway's King had fled and the infamous Quisling had become Prime Minister. <19> Geography also played an important role. The Jews in the Netherlands were in a deadly trap; Hungary was, at least for some time, a place of refuge for Jews in the neighbouring countries; Jews in Denmark and Norway had a chance to flee to Sweden and the Jews in France and Italy to Switzerland, in so far as that country was willing to admit them. The time persecution began was a vital factor. The earlier it started, the smaller the chance of saving at least some lives. It should be noted that these three factors were utterly unfavourable in Germany. It is difficult to assess the range of influence of any Church. Figures have been given about membership in Appendix II, but one must remember that many Churches have a high percentage of nominal members who, perhaps since their baptism, never attended a church service. Therefore it can be misleading to read that there were forty-five million Protestants in Germany, or, that 96,2 per cent of the population of Norway are members of the State Church. Only 5 per cent of the members of the Norwegian Church regularly attend Sunday services. In many other countries the situation is similar. Many people who were not church goers may never even have known about the protests of the Church, and this is especially true of occupied Europe in those days, for there the Church could only speak from the pulpits, not through press and radio. Moreover, many nominal Christians are influenced by other outlooks on life, rather than by the Christian faith. However, when press and radio were silenced and the Church alone could voice an open and public protest, it met with the response of many people who were outside the fold. Church services were better attended than in times of peace. The former editor-in-chief of the Dutch communist daily De Waarheid relates that he went to a church service in those days: That church meant something to us in those black days, were it only to listen to the prayer of a man, who dared make a public address on behalf of the people tortured in the concentration camps. [78] <20> I myself belong to the persons who, in those days, found their way back to the fold, attracted as we were by the Church's spiritual resistance to the Nazis. When attempting to assess the practical results of steps taken by Churches or Church leaders on behalf of the Jews, we distinguish between countries under German occupation, countries under a satellite government, neutral countries, and countries that were at war with Germany. In countries under German occupation, efforts made by the Churches had hardly any direct practical result for the Jews in general. Personal intervention did not help or, at best, could only cause some delay in the deportations. The only step that had some effect on the Germans (as we now know!) was the issuing of a public protest. Again it was evident, that the German authorities did not fear or have any step taken by the Churches as much as their protests which were read from the pulpits. Letters of protest they could throw in the dustbin or file away. They could listen to oral protests without taking them to heart. But they tried in every way to prevent public protests (in those days the only form of public protest), fearing their effect upon the people."[79] The most effective protests were those, which clearly encouraged the faithful to help the Jews. Others called for non-cooperation with the Germans, and this had at least some result. Six Roman Catholic police-agents at Utrecht informed their chief on February 24, 1943, that on the grounds of a pastoral letter read in their church on February 21, they would have to refuse if ordered to arrest Jews. Their chief threatened to dismiss them without pension and said that "those who do not announce their intended refusal and yet have the impudence to carry it out will be considered saboteurs, with all the serious consequences. The Germans immediately tried to arrest these agents but they had gone into hiding. The Germans then arrested their wives and children." [80] <21> Generally speaking, the positive indirect effect of public protests was, that it counteracted the attempts of the Germans to separate and isolate the Jews from the non-Jewish population, in order to break their will to resist deportation and annihilation. [81] It is impossible to count the lives saved through the activities of the Churches in the occupied territories. I agree with the opinion of Dr. Visser 't Hooft: "So far we have only spoken of public protests. But were these protests implemented by deeds? The answer is that they were, though by no means as generally as ought to have been the case. The full story of Christian assistance to the Jews in their hour of great need will never be fully told, for in many cases individuals acted quietly and behind the scenes." [82] In the countries under a satellite government, actions undertaken by the Churches were of some and sometimes even of much avail. [83] Concerning the neutral countries, the steps and protests of the Churches in Switzerland contributed to the relaxation of measures against the refugees [84], and in Sweden the Lutheran Archbishop encouraged his government to broadcast its willingness to take in the Jews of Denmark. [85] It is difficult to assess how far the protests of the Churches in countries that were at war with Germany had a practical effect. [86] They apparently helped to combat anti-Semitic influences in these countries (the same applies to protests issued in the countries mentioned above) and they contributed towards "breaking the wall of silence." <22> "The world wide public, overburdened with the issues and the incidents of a world conflict fraught with the gravest consequences, was not receptive to reports which it was ready to dismiss as propaganda tales; besides, the facts were hidden from it, not withstanding persistent endeavours by the (World Jewish) Congress to keep it informed. A wall of secrecy concealed the terrible tragedy... The main difficulty was how to convince public opinion and induce the Allied Governments to act. The battles of World War II raged fiercely on three continents, the onslaught of barbarity was nowhere decisively checked, the democratic nations feverishly tried to overcome their unprepared ness for a conflict of such dimensions. The Governments in Exile were chiefly concerned with the sufferings of their nations as a whole." [87] The pressure exerted by Jewish and Christian leaders on their Governments did not, however, result in effective rescue activities being undertaken by these Governments. It has been suggested that the protests from the Churches mostly came too late, and thus fell flat. This is partly true. The Protestant leaders in Hungary did speak out very late, and Bishop Wurm of Wurttemberg sent his letters when there only remained a chance of doing something for the "privileged" Jews. On the other hand, Churches or Church leaders in Belgium, France, Switzerland, Sweden, Great Britain and the United States began to protest in 1933. The Churches in the Netherlands protested at the very beginning of the German attacks on the Dutch Jews, in 1940. The Church of Denmark had prepared a public protest before the deportations started. It is, however, necessary to keep the dates of protests in mind, in order to arrive at a fair evaluation of the moral courage which such protests required. After Hitler's defeat at Stalingrad, at the end of 1942, and the defeat of Rommel at El-Alamein, it became more and more clear that Germany would lose the war. The measure of success is in itself no yardstick for the moral value of a deed. One can hardly say that Church leaders in Rumania behaved better than Church leaders in, for instance, the Netherlands, because the former, contrary to the latter, actually succeeded in saving many lives. <23> To this it must be added, however, that the seeming absence of any chance of success could not be an excuse for maintaining silence or for doing nothing against the terror of the Nazis. Prince William the Silent is said to have stated that it is not necessary to hope in order to try, nor to succeed in order to persevere. 4 HELP TO CHRISTIANS OF JEWISH ORIGIN Apart from the 500,000 Jews who registered as members of their community in 1933, there were some 50,000 Jews in Germany who no longer belonged to the Jewish community. Though born as Jews, they had been baptized. In addition, some 210,000 people had at least one Jewish parent, and another 80,000 one Jewish grandparent; thus a total of some 340,000 people in Germany were, in addition to the "full Jews", affected by racial legislation. [88] Until the end of the year 1938, Christian leaders and Churches tended to stress the necessity of helping Christian refugees of Jewish origin, rather than calling for help for Jews in general. A notable exception to this rule was the Appeal of the Ecumenical Council for Life and Work, in 1933, to help "Jews, Christians of Jewish origin and political refugees". [89] During the war, Churches in countries such as Bulgaria, Hungary and the Netherlands, instituted steps to protect their members of Jewish origin. It can hardly be denied that it was the right as well as the duty of the Churches to do so, but more than once the Churches were tempted to try and save their own members while neglecting the Jews in general. The announcement read from the pulpits of the Hungarian Protestant churches, on July 16, 1944, is significant: "The Bishops... wish to inform the congregations that in connection with the Jewish question, and particularly in the case of baptised Jews, they have repeatedly intervened with the competent Government authorities..." [90] <24> A comment on the "Confessing Church" in Germany is: "The Church took up the cudgels for the baptized Jews and that meant to the average churchgoer that the unbaptized Jew, i.e. the Jew as such, was left to the devil." [91] Church leaders in the Netherlands regarded the issue as a temptation: "Great dangers and temptations threatened continually. From the German side came the voice of the tempter: 'do not protest; only negotiate'. 'Do not speak on behalf of the Jews any more; then we shall be lenient to the Christians of Jewish origin.'... It is a great miracle that, in general, the Church recognized these voices as coming from the tempter, and boldly rejected the temptation." [92] That these questions were very difficult indeed, becomes clear from the following comment of Herzberg: "The baptized Jews [in the Netherlands], who were able to save their lives, owed this exclusively to the resistance of the Churches, a resistance which was especially impressive because of the principles by which it was motivated." [93] Quite different, however, is the sharp verdict of Presser: "And the Churches (in the Netherlands)? With what hesitation did they begin their resistance? How many were there, unfortunately, who were resigned to the fatal decrees of the occupying power, even appealing to texts in the Bible, and actually helping to carry out the decrees. How many times did they stand up only on behalf of baptized Jews and not on behalf of others." [94] <25> It makes a difference, whether Churches on their own initiative stressed the importance they attached to the fate of Christians of Jewish origin, or were forced into a compromise by the tactics of the Germans. The latter was the case when the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH failed to read the telegram of protest publicly in the church services. [95] The Protestant Christians of Jewish origin in the Netherlands indeed survived. We should not pass judgment lightly and we must realize that we now have the benefit of being after the events, Church leaders in those days were not always aware of the fact that the Germans, who offered not to deport the Christians of Jewish origin, were not just making a concession, but were also providing themselves with a means of exerting further pressure on the Churches. It is most regrettable that on several occasions certain Churches interpreted the saying "charity begins at home" as they did. 5 "MERCY-BAPTISMS" Christian clergymen in many lands were prepared to baptize Jews if the ceremony of baptism meant that lives could be saved. The following is related of the Lutheran Church in Slovakia: "Many Jews who tried to escape persecution sought rescue by giving up their religion and by requesting to be received into the Evangelical Church, for the Catholic Church did not receive them. [96] The Evangelical Church did not refuse them, which was an act of courage in those days, but enabled them to become members of the Church... Here some examples follow: <26> In 1940, 20 persons, most of them adults, became Christians in Bratislava. For the year 1941 the number was 83; for the first half of the year 1942: 47 persons; for the second half: 7.828 persons were admitted in 1943; only 2 in 1944. In Horne Zelenice (near Hlohovec), 169 persons became Christians in 1942; 39 in 1943; in 1945 only one. In Frencin 120 persons; in Kochanovce (near Treucin) 45; in Banska Bystrica, 202 persons became Christians in 1942. This help aroused the anger of the rulers, of the Gestapo and of the Hlinka Guard. They began to arrest Evangelical Christians and pastors. 9 pastors were sent to the concentration camps in Germany. Joseph Bucko, minister at Martine, perished in the camp." [97] It is reported that in Bulgaria, "... Ministers of various Christian denominations engaged in mass 'mercy baptisms'; several of them were removed from office because of this (one of these ministers, with a community of about 200 souls, managed to baptize 200 additional persons between January 1 and September 1, 1940). High dignitaries of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church declared that 'conversion to Christianity' and 'formal baptism' were two different acts, the first of which necessarily preceded the second, sometimes by a considerable period; because the law spoke of conversion and not of baptism having to have taken place before September 1, 1940, Jews baptized later could also be saved if the minister declared that they had expressed their will to adopt Christianity before that date. Many courts accepted this reasoning. In this way, a number of baptized Jews and offspring of mixed marriages escaped the provision of the law." [98] The following is quoted from the testimony of Richard Simantov: <27> "... It must be admitted that, with a few exceptions, all the Christian religious institutions [in Bulgaria], as also their clergy, behaved with sympathy towards the Jewish victims of the anti-Jewish legislation. When issuing the required legal documents to the Christian Jew, the clerk of the court or the judge himself interrogated the priest, whether he had indeed carried out all the religious formalities, and how long the teaching of the catechism had lasted for the person of Jewish origin concerned. The priest would always reply in the affirmative and would declare that the man had received instruction for 3, 4 or 5 months, and that he regularly attended church services etc., although often these documents, which were issued by the Church, were given only in exchange for a payment, without the ceremony having been performed..." [99] We have the following particulars about Greece : "Many tried to evade the racial laws through baptism. More than 500 Jews embraced the Orthodox religion; some scores preferred to become Catholics. it was clear that it was not out of conviction that these Jews entered into the Church. It was well-known, that only the desire to escape persecution moved them to seek refuge in the shadow of the cross. Out of compassion, the priests did not hesitate to accept the new converts. They were on friendly terms with them in different ways. Out of noble feelings and not in order to receive a reward, the priests also distributed baptismal certificates to Jews who had never attended a church service..." [100] The biographer of the Archbishop of Athens, Damaskinos, relates: "Later on, when the persecutions started affecting the Jews of Athens, the Archbishop decided on the following measures. He summoned the Director General of the Administrative Services of the Community of Athens, Mr. P. Haldezos, and said to him: "I have made the sign of the cross and have spoken to God, and have decided to save as many Jews as I can, even though I run a great risk. I am going to baptize them, and you must give certificates enabling them to obtain the identity cards of Christian Greeks. Mr. Haldezos agreed to this. With the help of a Municipal official, they opened a register wherein they registered 560 Jews as Christians, all of whom were saved. There was no treachery." [101]<28> Rev. J.J. Buskes discussed the considerations, which led clergymen in the Netherlands to provide Jews with false certificates of Baptism: "We are well aware that many pastors had conscientious objections to giving forged baptismal certificates. But, thank God, there were other ministers who had conscientious objections about not doing so. Such a certificate was, of course, false. But the man who wrote it out and gave it to a Jew, did service to the truth and helped his neighbour. The one, however, who would not write it and thus refused help to a Jew, served falsehood and failed the Jew. There is a truth which is like a lie and there is a lie which is like the truth. God commanded us to lie in the service of the truth. Not the end, but the obedience to God's commandment (to love our neighbour as ourselves) justified the means. Thus the humble and scrupulous Dr. Oorthuis wrote in a pamphlet of the underground movement: even forged passports can be safe-conducts from the Lord, and stolen ration cards be gifts of mercy from God, which we accept with Thanksgiving." [102] Many people may feel horrified when reading the views of Rev. Buskes. The same author stated in another publication: "If I can save a man whose life is threatened by a scoundrel by saying to that scoundrel that two and two make five, I shall say so to him, in obedience to the ninth commandment. In such a case I am even prepared to declare that two and two make ten." [103] A personal friend of mine, who is a devout Christian, took the oath declaring that a child in his house was not Jewish but his own child born out of wedlock. He saved the child. People who are horrified at such behaviour, probably never lived under German occupation. At any rate, they should remember St. Paul's saying: "Owe no man any thing, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law". [104] In my opinion, it was morally permissible and even laudable to baptize Jews in those days in order to save their lives, as long as it was mutually understood that this was in order to deceive the persecutors and that the baptism in fact was invalid. <29> II BEFORE THE WAR 6 HISTORICAL EVENTS a. Hitler's Rise to Power - the Nuremberg Laws. (Jun., 1933-Sept., 1935) President Hindenburg entrusted Hitler with the Chancellorship on January 30, 1933. The Reichstag fire, on February 27, was followed by a wave of arrests. The "Ordinance for the Protection of the People and the State", issued on February 28, suspended the sections of the Constitution which guaranteed individual and civil rights. The "Enabling Act" (March 23) stripped Parliament of its power and handed it over to the Reich Cabinet. Laws enacted by the Cabinet were to be drafted by the Chancellor (Hitler) and might deviate from the Constitution. On April 1, Jewish shops throughout Germany were boycotted. Jewish civil servants were dismissed on April 7. On the same day the exclusion of "non-Aryan" lawyers was ordered. According to a decree of April 22, no Jewish physicians were allowed to work for sick funds anymore. At the end of April another decree restricted the admission of Jewish children and students to schools and universities. In the following months Jews were excluded from working in the fields of art, music, literature and journalism. The "Law on revocation of naturalizations and deprivation of German citizenship" (July, 14) robbed Jews, who had been naturalized before or had been born outside Germany, from their citizenship. In January, 1934, it was decreed that Jews could no longer be members of the Labour Front. When President Hindenburg died, on August 2, 1934, Hitler became President and Supreme Commander of the Army. On May 21, 1935, it was decreed that only "Aryans" could serve in the army. It is estimated that 37,000 Jews emigrated from Germany in 1933; in 1934, the number was 23,000, whilst 21,000 Jews left Germany in 1935. [105] <33> b. The Nuremberg Laws - Crystal Night. (Sept., 1935-Nov., 1938) On September 15, 1935, two fundamental laws were adopted by the Reichstag meeting at Nuremberg. One, the "Law Respecting Reich Citizenship", decreed that only a national of German or kindred blood, who proved by his conduct that he was willing and likely to serve the German people and Reich faithfully, could be a citizen. The second, the "Law for the Protection of German Blood and Honour", specifically referred to the Jews and singled them out as undesirable aliens, impure of blood and dangerous to the honour and security of the German people. There followed seven paragraphs, the first of which dealt with the prohibition of marriages between Jews and nationals of German or kindred blood. Paragraph three prohibited Jews to employ in domestic service female nationals of German or kindred blood, under the age of forty-five years. On April 26, 1938, it was decreed that all Jewish assets in excess of 5,000 marks should be registered. On June 15, 1938, about 1,500 Jews were arrested and deported to a concentration camp. On July 25, it was decreed that Jewish physicians were no longer permitted to treat non-Jewish patients. In the same month, Jews had to apply for special identity cards. On August 17, 1938, the first name "Israel" for Jewish men and "Sara" for Jewish women was made compulsory in addition to their own names. In October, all passports of Jews were stamped with the letter J. Austria had been incorporated into the Third Reich, on March 13, 1938. The German anti-Jewish laws were also enforced in Austria, where about 180,000 Jews were living. It is estimated that 25,000 Jews emigrated from Germany in 1936, and 23,000 in 1937. [106] In March, 1938, President Roosevelt invited thirty-three governments to join in a co-operative effort to aid the emigration of refugees from Germany and Austria. On July 6, 1938, the Intergovernmental Conference met at Evian, France. Nearly all the delegates expressed their sympathy for the refugees but were very careful not to assume any obligations on behalf of their Governments. <34> It is important to keep some of the major political events of those days in mind. Italy attacked Ethiopia on October 3, 1935. In May, 1936, the Ethiopian emperor went into exile into Great Britain. On March 2, 1936, the Rhineland was remilitarized. On November 25, 1936, the anti-Comintern Pact with Japan was signed. On July 16, 1936, civil war in Spain broke out. On September 30, 1938, the Munich agreement was signed by Hitler, Chamberlain, Mussolini and Daladier. As a result, Sudetenland was occupied by Germany. Poland and Hungary also occupied part of Czechoslovakia. c. Crystal Night - the Outbreak of the War. (Nov., 1938-Summer, 1939) On October 28, 1938, 15,000-17,000 Jews of Polish origin were rounded up and expelled. On November 7, a seventeen-year-old Jewish boy, Herschel Grynspan, whose parents had been among the people expelled to Poland, shot Ernst vom Rath, a minor Nazi official in the Paris Embassy. He died two days later. This was the pretext for unleashing a pogrom that has entered history under the name Crystal Night: 7,500 Jewish shops were looted and windows of shops and houses were smashed; many synagogues were burned; more than 26,000 Jews were arrested, many of whom were sent to concentration camps; at least 91 were killed. [107] On November 12, the Jews in Germany were ordered to pay a collective fine of thousand million Reichsmark. On November 15, Jewish children were dismissed from German schools. Jews were prohibited from visiting theatres, cinemas, concert halls, museums and public baths. On December 8, a decree was issued expelling Jews from the universities. At the beginning of January, 1939, the "Aryanisation" of Jewish enterprises began. Since January 17, 1939, Jews were forbidden to be employed in the professions of dentist, pharmacist and veterinary surgeon. On January 30, 1939, Hitler publicly declared that the Jewish race in Europe would be annihilated if war broke out. <35> Hitler annexed Czechia, on March 15, 1939. Slovakia became "independent". In April, 1939, Mussolini occupied Albania. From the beginning of 1938 until October 1, 1941 (when further emigration was forbidden) an estimated 170,000 Jews left Germany. [108] Jews in Germany at the beginning of the Hitler regime, numbered 499,682. The 1939 census, registered within the borders of the pre-Hitler Reich, amounted to no more than 213,930. [109] 7 GERMANY The vast majority of the Protestants of Germany belonged to one of the 28 Landeskirchen (Lutheran, Reformed or Uniate), of which the largest was the Church of the Old Prussian Union, with 18 million members. The Landeskirchen were independent members of the German Evangelical Church Union, founded in 1922. In all, there were forty-five million Germans who were, nominally at least, members of the Protestant Church. In 1932, members of the Church who supported Hitler had founded the "German Christians' Faith Movement". These "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" demanded the creation of one Protestant Church, the application of the Fuehrer principle in Church affairs, the introduction of racialism within the Church, the "Germanization" of Christianity (the "Aryan Jesus"!) and the elimination of "Jewish influence" from teaching, liturgy and preaching. In 1933, some 3000 pastors belonged to this group. Church elections took place on July 23, 1933. On the eve of the elections, Hitler made an unexpected radio appeal asking the electorate to vote "GERMAN CHRISTIANS". They won a decisive victory. On September 21, 1933, Rev. Martin Niemoeller and others created the "Pastors' Emergency League", which opposed the "GERMAN CHRISTIANS". In the beginning, Niemoeller's group was definitely in the minority. By December, 1933, its membership had grown to 6,000. Between the two groups, a majority tried to remain neutral while more or less sympathizing with the group of Niemoeller, but in practice obeying Hitler's orders without open protest. <36> After a protege of Hitler, Ludwig Mueller, had been elected as Reich Bishop under pressure of the Government, Niemoeller's opposition group constituted the "CONFESSING CHURCH" which declared itself to be the legitimate Protestant Church of Germany and set up a provisional Church government. [110] The "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" had, in the meantime, gained control in several Landeskirchen, sometimes with the active help of the national-socialist party. In April, 1933, the Landeskirche of Thuringia required of its clergy a formal oath of allegiance to Hitler; the "Thuringian Christians" wanted to give this symbol of unconditional obedience to Hitler as a birthday present. There was a division in other Landeskirchen, as for instance in the largest: the Church of the Old-Prussian Union. In the summer of 1933, a law had been issued forbidding the appointment of pastors or Church officers of "non-Aryan descent" and ordering the dismissal of such pastors and Church officers. [111] In its session on Sept. 5, 1933, the Synod of the Old Prussian Union accepted this law; the opposition party protested and, when this was of no avail, left the meeting. Later on the opposition organized the "CONFESSING Synod of the Evangelical Church of the Old-Prussian Union". <37> It is not, as has been stated in the Preface, my intention to record the contents of statements issued by Churches or Church leaders on behalf of Christians of Jewish origin. It is of importance, however, to know to what extent the "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" supported discrimination against these members of the Church, and, also, to know that the CONFESSING CHURCH defended them. Thus I mention the more important statements, which were issued, without recording their full contents. [112] There was sharp controversy and much discussion as to whether the anti-Jewish laws should be applied within the Church. The following persons and institutions protested against such a measure: the Theological Faculty of the University of Marburg (Sept. 19, 1933); the Theological Faculty of the University of Erlangen (Sept. 25, 1933); Rev. Martin Niemoeller (Nov. 2, 1933), and Prof. Rudolf Bultmann (Dec., 1933). On the other hand, the "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" declared at the beginning of April, 1933, that only those who were "of pure German blood" should be admitted to the ministry. On May 26, 1932, they had already decided to consider Missionary work amongst the Jews as a great danger "as it is the entrance gate for foreign blood into our national body". The example of the Synod of the Old-Prussian Union (see above) was followed by other Landeskirchen, as for instance in Saxony, Thuringia and Braunschweig: ministers of Jewish origin were to be dismissed. The Church in Saxony even voted, on Dec. 10, 1933, to accept the principles of blood and race, and that only those who according to the laws of the State were compatriots should be members of the national Church! <38> The decision of the Church of Saxony was publicly rejected by the Theological Faculty of the University of Leipzig, and by the Pastors' Society of the Rhine. The majority of the Theological Faculty of the University of Berlin, however, supported the racialism of the Saxonians. This all happened in the years 1933-1934. In those days, it certainly needed courage to stand up publicly for the rights of Christians of Jewish origin in the Church. It should be noted, however, that the publications mentioned above did not publicly oppose discrimination against the Jews in general, nor even discrimination against Christians of Jewish origin outside the Church. In March, 1935, the CONFESSING Synod of the Evangelical Church of the Old-Prussian Union sent a "Word to the Congregations", which was read from the pulpits. We quote the following: "We believe that our nation is threatened by a mortal danger. This danger lies in a new religion.... in it, racial and nationalistic ideology becomes supreme. Blood and race, nationality, honour and freedom become its idols. ... Whoever substitutes blood, race and nationality as the creator and source of authority instead of God, undermines the state." [113] The Government struck back with arrests. 500 pastors were imprisoned. * * * After the notorious Laws of Nuremberg had been promulgated, only individuals in the CONFESSING Church pleaded for the issue of a public declaration. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said : "Only the man who loudly cries out on behalf of the Jews, is at liberty to sing the Gregorian chants". [114] The "Council of Brethren" of the CONFESSING Church stated, in a declaration in defense of the right to baptize Jews, in September, 1935: "We only say the necessary minimum (alas, perhaps even not the minimum) concerning things about which we are not allowed to keep silent..." [115] <39> The Provisional Church Council of the CONFESSING Church sent a Memorandum to Hitler, in May, 1936. We quote the following from it: "... When blood, race, nationality and honour are thus raised to the rank of qualities that guarantee eternity, the Evangelical Christian is bound by the first commandment to reject that assumption. When the Aryan human being is glorified, God's word bears witness to the sinfulness of all men. When in the framework of the National-Socialist ideology, anti-Semitism is forced on the Christian obliging him to hate the Jews, he has nonetheless the divine command to love his neighbour..." [116] The Memorandum, which was published in the foreign press without the consent of the CONFESSING Church, resulted in the arrest of Dr. Weissler who worked in the office of the Provisional Church Council. He perished in a concentration camp. [117] On June 23, 1937, several members of the Reich Brethren Council were arrested, and on July 1, 1937, Rev. Martin Niemoeller also. He remained a prisoner until the end of the war. The office of the Provisional Church Council was closed by the authorities, and thus the CONFESSING Church was to a large extent forced into underground resistance. * * * No public protest was voiced after the Crystal Night pogroms. In September, 1938, an office for helping persecuted Jews, but mainly Christians of Jewish origin, was opened under the direction of Rev. Grueber. Rev. Grueber also contacted the Jewish and Catholic relief-organizations. Repeated journeys to Switzerland, the Netherlands and Great Britain were made to find places for Jewish refugees. <40> At the end of 1940, Rev. Grueber was arrested and the office in Berlin was closed. The branches in Heidelberg, under Rev. Maas; in Breslau, under Vikarin Staritz; and in Kassel, continued to function, though under the pressure of fierce hostility. On the initiative of Rev. Werner Sylten, Grueber's deputy, an attempt was made to continue the work of the Berlin office on a smaller scale. Conversations with the Evangelical Church Council of Berlin took place; negotiations with the Gestapo were held. This eventually led to the arrest of Rev. Sylten, who perished in the concentration camp of Dachau, at the end of 1942. Only a few of the 35 members of Grueber's office, most of them of Jewish origin, lived to see the end of the war. Most of them died in the gas chambers. [118] In Dec., 1938, the Kirchentag of the CONFESSING Church stated: "... We again face the fact that many servants of the Church are being hampered in the execution of their ministry and are being expelled from their offices. In the hour of threatening war some fulfilled the duty of the Church, doing penance for the whole nation and beseeching forgiveness and deliverance from God's judgment. Thereupon, they were charged with high-treason. in view of what happened to the Jews others earnestly preached the Ten Commandments and were persecuted for it..." [119] The Thuringian Church, followed by Mecklenburg, Anhalt and Sachsen (all directed by "GERMAN CHRISTIANS") promulgated (February, 1939) a law which eliminated Jews from membership in their Churches. <41> In April, 1939, the infamous declaration of Godesberg was published. It accepted National-Socialism and stated that "the Christian faith is in irreconcilable opposition to Judaism". The declaration was accepted by the leaders of 11 Landeskirchen in which the "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" were the ruling party. The CONFESSING Reich Brethren Council sharply opposed the Godesberg declaration in a statement issued on April 13, 1939. One day later, it also opposed the law of the Thuringian Church (see above) which denied permission to Christians of Jewish origin to be members of the Church. The Reich Brethren Council stated: "... The men responsible for these laws thereby show themselves to be enemies of the Cross of Christ. They cannot exclude anybody from the Church of Christ. They have, however, separated themselves from the holy Christian Church, by the promulgation of these laws..." [120] The fundamental difference between "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" and the CONFESSING CHURCH is obvious: the former completely identified themselves with national-socialist racialism, the latter repudiated it verbally but showed weakness of action. One feared that, by an all-out intervention on behalf of all non-Aryans, the theological protest against the separation of Christian non-Aryans from the community of the Church would be politically misinterpreted, and that thus the intervention on behalf of them would become even more difficult. [121] That the CONFESSING Church hardly spoke out at all was not the worst fact; it seems infinitely worse that the so-called "GERMAN CHRISTIANS" supported Hitler and his racialism. One may agree with the words of the German Lutheran pastors in England: "It is not for us who now live in safety to criticise those who, under fire, have done their utmost not to bow to Baal". The fact remains, however, that so many did bow to Baal. [122] 8 THE NETHERLANDS <42> Before the second world war, no Church in the Netherlands publicly protested against German anti-Semitism, as distinct from Churches in Great Britain, France, Sweden, the United States etc. The following reasons for this can be given: 1. There was little co-operation between the Protestant Churches. 2. The Churches did not speak out publicly on any subject. 3. The spiritual life of many Churches was at a low ebb. 4. Many people were afraid of endangering Holland's precious neutrality and its economic interests with Germany. 5. Many Christians considered National-Socialism a bulwark against Communism. [123] The exceptions to the rule were provided by inter-denominational Church bodies. In April, 1933, the Dutch Council of the "World Alliance for International Friendship through the Churches" adopted and published the following motion: "The Dutch Council of the World Alliance for International Friendship through the Churches, aware of its duty to promote friendly relations among the nations, and convinced that the anti-Jewish measures taken and carried out in Germany must be regarded as a manifestation of racial hatred which considerably prejudices such an understanding, requests the International Executive Committee to define publicly its position with regard to these measures and, subsequently, to do everything in its power in accordance with the aims and principles of the Alliance, to disperse the tension and indignation which these measures have provoked in the Netherlands as well as in the entire civilized world, and to work towards the establishment of those relations which, according to the principles of the Christian conscience, ought to exist among the different races." [124] This appeal to the International Executive Committee was successful. [125] The same Council also sent a letter to the "Permanent General Committee of the Dutch Israelite Community", informing them that they had heard with a sense of shame and distress of the treatment of the Jews by the German government on grounds of racial hatred. The Council expressed its conviction "that this hatred is contrary to the Christian conscience" and quoted the letter sent to the International Committee. [126] <43> In May, 1933, a Manifesto was published, signed by many individual Dutchmen, denouncing anti-Semitism. [127] In the same month, Christians of Jewish origin turned to the "Synodal Committee of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH", requesting that on one particular Sunday the Jewish question should be the main theme of the sermon. The Committee replied that "they were convinced that it is the duty of the Church to pay attention to Israel and pray for it, but that in the present circumstances it would not be wise to set apart a special Sunday for this purpose". [128] On May 23, 1933, a public meeting of protest was held. Amongst other speakers was the Rev. J.J. Buskes, who later became one of the leaders of Church resistance during the war. He then spoke "as a member of a Christian Church". Dr. W. Banning also protested against the Nazi terror, "in the name of Socialism and of the Gospel". [129] * * * On September 19, 1935, a meeting of protest was held at Amsterdam. There were three Protestant speakers, one of them, Rev. J.J. Buskes. [130] In 1936, the Synod of the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands declared that members of the Church who were members of the Dutch National-Socialist Party, must be advised to terminate their membership of the party. If they would not heed this admonition, they must be barred from participating in Holy Communion. This measure was maintained throughout the war. The report to the Synod on the N.S.B. (National-Socialist Movement of the Netherlands) says: "Even though the N.S.B. rejects idolization of the race, the manner in which it stresses in its Program the unity of the Aryan race [131] shows, that it is not blameless in this respect." [132] <44> A Protestant Committee for help to Protestant refugees of Jewish origin was formed on May 5, 1936. * * * In 1938, 7,000 Jewish refugees were admitted into the Netherlands. The Government was of the opinion that Holland could not bear too heavy a strain on the labour market. The Protestant Prime Minister declared: "If an unlimited stream of foreign Jews were admitted, public opinion regarding the Jews will take an unfavourable turn". [133] Thus the border was closed and Jews who had "illegally" entered into Holland were sent back to Germany, unless they could prove that their life was in danger there. Of course it is easy to be wise after the event, and in those days it was not yet clear to everybody that the life of all Jews in Germany was in mortal danger. The fact remains that these inhuman measures were taken by a Government of which most of the members were professing Christians. And no Church protested. Prof. D. Cohen states: "Our Committee [for help to Jewish refugees] had clashed vigorously with the Government on this point, notwithstanding our good relations and good co-operation with it. However, we had public opinion with us." [134] The last part of his statement is doubtful, at least regarding a large section of the Protestant press. [135] A national collection was held on December 3, 1938, and recommended by the Synodal Committee of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH: "The Committee, concerned about the bitter sufferings resulting from the persecution of the Jews, considers it to be the duty of the Church to practise Christian mercy. It urgently recommends that all local churches should take up a special collection, on behalf of the victims of this persecution, so that their suffering may be alleviated." [136] <45> Here help to the persecuted Jews in general was recommended, not just to Christians of Jewish origin. In November, 1938, the Executive of the Dutch Ecumenical Council turned to the World Council of Churches, Geneva, requesting it to organize immediate action on behalf of the German Jews. [137] 9 BELGIUM The Protestant Churches in Belgium are minority Churches, together comprising less than half a percent of the population. The following statements are all from the year 1933. To the best of my knowledge no other statements were issued after this year. On April 4, 1933, the Federation of Protestant Churches of Belgium sent the following letter to Dr. Kapler, the President of the Protestant Federation of Germany: "The Federation of Protestant Churches of Belgium has directed us to send a fraternal message to the Protestant Federation of Germany. We would ask you, Mr. President to accept it in the same Christian spirit, and to do us the honour of transmitting it to your Executive Council. We are much distressed by the events of recent weeks during which the German Jewish population has been subjected to discriminatory measures; the situation threatens to deteriorate even further. Our German co-religionists, imbued with a sense of justice, must certainly be equally distressed by these excesses. It certainly cannot be pleasing to them that, in most countries, spontaneous public opinion has espoused the cause of German Jewry. We would therefore ask you, Mr. President, if it would not be possible for the Federation of German Evangelical Churches itself to intervene, discreetly as they may deem fit, on behalf of the German Jews so that they may be reinstated in all their rights of citizenship. Would it not be a great triumph for the spirit of tolerance, which is certainly a Protestant attribute? Would it not mean a re-establishment, in the eyes of the world, of that reputation which your country has enjoyed for so long, of being a highly cultured country? May one not say that German Jews have, up till now, been much attached to their country; that they have added to its distinction in the field of science, art and literature. <46> In short, that they are known for their adherence to the principles of freedom of conscience? Inspired as we are by purely Christian and humane sentiments, we have no doubt that you will accept the above message in the spirit of grace." Yours faithfully, Henri Anet, Secretary; A. Rey, President. [138] This letter was certainly not lacking in courtesy and we get the impression that it was written in a spirit of moderate optimism. Apparently it was some months later that the President of the Synod of the Evangelical Protestant Churches of Belgium sent the following letter to the Chief Rabbi of Belgium: "Time has passed since, during the first explosion of hate throughout Germany, it might be supposed that a period of calm would follow. But according to accounts in the press, it seems that a general and lasting exclusion of all Jewish intellectuals cold-bloodedly continues. This illegal and cruel oppression of a highly respectable minority shows that the new Germany is descending into a mental attitude fit only for the Middle Ages. The destruction of such an out-grown mentality had been, until now, the noblest work and the most imperishable glory of the new spirit of the last four centuries." [139] Even more outspoken was the address of Rev. Schijns, the President of the Federation of Protestant Churches, at a Meeting of Protest in Bruxelles, on April 6, 1933: "You have heard the lay protests against anti-Semitic persecutions in Germany. You have heard the Catholic protest. May I be permitted to speak on behalf of the Protestant Churches of Belgium. It is true that the voice of Christ, who clearly proclaimed the inviolable rights and imperative demands of justice, has not always been listened to over the centuries; on many occasions Christians themselves have had recourse to violence; I cannot forget that in the 16th century my ancestors, the Huguenots, and the Beggars, [140] also suffered cruel persecution... Nevertheless, thanks to a clearer understanding of the demands of the Gospel, as well as to the progressive evolution of the lay conscience, we had become sincerely convinced that henceforth violence, which was unanimously condemned by public opinion, is morally inconceivable. Yet now we discover that violence has been 'honourably' reinstated, so that even today it is still attacking innocent victims." <47> We never supposed that, in our times, any person, on religious grounds, could be accused of a political offence! Yet, now we hear that in Germany a religion (the Jewish religion) is being formally and coldly proscribed, by the civil authorities. This inhuman attitude, inspired by a narrow, sectarian nationalism, stands in absolute contradiction to the Gospel: it is a monstrous heresy, which cannot but dwarf all other crimes. The ancient Jewish law contains the following beautiful maxim: 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might'. It is therefore with all my heart, with all my soul and with all my might that I deliver here, in the name of my Protestant co-religionists, a message of vigorous and profound sympathy for all innocent victims of violence. The sufferings of today, like those in the past, tragically illustrate the struggle of brute force against the forces of the spirit. But just as moral strength has triumphed in ages past, we are sure that to-day also, by virtue of an eternal law, victory lies with the powers of the spirit!" [141] 10 FRANCE Though a small minority, numbering altogether not more than 800,000 souls, the spiritual sons of the Huguenots early and unequivocally protested against the persecution of Jews. They themselves had been persecuted. Rev. Marc Boegner, President of the Protestant Federation of France, sent the following letter to the Chief Rabbi of France, in 1933: "The Council of the Protestant Federation of France which reassembled to-day, for the first time since the beginning of the period of the great sufferings of your coreligionists in Germany, has asked me to assure you that the Protestants of France whole-heartedly associate themselves with the indignation of their Jewish compatriots and with the distress of the victims of such base fanaticism. The spiritual sons of the Huguenots are stirred with emotion and sympathy whenever a religious minority is persecuted. They are well aware how much Christianity, and in particular the Reformed Churches, owe to the prophets who paved the way for the Gospel, and feel afflicted by the blows descending upon their Jewish brothers. May God help your sorely tried co-religionists to find in Him their strength and consolation, as did their frequently persecuted ancestors. May He impart to you, and to the Jews of France, the secret of soothing pain and reviving hope. <48> I wish to reassure you, that we are certain, that all our Churches will unite, during the Holy Week, in fervent intercession on behalf of the Jews of Germany." [142] In the same year the following letter was sent by Rev. Cleisz, Honorary President of the Consistory of the Reformed Churches of Lorraine, to the Chief Rabbi of Nancy: "You will hardly be surprised to find me among those who energetically protest against the wave of anti-Semitism in Germany, which has cast so many Jewish families in distress. I abhor fanaticism, whatever its source, and am dismayed to observe in the middle of the twentieth century such an excess of folly. Therefore I join whole-heartedly with those who protest against such a tyranny. I wish to assure you of my deep compassion for so many human beings overcome by grief..." [143] Rev. Wilfred Monod sent the following letter to the French Committee for the Protection of Persecuted Jewish Intellectuals: "Allow me to express my feelings of relief at the thought that France is offering hospitality to Jews escaping from the darkness of a new Mediaevalism. Although Jews were crushed by the great Empires of the West; later becoming the vassals of the anti-Semitic Kings of Egypt and Syria; politically annihilated by the Romans; hated by the Moslems; persecuted by the Church; held in public disdain; treated as a stateless and homeless people even in the twentieth century, and sometimes deprived of their civil rights in the countries in which they were dispersed; the Jews have not disappeared as did the Phoenicians or the people of Nineveh. Without territory, without government, without currency, without flag, Abraham's race has kept itself alive. What marvellous obstinacy! What supernatural tenacity! In spite of all this, Judaism has given the human race that mysterious Book which maintains alive on this earth the inextinguishable flame of a universal, international ideal, the world-embracing ideal of human catholicity. Israel has bequeathed to men the Bible, Jesus Christ, and the Messianic vision of the Kingdom of God... On 29th August, 1914, up in the Vosges, one of our Catholic soldiers, mortally wounded, asked for a crucifix, and it was the Jewish chaplain who brought him this venerable symbol, some minutes before he himself gave up his soul in the arms of a Jesuit priest. This happened on a Saturday, the holy day of the Jewish Sabbath. Welcome to the representatives of the wandering nation! On French soil they will find a place to rest their head." [144] <49> On April 17, 1933, a Protest Meeting was held at Lille. Rev. Bosc was the Protestant spokesman, speaking in his "triple capacity as a human being, a Frenchman and a Christian". We quote the following: "... Finally, to protest against the persecutions and victimisations of the Jews is a task in harmony with the spirit of Jesus Christ, and here I thank Monsieur l'abbe who has just sounded forth a note of profound truth. Everyone of us knows that the spirit of Jesus Christ is the spirit of peace, the spirit of justice, and more than that: the spirit of brotherhood and of love. It is the spirit which to-day imbues all moral and social systems in the world, so that Jesus Christ is acknowledged as the unrivalled ruler not only by Christianity as a whole but also by all mankind... The spirit of Jesus Christ which, Ladies and Gentlemen, means the spirit out of which are woven the dreams we have of a better future for mankind, the dreams we dream when, surrounded by all sorts of iniquities and by all kinds of ugliness, we nevertheless look towards some glorious dawn! The spirit of Jesus means that spirit which will triumph because it is the living truth. It is in my triple capacity as human being, Frenchman and Christian that I fully pledge my entire, conscious support to this movement of truth in its efforts to infuse a little justice and kindness into mankind, against the attempt to lead humanity back to the night and the iniquities of the Middle Ages, from which it began to emerge." [144] * * * On November 20, 1935, a Meeting of Protest was held in the Hall of Chopin, Paris. Rev. Marc Boegner, President of the Protestant Federation of France, said the following: "... Since I am here representing both Christian and Protestant France, I should say that in the light of what is going on in Germany - whether it be the persecutions of Jews or of Christians - it is impossible for us not to add our most energetic protests to those you have heard so far. What Christianity Owes to Judaism "Christianity, as has been indicated by President Reynaud, is essentially a universal creed. Once one believes in Christ, whatever one's denomination may be, it is impossible not to subscribe fully to the words of that Jew of olden times St. Paul, the apostle, who having plumbed the depths of Christ's thought, exclaimed: 'There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female; for ye are all one in Christ Jesus'. (Gal. 3, 28). This is the basic tenet on which, since July 1933, all preaching in the Churches of Germany has been practically proscribed. <50> First I wish to state that what has shocked and appalled Christian conscience, what has provoked protests from one end of the Christian world to the other? Protests which will certainly be reiterated and increased - is precisely the fact that this new gospel of racialism already has been applied to the Jews, and seems to have reached its culmination point in the Nuremberg Decrees. One cannot know whether even worse may not happen later on. I have met many Jews who had been driven out of Germany since the Hitler revolution, and when I went to Germany as recently as this year, on two occasions while travelling through a large part of Germany, I could not but feel intensely moved on seeing, at the entrance of villages and towns, large signboards forbidding access to the Jews; and on many trees along the roads, posters full of insults against them. Christian as I am, and knowing what Christianity owes to Judaism, I know that the Church of Jesus Christ is the daughter of what it calls the ancient Church of Israel. The Protestant in me knows what the Gospel owes to those prophets who, beginning eight centuries before Jesus Christ, have presaged the universalism which the religion of Christ would later proclaim throughout the world. Did not Isaiah welcome the day when all nations would flow unto the mountain of the Lord? And others after him, such as Jeremiah, did they not show their people, the only people ever elected, the road by means of which they were to bring to others the revelation which had been bestowed upon them, so that all nations might come to know the true God? The Gospel is the heritage and fulfilment of that great hope of the prophets. It is impossible for a Christian, when he sees the infamous crusades conducted against Judaism, not to be among those who declare that they are unable to forget what they owe to the Jewish people. We are among those who remember all this with deep gratitude. We believe that this gratitude, in view of the suffering of this people who are being crucified once again, ought to be shown in acts of sympathy and solidarity. Racialism inside the Christian Churches "The gospel of racialism of which you have just been told does not rear its ugly head solely outside the Church, but also inside the Christian Churches. Since July 1933, under the pretext of rallying the whole of Germany round the doctrine of racial superiority - you have seen the outcome of such teaching - and of purity of blood, they have begun to persecute those who are not 100 percent Aryan, even inside the churches. I was in Berlin in July, 1933, and there, where every wall might have been equipped with a hidden microphone, I met one of the most representative personalities of the Evangelical Church of Prussia. He informed me of what had been happening during the last few weeks. He said that he had felt compelled to resign from the high position he had occupied in the German Church, even though his resignation would mean a considerable financial sacrifice. He and those who were thinking and acting like him were now unable to speak, to write, to telephone, or to do anything whatsoever. <51> "But," said he, "how could I have agreed to go and tell the young Evangelical pastors whom I ordained two or three years ago, that they are not fit to preach the Gospel or to carry out the duties of their ministry, simply because they have a Jewish grandmother or grandfather? This problem of the non-Aryam has since then caused much anguish to many men who are pastors or simply beadles. The new gospel has made its appearance in the Church, propagated, preached and spread by groups calling themselves the 'Deutsch-Christliche' or the German Christians. It is necessary, they claim, to expel from the churches and from all church posts, in every denomination, those men who are not of absolutely pure Aryan blood for three or four generations back. The Church Resists "This has resulted in unbearably painful conflicts. It should be acknowledged that tremendous pressure was exerted by the State authorities as well as by the pressure of the opinion which increasingly tends to assert in religious circles that Adolf Hitler was the man through whom Germany was able to re-establish herself. in spite of all this, however, there have been instances of Catholic and Protestant consciences refusing to bow and submit. Resistance was organized in the Catholic Church, where the warning bell to the conscience of Christians was rung by that admirable man, the Cardinal Archbishop of Munich. In the Protestant Church, the great voice of the theologian, Kar1 Barth, and the voices of many others, have been raised to rally Christian consciences to their call. A completely new Confessing Church has sprung up comprising more than half of the pastors in Germany, quite apart from those who are still hesitating, because they must make a living, and, therefore, ask themselves what will happen to-morrow. About a thousand pastors have placed themselves behind Bishop Mueller, the 'German Christian', whom you, Mr. Paul Reynaud, have just mentioned. The "New Gospel" "It is not only through the persecution of the non-Aryans that the desire has arisen amongst many Germam to preach a new gospel, but because of a claim to meet Christ on a new basis, particularly on the basis of the glorification of the German race and blood. The most extraordinary statements have been made. Paganism has asserted itself on the fringes of the Church and its influence gradually has pervaded it. An effort even has been made in certain churches by pastors imbued with the spirit of national-socialism, to have the Old Testament - containing the magnificent history of the Jewish people and I even would say, of God's great acts toward the Jewish race - banned and barred from religious instruction. Included also is that moving page in the first book of your Bible, and ours - note this, any Jews who may be listening to me - where we are told that Abraham went so far as to be ready to sacrifice Isaac, his only son, to God! "Never will the Churches Agree..." <52> "Subsequently there have been attempts to make peace with the Churches, and the papers during the past few weeks have brought us news of 'peace feelers' offered to the Churches. Negotiations were envisaged both with the Catholic Church and with the Evangelical Churches. But they never will induce either true Catholics or Protestants, to put as a Gospel source, an affirmation of the superiority of the German race over the others, nor a denial of anybody's right to belong to the Church of Jesus Christ. They may again start their persecutions, and I think they will. They may chase pastors and priests from their churches and send them to concentration camps. They may resort to petty annoyance and to persecution; however, I am absolutely convinced that the Christian conscience has been aroused. Perhaps this experience was necessary to awaken it out of a certain stupor? The Christian conscience will absolutely oppose the events which have succeeded each other which such rapidity over the past few years and any attempt which may be made to persuade the Churches in any way to insert into the Gospel (which desires that all men should be considered the children of God and be reconciled in universal brotherhood) an addition which asserts that some shall rank first and others may be excluded. Never will the Churches agree that the Gospel of love, symbolized by the two arms of Christ extended on the cross, will be replaced by a gospel of race and blood. I am convinced that by affirming our sympathy with all in Germany who are being persecuted for their views, and with all in the Christian Church who make efforts to resist (as I have tried to show) the determined attempt to lead them onto the ground of racial discrimination, we are helping them in their resistance. We are helping them to discover that there is a Christian, as well as, a merely secular public opinion, throughout the entire world, which is aware of all that this resistance implies in the way of present sacrifice, and perhaps of still more suffering in the future. Let us therefore be among those who by word and example give evidence of that sympathy and solidarity. Let us unite here, as Mr. Paul Reynaud has asked us to do, without distinction of religious, philosophic or even political convictions, in protest against the besmirching of justice and the dignity of man." [145] * * * The Council of the Protestant Federation of France, in its session of November 29, 1938, unanimously adopted the following Resolution: "The Council of the Protestant Federation of France, reassembled for the first time since a terrible crime has provided a pretext for new persecutions against the Jews, feels itself to be the mouthpiece of all the Churches which it represents in our country, in making a solemn Protest against a similar outburst of violence and cruelty. <53> The Christian Churches will betray the message entrusted to them, if they do not unreservedly condemn racial doctrines which are contrary to the teaching of Christ and the apostles; and if they do not express their utmost disapproval of the barbaric methods by which such doctrines are practised..." [146] In the light of "the serious problem confronting the authorities by the arrival on French territory of numerous foreigners who had been expelled from their own country by persecution", the Council of the Protestant Federation in France instructed "all Protestant Frenchmen" as follows: 1. To aid the Government - in determined resistance to any suggestion of violence, wherever it may come from and in whatever manner it expresses itself - to solve so complex a problem in a quiet atmosphere and with respect for human dignity. 2. To contribute as much as possible, by their gifts and by their co-ordinated initiative, for the relief of the terrible distress which they are witnessing and which makes its appeal to them. The Council draws their attention to the existence of a French Committee for Protestant Refugees, Aryans and non-Aryans, which is now functioning and to which financial contributions can be sent... [147] 11 SWITZERLAND The Protestant Churches of Switzerland are cantonal Churches, distinct and independent from one another. In most of the cantonal Churches, the legislative body is the Synod and the executive organ the Synodal Council. The Federation of the Protestant Churches of Switzerland at first consisted only of National Churches, but it soon admitted the Free Evangelical Churches, the Methodist Church and the "Evangelische Gemeinschaft". The Federation has 2,888,122 baptized members. At the beginning of April, 1933, the following Declaration, signed by 21 Protestant ministers, was addressed to "various Protestant Ecclesiastical groups in French-speaking Switzerland": "Moved by the present situation of the German Jews, and unable to understand how the authorities, otherwise attentive to moral values, can ignore the right of freedom of conscience, and of work, as well as security to every human being, we, the undersigned, think that the time has come to draw the attention of Christians to the serious implications in an attitude which is the very negation of the evangelical spirit; a spirit which is synonymous with love, freedom and mutual assistance. We expect the Churches to raise their voices in order to claim for the Jews the same degree of justice, which it is their duty to demand for every oppressed minority." [148] <54> On May 31, 1933, the Synod of the Free Evangelical Church of the Canton Vaud sent the following letter to the President of the Council of the Federation of Protestant Churches of Switzerland: "We beg to bring to your attention the fact that the Synod of the Free Evangelical Church of the Canton of Vaud, at its annual meeting at Lausanne, unanimously resolved upon the following Declaration, which we now submit to use as you see fit. "Moved by the news which has reached us from Germany concerning the numerous and regrettable restraints imposed upon the freedom of conscience, and, in particular, concerning the ill-treatment of the Jewish population of that country; "and with the conviction that the Gospel of Jesus Christ constitutes an affirmation of freedom and love among the races of mankind; the Synod of the Free Evangelical Church of the Canton of Vaud, assembled at Lausanne, unites itself with all protests raised in favour of freedom of conscience and respect for the Jews of Germany." [149] In September, 1933, the Protestant Churches of Geneva published the following Declaration: "Events shocking and hurtful to a sense of justice are mounting in Germany and have repercussions here. Men are persecuted for their opinions. Dismissed, boycotted, ostracized, they are suffering as in the days when neither freedom of thought nor of conscience were tolerated. The mere fact of belonging to the Jewish race, even if only by descent, frequently incurs implacable treatment. These actions have given rise to protests in numerous countries and in the most varied circles. Here too, our Christian conscience has been roused. It would be dangerous to consider ourselves better than others. Intolerance and injustice have their roots in our own soil. We must be on our guard. Several papers make appeals for violence. The seeds of discord are being sown among our people. Anti-Semitism, which until now has been foreign to us, now finds its advocates among us. Members of our Churches, also, forgetting that the same blood flows in all mankind, and that, before God our Father, we are all brothers, have been swayed by the passions of these times. Let us not permit a spirit incompatible with the teachings of Jesus Christ to take root in our country." The National Protestant Church of Geneva; the Free Evangelical Church of Geneva; Evangelical Christian Association; the Committee for Popular Evangelism; the Council of the Methodist Church. [150] <55> It is striking that the declarations and resolutions issued in Switzerland, so many times mention the danger of anti-Semitic influences within the country itself, and sometimes within the Church. [151] * * * On November 14, 1938, the Church Council of Canton Zurich addressed the following public letter "To the Reformed People of Zurich": "In indignation and horror we recently have witnessed, in the state neighbouring us to the north, that Jew baiting has erupted and, in its dimensions, surpassed the severest atrocities yet experienced. We feel in spirit united with all our brothers and sisters in the neighbouring country who, whatever their attitude toward Jewry may be, deeply deplore such injustice, yet they must keep silent on the subject. We must not be silent. We must consider it a Christian obligation to cry out against it, not only within our church walls but to the world at large. It is a terrible injustice to exterminate, by all conceivable means, a nation which possesses, as does every nation, the right to exist. It fills us with deep humiliation and shame to discover in a country living for centuries under the influence of the gospel and of Luther, that sentiments of passionate hatred can break out and boil over against a small racial and religious minority, and that all humane and Christian feelings be suffocated. It plainly shows us, to our horror, what human hearts are capable of when racial hatred and blind raving passion win the upper hand, drowning the voice of justice, mercy and goodness. Can we Swiss suppose that we are immune against such frenzy? But are not the same dark powers active within our own people, openly at times and sometimes secretly, confusing conscience; stirring passions; igniting racial hatred? It pains us that consideration for so many unemployed citizens in our own nation prevents us from offering a protecting asylum to the suffering refugees, who, like wild game, are chased from country to country. <56> At least let us do for them all that is in our power! When in the next few days a general collection is made for the benefit of these refugees, among whom are not a few who, although Jewish by birth, are of the Christian faith and thus a part of the Evangelical Church, let us open our hearts and hands and express loving-kindness towards these remorselessly persecuted people. Let us close our hearts to all feelings of unchristian racial and religious hatred. Neither hate, slander, oppression nor violence, but Jesus Christ's love alone is capable of bringing longed for peace to restless humanity. But above all, let us pray to the Almighty that He will protect all those who are persecuted, and that He will save our Swiss people from the disgrace of an anti-Jewish campaign and deliver us, and all nations, from the forces of violence and injustice, and bring His Kingdom of justice, love and peace." [152] Again (as in 1933) the danger of anti-Semitic influences within Switzerland was mentioned. The letter also gave as an excuse for not admitting more refugees, that there were "so many unemployed citizens in our own nation". The same motive had led other Governments - as for instance the Dutch Government - to issue decrees restricting immigration. The members of the Ministers Union of Geneva wrote a letter to the Chief Rabbi of the City of Geneva in which they expressed their deep sympathy with the persecuted Jews. This letter, together with the declaration of the Church Council of Zurich (see above) was read at a service, held in the synagogue on a Sunday and not, as usual, on a Saturday. This postponement was in order that the prayers of that day could be united with those of all the Christian Churches in Switzerland for the persecuted Jews. [153] In December, 1938, the Synod of the Canton of Bern issued the following Declaration: "The Synod of the Evangelical Reformed Church of Canton Bern declares, that it views the merciless persecution of Jews and Fellow-Christians stemming from Jewry, as an expression of a spirit which has nothing in common with the spirit of Jesus Christ. It calls upon all members of our Church to intercede on behalf of the persecuted, especially our persecuted brothers; to stand up for them on every occasion; and to oppose any further attempt to poison the soul of our people with the spirit of racial hatred." [154] * * * <57> 12 DENMARK Leading Danish theologians - three professors and one lecturer of the Copenhagen University [155] and the Bishop of Copenhagen, Fuglsang-Damgaard - published a declaration on January 10, 1936, denouncing an anti-Semitic brochure, "The Christian Church according to the concept of the peoples of the North", based on the "Protocols of the Elders of Zion". Professor Frederik Torm related the history of this forgery in an informative article. The matter drew attention, even in Germany, where the "Volkische Beobachter" in its edition of January 14, 1936 reported the story as told by its correspondent in Copenhagen under the caption "Danish theologians grow nervous" and with the subtitle: "The Jewish question arises in Denmark". The report of the former German Envoy, Richthofen, dated January 13, 1936, shows the same attitude, considering the article of the theologians as an act of defence against "the ever increasing understanding of the Jewish question in Germany among the Danish public". [156] In the autumn of 1938, Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard said in his sermon at the opening of a new church, Lundehuskirken, that it was with deep pain that the Christian community had heard about the persecution of the Jews in Germany, which had reached a culminating-point in those days. 149 pastors of Copenhagen supported these words by a public statement and pronounced their "deep sympathy with our Jewish countrymen on account of the sufferings which at this time befall their brethren and which must fill every Christian with horror". <58> Dr. Fuglsang-Damgaard asked the pastors to pray for the suffering Jews in the services the following Sunday, and he himself declared at a service in Helligkors Church, that we must pray to God "to protect our people against the poisonous pestilence of anti-Semitism, hatred of the Jews and persecution of the Jews. Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ was David's Son after the flesh, and those who love Him cannot hate His people". [157] 13 SWEDEN The Swedish Ecumenical Council sent the following letter, dated April 3, 1933, to the German Evangelical Church Council in Berlin: "The Swedish Ecumenical Council, a representation of different Swedish Church communities, sincerely regrets the existing conditions in Germany and the boycott of German goods abroad, and is deeply concerned by the anti-Semitic action in your country, such as has been expressed in official statements and actions. We hope and pray that, with God's help, it will be possible for the German Evangelical Churches actively to stress the genuinely Christian principles, which you upheld in your appeal before the latest elections. "Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." As Christian brothers, we are anxious to be in communication with you in this matter and further hear your views. In sincere communion in the faith, for the Swedish Ecumenical Council: Arch-bishop Erling Eidem, Chairman. [158] The Appeal of the German Evangelical Church Council to which this letter referred, was published on March 3, 1933, just before the elections for the Reichstag. Unfortunately, we do not know whether any reply was received by the Swedish Ecumenical Council. In 1933, 64 prominent Protestant Church leaders also published an "Appeal to Swedish Christianity", warning against anti-Semitic influences in Sweden: "Action against the Jews in Germany seems to work as a stimulant - and no small one - for the anti-Semitism which exists in certain Swedish circles. Many of us may have been prone to consider this movement in our country as insignificant, and not worth combating. But the matter is more serious than that. If sufficiently great spiritual strength is not mobilized against this fanatical and shortsighted nationalism, it is difficult to foresee the result. <59> The undersigned regard it as their duty to express the worry and anger with which this anti-Semitic movement has filled them, and to appeal to Swedish Christianity of all denominations to fight against racial hatred, stressing Christ's valuation of man and his brother-love. <59> Already from a general and cultural viewpoint, anti-Semitism is an expression of ingratitude and shortsightedness. No less in our country, citizens of Jewish descent, have contributed in all fields to such a degree that, if all trace of what they have done were erased from the Swedish civilization, to-day, it would be much poorer. But first, anti-Semitism must be condemned from a Christian-religious viewpoint. Here too one can, rightly, speak of a debt of gratitude. The prophets and psalms of Israel also belong to our holy heritage. And in spite of all wild racial hypotheses, Jesus Christ is a son of Israel and a perfecter of these prophets' work. However, it is not only, and not first and foremost, the gratitude for a spiritual inheritance which urges Christian people to take their stand against anti-Jewish activity. They would be denying their Master if they did not do so. For in Him all racial differences are overcome, in the divine love, which has taken form in Him, we are all each other's brothers, no matter to which nation or race we belong. Whosoever professes himself a follower of Christ, yet lets himself be seized by nationalistic presumption, of which anti-Semitism is one of the most repellant expressions, must realize that any action designed to attach a stamp of inferiority on members of the Jewish people or deprive them of full civil rights, is in absolute opposition to the spirit and teaching of Jesus. The gravity of the situation has impelled us to make public this declaration, which is also an appeal to Swedish Christianity to oppose unmitigatedly a propaganda which is becoming louder and more aggressive anti-Jewish, and the mentality of violence from which it stems. Time must not be lost. Freedom of speech is not yet stifled. The gospel of Truth and Love may still sound its voice." [159] At a meeting of the Stockholm Pastors' Society, held in 1934, Professor Nygren of Lund opened the discussion on the subject: "What is the reason for the struggle within the German Church?" The Pastors' Society unanimously decided to publish in the press their agreement with the fundamental viewpoints expressed in Prof. Nygren's address. The Society's Resolution reads as follows: "The furious struggle now taking place within the German Church is not on a personal question, a question of rights or a question of organization. Nor is it a struggle for or against the National-Socialistic State or for or against the liberalistic freedom ideal. <60> The struggle concerns Christianity itself, its existence or non-existence. What is happening in Germany to-day is nothing more or less than the appearance of a new religion, beside and in contrast to Christianity - a religion based on 'Blut und Boden', on racial idealism and racial egoism. This has to some extent thrown Christians and non-Christians into jail. From a deeper viewpoint, the difference between 'German Christians' and the heathen 'German Faith Movement', therefore, becomes surprisingly small. If we observe the deepest tendency, of which, in general, the followers of these movements are quite unconscious, it can even be said that, for the former group, it is a question of the new religion in Christian guise; for the latter, the same religion in Germanic guise. The extraordinary danger is that the present Church management has not the least understanding of the reason for the struggle. It believes that it is fighting for the sake of Christianity and does not realize that it has slipped into a new racial religion. True, it often stresses that the Bible and the Confession should be left 'unas- sailed', but the tone of the voice itself reveals that it is on something else that one subsists. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The real pathos first appears when one can talk of 'Blut und Boden', 'Blut und Rasse', 'Blut und Ehre'. The god one really worships is the idol of one's own people. But in the German Church there are men - and fortunately these are not few - who understand what is at stake; what this new religion has to offer the people, from a Christian viewpoint, is nothing less than idolatry. One creates a new god in one's own image, the image of 'the German Man'. The Christians who see this must, through their faithfulness to the Gospel, be forced out into the struggle. Because of this they find themselves in tragic conflict; for there is so much in the new state to which, in their hearts, they say 'yes', and with joy. But when they fight this new heathen spirit that has penetrated the Church and seized the power in it, they are stamped as enemies of the state by the uncomprehending Church management. The point has been reached, where those who do not want to give up their Christian faith are attacked by the German Church management: with external means of power, the secret state police, removals from office and suspensions. We, Evangelical Christians of a kindred people, have seen with grief and concern that the German Church management through such activities has tarnished the Christian name. With the deepest sympathy we follow the oppressed Christians' brave and joyfully self-sacrificing struggle, in defence of Evangelical Christianity, not only in Germany but also the world over." [160] <61> The Resolution contains points that to-day are obvious to us, but in those days they undoubtedly enlightened many ignorant people. Much that has been said by the Lutheran Church leaders of Sweden, already in the first years of Hitler's regime, shows a deep theological insight into the nature of anti-Semitism. Few Churches in other lands showed this insight at so early a date. This fact should prevent us from over-simplifying the answers to the question, as to how far certain of Luther's views about the Jewish people influenced the Lutheran Churches in the twentieth century. * * * The following statement, signed by Erling Eidem, Archbishop of Uppsala, and 25 other Church leaders was issued by the Swedish Ecumenical Council, in autumn 1938: "A storm of violence and cruelty goes through the world. The Jewish people are severely hit by this. Their horrible fate must awake in Christian minds strong indignation, as well as deep sympathy for the victims. To belong to the Jewish race is becoming equivalent to being stateless within that portion of humanity which calls itself Christian. This brings shame upon the Christian name. Anti-Semitic Propaganda in Sweden "In our country, too, anti-Semitic propaganda is prosecuted, even though it may, in some respects, avoid publicity and, especially under the pressure of recent occurrences, has met with deserved resistance. More than others, Christians here must be on their guard. No racial differences exist in the Christian evaluation of man. Love of Christ forbids branding any person inferior. Persecution of the people of Israel on the one hand requests Christ's congregation to fight against violence and injustice, and preventive action on the other. The Swedish Ecumenical Council, representing the ecumenical world organizations as well as the larger Swedish Church communities, hereby begs to remind you of our Christian responsibility in this matter. We must not forget that we too, bear a measure of guilt for this evil power that has arisen through loveless ness and injustice in the world. We appeal to all who, in their capacity as pastor, congregation head or preacher, are responsible for the creation of public opinion in such circles as come under Christian influence, to resist the spirit of mercilessness and injustice in the anti-semitic propaganda, by all ways and means available in each community. It seems especially important to us to try to prevent its poison penetrating the minds of the Young. Not only religious instruction in the schools can give an opportunity for this, but also instruction in Sunday schools, confirmation classes and Bible classes. A few congregational evenings could be used to throw light upon the plight of the Jewish people and to stress our Christian responsibility towards them. The un-Christian element in all racial hatred could at times be stressed in the sermon. All discussion of politics naturally must be banned from such Christian instruction and preaching. <62> Aid of Refugees "Where the feeling of responsibility has been awakened, it must be transformed into action. This can be done by gifts to the relief organizations among the banished, which also have branches in our country. In co-operation with other organizations, the Swedish Ecumenical Council's Refugee Committee seeks to aid refugees both within and outside our country's borders, particularly Christians of non-Aryan descent. The money already collected is now almost spent, but the need for help is still very great. Gifts for this activity can be deposited under the name "Help for Refugees" on the Swedish Ecumenical Council's postal current account No. 80710, Stockholm. Recently, the Council's Refugee Committee, the Deacon Board's Social Committee and the Swedish Israel Mission have started other aid activities, such as accommodating children of Jewish refugees, preferably Jewish-Christian, in Swedish homes for a shorter or longer period, and trying to find places farmers' homes for about a year for Jewish-Christian youth, particularly male, who need re-education for later emigration to countries which have declared themselves willing to receive them. Information of such homes as well as financial contributions will be gratefully received by Pastor B. Pernow, Idungatan 4, Stockholm, postal current account No. 125545. Intercession "At this period, with the mentality of violence penetrating minds more and more, it is important not to neglect the possibilities we still have to make Christ's mind and Christ's thoughts heard regarding the relation between man and man, between people and people. Scarcely at any other point has this task seemed clearer and more demanding than as it concerns the Western peoples' conduct towards Israel. May Christ's love in our hearts light a flame of concern for a people who were the Lord's own, the people of the Prophets and the Apostles. May Christ's love make us burning and persistent in our intercession for those who suffer persecution, as well as, for those who persecute. May they receive the grace to repent. May Christ's love make us firm against all hatred, drive out all fear, and make our hands ready for service. Brethren, in the name of Christ we beg you to receive this appeal in a brotherly spirit." [161] It is difficult to understand how "all discussions of politics" can be banned from Christian instruction and teaching, as the statement demands, whilst at the same time resisting "the spirit of mercilessness...". <63> In this same statement, support was requested for the Refugee Committee, which sought "to aid refugees... particularly Christians of non-Aryan descent". We have seen the same trend in Churches in other countries. However, the appeal of the Bishops of Sweden, also in 1938, pleaded for aid to Jewish children and youth in general. This "Appeal for Help to Jewish Refugees" was signed by Archbishop Eidem and 12 other Church leaders: "With deep sorrow and sincere sympathy, we have witnessed the terrible sufferings to which the Jewish people, not least during recent months, have been exposed spiritually as well as physically. The question of the Jewish people has become a question for all mankind. No one can escape responsibility any longer. Our consciences shaken by the suffering of innocent people will not rest until peace and refuge has been provided for the Jewish people. Each one of us must be on his guard against contamination by the plague of racial hatred; we must not betray the Christian commandment of love to every suffering neighbour. May we willingly do our Samaritan service in aiding mercy. The duty and possibility nearest to us is to support Jewish refugees who have had to relinquish home and property. We must hurry to help provide a refuge and a new future for innocent children and youth. Various collections in this respect have already begun. We hereby wish to stress that collections for Jewish children and youth are being mediated by the Swedish Church's Deacon Board. Contributions should be sent to "Deacon Board, Help for Jewish children, Stockholm 7, Postal Cheque Account No. 155650'." [162] 14 HUNGARY The first anti-Jewish Law, restricting the economic activities of Jews, was enacted in 1938. The representatives of the Churches in the Hungarian Upper House, amongst whom was the Protestant Bishop Ravasz, voted for the passage of this law. [163] <64> "The only amendment the representatives of the Churches wished to be introduced was that certain modifications should be included for the benefit of the baptized Jews. Apart from that, they took the view that once the Bill had become law 'it would be possible to avoid emphasis being laid on the Jewish question and thus to allay anti-Semitism'. This attitude turned out to be a fatal mistake. It was the stone that started the landslide, and it is all the more regrettable that the Christian Churches lent this Bill their support." [164] Rabbi Fabian Hershkovits (former Chief Rabbi of Budapest, now living in Tel- Aviv, Israel) had the following to say: "Bishop Ravasz was certainly not an anti-Semite. After the war, in 1947, he was the President of the Council of Christians and Jews of which I also was a member. He and his friends intended, by supporting the anti-Jewish law in 1938, to guard the national Hungarian interest. He did not understand that Europe, after Hitler had come to power, had become a powder-magazine; one should not light a match in a powder-magazine; that was Bishop Ravasz's historical mistake." [165] The fact remains that Protestant Bishops supported an anti-Semitic Law. If this was an error of judgment, it certainly was a fatal error. In 1939, the Hungarian government introduced a bill for the enactment of the second anti-Jewish Law. The measures included drastic curtailments of personal rights. The representatives of the Churches "stood solidly against the passage of the bill" but ultimately "refrained from voting down the Teleki government," that is to say they did not vote against the passage of the Law but tried "to incorporate such provisions in the law as would insure the greatest possible benefits for particular Jewish categories, the first among these being the Jewish converts to Christianity". [166] Hilberg comments: "In waging the struggle for the baptized Jews in the first place, the church had implicitly declined to take up the struggle for Jewry as a whole. In insisting that the definition exclude Christians, the church in effect stated the condition upon which it would accept a definition that set aside a group of people for destruction." [167] <65> 15 RUMANIA We hardly found any statement against anti-Semitism issued by one of the Orthodox Church leaders in Eastern Europe, before the second world war. Rumania was notorious for the strong anti-Semitic influences in that country. The following Declaration, issued on April 15, 1933, by Mgr. Pimem, Metropolitan of Moldavia and Suceava, is the more striking: "We now are in the Holy Week and for a time we must forget petty affairs and acts of men. Nevertheless I wish to state one thing, namely, that I do not approve of the actions and policies of the Nazis with respect to the Jews of Germany, just as I disapprove of the anti-Christian campaign carried out in Russia. I desire peace for the entire world and on the occasion of this Holy Feast I express my wishes for the health and progress of our people. We should follow but one course: the way of Christ, for only thus can we be led to salvation." [168] 16 GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND Many leaders of the Churches in Great Britain publicly protested against the first anti-Jewish measures in Germany. Most of the protests were made by the leaders of the Church of England, though some made by other Churches are also recorded. The Church of England, however, certainly had the widest range of influence in England. I have not recorded all protests that were made. [169] <66> Already in 1933 the protests were clear and unequivocal, though the Church leaders seemed to be afraid of offending the German Government. The Archbishop of Canterbury said in the House of Lords, on March 30, 1933, in reply to statements made by Lord Reading: "I feel that it would be a decided omission on my part, were I not to state publicly, in the name of the worthiest citizens of our country, whom I represent here, that I entirely agree with the words just spoken by the Right Hon. Lord Reading, words which touched us all. I sincerely hope that His Majesty's Government will, as I know it hopes to do, be able to assure us that it is doing its utmost to express to the Jewish community the sympathy of this country and of all Christian subjects, - not least of those amongst us who have a feeling of sincere friendship for the German nation." [170] The Archbishop himself apparently belonged to "those amongst us who have a feeling of sincere friendship for the German nation". The Bishop of Ripon addressed the following Message to the International League combating Anti-Semitism and Racialism, on May 1, 1933: "Most gladly do I avail myself of this opportunity of expressing my sympathy with you and the International League in your struggle against anti-Semitism, on the occasion of the distressing situation created in Germany by the new form of government. It seems almost incredible that such things should happen in the 20th century, and above all in a country like Germany. The leaders of this country, - of the Church as well as of the State, - have not left the German government in doubt as to the feelings aroused in us by its policy of cruelty and suicide." [171] On May 5, 1933, the Archbishop of York issued the following Message: "Racial persecution is an insult to civilization and culture. It is our duty to endeavour to understand the cause and the character of the Nazi revolution in Germany, which has gained the support of a large number of the best citizens of the country. But although it generally happens that understanding produces sympathy, the persecution of Jews, Pacifists and others, such as has so far disgraced the conquests of the Revolution, cannot but alienate all sympathies. It is highly important that the government and leaders of the German nation should realize how great the animosity is which these acts provoke among the best British citizens. <67> Whatever excuses may be made for deeds of violence committed in the course of a revolution, no condemnation can be too severe for the persecution and the organized terror, which undeniably are typical aspects of the recent revolution." [172] No doubt the Nazi revolution in Germany had gained the support of a large number of citizens of that country. That the Archbishop believed that they belonged to the best citizens of Germany, is typical of the atmosphere that reigned in those days. Fortunately, however, "the best British citizens were provoked by the persecution". On May 15, 1933, a Meeting of Protest was held in Birmingham. The Bishop of Birmingham presented the following Resolution: "This meeting of Christian citizens of Birmingham who are anxious to promote friendly international relations, expresses its profound conviction that the discriminating measures adopted against the Jewish race, both in Germany and elsewhere, are contrary to the spirit and the principles of Christianity. It urges Christian men and women everywhere to exert their influence in order to do away with racial and national prejudice." [173] The resolution was adopted at the close of the Meeting. On May 31, 1933, the Archbishop of Canterbury addressed a Meeting of Anglican Clergy at Westminster. The English Primate appealed to the German nation: "to give up, without delay, the racial discrimination which is now being practised. The true strength of a nation and the respect owing to it by other nations lies in the impartial administration of justice to all those who live in its territory". [174] On June 27, 1933, the Archbishop of Canterbury addressed a Meeting of Protest, held at Queen's Hall, London: "We all know that at this very time while we are gathered here in an atmosphere of peace and security, the members of the Jewish community in Germany are being expelled from all public employment, from the posts which they had obtained in virtue of their qualifications, in law, in medicine, and at the universities, and that they are even excluded from concert halls, where music was always considered to be the language common to all mankind. They are being progressively deprived - even when permission is given to practise their profession or their trade - of every chance of earning a living... <68> I think with particular indignation of what I have heard concerning the treatment inflicted on Jewish children, who are set apart in schools, separated from other children as though they were unclean. Think of the effect this must produce on such children in whom the feeling is inculcated from their tenderest years that they are not worthy to mix with other Germans! And then picture to yourselves the effect this is bound to have on non-Jewish German children, who are thus taught from their earliest days to despise and look down upon other children. When injustice prevails to such an extent, it is impossible here or in any part of the civilized world, that men for whom justice is a part of the heritage they desire to keep intact should remain silent. They must needs speak, were it only to ease their own conscience." [175] The Archbishop showed a remarkable insight when he expressed his particular indignation about the separation of Jewish children in schools from other children. That was at a time when many Christians and Jews tended to underestimate the malevolent intentions of the rulers of the Third Reich. Representatives of all religious creeds, responding to an appeal of the United Council of Christian Churches in Ireland (now renamed the Irish Council of Churches) voted for the following Resolution, on the occasion of a public Meeting of Protest, held at Belfast, in May 1933: "We have met here in order to express our deepest regret that millions of law-abiding citizens who are not guilty of any crime or of any criminal intentions, should have been accused, persecuted and placed beyond the pale of the law, for the sole reason that they belong to the race which was, after all, the source of our European religion, and to which the founder of Christianity belonged. The meeting is horrified at the thought of the sufferings endured and the consequences, which are bound to ensue for Europe and the whole world. The history of the human race, of these islands, and of Ireland herself presents countless examples of the disastrous effects that persecution has had for us, not to mention the repercussion elsewhere. We know the obstacles that intolerance placed in the way of our national development, the harm it has done, the wounds it has inflicted, the hatred it has caused to accumulate in the course of centuries; hatred by which the minds of men are poisoned long after the actual grievances have disappeared. For this reason we deplore this new seed of death, the dire results of which we foresee, not only for Germany, but also for the whole of Europe."[176] <69> The Church of Scotland is by far the largest Church in Scotland. The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland is the final authority of that Church. It is convened annually in May and attended by about 700 ministers and 700 elders, delegated by the presbyteries of the Church. The following statement was issued by the General Assembly, in May, 1933: "The General Assembly rejoice that, in this country, the longstanding traditions of friendliness and goodwill to the Jewish people continue to be maintained; they deplore the growth of anti-Semitism in many lands to-day, and, in particular, its recent intensified manifestations in Germany; and they respectfully appeal to the sister German Churches to secure, through their influence with their fellow countrymen and governing authorities, that, notwithstanding the inevitable unsettlement of revolutionary conditions, the suffering of the innocent shall cease, and justice and charity towards all shall prevail." [177] The Church of Scotland apparently was optimistic about the "influence of the sister German Churches with their fellow-countrymen and governing authorities". We, who now live after the events, are not astonished that the General Assembly lamented, in 1937, that, "the protesting voice of the Christian Church has been so barren of results". [178] The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland was the only ecclesiastical authority, which as far as I know, spoke out against anti-Semitism year after year. The contents of the statements show that it was not an automatic affair, for the changing character of the situation was reflected in these protests. In May, 1934, the following Statement was adopted: "The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, in light of the present world situation as concerns the Jewish race, place on record the following expression of their view and convictions. <70> Remembering the age-long sufferings of the Jewish people, their homelessness a nation which has lasted for centuries, the persecutions, injustices and hardships they have endured, from Governments, Churches and individuals; in view also of the present fresh outbreaks of anti-Semitic fanaticism manifested in many lands, the General Assembly offer to the Jewish people their heartfelt sympathy with them in their almost intolerable wrongs. The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland desire to assure the entire Jewish world that ill-treatment of the Jews on account of their race or religion is to them abhorrent; that in their judgment it is a denial of the first principles laid down by the great Founder of the Christian Faith, who places love and kindness to all as fundamental laws of His Kingdom; and that it is their firm belief that any Church which claims to be animated by the spirit of Jesus Christ and which nevertheless acts with intolerance towards members of the Jewish race, is thereby denying the elementary doctrines of the Christian Faith. The General Assembly acknowledge with gratitude to God the great contributions to human knowledge which the Jewish race has made in many realms; in a special degree they express their debt to the Jewish people for the scrupulous care with which they preserved the early documents of Holy Scripture for the ultimate benefit of all nations, which for centuries have nourished the piety of myriads who thereby have learned of the grace of Almighty God. The General Assembly would, in conclusion, again express their sense of the profound significance of the fact that the One whom they rejoice to believe in as the divine Saviour of the world came, according to the flesh, of the Jewish race, and they feel that this thought imparts to the Hebrew nation a special and peculiar position in world history, rendering it a duty on the part of all who love the Lord Jesus Christ to love also the race from which He sprang." [179] It was then moved and resolved that the Assembly send to the Chief Rabbi a message of sympathy. The statement issued in May, 1935, is as follows: "The General Assembly renew their protest against the anti-Semitic spirit which still prevails in many countries, express their sympathy with the Jews in their sufferings, and urge their faithful people to a greater earnestness in commending the Gospel as the one sure basis of fellowship and peace among all men." [180] Not all statements and protests issued over this period in Great Britain and Ireland can be recorded here, but we mention in conclusion two statements issued by Churches, not yet mentioned. <71> In April 1933, the following Message was sent by Dr. Scott Midgett, President of the United Methodist Church, to a meeting at the White-chapel Art Gallery: "All the different branches of the Christian Churches share the Jewish Communities' horror of all deeds of violence against citizens, and especially of such outbursts of violence against any race or class of society. I feel convinced that I am interpreting the feeling of the Methodist Church in stressing our hope that measures will instantly be taken in Germany in order to prevent a recurrence of explosions of this nature in the future." [181] In 1934, the "Report to the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in England" stated: "There has unhappily appeared in various parts of the world, notably in Germany, a recondescense of that irrational and wholly unchristian spirit of anti-semitism, which from time to time has disgraced European civilisation. A number of its victims have arrived in our country, and the Archbishops of Great Britain have issued a moving appeal for their relief. But we must do something more. To quote the News Sheet issued by the International Committee for the Christian Approach to the Jews: "We must play the part of the Good Samaritan". But that is only one of our objectives. Wise Christian statesmanship demands that in addition to our relief activities, we must also endeavour to eliminate the causes, which create anti-semitism and its victims. Those who are in a position to know, maintain that the outbreak in Germany is sure to spread to other lands. Indeed it has already begun to do so. We know of attempts to foster the spirit in our own country. And there are so-called Christians who attempt to justify it. But note the fact that anti-semitism is essentially anti-Christian. No conscious anti-Semite can do homage to Christ, the Jew." The Assembly adopted the following Resolution: "The Assembly regrets the spirit of anti-semitism now prevalent in Germany and other parts of Europe, and urges its faithful people so to act towards all Jews as to allay the spread of this spirit." [182] <72> * * * On November 20, 1935, the Bishop of Chichester (Dr. George Bell) moved a resolution in the Church Assembly. [183] The Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr. Lang) had to leave to officiate at the christening of His Majesty's grandson. He asked the Archbishop of York to take his place in the chair. Without a word of explanation, however, his absence might be misunderstood. "Speaking simply for himself, he felt bound to say that he did most strongly protest against the persecution of the Jews... He was sure that the continuation of the present modes of persecution must seriously affect the good will with which the people of this country desired to regard the German nation." The Bishop of Chichester then moved: "That this Assembly desires to express its sympathy with the Jewish people and those of Jewish origin in the sufferings which are being endured by many of their number in Germany, and trusts that Christian people in this and other countries will exert their influence to make it plain to the rulers of Germany that the continuance of their present policy will arouse widespread indignation and prove a grave obstacle to the promotion of confidence and good will between Germany and other nations". He said he moved the resolution with great reluctance, as one who had a profound admiration for Germany, as one who had many friends in that country, and desired the closest co-operation and the firmest mutual understanding between Germany and Great Britain. He was compelled to move his resolution because, as a human being, he saw a wrong done to humanity in one great area of German life and action. As a friend of Germany he saw the hoped-for friendship between two kindred countries tumbling into ruin through the prosecution of a policy against a section of its population, which was unworthy of a great civilized nation. He appealed to the rulers of Germany to desist from a course which shocked Christian opinion in this country in a way to which the nearest analogy was the oppression of the Jews in Russia by the Tsarist Government exactly 30 years ago. The hardships suffered by baptized persons of Jewish origin made a peculiar claim upon their Christian sympathy and compassion. There were two points of attack: <73> the casting out of the Jews from all cultural and professional life, together with the precariousness of their position in business, and the defamation of the Jews throughout Germany. The Nuremberg laws passed last September were supposed to give protection and security within limits to the Jews, yet suffering of individuals increased and the personal attacks grew bolder. No doubt they saw in The Times not so many weeks back that prayer was asked in all German synagogues for protection for the Jews against slander, with the result that the Chief Rabbi suffered imprisonment for one day and other Rabbis suffered punishment. He was sure that great masses of German people themselves abhorred the policy of persecution. They, too, must feel as we felt, that it was a great scar across the fair fame of Germany. The Bishop of Southwark (Dr. Parsons), in seconding the resolution, said they had hoped that the days of the Ghetto had passed for ever. Now the Jewish people in Germany apparently were being forced back into conditions which reminded them all too vividly of the Ghetto. Their whole position, if it could not be compared with that of slaves, could be compared with that of helots. An article in The Times had described the whole policy as a "cold pogrom". Mr. S. Carlile Davis, the German Vice-Consul at Plymouth, in opposing the resolution, said that every member of the Assembly would agree that they should all express sympathy with those who suffered from persecution, envy, hatred, malice, or any uncharitableness... The Jewish question, so far as it affected Germany, was purely a race question, and it was nothing new in Germany. It was not for us to dictate to any people how they should handle a race question... The Bishop of Durham (Dr. Henson) submitted that they had in the resolution brought before them by the Bishop of Chichester one of those matters which required from them as a great representative Assembly of Christian men a clear pronouncement of their convictions. One thing which they ought to emphasize was the solidarity of civilization... The Jews were just as mixed a race as the Germans - they could hardly be more. This nonsense about race - as if there were some poison in the ancestry of Judaism which must be guarded against - was sheer hallucination and nonsense. We knew in this country that the Jews could be as prominent in good citizenship as any other section of His Majesty's subjects. We, who were the children of Christendom, could not exclude from our minds the vastness of the obligations under which we stood to the Jewish people. Our Divine Lord, according to the flesh, was a Jew. His Apostles were all Jews. The Sacred Book, which we used was a Jewish Book. It was preposterous, base and almost incredibly mean that we, the children of Christendom, should turn on the ancient children of God, to whom religiously, spiritually and morally we owed almost everything we value. <74> "The least we can do," Dr. Henson concluded, "is to make it clear from our hearts that we loathe and detest this attitude which is obtaining in Germany, and protest against the continuance of this brutal oppression of a small minority of Jewish citizens in Germany." (Loud and continued cheers.)... Mr. G.F. Lefroy (Exeter), in opposing the resolution, said that Parliament itself would not dream of passing it. He moved, as an amendment, that only the first portion of the resolution should be moved, confining it to the words "That the Assembly desires to express its sympathy with the Jewish people and those of Jewish origin in the sufferings which are being endured by many of their numbers in Germany". On being put to the vote, Mr. Carlile Davis's motion for the previous question and Mr. Lefroy's amendment were rejected by very large majorities. The Bishop of Chichester's motion was then carried, with few dissentients. [184] Some of the Bishop of Chichester's words mentioned above could create misunderstanding, for instance, that he "had a profound admiration for Germany". Dr. Bell's record regarding the fight against anti-Semitism (as well as in many other respects) is outstanding. [185] One should note the policy of deception practised by the Germans: "The Nuremberg laws passed last September were supposed to give protection and security within limits to the Jews...". [186] That seems incredible, and yet it provided a pretext for people who wanted to do nothing. In the discussion on the above mentioned resolution, one Mr. Lefroy, in opposing the resolution, said: "Parliament itself would not dream of passing it. Therefore, why should the Assembly pass it?" Apparently it escaped the attention of Mr. Lefroy that a Church Assembly is not a Parliament, and that a Church body often can and ought to say things publicly, even though a Parliament is not prepared to do so, or perhaps for that very reason. However, the Bishop of Durham's speech, in the same meeting of the Church Assembly, is an outstanding example of how a Christian leader could and should speak. <75> The Chief Rabbi, Dr. J.H. Hertz, wrote to the Bishop of Chichester: "Your words will come as a ray of hope to hundreds of thousands whose annihilation seems to have been decided upon by the Nazi rulers." [187] At a meeting of the London Diocesan Conference [188] held in Central Hall, Westminster, in 1936, the following resolution was submitted for discussion by permission of the Bishop of London: "This Conference, while fully aware of the difficulties that must arise from the presence in certain districts of large populations of people of other religious beliefs and social habits, asserts that the Jew and the Christian are equal children of God, and therefore calls upon all Christians to stand firm against any and every attempt to arouse anti-Semitic feeling for political or any other needs." [189] The Bishop of Chichester was very active in promoting help for Christians of Jewish origin. [190] This subject is, however, beyond the scope of this book. In the summer session of the Church Assembly, in June 1938, Dr. Bell pleaded that the needs of Jews and Christians alike should be remembered. "The Bishop of Chichester moved: That this Assembly records its deep distress at the sufferings endured by 'non-Aryan' Christians, as well as by members of the Jewish race, in Germany and Austria, and urges that not only should everything possible be done by Government aid to assist their emigration into other countries but also that Christians everywhere should express their fellowship with their suffering brethren by material gifts as well as by personal sympathy and by prayer." He said he did not want to speak of political matters in a country with which they desired to be friends, nor to attack the leadership of the great German State. He asked the Assembly not to make any protest against a system, but to record its deep distress at the suffering of Christians and Jews... <76> What could members do? First of all they must not forget it, but let it be printed on their memory and never rest while the distress was unhealed. They must remember the needs of Jews and Christians alike. It was wrong to separate the Jews and leave the Jews to the Jews and the Christians to the Christians. They both made a deep appeal by their sufferings to all humanity and above all to the Christian Church.'... First of all they could pray for the sufferers; prayer from the heart availed and was a great bond of fellowship. Next they could feel deeply for and with them until something was done. Thirdly there was material help... He asked for their (the Assembly's) help and for the help of their constituents all over England and he asked for the awakening of conscience. They would not forget and he could not forget that their Master was a Jew, a non-Aryan. They thought in their hearts that if they saw their Master in sorrow they would wish to help him, but it was right to remember the parable that their Master uttered of judgment and what He said when He rebuked certain disciples: 'For I was an hungered and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger and ye took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison and ye visited me not.' When the disciples in defending themselves asked what he meant, the Master added: 'Verily I say unto you, in as much as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me'. He was convinced that their attitude in England and in the Church of England to the needs of those suffering non-Aryan Christians and members of the Jewish race was the test of their attitude to their Master himself. It was because of that that he felt so deeply and that he asked them to give their prayers and sympathy and their material help. The motion was carried. [191] The Bishop of Chichester followed this move with a plea for more vigorous Government action in his maiden speech in the House of Lords, on July 27, 1938. He began with a strong condemnation of the Nazi persecution: "I cannot understand - and I know many Germans - how our own kinsmen of the German race can lower themselves to such a level of dishonour and cowardice as to attack defenceless people in the way that the National-Socialists have attacked the non-Aryans. <77> He then pleaded with the Government to follow up the initiative of President Roosevelt by increasing its facilities for training younger refugees in Great Britain, by providing greater scope for settlement in the Colonies, and by persuading the Dominions to open their doors more widely. The Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs assured him that the Government would do what it could. But Dr. Bell remarked a few weeks later in his Diocesan Gazette: "It is almost as hard to understand the seeming apathy with which the fate of the Jews and the non-Aryan Christians is being regarded by the people of the British Empire... These non-Aryans can no longer be called 'refugees' for they have as yet no country of refuge. We emphasize the responsibility of the British Empire in this connection, because the British Colonies and the British Dominions cover the larger part of the whole available globe. It seems to us impossible, both on the grounds of charity and on the grounds of statesmanship, that the doors can remain forever shut." [192] Resolutions adopted by the Presbyterian Church of England exposed the danger of anti-Semitism existing in England in those days. In 1937, the General Assembly stated: "The Assembly notes with concern the attempts which have been made to create racial antipathy against the Jews, with whom the Assembly expresses its sympathy. The Assembly expresses its conviction, that in a nation professing Christianity, no discrimination on grounds of race must be recognised. The Assembly urges that the freedom accorded by law in this country to citizens of any faith to live in peace and pursue their lawful callings shall be specially safeguarded. The Assembly resolves to send a copy of this resolution to the Board of Deputies of British Jews, and to the Home Secretary." [193] In May, 1938, the General Assembly adopted the following Resolution: "The Assembly urges its faithful people to encourage every effort to overcome the evil spirit of anti-Semitism which thing we hate." <78> There was hesitancy in the minds of some about the word 'hate', when the Convener moved this resolution, but the Assembly overwhelmingly approved of it. [194] The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland certainly did not mince words. It declared in 1936: "The General Assembly learn with profound regret that the past year has brought no alleviation of the sufferings caused to the Jewish people by the inhuman political, social and economic persecutions prevalent in Central and Eastern Europe. They protest against the religious intolerance, the narrow nationalism and race-pride on which anti-semitic hatreds are based. They call on the Christian people of Scotland, in loyalty to the law of Christ and their own high traditions of liberty and toleration, to rid their minds of all narrow anti-Jewish prejudice, and to broaden out their obedience to the Gospel ever commanding peace and goodwill to all men. The General Assembly again commend to the liberality of their faithful people appeals made on behalf of refugee Jews from Germany and other lands, specially remembering the Christians of Jewish race who are involved in the terrors of persecution." [195] In 1937, the General Assembly declared: "The General Assembly renew in Christ's name their condemnation of the unabated brutality still being dealt to the Jewish minorities in Central and Eastern Europe, and lament that the protesting voice of the Christian Church has been so barren of result. They deprecate the attempts in certain parts of England to create antipathy against the Jews." [196] The statement adopted in May 1938, reads as follows: "The General Assembly renew their protest against the virulence and cruelty of the attacks still being directed against helpless Jewish minorities in Central and Eastern Europe, and they affirm that no Church can be truly Christian and anti-semitic at one and the same time." [197] * * * The first reaction to the horrors of the "Crystal Night" pogroms was a letter of the Archbishop of Canterbury to "The Times": "I believe that I speak for the Christian people of this country in giving immediate expression to the feelings of indignation with which we have read of the deeds of cruelty and destruction which were perpetrated last Thursday in Germany and Austria. <79> Whatever provocation may have been given by the deplorable act of a single irresponsible Jewish youth, reprisals on such a scale, so fierce, cruel and vindictive, cannot possibly be justified. A sinister significance is added to them by the fact that the police seem either to have acquiesced in them or to have been powerless to restrain them. it is most distasteful to write these words just when there is in this country a general desire to be on friendly terms with the German nation. But there are times when the mere instincts of humanity make silence impossible. Would that the rulers of the Reich could realize that such excesses of hatred and malice put upon the friendship which we are ready to offer them an almost intolerable strain. I trust that in our churches on Sunday and thereafter remembrance may be made in our prayers of those who have suffered this fresh onset of persecution and whose future seems to be so dark and hopeless." [198] The Archbishop's letter expressed "feelings of indignation", but also reflected the spirit of appeasement: the British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had signed the Munich agreement with Hitler, only six weeks before. On November 16, 1938, during the Autumn Session of the Church Assembly, the Bishop of Chichester pleaded that help should be given to Christian refugees of Jewish origin. In January 1939, he was to urge "to aid the entire mass of non-Aryans". Now the tendency still was to stress the help to Christians of Jewish origin, not to the Jews in general. There was one notable exception, in which Jews and Christians jointly took action, without asking themselves whether the persons to be helped were Jews or Christians. Lord Gorell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury to be joint Chairman (with Lord Samuel) of the "Movement for the Care of Children from Germany", in February 1938. This movement succeeded in bringing over 9,354 children from Germany to England. Roughly nine-tenths were Jewish, and one-tenth Christian children. <80> "Where a Jewish child was received in a Christian home - which occurred frequently - it was prescribed by the Movement, and accepted by the foster-parents, that there should be no attempt to proselytise. The nearest Rabbi, or Jewish teacher, was put in touch with the child, and if personal contact was not possible, instruction was arranged by correspondence. The last transports of the children from Germany reached England a few days after the outbreak of the war." [201] A Joint Statement was issued by British Church leaders, in April 1939: "In making the following statement, we, the undersigned, - the Archbishop of York; Dr. Jas. Black, Moderator of the Church of Scotland; the Bishop of Edinburgh; Dr. S.M. Berry, Congregational Union of England and Wales and Federal Council of Free Churches; the Rev. M.E. Aubrey, Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland, - feel that we are giving expression to the convictions of a large number of Christians in Great Britain: 1. We believe that the following is an essential and basic principle of all true civilization: Religious freedom, freedom of opinion and action in accordance with religious beliefs, provided that social order is in no way endangered thereby; legal equality for all, independently of social position or race..." [202] In November, 1938, the Moderator of the Church of Scotland wrote a letter to the Chief Rabbi of the British Empire, who replied as follows: London, 24th Nov. 1938/5699. Dear Dr. Black, "I am indeed touched by your letter of the 18th inst. conveying to me on behalf of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, the deep horror of the suffering inflicted on the Jewish people throughout Europe. In the agony through which hundreds of thousands of my coreligionists are now passing, it is fortifying to read your strong repudiation of all persecution as unchristian, inhuman and pagan; and to learn that the love of God, love of fellow-man, and love of freedom rule with undiminished strength in little, but great Scotland. I should be glad if you would kindly convey to the General Assembly the deep felt thanks of my community for their kind expression of Christian sympathy with the suffering of Israel. The General Assembly commented: <81> "It is now the duty of the Church to contrive that the wave of sympathy shall not ebb, but, while it is on the flow, shall be turned into the only channel, which, as we believe, reaches the heart of the Jewish problem. The immediate duty, however, is to direct sympathy towards practical and generous action with regard to the gigantic Refugee problem which confronts the free peoples of the world..." [203] The following statement was issued by the Conference of the Methodist Church in Ireland, in June 1939: "The Conference notes with grave concern the growth of anti-Semitism in Europe and America, and expresses its profound conviction that this tendency is directly contrary to the spirit of Christianity. It views with horror the treatment now being meted out to men, women and children in Germany on purely racial grounds, and regards with apprehension the possibility of the spread of such policy to other countries. It commands to the sacrificial sympathy of the Church, the efforts being made on behalf of non-Aryan Refugees both in Eire and in Northern Ireland, and suggests that they offer a most effective method of bearing Christian testimony against the terrible divisions of the present hour." [204] 17 THE UNITED STATES Protestant Churches in America have protested against racial discrimination in general. We only record, however, the resolutions and statements, which expressly denounced anti-Semitism. On March 22, 1933, American Christian clergymen and laymen appealed to the German people to put an end to the persecution of Jews. They urged preachers throughout the United States to rally their congregations on the following Sunday for a united stand against Hitlerism. The summons to the Churches was sponsored by the Interfaith Committee and signed by Bishop Manning (Episcopalian), Mr. Al Smith, the former Governor of New York State (a Roman Catholic), and others equally prominent. [205] <82> On March 28, 1933, a mass meeting was held in New York, Madison Square Garden, attended by 20,000 persons, as a protest against anti-Semitic activities in Germany. 38,000 swarmed round the building to hear the voice of speakers brought to them through amplifiers. The meeting followed a day of fasting and prayer with similar protests being staged in 300 other cities. Former Governor Alfred Smith, Bishop William T. Manning, and Senator Robert F. Wagner were among the speakers. [206] On May 26, 1933, a Manifesto signed by 1200 Protestant ministers from 42 States of the United States and Canada was published: "We Christian ministers are greatly distressed at the situation of our Jewish brethren in Germany. In order to leave no room for doubt as to our feelings on this subject, we consider it an imperative duty to raise our voices in indignant and sorrowful protest against the pitiless persecution to which the Jews are subjected under Hitler's rule. We realize full well that there are religious and racial prejudices in America, against which we have repeatedly protested and for this very reason we all the more deeply deplore the retrogression which has supervened in Germany where so much had been achieved while we in America were still fighting for human rights. For many weeks we have waited, refusing to believe all the reports concerning a State policy against the Jews. But now that we possess the irrefutable testimony of facts, we can no longer remain silent. Hitler had long vowed implacable hatred against the Jews. One of the fundamental Nazi doctrines is that Jews are poisonous germs in German blood and must therefore be treated as a scourge. Hitler's followers now apply this doctrine. They systematically pursue a 'Cold Pogrom' of inconceivable cruelty against our Jewish brethren, dismissing them from important positions they had occupied, depriving them of civil and economic rights, and deliberately condemning those who survive to a life without legal protection, - as outcasts, threatening them with massacre should they make the slightest protest. We are convinced that the efforts made by Nazis to humiliate an entire section of the human family, are liable to cast the civilized world back into the clutches of mediaeval barbarism. We deplore the consequences which may ensue for the Jews and also for Christianity which tolerates this barbarous persecution, and, more particularly, for Germany herself. We are convinced that in thus protesting against Hitler's cruel anti-Semitism we are acting as sincere friends of the German nation." [207] <83> Speaking of their "Jewish brethren in Germany", those 1200 Protestant ministers apparently had in mind the Jews of Germany in general, not just the Christians of Jewish origin. * * * The next statement to be recorded in this chapter was issued by the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in America. This organization represented the great majority of American Protestants. The total membership of Churches affiliated with it was, in 1941-1942: 25,551.560. The Executive Committee of the Federal Council published the following statement in November 1935: "At a recent meeting of protest against the treatment at present inflicted on Jews in Germany, the Assembly of the Church of England expressed the hope that other Christian bodies would join in this protest. We feel constrained to do so. We are members of churches which have numerous and close bonds of union with the German church. We recognise our indebtedness to the great German preachers and teachers of Christianity, who have done so much to enrich our common heritage from the days of Luther to the present day. After the last war we protested strongly against the limitations to which Germany was subjected by the Treaty of Versailles and made constant efforts for their suppression. For this very reason we consider it our duty to speak equally freely now that Germany is pursuing a policy, which threatens her with moral isolation. We protest against this policy because the treatment of the Jews is unworthy of a great nation. To treat a considerable part of the population as being essentially inferior for racial reasons only, and to impose restrictions on the normal life of persons whose families have lived in Germany for generations, and who have rendered eminent services in the realms of education, art, and government, is to violate the codes of honour and good faith which are the common property of civilized nations. But our reason for protesting goes far deeper. We protest against this policy because the philosophy on which it is based is a heathen philosophy. Founded on a religious interpretation of race, the actual treatment inflicted on the Jews raises far greater problems than any former persecutions of Jews and other minorities, which were founded on political and incidental considerations. It is an attempt of a tribal heathen movement, based on race, blood, and soil, to separate Christianity from its historical origin and a Christian nation from its religious past. All the different branches of the Christian Church are, therefore, in duty bound to protest, not only in the name of the human brotherhood, but also in the name of our Christian faith. [208] <84> The meeting of protest mentioned at the beginning of this statement was held on November 20, 1935. [209] The response of the Federal Council came very promptly indeed. International contacts between Churches were a factor the importance of which can hardly be overestimated. Dr. Charles S. Macfarland, the then General Secretary of the Federal Council, had had a personal interview with Hitler in the autumn of 1933. Before accepting Hitler's invitation to call, he was warned that no one was even permitted to mention the Jewish issue to him. Dr. Macfarland, however, had made it clear that he was not going there to discuss Tennyson or Browning and that he would have to be permitted to choose his own subjects. Word came that "His Excellency desired me to talk freely with him". Dr. Macfarland relates: "I told Herr Hitler that, in my judgment, the German Evangelical Church could not and would not yield itself to his polito-social theory, including his so-called Aryan laws, and that if it did, it would not only cut itself off from the Christian churches of the world, but would cease to be Christian..." [209] Dr. Macfarland followed up this conversation by correspondence. In one letter he wrote that the near complete hostility of the American people was deeply ethical in nature and could be modified only by two processes: 1. "A constructive measure of justice in dealing with the Jews in Germany, stopping all continuation of the boycott, conferring with leading Jews of high character, and, while still recognizing the social problem involved, endeavouring to secure needed readjustments by friendly measures and, above all, restoring neighbourly good feeling between Jewish rabbis and Christian pastors and among Jews and non-Jews who live side by side... I also hope that, by a final settlement of the Jewish problem which will do full justice, this barrier between the German people and the peoples of the world may be removed." [210] <85> Apparently Hitler did not underestimate the influence of the American Churches: he replied to Dr. Macfarland's letters, stating that he wished "to promote the unity of the Church", that he accepted one of these letters "in the same spirit in which it was written" and that he thanked Dr. Macfarland for his "candid and sympathetic appeal". [211] On June 2, 1937, however, Dr. Macfarland published an open letter to Hitler, from which we quote the following: "You especially demarcated the church's "confession" as a sacred ground on which the State could not and would not intrude, and I handed you a memorandum calling attention to the fact that by that confession the church was supernatural, supernational and superracial and that the so-called 'Aryan paragraph' cut right across the confession; that if the church accepted it, it would make a breach between the church in Germany and the 'positive Christianity' for which you declared you stood. As previously mentioned, you replied to later correspondence that you accepted my appeal 'in the spirit in which it was given'. That appeal was for a constructive measure of justice in dealing with the Jews in Germany, stopping all continuation of the boycott, conferring with leading Jews of high character and, while still recognizing the social problem involved, endeavouring to secure needed readjustments by friendly measures and, above all, restoring neighbourly good feeling between Jewish rabbis and Christian pastors and among Jews and non-Jews who live side by side'. And I added: 'I hope that this barrier between the German people and the peoples of the world may be removed'... What now are the results of my continued study and how do they appear in the light of your earnest assurances?... Instead of doing justice to the Jews, you have permitted them to be harassed and despoiled. Your treatment of them has been ruthless, without the slightest appearance of mercy, even reminding one of the infamous edict of Herod in stretching the hand of violence to the littlest child. Your attitude toward the little handful of Jews in Germany and your so-called Aryan and Nordic ideas have had no little effect in confusing members of the Evangelical Church, so that, in this way, you divided instead of fulfilling 'the desire you expressed to me of uniting the church. You undermined the most basic ideal of Christianity, on which unity alone could be secured... I have been reading a paper called Der Stuermer. Not only does it explicitly teach and urge hate-hate-hate, but does it in forms whose viciousness never would be believed by one who had not seen it. The language in this paper is too vile for repetition, and its falsehoods are obvious to any ordinarily informed person who knows Germany. The best that one can say of the illustrations is to hope that they emanate from a disordered, rather than a depraved mind..." [212] <86> I think that, if Dr. Macfarland had been a citizen of my country (the Netherlands), legal proceedings might have been instituted against him in those days, for "public offence to the Head of a friendly State". The Home Missions Council, early in December 1937, issued a special Christmas message concerning Jewish and Christian relations which it addressed to all Christians of North America. We quote the following from this message: "As Christians of the United States and Canada we desire to express to those Jews who are the victims of injustice and abuse our sincere sympathy, and we emphatically declare that such conduct is utterly alien to the teaching and spirit of the faith we profess and an affront to all our ideals of civil liberty and justice." [213] * * * The Executive Committee of the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in America proposed to set aside November 20, 1938, as "the occasion when prayer will be sought in the United States for refugees, both Christian and Jewish". [214] The officials of both the Roman Catholic Church and Jewish Organizations, following the example set by the Federal Council, designated the same date for a period of prayer and intercession. The Governors of about a score of States issued statements or proclamations urging citizens to repair to their places of worship on that day for united prayer for the suffering. The day of prayer was widely observed in all parts of the country and in all the churches. [215] The Executive of the Federal Council had issued "an appeal to all church people to respond generously to the efforts for the relief of refugees as carried on by the American Committee for Christian German Refugees and also by the Catholic and Jewish organizations". [216] When the first reports of the new measures of oppression and persecution of the Jews in Germany appeared in the press, the Federal Council's office invited outstanding Christians, both ministers and laymen, to express their views and give wide publicity to them. <87> Among the lay voices, which were most widely heard across the nation was that of Honourable Herbert Hoover, who, in a message telegraphed to the Federal Council, gave expression to the sympathy of all thoughtful Christian people. A statement of Dr. Edgar De Witt Jones of Detroit, President of the Federal Council, was also quoted in all parts of the country. [217] On the evening of November 13, 1938, the Federal Council of Churches sponsored a national broadcast over the Columbia Broadcasting System in which Christian sympathy was again expressed and carried to every part of the nation. There also was a national broadcast under the auspices of the National Conference of Jews and Christians, on November 20, 1938. [218] On January 9, 1939, a petition on behalf of German refugee children was left for President Roosevelt at the White House by a deputation of clergymen. The petition was signed by leaders of the Catholic and Protestant Churches. It read as follows: "The American people has made clear its reaction to the oppression of all minority groups, religious and racial, throughout Germany. It has been especially moved by the plight of the children. Every heart has been touched, and the nation has spoken out its sorrow and dismay through the voices of its statesmen, teachers and religious leaders. Americans have felt that protest, however vigorous and sympathy, however deep, are not enough, and that these must translate themselves into such action as shall justify faith. We have been stirred by the knowledge that Holland and England have opened their doors and their homes to many of these children. We conceive it to be our duty, in the name of the American tradition and the religious spirit common to our nation to urge the people, by its Congress and Executive, to express sympathy through special treatment of the young, robbed of country, homes and parents. A heartening token of the mood of America is to be found in the fact that thousands of Americans of all faiths have made known their eagerness to take these young children into their homes, without burden or obligation to the State. Working within and under the laws of Congress, through special enactment if necessary, the nation can offer sanctuary to a part of these children by united expression of its will to help. <88> To us it seems that the duty of Americans in dealing with the youthful victims of a regime which punishes innocent and tender children as if they were offenders, is to remember the admonition of Him who said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me'. And in that spirit we call on all Americans to join together without regard to race, religion or creed in offering refuge to children as a token of our sympathy and as a symbol of our faith in the ideals of human brotherhood." [220] Senator Robert F. Wagner, attempting to implement the clergymen's proposal, introduced a resolution in the Senate. Known as the Child Refugee Bill, it proposed that a maximum of ten thousand children under the age of fourteen be admitted in 1939, and a similar number in 1940. Their entry would be considered apart from and in addition to the regular German quota. [221] The Executive of the Federal Council supported the Bill: "In the extraordinary circumstances which have created the problem of Jewish and Christian refugees from Germany, we feel that it is not enough to call upon other nations to help or to voice our protests but some such practical step as the one here contemplated is imperative and will do much to facilitate a larger approach to the problem of which it is but one part." [222] On July 1, 1939, the proposed Bill was modified: the twenty thousand childrens' visas would be issued against the German quota, not in excess of them. Senator Wagner, realizing that the twenty thousand children's visas might become twenty thousand death warrants for adults they would replace, withdrew his proposal. [223] <89> In March 1939, the Federal Council urged the United States to continue to provide asylum for refugees of other countries in the face of any legislative proposals to suspend immigration or curtail existing quotas. Declaring that the Churches were deeply concerned with the refugee problem and that "as Christians we have responsibility for suffering human beings as children of our common Father wherever they may be", the Council said: "We, therefore, urge our government to maintain its historic policy of friendliness to refugees. We oppose legislative proposals, which would suspend immigration at this time or curtail the established quotas." In its objection to any change in the immigration policy the Council pointed out that refugees "would be consumers as well as producers" and added: "However, even if they were not an economic asset as well as a liability, we would still have a Christian responsibility to them." [224] In April 1939, the National Council of the Protestant Episcopal Church issued the following Resolution on behalf of aid to refugees: "In view of the persecution of minorities now taking place in Europe, we, as Christians and members of the National Council of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and in keeping with the traditional spirit of our country, reaffirm our conviction that the United States should continue to show its spint of generosity and hospitality in opening its doors to afflicted people. We commend the program, as prepared by the Episcopal Committee on German Refugees, to the interest and support of all members of the Church, reminding ourselves of our Lord's admonition: 'in as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me'." The program prepared by the Committee on German Refugees called for co-operation with local refugee committees in helping to obtain employment, in placing children in homes and in obtaining affidavits of support for individual immigrants. [225] To the best of my knowledge, there is no other country in which Churches and Church leaders in those days so unequivocally demanded asylum for the refugees. So far we have recorded actions and statements on behalf of the refugees only. The following statements also denounced anti-Semitism in Germany and/or in the United States. <90> The Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. stated, at the end of 1938: "... We are deeply shocked at the continuance of persecutions based on race in Germany, Austria, Rumania and other nations. We sympathize with our Jewish brethren in the United States, many of whose relatives are the innocent victims of fanatical hatred abroad. We commend the National Conference of Jews and Christians for all its labour to the end that race murders and race discriminations shall not happen here..." [226] In its Bulletin (February, 1939) the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ published the following article: The Christian Attitude towards Anti-Semitism Every thoughtful Christian must gratefully acknowledge his spiritual indebtedness to the Hebrews. We Christians have inherited the ethical and religious insights of Israel. We hold them with a difference - at one point with a momentous difference - but we can never forget that the historic roots of our faith are in the Hebrew people. From Israel we inherit the Ten Commandments, which are still our basic moral standards. From Israel we inherit the priceless treasure of the Psalms, which are an essential part of Christian worship around the world. From Israel we inherit the vision of social justice which has come to us through Amos and Isaiah and Micah. From Israel we inherit even our own unique Christian classic, the New Testament, nearly all of which (if not all) was written by Jews. A Christian who faces the modem world must also be conscious of a present spiritual kinship with his Jewish neighbours to whom their religious heritage is still a vital force. That kinship is grounded in our common faith in the ultimate spiritual foundations of the universe. Over against those who adhere to a materialistic philosophy of life and a mechanistic conception of human destiny, we recognize ourselves as at one with the Jews in the first sublime affirmation of the Pentateuch: 'In the beginning God'. Over against current disillusionment and despair Christian and Hebrew stand together in their belief in the one Holy God Who is the Creator of all and whose righteous will gives meaning and direction to life. A Christian who knows anything of history must also speak a word of confession. For he cannot help recalling how grievously the Jewish people have suffered at the hands of men who called themselves Christians. The record of the treatment of Jews in Europe through long centuries is one which Christians of to-day view with penitence and sorrow. One has also regretfully to admit that the day of cruel treatment of the Jews by some who call themselves Christians is not yet a thing of the past. Even in our own country there are misguided groups which circulate statements that spread a poison of mistrust and hate which is antithetical to the true genius both of America and of the Christian religion. Anti-Semitism is inherently un-Christian, contrary to the plain teaching and spirit of our Lord, and it can be asserted with confidence that an intolerant attitude towards the Jews is opposed by the great body of American Christians... <91> But everything which has happened since shows that what started as a movement against the Jews turns out to be a movement against Christianity also... [227] In May 1939, the Commissioners of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. stated: "... We confess the sins of our country in this respect. We condemn the attacks on Jews and Christians and other minority groups throughout the world. We would be lacking in a sense of common morality and decency if we did not express our strong disapproval of such an outrageous assault by any government upon an innocent and defenceless people. We urge our government to continue its efforts to make generous arrangement for the settlement of refugees, so continuing our national tradition of being an asylum for the oppressed of all the nations." [228] The General Synod of the Reformed Church in America, attended by 200 pastors and delegates, adopted (June, 1939) the social welfare report which said in part: "The failure of the Church to recognize the Jew has behind it a record of misunderstanding, intolerance and spiritual malpractice that has been unequaled in dealing with any other people. Even America is not free from the blight of anti-Jewish prejudice. Both Jew and Gentile are responsible for existing conditions and both must co-operate for their betterment. Christians must rebuke all anti-Semitism... Third, in reference to the refugee problem, a linking up of our efforts and agencies with all others in more adequately caring for those who are so greatly in need. Fourth, a wholehearted endorsement of the legislation permitting 10,000 children (refugees) to be received each year for two years." [229] 18 INTERNATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS OF CHURCHES The World Alliance for International Friendship through the Churches was constituted at Constance, in 1914, at the eve of the first world war. Its supreme body, the International Council, was composed of some 145 members appointed by the various National Councils. <92> In some countries, especially on the continent of Europe, the National Councils worked in close relation with ecclesiastical authorities; in most areas, however, they remained entirely independent agencies, based on the personal adhesion of their members. The Executive Council of the "World Alliance", at its meeting in Sofia, 1933, unanimously adopted the following Resolution: "... We especially deplore the fact that the State measures against the Jews in Germany have had such an effect on public opinion that in some circles the Jewish race is considered a race of inferior status. We protest against the resolution of the Prussian General Synod and other Synods [230] which apply the Aryan paragraph of the State to the Church, putting serious disabilities upon ministers and church officers who by chance of birth are non-Aryans, which we believe to be a denial of the explicit teaching and spirit of the Gospel of Jesus Christ." [231] The International Council of the "World Alliance", at its meeting in Chamby (August, 1935), adopted the following Resolution: "In view of the pitiable situation of refugees and stateless persons in Europe, having regard to the policy of expulsion which is being pursued by the majority of the European States, to the inadequacy of the measures for providing refugees with valid identification papers and residence and labour permits, and recognising the fact that a turn for the better cannot be attained by legislation undertaken by individual States but only on the basis of international agreements, the World Alliance most warmly welcomes the initiative taken by the Norwegian Government which, in the spirit of Fritjof Nansen, has proposed to place the situation of the refugees upon the agenda of the next plenary assembly of the League of Nations. It expresses the hope that in this way it will be possible to secure for refugees and stateless persons a minimum of individual rights and, by the setting up of a central organisation for refugees, within the framework of the League of Nations, to provide a basis for the settlement of the problem. In order to make this resolution effective, the World Alliance resolves: a. to bring the text of this resolution of the Norwegian Government to the knowledge of the General Secretary of the League of Nations and of all States members of the League of Nations; b. to request the Churches and organisations affiliated to the World Alliance in the different countries to make representations to their governments in the spirit of the resolution before the next meeting of the League of Nations in order to obtain the support of these governments for the Norwegian initiative." [232] <93> Another International Organization of Churches, more influential than the "World Alliance", was the Ecumenical Council for Life and Work, which had its first world conference in 1925, in Stockholm, and its second in 1937, in Oxford. Its purpose was "to stimulate Christian action in society". Its President, Dr. George Bell (Bishop of Chichester) wrote a letter to Dr. Kapler, President of the Federation of Protestant Churches in Germany, dated May 17, 1933: "... We do not wish to enter into political questions, nor indeed is it our business to do so. At the same time it would not be fair to disguise from our friends in Germany that certain recent events, especially the action taken against the Jews, have caused and continue to cause us anxiety and distress; and we feel that we ought to share our concern with you here..." [233] The annual meeting of Life and Work was held at Novi Sad, in Yugoslavia, on 9-12 September, 1933. A German delegation under the leadership of Dr. Heckel, who supported Hitler's policy, was present at the meeting. The minutes record that representatives of other Churches had expressed grave anxiety over the severe action taken against people of Jewish origin. [234] Bishop Bell proposed that, in addition to this, he should write a letter to the leaders of the German Church. This proposal was adopted unanimously. Only Dr. Heckel abstained from voting. Bishop Bell wrote this letter to the German Reich Bishop Mueller, on October 23, 1933. He referred to two features, which were gravely disturbing to the Christian conscience, namely, the adoption of the Aryan Paragraph by the Prussian Church Synod [235] and certain other Synods, and the forcible suppression of minority opinion. Mueller's reply of 8 December was intended to be reassuring. The enactment of the Aryan Paragraph had been stopped, and he hoped for an opportunity when they might discuss together the problems of race, the state, and international order. [236] The Executive Committee of the Ecumenical Council of Life and Work at Novi Sad issued the following "Appeal on Behalf of German Refugees" in November, 1933: <94> "A new appeal is hereby addressed to Christians, at this Christmastide. It is an appeal to help those who are suffering because there is no place for them in Germany: Jews, Christians of Jewish origin and political refugees. They are dispersed in Palestine and in different lands of Europe. They are in a deplorable situation and a great number of them are destitute... The gifts of the Churches will constitute a welcome proof of that truly ecumenical and Christian spirit which, beyond all differences of race and class, regards every man as a brother." George Cicestr, President of the Ecumenical Council for Life and Work; Germanos, Archbishop of Thyatira, Co-President; W.A. Brown, President of the Administrative Committee; Waldemar Ammundsen, Interim President of the European Section; Wilfred Monod, Vice President. [237] * * * The International Missionary Council was organized in 1921, to co-ordinate missionary work throughout the world. Its "Committee on the Christian Approach to the Jews" met at Vienna, 28 June-2 July, 1937. A report of the Subcommittee on Anti-Semitism and the Church was submitted, and adopted in the following form: "We desire to record our conviction that in contemporary anti-Semitism we face an extraordinary menace against which all Christians must be warned. All forms of hatred and persecution must be deplored by Christians, and their victims must be succoured; but there exists to-day a type of racial anti-Semitic propaganda inspired by hatred of everything springing from Jewish sources; and this creates more crucial issues for Christianity than ordinary outbursts of race feeling. Christian Churches must be warned that they cannot be silent in the presence of this propaganda, still less connive at or participate in the extension of its errors and falsehoods, without betraying Christ, undermining the basis of the Church, and incurring the most severe judgment of God. The Christian Church must let no doubt about this attitude prevail in the eyes of the world. Realizing that enmity to the Jews has now become a cloak for the forces of anti-Christ, and conceals hatred for Christ and His Gospel, the Christian Church must reject anti-Semitism with complete conviction. <95> To realize its true nature and to vindicate its right to the title of the 'Body of Christ', the Church must preach the Gospel and open its fellowship to men of all race, including the Jews. Our mission to the Jews cannot consistently be carried out without at the same time combating anti-Semitism among Christians, and giving more tangible evidence than has been given of our sympathy with Jews and Hebrew Christians in their present distress. Anti-Semitism can and should be combated systematically: 1. By suitable literature, capable of influencing specially wide classes, also by sustained treatment in Christian Reviews and newspapers. 2. By occasional conversations, discussions, and lectures, on the destiny and the hope of the people of Israel. 3. By sincere and friendly discussion between Jews and Christians. 4. By the realization among Christians of the treasures committed to them (Christianizing of Christians)." [238] The same Committee submitted the following resolution to the Oxford Conference, in 1937: "The International Committee on the Christian Approach to the Jews desires to lay before the Oxford Conference on Church and Community and State the problem of Anti-Semitism. The fact of Anti-Semitism is proved, by the ample material in the possession of the Committee to be of growing importance and menace in the world. It constitutes one of the principal denials of modern life of the Christian doctrine of man. It is an attack upon the unity of the Una Sancta, it is even a denial of the person of Christ Himself. It has been largely instrumental in aggravating existing economic and social strains until they have become intolerable. The human misery created, maintained and at the same time concealed by the influence of Anti-Semitism is difficult to estimate. Graver, however, than the volume of human misery is the poisoning of the spirit, the drying up of sympathy and the warping of judgment caused by the influence of Anti-Semitism, especially among the young. Deepest of all is the denial which Anti-Semitism offers to the Unity of the Church, and to the meaning of the Person of Christ Himself. The Committee would further ask the Conference to consider the terrible fact that this problem is not, like many on the Conference will consider, that of an influence external to the Christian Church with which it must make its account, but also of an evil within the Church. Anti-Semitism antedates Christianity and it is not suggested that it is a purely Christian phenomenon, but it is aided by false Christian teaching and it results in the appalling situation, present in several countries where Christian Churches are reluctant, or frankly refuse, to receive a Jewish convert. <96> It is plain that where racial and physical conditions of church membership override the conversion of heart and will, the Christian religion has ceased to exist except in a vain form. But this devitalising influence is present within the Church, not only in one country but in many, and far more widely than is suspected. The Committee therefore invites the Oxford Conference to do two things: in the first place, realizing that the Conference can make its voice heard widely among the Churches of all lands it begs the Conference to speak out clearly on the dangers of Anti-Semitism to the Church itself and to recognize openly the total impossibility of a Church tainted with this form of racial absolutism bearing any valid witness to the word of God in the world. Secondly, it asks that in any provision that is made after the Conference for international Christian study of the great problems that confront the Church in the modem world, attention shall be given to this problem of Anti-Semitism. The International Committee which has already collected a certain amount of information on the subject would gladly co-operate in such a study." [239] The Oxford Conference (July, 1937), organized by "Life and Work", was an event of major importance. [240] The 425 regular members of the Conference included 300 delegates officially appointed by the Churches, representing 120 communions in forty countries, and constituting a cross-section of Christendom, with the exception of the Roman Catholic Church; only some personal observers from that Communion were present by invitation. Not less than 300 delegates came from the United States and the British Common-wealth. The Orthodox Churches and the Lesser Eastern Churches were represented by some two score dignitaries and scholars. This delegation represented the Ecumenical Patriarchate, the Patriarchates of Alexandria and Antioch, the Churches of Cyprus, Greece, Rumania, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Poland, the Russian Church in Exile, the Coptic Orthodox Church, the Armenian Church, and the Church of the Assyrians. <97> German Church leaders had taken a prominent part in the preparations for the Conference, but the German secret police had seized the passports of leading members of the Confessing Church, including those of Dibelius and Niemoeller, who had been chosen as delegates to Oxford. On July 1, 1937, before the Conference opened, Niemoeller was arrested. Other delegates of the Confessing Church who still retained their passports decided that, unless all the representatives of the Confessing Church were allowed to attend, none of them would come, thereby demonstrating their unity. [241] The German authorities must have realized that the absence of the leaders of the Confessing Church would make a bad impression on world opinion, but apparently they were also aware that the position of Niemoeller and his friends would have been strengthened, if they had been able to attend the Conference. The Oxford Conference sent a "Message to the Churches of Christ throughout the World". We quote the following: "The Christian sees distinctions of race as part of God's purpose to enrich mankind with a diversity of gifts. Against racial pride or race-antagonism the Church must set its face implacably as rebellion against God. Especially in its own life and worship there can be no place for barriers because of race or colour. Similarly the Christian accepts national communities as part of God's purpose to enrich and diversify human life. Every man is called of God to serve his fellows in the community to which he belongs. But national egotism tending to the suppression of other nationalities or of minorities is, no less than individual egotism, a sin against the Creator of all peoples and races. The deification of nation, race, or class, or of political or cultural ideals, is idolatry, and can only lead to increasing division and disaster." [242] We also quote the following from the Oxford Conference's "Longer Report on Church and Community": "Each of the races of mankind has been blessed by God with distinctive and unique gifts. Each has made, and seems destined to continue to make, distinctive and unique contributions to the enrichment of mankind. All share alike in the love, the concern and the compassion of God. Therefore, for a Christian there can be no such a thing as despising another race or a member of another race. Moreover, when God chose to reveal Himself in human form, the Word became flesh in One of a race, then as now, widely despised... <98> Against racial pride, racial hatreds and persecutions, and the exploitation of other races in all their forms, the Church is called by God to set its face implacably and to utter its word unequivocally, both within and without its own borders. There is a special need at this time that the Church throughout the world should bring every resource at its command against the sin of anti-Semitism... The recrudescence of pitiless cruelty, hatred, and race-discrimination in the modern world (including most notably anti-Semitism) is one of the major signs of its social disintegration. To these must be brought not only the weak rebuke of words but the powerful rebuke of deeds. For the Church has been called into existence by God not only for itself but for the world; and only by going out of itself in the work of Christ can it find unity in itself." [243] An immense effort was made, notably in the Anglo-Saxon world, to bring home the message of the Conference to the rank and file of the Churches. The message was referred to by Church leaders when the fight against anti-Semitism intensified as, for instance, by the 170 ministers in the city of New York, 1941, [244] and Rev. Bertrand in France, in his circular letter of June 11, 1942. [245] Many Church leaders who were present at the Oxford Conference were to denounce anti-Semitism vehemently and publicly, during the Second World War. We mention: Dr. Visser 't Hooft, the General Secretary; the Archbishop of York (Dr. Temple); the Bishop of Chichester (Dr. Bell); Archbishop Eidem, of Sweden; Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard, of Denmark; Archbishop Stephan, of Bulgaria; Dr. Samuel Osusky, Czechoslovakia; the Rev. Marc Boegner, France; Prof. Emil Brunner, Switzerland; and Dr. Samuel McCrea Cavert, the United States. Another statement to be recorded in this chapter was adopted by the World Alliance for International Friendship through the Churches, on its meeting at Larvik (Norway), in August, 1938: "The Council appeals to its members to do all they can to awaken public opinion in their own countries to the great evils involved in the systematic ostracism and persecution now being directed against the Jewish race and against thousands of Christians who have kinship with the Jews. Whilst acknowledging the weakness, hesitancy and failure of Christians in this matter, it is appalled by the growth of racial and religious intolerance throughout the world. <99> It holds it to be a total denial of faith in the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of men as revealed in Jesus Christ and it calls upon all Christians to unite their efforts so that in a distracted and divided world Christ may be made manifest 'Who is our peace. Who made both one and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us'." [246] * * * In 1938, two great Ecumenical Movements - Faith and Order and Life and Work - associated together in forming a Provisional Committee of the World Council of Churches (in process of formation). The World Council of Churches was officially constituted in Amsterdam, in 1948. On November 16, 1938, Dr. Visser 't Hooft, General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, H. L. Henriod, General Secretary of the World Alliance for International Friendship through the Churches and Adolf Keller, Director of Inter-Church Aid sent the following letter to the member Churches: "At the moment when the terrible persecution of the Jewish population in Germany and in other Central European countries has come to a violent climax, it is our duty to remind ourselves of the stand which we have taken as an ecumenical movement against anti-Semitism in all its forms. The World Alliance at the meeting of its Executive in Sofia in 1933 and at its recent Assembly at Larvik in August 1938, and the Conference on Church, Community and State at Oxford in 1937 have unequivocally expressed the Christian attitude on this point and called upon the Churches to help those who suffer from racial persecution. We suggest that at this time all Churches should take immediate action based on these statements. The most practical action would seem to be: 1. Corporate prayers of intercession. 2. An approach to the Governments of the various countries requesting that they should act immediately. a. in order to allow a larger percentage of non-Aryan refugees to enter provisionally or definitely into the country concerned; b. to further without delay the plan proposed by the Evian Conference [247] for securing a permanent settlement of a large number of actual and potential non-Aryan refugees. 3. Undertake as a Church the responsibility of the maintenance of some non-Aryan and Christian families and particularly of at least one non-Aryan pastor or theological student. <100> We put ourselves at your disposal for further information on any of these projects." [248] We know that Church leaders in the United States made the requested "approach to the Government". [249] The International Missionary Council held a large international conference at Tambaram, Madras, in December, 1938. It reiterated the Vienna (1937) statement of the International Committee on the Christian Approach to the Jews on anti-Semitism [250], expressed "its deep concern about the increasingly tragic plight of the Jews", and urged "that this constitutes a claim of first importance on the Christian Church". It recommended: 1. That prayer should be regularly made in Christian Churches, and particularly on Good Friday and the Jewish Day of Atonement, for all Jews and non-Aryans who are suffering persecution. 2. That individuals, Churches and Christian Councils in countries suitable for the reception of immigrants should use their influence, wherever possible, to secure an open door for refugees. 3. That Christian people in all countries should make a special effort to welcome and help such of their refugee brethren as arrive in their country. 4. That an appeal be made in all churches for help for recognized refugee funds..." [251] In January 1939, at the First ordinary session of the Provisional Committee of the World Council of Churches, the Bishop of Chichester proposed that the Council create a special department to deal with refugee problems. "He felt that the time had come to aid the entire mass of non-Aryans. He meant not only the non-Aryan members of the Church but also the others, albeit there being a special responsibility towards members of the Christian Church. Soon afterwards Dr. Adolf Freudenberg was appointed the first secretary of this new Department for Aid to Refugees." [252] <101> III DURING THE WAR 19 HISTORICAL EVENTS, 1939-1945 1939 Sept. 1 Germany attacks Poland. Sept. 3-4 Great Britain and France declare war upon Germany. Sept. 17 Russia invades Poland. Nov. 30 Russia attacks Finland. 1940 March 20 Finland accepts peace with Russia. Apr. 9 Germany occupies Denmark and attacks Norway. May 10 Germany attacks the Netherlands and Belgium. May 14 Capitulation of the Netherlands. May 28 Capitulation of Belgium. May 20-June 4: Evacuation of the British expedition force at Dunkirk. June 10 Italy attacks France. June 24 France concludes armistice with the Axis. Aug.-Nov. The "Battle of Britain": Hitler tries to subdue Great Britain by air raids. Oct. 28 Italy attacks Greece. Dec. 7-11 Victory of Great Britain in North Africa. 1941 April Victory of Germany in North Africa. April 6 Germany attacks Yugoslavia and Greece. April 13 Belgrade occupied. April 27 Athens occupied. May 10 Rudolf Hess flies to Scotland. June 22 Germany invades Russia. Dec. 6 Russian counter offensive; Germany fails to take Moscow. Dec. 7 Japan attacks Pearl Harbour. Dec. 11 Hitler declares war upon the United States. 1942 Jan. 20 The Wannsee Conference on the "Final Solution of the Jewish Question" in Europe. June Rommel defeats Great Britain in North Africa and captures El Alamein. Aug. 23 Germany's sixth army reaches the Volga near Stalingrad. Nov. 2 Montgomery breaks through at El Alamein. Nov. 8 Allied forces land in Morocco and Algeria. Nov. 11 Germany seizes the unoccupied zone of France. Nov. 19 Russia launches its counter offensive near Stalingrad. 1943 Jan. 3 End of the Battle of Stalingrad. April 19-May 16 Warsaw Ghetto uprising. July 10 Allied forces land on Sicily. Sept. 3 Allied forces land in Southern Italy. Dec. The Soviet armies approach the Polish and Rumanian frontiers. 1944 June 6 The beginning of the Invasion. July 20 Attempt on Hitler's life. August Russia conquers Rumania. Aug. 25 Liberation of Paris. Sept. 3 Liberation of Brussels. 1945 Jan. 17 Russia captures Warsaw. Feb. 13 Russia captures Budapest. Apr. 30 Hitler commits suicide. May 2 Capitulation of Berlin. May 7 Unconditional surrender of Germany. <106> 20 GERMANY Deportations from Austria and the Protectorate (Bohemia-Moravia) began in the winter of 1939/1940. On February 12, 1940, Jews were deported from Stettin. On July 31, 1941, Heydrich was charged by Goering with the preparation and execution of the "Final Solution". On October 14, 1941, the systematic deportation of the Jews from the Reich began. On January 20, 1942, the Wannsee-Conference on the "Final Solution of the Jewish Question in Europe" was held. From July, 1942, the selections for the gas chambers took place in concentration camps such as Auschwitz. On June 19, 1943, Goebbels declared Berlin to be free of Jews. An estimated number of 3,000 Jews, however, succeeded in surviving "illegally", until the end of the war. It is, as has been explained before, not my intention to record the help rendered by individuals to Jews. There are, however, indications that organized help to Jews did not wholly stop with the closure of Rev. Grueber's office. [253] Mr. Krakauer relates how he and his wife were helped and hidden during the last years of the war. [254] Not less than 34 ministers of the CONFESSING Church were involved in the rescue of these two people. They all had them in their homes for some days or longer, as staying at the same place for too long a period was too dangerous. It appears that there existed a kind of organization of pastors who passed on persecuted Jewish people from one manse to another. The book also shows how difficult it was in those days, to help and hide people who had no identity cards and no ration cards. Mr. Krakauer stated: "On May 20, 1945, I had the opportunity to speak with Landesbischof D. Wurm, the highest prelate of the country (of Wurttemberg), and to thank him for the fact that by his attitude he had made it possible for his pastors to interest themselves actually on our behalf". [255] Some Church leaders did not speak out publicly, or, only spoke when it was too late; the reason may just have been that they were afraid to accept the personal risk involved. We know of Bishop Wurm's protests, which came late, even too late to do any good for the Jews in general. <107> I do not know very much about his "attitude" in the time before he took official action. The fact that Mr. Krakauer felt that he should thank the Bishop, throws an important sidelight on the dilemma which Church leaders sometimes had to face. If they spoke out publicly against the persecutions, they did not only risk their own freedom and life, but they also risked the lives of the persecuted Jews whom they secretly tried to save. Mr. Krakauer's story should certainly be read by anyone who is interested in the attitude of Protestants in Hitler's Germany toward the Jews. No public statement whatsoever against anti-Semitism was issued by the CONFESSING Church in Germany, or by any of its leaders, from the end of 1938 until 1943. In April, 1943, a letter was sent by a group of Christian laymen to the Lutheran Bishop of Bavaria. The Bishop asked for at least two signatures to enable him to raise the matter officially, but no one was willing to sign. However, the letter had an indirect influence because Bishop Wurm of Wurttemberg read it, and then sent two letters to the German Government. Letter of a Group of Christian Laymen: "As Christians we no longer can tolerate that the Church in Germany should keep silent in regard to the persecution of the Jews. in Churches where the true Gospel is preached, all members are equally responsible for supporting such preaching. We are therefore aware that we also, are equally guilty for the Church's failure in this matter. The inclusion of the so-called 'privileged' Jews in this persecution is the next threat: the dissolving of marriages which are valid according to God's law, should cause the Church to protest, in faithfulness to the World of God, against this violation of the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth commandments, thus, at last, doing what it should have done long ago. What moves us is the simple commandment to love one's neighbour, as expounded by Jesus in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Here He explicitly precluded any limitation of our love only to members of our own faith, race or nation. At this time every 'non-Aryan' in Germany, whether Jew or Christian, 'has fallen among murderers'; we are challenged as to whether we will act towards him as did the priest and the Levite, or as the Good Samaritan? The Duty of the Church <108> No 'Jewish Question' can release us from this decision. Rather should the Church declare that the Jewish question is primarily an evangelical question and not a political one. The politically unusual, and unique existence and character of the Jews is, according to the Holy Scriptures, based on the fact that God has chosen this people as the instrument for His revelation. The Church, just as the first apostles after the crucifixion, must tirelessly testify to the Jews: 'Unto you first, God, having raised up his Son Jesus, sent him to bless you, in turning away every one of you from his iniquities' (Acts of the Apostles 3, 26). This testimony of the Church will only seem worthy of belief to Israel, if the Church is also concerned about the Jews who 'have fallen among murderers'. The Church must especially resist 'Christian' anti-Semitism within its borders, which excuses the actions of the non-Christian world against the Jews, as well as, the inactivity of the Church in this matter, by saying that a 'deserved' curse lies upon Israel. Let us not forget the apostle's exhortation to us Gentile Christians: 'Be not high-minded, but fear: For if God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest he also spare not thee' (Romans 11, 20, 21). The Church must testify to the State about the purpose of Israel in the plan of salvation, thus actively resisting every attempt, to 'solve' the Jewish question, according to a man-made political gospel, which brings about the annihilation of the Jews. This is an attempt to fight against God and his first commandment. The Church must confess that she, as the true Israel, is united with Jewry by indissoluble ties, both in her guilt and in her right to the promises of God. She must not try any more to remain in safety while Israel is attacked. Rather, she must testify that by the attack on Israel, the Church and her Lord Jesus are also being attacked. God remains faithful to his Covenant. The parable of the Good Samaritan reveals the kind of example which should be given by the Church, in regard to the Jewish question. The phenomenal history of the Jews, in which the prophecy has been fulfilled: 'they shall be a curse, and an astonishment, and a hissing, and a reproach, among all the nations' (Jeremiah 29, 18), proclaims to the whole world that the God who gave the first commandment, by his dealings with Israel has manifested to the nations his sovereignty. The Church must explain this phenomenon. She also must, by her faithful testimony, make certain that the authorities are not able to avoid the challenge by obliterating the phenomenon of the Jews. She must therefore proclaim the message of God, who brought both Israel and the Church 'out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage' (Exodus 20, 2). Notwithstanding all the unfaithfulness of those He has elected among both Jews and Gentiles, He remains faithful to his Covenant. The Church thus proclaims to the authorities that only by faith in Jesus Christ can they be delivered from their demonic political 'gospel', which they in their obsession wish to realize, being unrestrained by the law of God. The Church, therefore, must proclaim the commandments concerning our neighbour to the authorities in connection with their attitude to Israel, but also the first commandment concerning their attitude towards God. For the rulers can only exercise their powers rightly by upholding the law rightly, in obedience to the first commandment. <109> A Public Protest Demanded The protest of the Church against the persecution of the Jews in Germany thus becomes a specially important example of the witness she is charged to give against all violations of the ten commandments by any power. The Church must warn the State, in the name of God, not with political arguments, as has happened occasionally, that it must 'not oppress the stranger, the fatherless and the widow' (Jeremiah 7, 6). She must remind the State of its duty to maintain public justice in an orderly, legal system based on humane laws; of the commandment to execute punishment in righteousness; of its duty to protect the oppressed and to respect certain basic rights of its citizens, etc. This witness of the Church must be made publicly, either through preaching or by means of a special pronouncement of the Bishop in his function as Shepherd and Watchman. Only thus can the Church fulfil her duty towards all who, either in a legislative or in an executive capacity, participate in this persecution. Also the conscience of the stricken Jews and the Christian community, which is tempted to deny its faith, must be instructed. So far the Church in Germany cannot be said to have made such a witness, for nothing that she has said in public has done justice to her responsibility to preach the truth in this respect. [256] It is significant that the authors of this letter claimed that as Christians they no longer could tolerate that the Church in Germany should keep silent regarding the persecution of the Jews; that all members of the Church are equally responsible for supporting such preaching (of the true Gospel) and that the protest of the Church must be made publicly. Yet, they themselves refused to sign their own letter. On January 28 1943, Bishop D. Wurm of Wurttemberg sent a letter to a "Senior State Official" (Ministerial Director Dr. Dill, of the Ministry of Interior). We quote the following: "... Apart from these matters, ecclesiastical in the limited sense of the word, I would like to raise another delicate and difficult, but unfortunately, unavoidable point. Wide circles, and not only those in the Confessing Church, are unhappy at the manner in which the war against other races and nations is conducted. <110> From soldiers on home leave we learn how Jews and Poles are systematically murdered in the occupied territories. Also those who objected to Jewish predominance in public life (even at a time when the entire press was in favour of the Jews), cannot assume that one nation is entitled to exterminate another through measures applied to individuals irrespective of their personal blame. The putting to death of people without any trial, solely on the basis of their belonging to a different nationality, or on account of their diseased health, clearly contradicts the divine commandments, and therefore also every concept of justice and humanity which is indispensable in a civilised nation. There can be no blessing on such an attitude. It leads one to consider the fact that from the time these measures were adopted, the German forces have not been as successful as they were at the beginning of the war. Many Germans see in these occurrences not only a disaster but also a sign of guilt, which will bring its own vengeance. Their moral burden would be lightened, if a courageous and noble-minded decision were taken by the Government, which would cleanse the besmirched shield of honour of the German nation. The Evangelical Church has not publicly protested before, to avoid embarrassing the German nation in the eyes of foreign countries. But now that new and great sacrifices are being demanded of the German people, it should also be granted relief from its moral burdens." [257] On July 16, 1943, Bishop Wurm sent a letter to all the Members of the Government, in which he pleaded for the "so-called privileged non-Aryans". We quote the following: "... In the name of God, and for the sake of the German nation, we urgently request that the responsible leaders of the Reich stop the persecution and the annihilation of so many men and women, which under German domination is being carried out without any judicial sentence. Now that non-Aryans under German domination have to a great extent been removed, it is much to be feared that individuals, the so-called privileged non-Aryans, who until now were spared, are now in danger of being treated likewise. In particular we emphatically protest against those measures which threaten to dissolve legal marriages and thus penalize the children born out of these marriages. These aims are, like other actions of annihilation taken against non-Aryans, in flat contradiction to God's commandment, and they violate the foundation of all Western existence and human values in general..." [258] <111> On December 20, 1943, another letter was sent by Bishop Wurm, to the Chief of the Reich Chancellery, Lammers: "... Not because of any philosemitic sympathies but solely from religious and ethical considerations, I must declare, in accordance with the opinion of all positive Christian circles in Germany, that we as Christians consider the policy of annihilation of the Jews as a terrible injustice, fatal to the German people. Killing without military necessity and without trial is contrary to God's commandments, even though it is ordered by the Goverment. Just as every conscious transgression of God's commandments, it will recoil sooner or later on its perpetrators. Our people in many respects is experiencing sufferings which it has to bear from the air-attacks of the enemy, as if in retribution for what was inflicted upon the Jews..." [259] A Public Protest, issued not by one Church leader but by the CONFESSING Synod of the Evangelical Church of the Old-Prussian Union, was the "Interpretation of the Fifth Commandment": 14. "The sword is given to the State only that it may execute criminals and for the destruction of enemies in war-time. What it does beyond that, it does arbitrarily and to its own detriment. When life is taken for other reasons than those mentioned, men's confidence in one another is undermined and thus the unity of the people is destroyed. The divine world order knows no such terms as 'to expunge', 'to liquidate' or 'valueless life' with regard to human beings. To slay human beings simply because they are related to criminals, because they are old or mentally afflicted, or because they belong to a different race, is not the use of the sword sanctioned by the Scripture... 17. In our time, especially, elderly people are more than ever before dependent on our help. The same is the case with the incurably ill, the weak-minded and the mentally diseased. We must also not forget those who receive no support - or almost no support - from public funds. In such matters the Christian is not concerned with public opinion. His neighbour is always the one who is helpless and who especially needs him, and he makes no distinction between races, nations or religions. <112> God alone has authority over human life. All life is sacred to him, even that of the people of Israel. Israel has indeed rejected the Christ of God, but neither as human beings nor as Christians are we called upon to pass sentence on their unbelief..." [260] The publication of the "Interpretation of the Fifth Commandment" was an act of courage but one shudders to read the opinion that "Israel has indeed rejected the Christ of God". It was only after the war that the Kirchentag (1961) declared: "Jews and Christians are insolubly linked with each other: ...God hath not cast away his people, which He foreknew". [261] Such declarations were lacking at the time when they were most necessary. Several leaders of the CONFESSING Church have severely criticized their Church, and themselves. Rev. Martin Niemoeller, who himself was imprisoned from 1937 until the end of the war, stated: "Nobody wants to take the responsibility for the guilt. Nobody admits to guilt but instead points to his neighbour. Yet the guilt exists, there is no doubt about it. Even if there were no other guilt than that of 6,000,000 clay urns; the ashes of burnt Jews from all over Europe. This guilt weighs heavily on the German people, on the German name, and on all Christendom. These things happened in our world and in our name... I regard myself as guilty as any SS man." [262] Rev. Grueber, who himself suffered in a concentration camp because of his help rendered to Jews, said: "In a few meetings of the Confessing Church a call to protest was given. But protests were made by the few, in comparison with the millions who co-operated or kept silent, who, at best, played the ostrich or clenched their fists in their pockets." [263] <113> The following is the opinion of Dr. Freudenberg, who was the Director of the World Council of Churches' Secretariat for Refugees, during the war: "The attitude of the Christians, also of the adherents of the Confessing Church, towards the national-socialist persecution of the Jews, shows great weakness and uncertainty. The anti-Semitic outcry of the environment made a greater impression than the word of Jesus Christ, the Son of David... But even the apparently feeble witness of the Church demanded great confessional courage in the situation of that time. One wrestled to give many a witness, and one suffered when the right word at the right time was not given... It certainly is not accidental that even the Confessing Church, though offering determined resistance against the introduction of the Arierparagraph within the Church, only very hesitatingly made its stand against the anti-Semitic laws and the persecution of the Jews in the State... The fact that the policy of the State towards the Jews ultimately is the policy of the Church and that persecution of the Jews is persecution of Christ, was not acknowledged in time, and when finally it was made, it was far from adequate. Moreover, this policy was effectively veiled by the national-socialist methods of camouflage. At the beginning of the regime one simply could not believe that the rulers relentlessly pursued a plan for the annihilation of the Jews and the elimination of the Christian Church from public life... If we want to evaluate the documents correctly, we must always consider Hitler's incomprehensible terrorization in the Reich. It may disappoint us that the matter was not raised more often and more forcibly. We should, however, bear in mind under which circumstances speaking or keeping silent took place. We should keep in mind that only now, after all the atrocities have become known, has it become customary to make a categorical condemnation of national-socialism. But this phenomenon was, in general, judged quite differently, that is to say, much more positively, not only by the Germans but everywhere in the world, at the time when (some of) these documents were issued." [264] The Evangelical Church in Germany herself, after the war, pleaded guilty, unequivocally and repeatedly. [265] The verdict seems obvious: even the Protestant group in Germany which resisted Hitler, totally failed when they should have stood up in the defence of the Jews. After all this has been said, however, something should be added. 1. The CONFESSING Church in Germany did speak out against anti-Semitism in 1936, and, indirectly, also in 1935 and 1938, when already this meant martyrdom. Churches in other lands, for instance in the Netherlands, did not speak out in those days. Many Churches outside Germany denounced anti- Semitism long before 1940, but it cost them little, if anything. <114> 2. The CONFESSING Church, when speaking on behalf of the Jews, spoke against its own Government and seemingly against national interests. Church leaders in countries occupied by the Germans also risked their lives when denouncing German anti-Semitism, but they spoke against the national enemy. Public declarations of Church leaders in Germany were used by foreign propaganda media against the Third Reich. [266] Fortunately, this served to open the eyes of many blind people outside Germany, but it certainly made things even more difficult for Church leaders in Germany: many of their compatriots regarded the issue of such declarations as an act of high-treason. 3. Guenter Lewy, discussing the attitude of the Roman-Catholic Church in Germany, states: "The concern of the Gentile populations of these countries (France, the Netherlands and Belgium) for their Jewish fellow citizens was undoubtedly one of the key factors behind the bold public protests of the French, Dutch and Belgian bishops - just as the absence of such solicitude in Germany goes a long way toward explaining the apathy of their German counterparts." [267] This is also applicable to the leaders of the CONFESSING Church. <115> THE OCCUPIED COUNTRIES 21 NORWAY Only 1,700 Jews were living in Norway. In October 1940, the Jews were barred from certain professions. In June 1942, registration was ordered and in October confiscation of Jewish property was decreed. The Jews received identity cards stamped with the letter J; at the same time, arrests of Jews began. On October 25, 1942, all male Jews of sixteen and over were arrested and interned. On November 25, the women and children were seized. 770 Jews, including 100 refugees from Central Europe, were deported by boat to Stettin and thence to Auschwitz. The majority of Norwegian Jews (930) were smuggled to Sweden. [268] The Constitution of Norway proclaims: "The Evangelical-Lutheran religion shall remain the official religion of the State". The majority of Government ministers must be members of the Church of Norway. Quisling had received the title of Minister-president on February 1, 1942. The Bishops of the Church of Norway decided unanimously, on February 24, 1942, to "cease administrative co-operation with a State which practices violence against the Church", although maintaining the right to exercise the spiritual vocation given them by ordination at the Lord's altar. On April 9, 1942, the Quisling authorities imprisoned Bishop Berggrav and four other Church leaders. Later on Bishop Berggrav returned from the concentration camp in which he was held, but remained under house arrest. <116> On November 11, 1942, the (Lutheran) Bishops of Norway sent a letter of Protest to the Minister President Quisling. This Protest was also signed by the Baptists, the Methodist Church, the Norwegian Mission Association, the Norwegian Mission Alliance, the Sunday School Union and the Salvation Army. Following is the text of the Protest: "The Minister President's law, announced October 27, 1942, regarding the confiscation of property belonging to Jews have been received by our people with great sorrow, and was deepened by the decree that all Jewish men over 15 years of age were to be arrested. When now we appeal to the Minister President, it is not to defend whatever wrongs Jews may have committed; if they have committed crimes they should be tried, judged and punished according to Norwegian law, just as all other citizens. But those who have committed no crime should enjoy the protection of our country's justice. For 91 years Jews have had a legal right to reside and to earn a livelihood in our country. Now they are being deprived of their property without warning; men were being arrested and thus prevented from providing for their property- less wives and children. This not only conflicts with the Christian commandment to 'love thy neighbour', but with the most elemental of legal rights. Jews have not been charged with transgression of the country's laws, much less convicted of such transgressions by judicial procedure. Nevertheless, they are being punished as severely as the worst criminals are punished. They are being punished because of their racial background, wholly and solely because they are Jews. This disaffirmation by the authorities of the Jews' worth as human beings is in sharp conflict with the Word of God which from cover to cover proclaims all racial groups to be of one blood. See particularly Acts 17, 26. There are few references where God's Word speaks more plainly than here. God does not differentiate among people. Romans 2, 11. There is neither Jew nor Greek. Galatians 3, 28. There is no difference. Romans 3, 22. Above else: When God through incarnation became man, He allowed Himself to be born in a Jewish home of a Jewish mother. Thus, according to God's Word, all people have, in the first instance, the same human worth and thereby the same human rights. Our state authorities are by law obliged to respect this basic view. Paragraph 2 of the Constitution states that the Evangelical Lutheran religion will remain the religion of the State. That is to say, the State cannot enact any law or decree which is in conflict with the Christian faith or the Church's Confession. When now we appeal to the authorities in this matter we do so because of the deepest dictates of conscience. To remain silent about this legalized injustice against the Jews, would render ourselves co-guilty in this injustice. If we are to be true to God's Word and to the Church's Confession we must speak out. <117> Regarding worldly authority, our Confession states that it has nothing to do with the soul but that it shall 'protect the bodies and corporal things against obvious injustice, and keep the people in check in order to maintain civic peace and order'. (Augustana, Article 28). This corresponds with God's Word which says the authority is of God and established by him, not as a terror to good works, but to the evil. Romans 13, 3. If the worldly authority becomes a terror to good works, that is, to the one who does not transgress against the country's laws, then it is the Church's God-given duty as the conscience of the State to object. The Church, namely, has God's call and full authority to proclaim God's law and God's gospel. Therefore it cannot remain silent when God's commandments are being trampled underfoot. One of Christianity's basic values now is being violated: the commandments of God which are fundamental to all society, namely law and justice. One cannot dismiss the Church with a charge that it is mixing into politics. The apostles courageously spoke to the authorities of their day and said: 'We ought to obey God rather than men'. Acts 5, 29. Luther says: 'The Church does not interfere in worldly matters when it warns the authority to be obedient to the highest authority, which is God'. By the right of our calling we therefore warn our people to desist from injustice, violence and hatred. He who lives in hatred and encourages evil invokes God's judgment upon himself. The Minister President has on several occasions emphasized that Nasjonal Samling, according to its program, will safeguard the basic values of Christianity. To-day one of these values is in danger. If it is to be protected, it must be protected soon. We have mentioned it before, but re-emphasize it now in closing: This appeal of ours has nothing to do with politics. Before worldly authority we maintain that obedience in all temporal matters which God's Word demands." [269] The close relationship between Church and State in Norway is reflected in the protest: "The State cannot enact any law or decree which is in conflict with the Christian faith or the Church's Confession". Important is the reference to Luther; the attitude of the Lutheran Churches in Germany has been explained by recalling Luther's conception of the two dominions through which God rules this world: the spiritual one, or the Church, and the secular one, or the "worldly authorities". The people, according to Luther, have not the right to resist the authorities; only princes have. <118> The Lutheran Church of Norway, however, quoted the Confession (Augustana) and Luther, in order to stress that it was "the Church's God-given duty as the conscience of the State to object" (to the anti-Semitic measures). The letter of Protest won response throughout the country. It was read in the churches on the 6th and 13th December, 1942. It was also noted outside the borders of the country. The Swedish newspapers quoted it in full. The Swedish Lutheran Bishops referred to it in a pastoral letter which they issued at the beginning of December. [270] In radio London the Protest was quoted in full. "Breaking the wall of silence" did not help much, if at all, the Jews of Norway; but it warned people in Sweden and Denmark, so that they were on their guard when the Germans tried to apply their 'final solution' to the Jewish community in Denmark. Naturally enough, the attitude taken up by the Christians earned them fresh attacks from the Quisling followers. On December 30, 1942, the Trondheim paper Adresseavisen concluded an editorial on the 'detrimental Jewish influence' in Norway with these words: "... But now all this is forgotten. On Boxing day the Norwegian clergy read a new pastoral letter from the pulpits, glorifying the Jews and their activities, sighing and lamenting because the chosen race of Israel is not allowed to pursue its activities among the Norwegian people as before, but must be held responsible for its actions." [271] Nevertheless, in a New Year's message for 1943, which was read from the pulpits throughout the country, the Provisional Church Council boldly declared that it would continue to fight Nazism to the end. The Council called upon the congregations to pray for imprisoned clergymen and persecuted Jews. It added: "The appeal which the Norwegian Church and the Christian people recently sent to the Minister President on account of the atrocious treatment of the Jews, has not yet been answered. In this case we have clearly seen what may happen when God's words concerning the worth of man and love are being trampled underfoot." [272] <119> 22 THE NETHERLANDS a. The Preliminary Phase On May 14, 1940, the Dutch army surrendered to the Germans. Seyss-Inquart was appointed Reich Commissioner to the Netherlands; Rauter was Chief of Police and Security; General Christiansen was head of the military administration. The political situation in the Netherlands was better than in occupied Poland and Bohemia, but worse than that in most of the other occupied countries, such as Denmark. The Queen and the Cabinet were in exile. The German rulers in the Netherlands were ruthless and efficient. In October, 1940, the first anti-Jewish decrees were promulgated. In November, Jews were dismissed from public posts. On January 10, 1941, the decree ordering registration of the Jews was signed. On February 9, 1941, the first raid on the Jewish quarter of Amsterdam was made. On February 25, 1941, a general protest-strike was declared in Amsterdam which paralyzed transport and industry, spreading to other districts. It was suppressed by force within three days. In May, 1941, the Jews were banned from parks and places of public amusement. In July, 1941, identity cards of Jews were stamped with the letter J. Between January and April of 1942, thousands of Jews were deported to labour camps. After May, 1942, the Jews had to wear the yellow star.' [273] There are people who believe that the record of Dutch resistance against National-Socialism is outstanding and that the majority of the population was engaged in rescue activities on behalf of the Jews. To those who believe this, the reading of Dr. J. Presser's book "Destruction" must be a shattering experience. On June 20, 1940, the Synodal Committee of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH [274] invited seven other Protestant Churches to a consultation. <120> The Churches invited were: The Reformed Churches in the Netherlands, the Christian Reformed Church, the Re-united Reformed Churches, the Evangelical Lutheran Church, the Re-united Evangelical Lutheran Church, the Brotherhood of Remonstrants and the Society of Mennonites. Representatives of these Churches convened for the first time on June 25, 1940. A "Council of Churches" was established, and later on, became known as the "Inter- Church Consultation". [275] Most of the public protests were issued by this Council. Particularly at the beginning, the attitude of several members of the "Council of Churches" showed a lack of determination. One of the factors that led the Council, as well as the Churches themselves, to a more determined attitude, was the influence of the "Circle of Lunteren". This group, consisting of ministers belonging to different Churches but mainly to the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH, had followed the plight of the Confessing Church in Germany with deep sympathy; many of them were influenced by the clear stand and the teachings of Prof. Karl Barth. [276] The "Circle of Lunteren" secretly met for the first time in the village of Lunteren, on August 22, 1940. A letter was sent to the Synodal Committee of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH, urging the Church to give clear advice to the local churches and to the nation at large, especially regarding increasing anti-Semitic propaganda. [276] The reply of the Synodal Committee, however, was both reserved and evasive. [277] The "Circle of Lunteren" also published clandestine brochures; 50,000 copies of the brochure "Almost too late" were distributed. It was written by Rev. J. Koopmans. He spoke of the danger of following new Messiahs, instead of the Messiah who came "not from our race, but from the much hated Jewish race". <121> He especially mentioned the fact that people in official posts were commanded to sign a document stating that they were "Aryan", and that the vast majority of those concerned had signed it, perhaps not even realizing its implications for the Jews. [278] Rev. Koopmans pointed out that it was a grave mistake to sign the document, and since many people had already signed it, indeed it was "almost too late". Therefore quick action should be taken if it would not be too late altogether. Everyone should explicitly declare that he would not take part in the expulsion of the Jews from public life. The pamphlet closed with the words: "Dutchmen, it is almost too late, but still not too late! It is still not too late to return to the Christian faith and to a clear conscience. It is still not too late to stand up for our Jewish compatriots, for the sake of mercy and on the grounds of Holy Scripture. It is still not too late to show the Germans that their wickedness has not overcome everything, but that there are people who are determined not to be robbed in this way of their Christian faith and their clear conscience." [279] Someone was caught distributing this brochure; he was sentenced by a German judge to one and a half year imprisonment. [280] Another clandestine pamphlet was published by the "Circle of Lunteren": "What we believe and what we do not believe". It was written in the summer of 1941 and widely distributed. We quote the following: "Therefore we believe that he who stands up against Israel, stands up against the God of Israel... Therefore we believe anti-Semitism to be something much more serious than an inhuman racial theory. We believe it to be one of the most stubborn and most deadly forms of rebellion against the holy and merciful God whose name we confess." [281] <122> On October 24, 1940, the Protestant Churches sent a letter to the Reich Commissioner for occupied Holland, protesting against the discriminatory regulations against Jewish officials. The letter reads as follows: "We, the undersigned, representing the following Protestant Churches in questions regarding the relations between the Church and the civil authority: The DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH; the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands; the Christian Reformed Church; the Re-united Reformed Church; the Brotherhood of Remonstrants; the Society of Mennonites, feel impelled to appeal to your Excellency in view of the regulations recently issued forbidding the appointment or promotion in the Netherlands of officials or other persons of Jewish blood. In our view the spirit of these regulations, which bear in a special way upon important spiritual questions, is contradictory to Christian mercy. Moreover, these regulations also effect members of the Church itself insofar as they have adopted the Christian faith in recent generations and who have been received as perfect equals into the Churches, as is expressly demanded by the Holy Scripture (Rom. 10, 12; Gal. 3, 28). Finally, the Churches are deeply concerned since this affects the people from whom came the Saviour of the world, and for whom all Christians intercede that they may recognize in Him their Lord and King. For these reasons we urgently appeal to your Excellency to induce the authorities to abolish the said regulations. Moreover, we refer to your Excellency's solemn promise to respect our national character and to refrain from enforcing on us any ideology alien to us." [283] As the Boards of both the Lutheran Churches refused to associate their Churches with this protest, it was only submitted on behalf of six of the eight Protestant Churches. The text was made public in an abbreviated form on Sunday, October 27, in most of the churches. However, the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands and the Christian Reformed Church did not make the protest public to their congregations. Therefore Prof. H. H. Kuyper, who was the representative of the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands, was sharply criticized and some of the other members of the Council refused to co-operate with him further. He then resigned on account of his "deafness", and another was appointed in his place. [284] <123> On January 10, 1941, the decree ordering registration of the Jews was signed by Seyss-Inquart. On February 9, 1941, a general protest-strike was declared in Amsterdam which paralyzed transport and industry, spreading to other districts. It was suppressed by force in three days. The next protest of the Churches was a letter, dated March 5, 1941, and sent to the Assembly of General Secretaries (an Assembly which, in the absence of the Ministers of State, represented the supreme Dutch authority in the Netherlands). The Evangelical Lutheran Church also signed this protest; thus seven Protestant Churches participated in this action. Here follows the text: "The Churches are deeply distressed about the development of events, which is becoming increasingly clear. The proclamation of the Word of God entrusted to the Church charges us with the express duty to make its stand for right and justice, truth and love. It must raise its voice when these values are threatened or attacked in public life. The fact that these values are being seriously threatened cannot be denied by anyone who observes the present situation of our nation. Clear symptoms of this state of affairs which not only weighs as a heavy burden on the conscience of our fellow citizens but is also, according to the deep conviction of the Church, contrary to the Word of God, are incidents in the public street and the treatment to which the Jewish part of the Dutch population is being increasingly subjected. There is growing insecurity in the administration of justice and a continual attack on the freedom indispensable to the fulfilment of Christian duties. For this reason the Churches deem it their duty to request the Assembly most urgently to employ all means at its disposal to ensure that also at this time, justice, truth and mercy may be guiding principles of Government action. The Churches humbly consider it their bounden duty to influence the lives of the people as to inculcate in them these spiritual values. We trust that you will be prepared to pass on the word of the Churches as expressed in this document in any way you deem expedient to those who, in the present period of occupation, bear the ultimate responsibility for the course of events in our country. We fully realize the extremely difficult task which faces the Assembly at this juncture, and we pray God that He may give it His light and His help." [285] <124> The Churches intended to inform all the congregations of the nature and contents of this letter by a short announcement from the pulpits. The necessary circulars had been prepared in time for the reading of the declaration on Sunday, March 23, 1941. But on March 20, the secretary of the Synod of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH and the Chairman of the "Council of Churches" were arrested. The authorities were sure that the reading of the declaration would become the signal for an insurrection and that the Churches would be responsible for a disturbance of public order. When it was shown that this was a misunderstanding, the two representatives of the Churches were released. To show that the Churches had not intended political action, the pastors who could still be contacted were asked not to read the letter from the pulpit. Thus it was only read in those towns and villages which did not receive the counter-order until too late. [286] On March 23, 1941, a Pastoral Letter of the General Synod of the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands was read from the pulpits. We cite the following: "In our time the notion is advanced with ever increasing emphasis that it is not personal relationship to God's Name but belonging to a certain people or race which determines the meaning of a person's life and which divides mankind into distinct divisions. You will always be able to give the right answer to this doctrine (which has already been accepted by many) if you are faithful to the Holy Scripture. In repudiation of this doctrine the Church should not present its own ideas but only convey the powerful Word of God. You have already shared the anxiety which has filled the hearts of so many of our compatriots in recent months. This is a matter of course because, as the Church of Christ well knows from the Gospels, it was in the course of the history of the Jewish people that Christ was born. Therefore the fact of belonging to a special race must never limit our love towards our neighbour, nor the mercy that we owe him." [287] On January 5, 1942, delegates of the Protestant and Roman Catholic Churches together applied to the General Secretary of the Ministry of Justice for an interview with the Reich Commissioner, Seyss-Inquart. <125> This was the first time in Dutch history that the Protestant and Catholic Churches acted together and signed a document of protest. Moreover, this was a unique proceeding in occupied Europe and considerably increased the impact of the protests. The National-Socialist daily "Volk en Vaderland" commented: "What God has been unable to achieve for centuries, the Jewish star has achieved. Churches which were never able to unite for the greater glory of God, now conduct a united action." [288] An interview was arranged for February 17, 1942. Two delegates of the Protestant Churches and one from the Roman Catholic Church submitted a translation into German of the Memorandum to the Reich Commissioner which had previously been given to the General Secretary of the Ministry of Justice, who had already passed on a copy to Seyss-Inquart. In handing over the document the delegates declared that they were speaking in the name of the entire Christian Church of the Netherlands. We quote the following: "Then the treatment of people of Jewish origin must be mentioned. At the moment the Churches do not offer judgment on anti-Semitism which, incidentally, they reject utterly on Christian grounds; nor do they wish to initiate a discussion on the political measures taken against the Jews in general. They wish to confine themselves to the fact that a large number of Jews were arrested in the course of the year 1941 and deported, and that since then an alarmingly large number of official announcements of death among these deportees has been received. The Churches would be neglecting their elementary duty if they did not insist that the authorities should put an end to these measures. This is a duty of Christian mercy." [289] Prof. Aalders, one of the spokesmen, then gave an oral explanation of the Memorandum. In his reply the Reich Commissioner said: "... In our treatment of the Jews there can be no talk of mercy; only, at best, of justice. The Jewish problem will be solved by the Germans and no distinction will be made between Jews and Jews..." [290] <126> The results of the interview were negative. Shortly afterwards, Prof. Aalders was arrested. The Churches intended to inform all the congregations of the interview from their pulpits. The German security service, however, threatened heavy punishment, if this intention were carried out. The DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH protested against this in a letter sent to Seyss-Inquart, dated March 17, 1942. [291] Moreover, a short message was read from the pulpits on April 19, 1942: "... The Church has protested against the lawlessness and cruelty to which those of Jewish faith in our nation are being subjected and against the attempt to enforce a national-socialist philosophy of life which stands in direct contradiction to the Gospel..." [292] A full report was sent to all local Church councils, at the same time. A decree, which initially did not seem so dangerous, actually resulted from the desire to isolate the Jews from other Dutchmen in order to exterminate them more easily. It was the regulation to place a notice "Forbidden to Jews" on public gardens, public baths and cinemas. At the beginning of 1942 it was ordered that such a notice must be placed on all public buildings. The Churches refused to obey this order: "It is absolutely forbidden to place the notice on any church building or on premises used by the Church. On a building with Christian purposes the notice in question cannot be permitted as a matter of principle, because it would be a denial of the Gospel." In some church buildings concerts were held, which required placing the notice. But the advice of the leaders of the Church was, that in such cases the concerts must be cancelled. The advice to sports clubs which were compelled to display the notice was: "For reasons of principle there is no other way but to stop the activities". [293] Many ministers of religion were fined or imprisoned because of their refusal to display this notice. <127> b. Mass Deportation Mass deportations of Jews began in June, 1942. The Jews were assembled in Westerbork camp; trains to the extermination camps in Poland left every week. The last large-scale deportations were in the spring and summer of 1943. In January, 1941, there were 160,000 Jews in the Netherlands, of whom 138,000 were Dutch citizens, and 22,000 foreign Jews. At least 104,000 of them were murdered. After the systematic rounding up of Jews had started in Amsterdam, the representative of the Remonstrant Fraternity proposed to the Council of Churches, to turn the "New Church", in the centre of Amsterdam, into a house of refuge for persecuted Jews, and that attired in their robes of office the ministers of the different Churches should occupy the entrances of the church and stand or fall with the Jews in the church. The proposal was not accepted. The majority of the Council believed that it would be a sublime but useless gesture which might well cause a bloodbath and at the very least an acceleration of deportations. [294] The Council decided, however, to send a telegram of protest to Seyss-Inquart, to General Christiansen, and to the two German General-Commissioners Rauter and Schmidt. The telegram read as follows: "Dismayed by the measures that have been taken against the Jews in the Netherlands by excluding them from participation in the normal life of the community, the undersigned Churches have now learnt, with horror, of the new measures whereby men, women and children, as well as whole families, are being deported to Germany or countries now subservient to it. The suffering which this brings to tens of thousands, the recognition that these measures offend the deepest moral sense of the Dutch people, the opposition to God's laws of justice and mercy, all this forces us to address to you the most urgent plea not to implement these measures. Moreover, as far as Christians of Jewish origin are concerned this plea is strengthened by the fact that they have been debarred by this decree from participation in the life of the church." [295] <128> Thereupon the Germans offered a concession. They declared their readiness not to deport Christians of Jewish origin. On the other hand, they made it clear that the sending of the telegram of protest had better not be made public during church services. This was accepted by the General Synod of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH. The Synod considered that "among decent people one party does not publish any document if the other party objects". Another important argument was the fear that all that had been gained in favour of the Christians of Jewish origin might be lost. [296] None of the other Protestant Churches followed the example of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH, nor did the Catholic Bishops. [297] The Germans took their revenge: all Roman Catholics of Jewish origin (amongst whom was the philosopher Edith Stein) were deported, on July 26, 1942, and perished, while most of the Protestants of Jewish origin survived. On September 24, 1942, Rauter wrote to Himmler: "... Since my last report the Catholics among the Christian Jews have been deported because the five Bishops, with Archbishop de Jong of Utrecht at their head, did not abide by our original agreements. The Protestant Jews are still here, and attempts to break through the united front presented by the Catholic and Protestant Churches have indeed been successful. Archbishop de Jong declared at a Conference of Bishops that he would never again form a united front with the Calvinists and other Protestants. The storm of protest raised by the Churches when the evacuation began has thus been greatly undermined and has now subsided..." [298] <129> Rev. H.C. Touw, the historian of the resistance of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH, asked the questions: "Did the Synod take the right decision? Or did it succumb to a satanic temptation? Was it unfaithful to its Lord in order to save the lives of its own members?" [299] The question of choosing between "quiet diplomacy" and public protest now seems to be easy: negotiations with the devil are senseless. We should not forget, however, that Church leaders who issued a public protest not only took considerable personal risks, but also took upon themselves the responsibility for endangering the freedom and life of others. Noteworthy is the opinion of a group of Christians of Jewish origin who addressed themselves to the Synod of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH: "Be assured that - if the proclamation of the Word of God (concerning the persecution of Jews) needs to be more clearly emphasized at this time - those among us who truly belong to the Lord are willing to be deported to Poland, confidently trusting in the lord." [300] In the summer of 1942, regular contact was established between Protestants in Holland and Dr. Visser 't Hooft, general secretary of the World Council of Churches, Geneva. Couriers brought copies of protests of the Churches (and much other information) in microfilm to Geneva, Dr. Visser 't Hooft sent the microfilms to the Dutch Government in London. The Churches expressed themselves again in a protest which was sent to Seyss-Inquart on February 17, 1943, and which was read from the pulpits in all the churches. We quote from this protest the following: "The Churches would be culpable if they failed to point out to the authorities the sins they committed in the execution of their authority, and if they failed to warn them of God's judgment. The Churches have already drawn your attention to the increasing lawlessness, the persecution unto death of Jewish compatriots... <130> But it is also the duty of the Churches to preach this Word of God: 'We ought to obey God rather than men'. This commandment is the touchstone in all conflicts of conscience, also in those that arise out of the recently taken steps. Because of God's justice, no one may participate in unjust actions since thereby he would become equally guilty of injustice." [301] It was important that this protest was read out in all the local churches for it frequently happened that Dutch police agents were ordered to arrest Jews and others. The Churches thus warned the faithful that "no one may participate in unjust actions". [302] c. The "privileged categories"; the "other God" In spring 1943, after nearly all Jewish families had been deported, the occupying authorities confronted Jews in mixed marriage with the alternative of being deported or sterilized. We quote below the protest of the Churches. It was sent on May 19, 1943, and signed by the delegates of the nine Protestant and the Roman Catholic Churches, while the Bishop of the Old Catholic Church sent a letter of adherence to the protest, a month later. "Following on the many happenings in the years of occupation which have forced the Christian Churches of the Netherlands to complain to your Excellency - especially in the matter of Jewish citizens of our county - something so frightful is now being perpetrated that we cannot but address a word to your Excellency in the name of our Lord. We have already protested about several acts committed by the occupation authorities, which are in absolute contradiction to the spiritual principles of our people - a people and its Government which, from the very beginning, have at least endeavoured to live under God's Word. In the last few weeks the sterilisation of so-called mixed married has begun. But God who created heaven and earth and whose commandments are for all men, to whom even your Excellency will have to give account one day, has said to mankind: 'Be fruitful and multiply' (Gen. 1, 28). Sterilisation is a physical and spiritual mutilation directly at variance with God's commandment that we shall not dishonour, hate, wound, or kill our neighbours. <131> Sterilisation constitutes a violation of the divine commandment as well as of human rights. It is the latest consequence of an anti-Christian racial doctrine which destroys nations, and of a boundless self-exaltation. It represents a view of the world and of life which undermines true Christian human life, rendering it ultimately impossible. At the present time your Excellency is de facto the highest political authority in the Netherlands; you have been entrusted with the task of maintaining law and order in this country - entrusted not only by the leader of the German Reich but also by the inscrutable will of the God whom the Church proclaims here on earth. The commandments of this God and Judge of all the earth apply to you as much as to anybody else and all the more in view of your high position. It is for this reason that the Christian Churches of the Netherlands say to your Excellency in the name of God and of His Word: It is your Excellency's duty to stop this shameful practice of sterilisation. We have no illusion. We are well aware of the fact that we can hardly expect your Excellency to listen to the voice of the Church, which is the voice of the Gospel, which is God's voice. But things that cannot be expected of men, may be hoped for in the Christian faith. The living God has the power to incline even the heart of your Excellency to repentance and obedience. For that we pray God, both for the benefit of your Excellency and of our suffering people." [303] This time again no official reply was received from Seyss-Inquart. However, he communicated by a verbal message that all cases which had occurred up till then, were dealt with on a voluntary basis and furthermore, that he had transferred the matter to General-Commissioner Rauter to deal with. Thus the Churches were advised to send any further protest to Rauter. The Churches turned again to Seyss-Inquart in their letter of June 24, 1943, in which was written, amongst other things: "The Churches must, irrespective of the question of who is charged with a particular matter, consider your Excellency as ultimately responsible for everything that has happened, and is happening, in our country during the years of occupation." [304] The letters had no practical effect. Many hundreds of Jews of mixed marriages were forced to undergo sterilisation; some, by using bribery or appealing to patriotic physicians, were able to arrange sham operations or get certificates of exemption. [305] <132> German racial policy encouraged the partners of "mixed marriages" to divorce the "non-Aryan" spouses. By a nominal formality, a partner could part from the one to whom he was legally married. The reaction of the Churches to this is laid down in their letter to Seyss- Inquart of October 14, 1943, which ran as follows: "Time and again the Christian Churches in the Netherlands have approached your Excellency in matters concerning the Jews of our country, who long have been settled in the Netherlands, and who have been integrated into the life of our people. Your Excellency decided not to listen to the urgent words of warning from the Churches. Most of our Jewish compatriots who, until now enjoyed a limited liberty, have been deported. For them as well as for the very small group which yet remains, we appeal urgently to your Excellency, to prevent deportation and allow them privileged treatment in the Netherlands. Further, the Churches are seriously alarmed by indications that the German administration is again paying particular attention to the so-called mixed- marriages, with the aim of bringing about divorce, at least in a number of these marriages. This aim may, as happened in the case of sterilisation, be made to appear more harmless by a pretension that each divorce is a voluntary one. As before, the Churches beg emphatically to stress to your Excellency that this way of dissolution of marriage may not be followed. The Lord Jesus says, and He does not say that to His Church alone, but to the whole world, and thus also to your Excellency: 'What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder' (Matthew 19, 6). Therefore the Churches urgently appeal to your Excellency to let these small groups which are at present under consideration for the clauses of exemption, share also in the possibility recently opened for some of them, i.e., to be exempted from the restrictions that are in force for Jews. Commotion and indignation cannot diminish if actions are continued which injure the Dutch people in their deepest religious and moral convictions." [306] In the autumn of 1943 a pastoral letter was sent to parochial church councillors of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH, to give them the necessary basis for their opposition in the struggle against national-socialist ideology. After sections on "Another God" and "Another Morality", there follows the section on "Anti-Semitism". We quote the following from this section: <133> "This 'other god' and this 'other morality' is clearly recognizable in deliberate anti-Semitism. That the people of Israel should be hated and persecuted with fanatical passion and systematically annihilated with malice aforethought, is a phenomenon which has never before appeared in history in this form; for in the last resort there are no strategic, economic or cultural reasons to be adduced for this; the basis of anti-Semitism lies deeper, and this the Church should clearly perceive. The boundless and unrestrained hatred of the Jews comes from natural aversion to the 'Jewish God' and the 'Jewish Bible'. This outrage, this blasphemy, spread as it has in many written tracts and his been made into the spiritual nourishment of millions (of course under a regime where the state and the state alone is responsible, and intends to make itself responsible for the guidance of the people, and where public utterances and printed statements can thus never be attributed to the whim of private persons or groups as is the case under a democratic regime), must be an absolutely clear indication to the Christian Church that Faith, itself, is being attacked in its deepest foundations. The Church must not overlook the fact that in this respect, too, its members urgently need guidance based on the Scriptures. There are still members of the Church who, while detesting the systematic annihilation of our Jewish fellow-men and fellow-citizens, yet justify their aversion to the Jews by adducing the judgment of God." [307] d. Some Comments and Evaluations It is to the honour of the Churches in the Netherlands, that they already protested against one of the first steps taken against the Jews, in October, 1940. It is regrettable that sometimes the Churches chose to ask for "mercy" on behalf of the Jews instead of demanding the maintenance of justice. It is even more regrettable that the Churches never publicly exhorted their members, to actively help and hide Jews. Much in the declarations and protests issued, however, shows a deep Biblical insight, in contrast to protests of Churches in other countries in which the national-socialist terminology often was used, or national reasons were stressed rather than the Biblical viewpoint. There have been many comments on the attitude of the Churches in the Netherlands, and we quote some of them below. <134> Dr. W.A. Visser 't Hooft, general Secretary of the World Council of Churches: "These documents must be read carefully. They are precious, for those who composed them and also those who read them from the pulpit were in great danger; they risked much when giving their witness." [308] Rev. H.C. Touw, the historian of the resistance of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH: "The Church's struggle on behalf of the Jews was a struggle of mixed failure and success. Nevertheless this struggle was the most moving, the most dramatic, and the most persistent part of the resistance of the Dutch Church." "Just as too many kept silent in the pulpits, certainly too few took persecuted persons into their houses. Many felt that the Synod had failed to give sufficient guidance in this respect. It did not issue any exhortations, nor did it find any way by which to quicken the conscience of the people. This must be considered a great, collective guilt. Here there is no reason whatsoever for Christian self-glorification, but there is every reason to be ashamed." [309] H. Wielek: "In April 1942, important declarations showing dignity and courage were proclaimed from the pulpits of the churches. The activity of the Church did not slacken. The pastors evinced personal courage; even without Synodal exhortation they understood how to act. Their sermons did not lack clarity, particularly in regard to the persecution of the Jews and their persecutors. Many pastors had to pay for their courageous attitude by a term in a concentration camp." [310] W. Warmbrunn: "The attempt of the churches to caution the Germans in their actions, especially with respect to the persecutions of the Jews, could not be effective, since the course of action in major matters of this kind was determined by the Reich leadership." [311] "It appears to this writer that groups that excelled in effective resistance were voluntary organizations independent of state control that were conveyers of religious or ethical norms. The moral implications of Christian doctrine motivated the resistance of the Churches." [312] Rev. J.J. Buskes: "Why did I let myself be seduced? Yes, indeed, seduced into making compromises. Why did I not say: 'Thus speaks the Lord'? <135> It is a painful matter also for others of whom it is said (as of myself) that they have behaved excellently. For it depends on the standard by which one judges." [313] Message of the DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH to the Church in Germany, March 9, 1946: "...We publicly confess before God and the world, that in this struggle we have not been sufficiently faithful, nor willing to accept suffering gladly and courageously." [314] 23 FRANCE The armistice was signed on June 22, 1940. It was stipulated that 3/5 of the French territory would be occupied by the Germans. In the unoccupied zone a nominally independent regime was established. Marshall Petain became President; Laval was Vice-president until April, 1942, when he was succeeded by Admiral Darlan. Delegate for the occupied zone was Ambassador Brinon. In November, 1942, the Germans occupied Vichy France. Thus we have inserted this chapter under "Occupied Countries", not under "Satellite Countries". It should be noted, however, that the Vichy Government maintained diplomatic relations with the outside world and that it had at least a certain freedom of action in its own territory, until November, 1942. Laval was in a position to bargain for the French Jews by sacrificing the foreign Jews in France. [315] a. The Preliminary Phase <136> At the end of 1939 the Jewish population of France had reached a total of about 270,000. After May, 1940, more than 40,000 Jews streamed into France from Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg. [316] The number of Jews deported from France is estimated to be approximately 80,000 persons. [317] According to Tenenbaum, the number was 100,000 out of a total pre-war Jewish population of some 350,000. "This relatively favourable result in comparison with the other countries is due primarily to the determined attitude of the French people with regard to their Jewish neighbours." [318] Chief Rabbi Kaplan shows us the other side of the picture: "I do not forget, when recalling these dreadful crimes, that priests, pastors, men and women of all confessions and philosophical doctrines and of all classes, exposed themselves to the greatest dangers in order to come to the rescue of the persecuted Jews. Here I wish to mention particularly, the energetic and courageous protests issued by the eminent leaders of French Catholicism and Protestantism. Nonetheless the undeniable fact remains, that Christian ethical education - inculcated over a long succession of generations - has not prevented the majority of the people of a nation claiming to be Christian, from becoming more or less responsible for the abominable Hitlerite persecution." [319] Many factors played their part. It was easier to go into hiding in France than, for instance, in the Netherlands. The attitude of the Italians who held part of occupied France was an important factor: they either found excuses for their non-cooperation with the Germans or just refused. France was the first country to be liberated: the invasion started on June 6, 1944. On September 27, 1940, the decree for compulsory registration of Jews was promulgated in the occupied zone, including the marking of Jewish stores with the star of David. A few days later - October 4, 1940 - the Vichy French Council of Ministers decreed the Statute des Juifs which disfranchised the Jews in all France. On March 29, 1941, a "Department for Jewish Affairs" was created by the Vichy Government. In May, 1941, 3,600 Polish Jews were rounded up in Paris. In August, there was another raid. The victims were placed in three camps (Drancy, Pithiviers and Beaune la Rolande). On June 2, 1941, Jewish registration was made compulsory in both zones. On November 29, 1941, the Vichy regime decreed that all Jewish organizations were to be dissolved. <137> The Protestants in France are a small minority, numbering altogether not more than 800,000 souls. France is, to my knowledge, the only country where a small minority group of Protestants publicly protested against the persecutions. Poliakov stated one of the reasons: "It must also be remembered that the French Protestants are themselves a minority and have known centuries of persecution - such trials, when they are surmounted, sharpen one's sensitivity to injustice." [320] Another positive factor was the fact that the President of the Protestant Federation of France, Rev. Marc Boegner, was also one of the three Vice- chairmen of the Provisional Council of the World Council of Churches. He had many international contacts. This fact gave an additional impact to the protests. Rev. Boegner did not only speak in the name of the French Protestants, but also informed Marshal Petain "of the deep emotion felt in Swiss, Swedish and United States Churches". [321] Rev. Boegner relates that he first stayed in Vichy at the end of July, 1940. A "very highly placed personality" told him: "The Jews have done so much damage to the country that they need collective punishment". He himself realized then "where we are going to be dragged and what would be the responsibility of the Churches". [322] The establishment of the Department for Jewish Affairs, in March, 1941, aggravated the situation. German pressure on the Vichy Government became stronger. Rev. Boegner spoke of this to Admiral Darlan, who tried to calm him by saying that "it primarily was a matter of saving the French Jews". A high police officer sought to persuade him that this was a government matter which was no business of the Churches. [323] <138> In Lyon, where the National Council of the Reformed Church had convened before the end of 1940, Rev. Bertrand informed Rev. Boegner that the Council of the Protestant Federation wanted a written protest without delay. It was agreed, however, that Rev. Boegner should continue with his oral interventions for some time longer. But when the National Council of the Reformed Church reconvened in March, 1941, it was unanimously resolved that the position of the Reformed Church should be set down in writing without delay. It was on these instruction that Rev. Boegner wrote two letters. The first was sent to the Chief Rabbi of France, on March 26, 1941: "The National Council of the Reformed Church of France has just convened for the first time since the law of October 3rd, 1940, came into force. It has instructed me to express to you the grief we all feel at the introduction of racial legislation in our country, and at the trials and innumerable injustices which it has brought upon the French Jews. There are some among us who have thought that the State has been faced with a great problem as a result of the extensive immigration of a large number of foreigners - Jews and non-Jews - and by hasty and unjustifiable naturalisations, but they have always expressed the conviction that this problem should be handled with the respect due to human beings; with strict adherence to State undertakings; and in accordance with the demands of justice which France has always championed. They are all the more distressed because of the rigorous enforcement of a law which, applying exclusively to Jews, makes no distinction between Jews who have been Frenchmen for many generations, in many cases for centuries, and between those who received their citizenship only yesterday. Our Church which has in the past known all the sufferings of persecution, harbours feelings of warmest sympathy for your communities whose freedom of worship in certain places has already been restricted and whose faithful members have so suddenly been afflicted with misfortune. It has already taken steps - which it will not fail to pursue vigorously - for the necessary repeal of the law." [324] This letter shows hesitation: it considers the "extensive immigration of a large number of foreigners" as a problem and creates the impression that the French Protestants cared less for the Jews who had "received their citizenship only yesterday" than for the Jews who had been Frenchmen for many generations. <139> The same applies to the letter sent to Admiral Darlan, also on March 26, 1941: "We have just convened at Nimes, for the first time since the enforcement of the Law of October 3rd, 1940, concerning the status of the Jews. On the eve of our meeting we learned from a notice in the press, of your intention to set up an office for Jewish Affairs. We consider it our duty to inform you in the name of the Reformed Church of France, comprising the vast majority of French Protestants, of our feeling on this painful question. We in no way disregard the seriousness of the problem which the State has to face in view of the recent, large immigration of a great number of foreigners, many of them of Jewish origin; and in view of hasty unjustifiable naturalisations. We are convinced that this problem ought, and can be, resolved with due respect to individual people and due care for the justice, of which France has always desired to be a champion. We also know that under the present circumstances strong pressure is undoubtedly being exerted on the government of France in order to force its decision to pass anti-Jewish laws. We are nonetheless deeply distressed, as Frenchmen and as Christians, by a law which introduces the principle of racial discrimination into our legislation, the strict enforcement of which entails severe trials and tragic injustices for the French Jews. Especially, do we protest against the principle of racial discrimination, because it has caused the State to break its formal undertakings on behalf of men and women, the vast majority of whom have served it loyally and disinterestedly. We are assured that the Law of October 3rd, 1940, is not a law of religious persecution. But if freedom of worship really remains untouched, for Jews as for Catholics and Protestants, why then is it, in fact, already being barred or threatened in certain places? The fact is, that a religious minority is being wronged. Our Church which has known all the sufferings of persecution, will fail in its primary mission if it does not raise its voice on behalf of this minority. We know that by setting up an office for Jewish Affairs, you sincerely wish to do whatever is in your power, to avoid even greater hardship from befalling the French Jews. We believe we may give you our assurance that the Christian denominations will give their unreserved approval to your effort, the difficulty of which they are well aware of. At the same time, however, we would ask you most earnestly to take even further measures, and as from now, to amend the law imposed on the French Jews, so that, on the one hand, further injustices may be prevented, and on the other hand, the disastrous impression made on a large part of the civilised world by the law of last October, may be removed. The defeat suffered in the war, the painful consequences of which we are now experiencing, constitutes a further reason why France should seek to safeguard those values which, in the moral sphere, have gained it the respect and affection of Christian nations." [325] <140> Admiral Darlan did not reply to this letter in writing. He told Rev. Boegner that he wanted to discuss the matter with him. Rev. Boegner relates: "In May (1941) I had a long meeting with him. He informed me that a new draft law was being studied, certain provisions of which would seem very severe to us, but there were others which would attenuate their effect. His sole care was to save those Jews who had been established in France for several generations. Regarding the others, who had recently immigrated, his one wish was that they should leave the country." [326] On May 29, 1942, it was decreed that every Jew who had reached the age of six must wear the yellow star. The Council of the Protestant Federation, under the chairmanship of Rev. Bertrand (in the occupied zone) decided to express the feelings of the Churches in the occupied zone directly to the Chief of State, Marshal Petain. Their letter read as follows: "The Council of the Protestant Federation of France, assembled in Paris, takes the liberty of addressing itself with respectful confidence to the French Chief of State to express to him the painful impression made upon its affiliated Churches by the new measures taken by the Occupation Authorities with respect to the Jews. The decree of May 29th, compelling our compatriots of the Jewish race to wear a distinctive badge, has in fact deeply moved thousands of Protestants in the occupied zone. Our President, Rev. Marc Boegner, has already had the honour of informing you, as well as Admiral Darlan of the Fleet, who is Vice President of the Council of Ministers, of the unanimous desire of the Protestants of France that the solution of the Jewish question, the importance of which none of us can fail to recognize, shall be found in a spirit of justice and understanding. Yet at present we are faced with a measure which far from contributing to the proper solution of this problem, seems to aggravate it further. Socially and economically unworkable, it is designed to inflict uncalled for humiliation on Frenchmen, many of whom have shed their blood fighting under our Rag, by pretending to set them apart form the rest of the nation. It exposes six year old children to mischievous behaviour, easily liable to occur in the disturbed atmosphere prevailing among the population. Finally, it compels converts to Catholicism or Protestantism to wear before other men, the visible sign of being Jewish, whereas, before God, they have the honour to be acknowledged as Christians. <141> The Churches of Christ also cannot keep silent in view of the undeserved suffering imposed on Frenchmen, and sometimes on Christians, which ignores their dignity as men and as believers. The Council of the Protestant Federation has therefore instructed me to convey to you our feelings of distress. It hopes that you may consider it as a sign of confidence and respect that it submits this expression of pain and distress to the heart of a great soldier who is the Chief of State of France." [327] The letter was handed over to Marshal Petain by Rev. Boegner. The subsequent conversation left him with the same impression as that on his previous meeting with the Chief of State: deep emotion, complete impotence. In a circular letter dated June 11, 1942, Rev. Bertrand informed the pastors in the occupied zone that the Council of the Federation had instructed him to write to Marshal Petain. After having quoted part of his letter to Marshal Petain, he reminded his colleagues that "the spiritual value of such interventions depends on careful avoidance of any allusion to political events or worldly ideologies, and on strict adherence to the sphere of thought and of Christian action alone". Rev. Bertrand added: "In particular the Ecumenical (Oxford) Conference of 1937 affirms that 'all men are by birthright children of God.' 'Therefore, for a Christian there can be no such thing as despising another race or a member of another race.' 'All races share alike in the concern of God.' 'The sin of man asserts itself in racial pride, racial hatred and persecutions, and in the exploitation of other races. The Church is called upon by God to express itself unequivocally on this subject." [328] Perhaps more important than the protests sent to the French Government, was a Message issued by the National Synod of the Reformed Church of France, in May, 1942, which was read out publicly in all the local churches. This Message included the following passage: "The Church has been commanded by God to resist the attack of every doctrine and every ideology, every threat and every promise which seeks to assail the message of the Bible, both Old and New Testaments. <142> It must proclaim absolute sovereignty of God, who creates His own people For Himself by calling to Him men of every race, nation and language, in spite of the rights and privileges to which men may deem themselves to have a claim. It knows that all men were created equal, equal in perdition and equal in salvation, and that God's justice demands that every man shall be respected." [329] b. Mass Deportations On July 16, 1942, mass raids struck the stateless Jews living in Paris. In two days 12,884 of them, including 4,051 children, were rounded up by the French police. [330] Thereupon, the President of the Protestant Federation in the occupied zone, Rev. Bertrand, sent the following letter to Mr. de Brinon, General delegate of the French Government to the Occupation authorities: "When the German authorities made it incumbent upon the Jews living in the occupied zone to wear a distinctive badge, the Council of the Protestant Federation of France submitted a letter to the French Chief of State which was well received by him and of which I enclose a copy. One would have thought that now the anti-Jewish laws have reached their climax with this humiliating measure designed to place the Jews apart from the rest of the nation and to single them out for the kind of malevolence, systematically meted out to them since the beginning of the occupation. However, the month of July has seen an increase of personal violence on a scale never before attained; and we have noted among the general population of Paris a feeling of distress and disapproval which the present generation undoubtedly will never forget. The Churches of Jesus Christ to whom God has entrusted the message of peace, love, and mutual respect among men, cannot keep silent in view of events which for many years have threatened any possibility of a normal relationship between two great nations. Because Frenchmen at present have no means of making their opinions and feelings known, it should not be inferred that they are indifferent onlookers at the extermination of a whole race, and at the undeserved martyrdom of its women and children. The men who profess to be working towards closer relations between the conqueror and the nations over which he exercises his authority, surely should be able to make the occupying forces understand that declarations of good will during these years cannot efface the effect of the cruelties we have witnessed. <143> A Christian Church would be failing in its vocation were it to let the seeds of hatred be sown in this fashion without raising its voice in the name of Him who gave His life to shatter all barriers between men. I leave it to Your Excellency to judge whether the appeal I have made to you to-day should be brought to the notice of the occupying authorities, and whether the voices of Christians, who are solely concerned with seeking to alleviate suffering and hatred, ought to be ignored, rather than those of men who know no other response to violence than that of hatred. Before concluding this letter I wish expressly to state that the message to Marshal Petain was the only subject of the deliberations of the Council of the Protestant Federation, which has just ended its sessions and it is collectively responsible for it. With regard to the present letter, I take upon myself full responsibility for it, not only before the Church and the French nation but also - eventually - before the German authorities." [331] Rev. Boegner relates: "Events succeeded one another precipitately. After the occupied zone came the turn of the so-called 'free zone'. We saw a new wave of horror unleashed in camp, town and village. Our chaplains, together with the 'Cimade' [332] and the parish pastors, in the face of tremendous suffering, accomplished a task of Christian love which was a powerful testimony to Jesus Christ. I supported their efforts to the best of my ability. But renewed appeals became necessary. I thought that at this tragic juncture the Catholic Church and the Protestant Churches should at least unite in making their appeals. I spoke of this to Cardinal Gerlier on August 13th. It was agreed that each of us should write an urgent letter to Marshal Petain. Mine was sent on August 20th." [333] The letter read as follows: "When you did me the honour of receiving me on June 27th, I placed in your hands a letter whereby the Council of the Protestant Federation of France entrusted to your soldier's heart the pain and agitation caused in the Protestant Churches by measures taken in the occupied zone against the Jews, and those Christians whom the law has marked as Jews. <144> To-day it is my regrettable duty to write to you in the name of the same Council in order to express the unspeakable sorrow felt in our Church, in face of new measures ordered by the French Government and directed against the foreign Jews (baptised and unbaptised), and the ways and means of their execution. No Frenchman can remain unmoved in view of the events occurring since August 2nd, in concentration and internment camps. As is known, the reply is that France is only returning to Germany those Jews whom the latter had sent in autumn 1940. In truth, however, man and women who for political and religious reasons fled to France, and who know the terrible fate awaiting them, are now being deported or facing immediate deportation to Germany. Christianity has hitherto inspired nations, and especially France, with respect for the hallowed right of sanctuary. The Christian Churches, irrespective of their different confessions, would be disloyal to their original calling if they did not raise a protest against the abandonment of this principle. I am forced to add that in several places these 'deliveries' have occurred under such inhuman conditions that they shock the most hardened consciences, and brought tears to the eyes of witnesses: herded together in goods trucks, without the slightest hygienic precautions, foreigners intended for deportation were treated like cattle. The Quakers, who were doing the utmost possible for those who suffer in our country, were refused permission to feed the deportees at Lyons. The Israelite Consistorium was not allowed to give them foodstuffs. Respect for the human personality which you intend to maintain in the Constitution and which you want to grant to France has often been trodden underfoot. Here, also, the Churches see themselves obliged to protest against such a grave misunderstanding of undeniable duties. The Council of the Protestant Federation appeals to your high authority to order the introduction of absolutely different methods in the treatment of foreigners of the Jewish race, whether baptized or not, whose deportation has been admitted. The tenacious fidelity of France, especially during the tragic days which it has lived through in the past two years, towards its traditions of human generosity and noble-mindedness, remains one of the main grounds of respect which certain nations still have for us. As Vice President of the World Council of Churches which includes all great Christian Churches, with the exception of the Roman Catholic Church, I am compelled to inform you of the deep emotion felt in Swiss, Swedish, and American Churches, in face of the events now occurring in France, and with which the entire world is acquainted. I beg you to dictate the indispensable measures in order that France may not inflict upon herself a moral defeat of unfathomable weight." [334] Some days later, the letter was broadcast over the American and British radio, and subsequently reproduced in the foreign press. <145> The deportations continued. By September 1, 1942, the Vichy authorities had handed over 5,000 Jews to the Germans and another 7,100 had been arrested. [335] On August 27, 1942, Rev. Boegner sent the following letter to the Chief of the Government, Laval: "Authorized to speak on behalf of the Protestant Churches of the entire world, many of which have already asked for my intervention, and aware of the events of the past few days, I beg to urge you to give me your assurance that in no event shall foreigners be convicted in their own countries for political reasons, and those who have sought refuge in France, for similar reasons, be expelled to the occupied zone." [336] He then had an interview with Laval, who said that foreign Jews must be handed over to the Germans in order to save the French Jews. "Would you agree that we save their children?", asked Rev. Boegner "The children must remain with their parents", was the reply. Laval then asked: "What would you do with the children?" Rev. Boegner. answered: "French families will adopt them". Laval retorted: "NO, not one must remain in France". Rev. Boegner than had an interview with the Charge d'Affaires of the United States, who promised him to cable to Washington, to be authorized to tell Laval that the United States would accept the children of deported parents. [337] As the Council of the Federation of Protestant Churches in France could not be convened, Rev. Boegner then urgently called a gathering of the National Council of the Reformed Church. It addressed to the faithful the following Message, dated September 22, 1942, which was read from nearly all the pulpits: <146> "The National Council of the Reformed Church of France, being convened for the first time since the application of measures against the Jews, among whom are many Christians, was informed of the demarches which its President had made, in writing and verbally, to the highest State authorities in the name of the Federation of French Protestants. The Council associated itself fully with the President. Without ignoring or belittling the extreme complexity of the situation with which the authorities of our country are faced and more than ever determined to exercise loyally - among the people - the spiritual vocation to which God has called her; although composed of people faithful to the old principle of abstaining from any intrusion into the sphere of politics, the Reformed Church of France cannot keep silent in face of the suffering of thousands of human beings who have received asylum on our soil. A Christian Church would lose its soul and the very reason for its existence, were it not to maintain - for the safeguard of the whole nation in the midst of which God has placed it - the Divine law above human contingencies. That Divine law does not permit families created by God to be broken up, children to be separated from their mothers, the right of human beings to asylum and pity to be disregarded; nor respect for human rights to be trodden upon, nor defenceless beings to be delivered to a tragic fate. Whatever the problems may be which are beyond the scope of the Church and which the Church is not called upon to resolve, it is its duty to assert that they shall not be resolved by means which contravene the law of God. The Gospel commands us to consider all men, without exception, as our brothers, for whom our Saviour has died on the cross... How can the Church ever forget that it was among the people from whom the Jews are physically descended, that the Saviour of the world was born? And how can it be anything but profoundly grieved - as a Church which must affirm the unity of the body of Christ - by measures which also effect non-Aryan Christians, who are members of our Protestant parishes? In the face of these painful facts the Church feels compelled to make heard the cry of its Christian conscience, and to implore, in the name of God, those who exercise authority in the world, not to aid to the natural horrors of war - in itself a violation of Christ's commandments - still worse violations which will in the most fearful manner hinder reconciliation between the nations, in a repentant and peaceful world, submissive to God. It calls upon the faithful to incline toward the distressed and the suffering with the compassion of the good Samaritan, and to intercede ceaselessly with God on their behalf, for He alone can deliver us from evil by the grace He has revealed in Jesus Christ." [338] <147> Everybody knowing the parable of the Good Samaritan [339] must have fully understood that the last sentence of this message was a call to practical and effective acts of rescue, on behalf of those who had fallen "among thieves" and murderers. No public protests were issued by the French Protestant Churches after that of September 22, 1942. On November 11, 1942, the Germans seized unoccupied France. The demarcation line had disappeared. The deportations continued. c. Practical Help It is difficult to assess the practical results of public messages such as the one mentioned above. They certainly made more impact than protests sent by Churches to the authorities. S. Lattes is of the following opinion: "Also, as might have been expected, when the first anti-Semitic measures were taken by the Germans and the Vichy government, many authoritative voices, Catholic and Protestant, were raised in demonstration of their sympathy towards the Jews... These written manifestos had hardly any practical effect, but they were a display of true courage and by their distribution exercised a deep influence on the conscience of the French. They also afforded moral encouragement to the Jewish victims." [340] L. Poliakov gives the following account of the results of the public appeal, made by Rev. Boegner in the name of his Church, and he also gives an interesting analysis of what moved the ordinary Protestant to help the Jews: "A picturesque little town of 2,000, Chambon-sur-Lignon lies at the foot of Mont-Lisieux, in the centre of a little plateau almost exclusively inhabited by Huguenots. The word Huguenot immediately calls to mind the thousands of victims of persecution who, escaping from France in the 17th century, settled in Prussia, the Netherlands and the United States. One section, however, instead of leaving their country, fled to the savage region of Velay. Protected by practically impassable ravines, they hid in the woods, and remained faithful to their religion. Only in the 19th century were they able to resume their religious worship openly. This period of persecution has made them deeply pious, melancholic and austere; they are suspicious of any authority but unquestioningly follow their pastors. It is here that they have preserved almost intact the customs and virtues of the past centuries. <148> immediately after the terrible raids of July 1942, Pastor Boegner, President of the Federation of Protestant Churches of France, issued an appeal to all this followers, asking them to do everything in their power to help the Jews. The appeal was heeded. Nearly every Sunday the pastors of Chambon, Mazet and Fay-Le-Froid, exhorted their congregations to renewed efforts. The country-people never tried to evade their responsibility. The persecutions which their own grand-parents had suffered were still alive in their memory. They provided food and lodging for the persecuted; in certain small hamlets in the area there was not a single farm which did not give shelter to a Jewish family... On the evening, at the hotel May, I witnessed a spectacle typical of the whole region of Chambon: a social worker arrived with several children whose parents had either been deported or were in hiding in Marseille. They huddled together in fear, in a corner of the room. A couple of country people first came in. 'We should like a little girl of eight or ten,' explained the woman. Little Miriam is called. 'Would you like to go with this uncle and auntie?' Intimidated, the little girl does not answer, but she was muffled up in blankets and carried into the sledge; and so she left for a home where, until the end of the war, she would live a simple, healthy life with temporary foster parents. And as if by sleight of hand, all the other children were taken care of in the same way." [341] Perhaps France was the only occupied country where an official Protestant organization rendered direct and practical help to the persecuted Jews. The Cimade [342] was a Protestant Youth organization which sent teams of young Protestants into the camps, in order to render relief to the internees. Miss Madeleine Barot, general secretary of the Cimade, states: "All racialism is inadmissable from the Christian point of view. It was necessary to give tangible signs of this conviction, to alert public opinion, to protest to the responsible authorities, to mobilize the forces of <149> Protestantism, and, above all things, to help those who suffered most." [343] The first relief team was installed in the camp of Curs. It was partly justified to the police by the presence of a number of baptized internees, who were registered as Protestants. "Our work was labelled as 'Protestant assistance', which was of a great help, though we ourselves did not even consider for one moment restricting our help to the Protestants." [344] Thanks to the financial support of the Ecumenical Committee for Aid to Refugees, Geneva, the number of rations to be distributed in Gurs could be increased. [345] In 1941, teams were also placed in the caps at Rivesaltes, Brens, le Recebedou, and Nexon. In the spring of 1942, the Cimade opened four houses (at Chambon-sur-Lignon, Tarascon, le Tarn and Marseilles) for the accommodation of old or sick people and women with little children, who were permitted to leave the concentration camp if an authorized organization took charge of them. The Swedish Church and the World Council of Churches rendered financial aid. [346] The leaders of the Cimade permanently kept in touch with the Rev. Marc Boegner so that he, when he intervened with the Vichy Government, could make proposals which corresponded with the actual situation in the camps. [347] After mass deportations had begun, the members of the Cimade became more and more involved in "illegal" activities. The Secretariat of the Cimade at Nimes provided false identity cards. "We set up a record by once producing fifty identity cards in one night." [348] Several members of the Cimade were active as guides, bringing refugees through the mountains to safety in Switzerland. "According to my estimations, we helped to evacuate about four hundred persons, from August, 1942, until December, 1943." [349] After the Swiss Government had ordered that refugees who had illegally entered into Switzerland be returned to France [350] the Rev. M. Boegner obtained in Berne the agreement that non-Aryans coming from France for whom he had given personal guarantee, would be admitted. [351] <150> 24 YUGOSLAVIA On April 5, 1941, Yugoslavia concluded a treaty of friendship with Moscow, and within hours Belgrade was bombed by the German air force. Yugoslavia was dismembered by the Nazis. The north-eastern part, the Backa basin, with 20,000 Jews, came under Hungarian annexation. Old Serbia, where 12,000 Jews lived, came under German occupation. In Croatia, with 21,000 Jews, a puppet regime was established. The Bulgarian-annexed territory of Yugoslavia (Serbian Macedonia) contained between 7,000 to 8,000 Jews. Before the war, Yugoslavia harboured some 70,000 Jews. Fifty-five thousand of them were murdered. [352] The greatest non-Roman Catholic Church in Yugoslavia is the Serbian Orthodox Church. Much smaller Churches are: the Reformed Christian Church of Yugoslavia and the Slovak Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession in Yugoslavia. None of these Churches replied to my circular letter. The persecution of Orthodox Serbs matched the persecution of Jews, both in cruelty and fanaticism. [353] I hardly found any material about the attitude of the Churches in Yugoslavia; only the following quotations can be mentioned: "High Orthodox and Catholic circles were unanimous in condemning anti- Jewish propaganda. Early in 1940, the Serbian Patriarch Gavrilo, while visiting a synagogue near Belgrade, deplored religious persecution, and the official Catholic organ die Donau condemned racialism. In October, the Patriarch of Sarajevo expressed to representatives of the Jewish community his sympathy for their sufferings." [354] "At the end of May (1943), some Jews who were still living in Zagreb under the protection of the Archbishop, were seized one night and deported, before the churchman could intervene to save them." [355] <151> "Contrary to what we know about the attitude of the Catholic and Protestant Churches on the Jewish question, we have only meagre knowledge of the aid and comfort rendered by the Orthodox Churches in Nazi-subjugated Europe. [356] Nazi persecution of the Orthodox faith was not checked by the minor hesitation the Nazis showed in their dealings with the other Christian denominations. A few enlightening examples of a deeply humane attitude in some of the conquered countries rend the mist surrounding the tragedy into which these unhappy lands were thrust. Thus it is known that the heads of the Yugoslavian Orthodox Church bravely protested against the atrocities perpetrated on the Jews and exhorted priests and people to abstain from participating in the outrage of Nazis and Ustasa (Croation Fascists) alike." [357] 25 GREECE a. Salonika Greece was overrun by the Germans on April 6, 1941; the armistice was signed on April 23, 1941. There were three separate occupation zones: Italy was assigned the territory comprising "old Greece", with Athens as capital, and the Ionian islands; Bulgaria occupied Western Thrace and Greek Eastern Macedonia; Germany had a narrow belt of Eastern Thrace bordering on Turkey, along with the Salonika harbour and the island of Crete. A puppet government, seated in Athens, functioned in both Italian and German zones. About 13,000 Jews lived in the Italian zone, but the number of Jewish inhabitants in German dominated territory was over 55,000. In March, 1943, the Jews of Salonika were put in a concentration camp. From the middle of March, through May, deportation trains rolled from Salonika to Auschwitz. About 46,000 Jews were deported. [358] Friedman is of the opinion that "the Greek Orthodox Church, always a power in the political life of the country, used its considerable influence to oppose anti-Jewish laws, and, later, to help rescue the victims. The humblest papas of remote villages as well as the highest dignitaries of the Church enlisted in the crusade to help Jews". [359] <152> It is doubtful, however, whether any Church in any country had a "considerable influence" with the German occupying forces. The Church did not, and probably could not, prevent the extermination of the great majority of the Jews of Greece. At the end of February, 1943, two lawyers turned to Genadius, Bishop of Salonika, and submitted to him a Memorandum concerning the danger threatening the Jews. Bishop Genadius immediately went to Dr. Merten, who was in charge of all civilian affairs in Salonika, and protested, in the name of his Christian faith, against the preparations for the transports. Replying hypocritically, Dr. Merten stated: "I expected this step of yours, but all your efforts are in vain, for the orders are official and no intervention can change them". [360] Mr. Moissis, a Jewish lawyer in Athens, commented: "The attitude of Genadios, Bishop of Salonika, was excellent. He submitted a vehement protest to the military commander of the Macedonian capital who had issued the order of deportation, in March, 1943, in which Bishop Genadios characterized the order as inhuman and anti-Christian. During the deportations, he secretly received Chief Rabbi Koretz and other representatives of the Jewish community, and it was at his residence that the meeting took place of Rabbi Koretz and the Greek Prime Minister, John Rallis, who had come to Salonika especially, and solely, in order to save the Jewish population." [361] As soon as the measures against the Jews started, desperate appeals were addressed to Damaskinos, Archbishop of Athens and Primate of all Greece, by the Jews of Salonika, begging him to mediate with the representatives of the Reich in order to prevent their extermination. [362] Greek delegations went to see the Archbishop asking him to intervene. Archbishop Damaskinos, who shared the feelings of his followers, asked to see Altenburg, the representative of the Reich. He expressed to him the anguish of the Greek people at his inhuman and anti-Christian measure, and asked for his intervention to stop persecution. <153> Altenburg replied that the Jewish question was of capital importance to National Socialism; that it was dealt with by the central administration and that, consequently, he, personally, could do nothing on behalf of the Jews of Greece. Actually, he shared the opinion that this measure should be taken, and should be applied to Jews throughout Greece. In spite of all protests, Jews of Greek nationality should be forced to go to Poland, while those of other nationalities should be returned to their countries of origin. The Archbishop asked: "Why should Jews of Greece, who are of Spanish nationality, go to Spain, and those of Italian nationality to Italy, whereas, Jews of Greek nationality should be sent to Poland rather than be allowed to stay in Greece?" Annoyed by this question, Altenburg refused to answer, except to say that Jews of Greek nationality were sent to Poland 'to work'. "If they are sent to Poland 'to work', 'the Archbishop asked, why are women, children and aged people also sent?" "Because it is cruel to separate the families; if they are united they will have a better life", the representative of the Reich replied. Another strong appeal to the German representative, based on the claims of a humane and Christian civilization, was made by the Archbishop. Altenburg vaguely replied that he would try to ease the strictness of the measure. The extermination of the Jews of Salonika, however, continued unabated; the anguish of the Greeks increased. Greek organizations from all the towns sent appeals to the Archbishop of Athens who received an incessant stream of protestations and appeals from the Jewish organizations of Larissa, Chalkis, Volos and Verria, declaring their solidarity with the Jews of Salonika. The Archbishop decided again, to convey this general concern to the German authorities. He invited the representatives of the chief intellectual Institutions and of the scientific and professional organizations in the Archbishopric, to join with him. Under the auspices of the Church, they addressed a strong protest to the Greek Prime Minister, and to the representative of the Reich. The memorandum sent to the Prime Minister was as follows: <154> Athens, March 23, 1943. Mr. Constantine Logotheropoulos, Prime Minister, In Town. The Greek people have recently learned, with great surprise and grief, that the German military occupation forces in Salonika have begun the gradual expulsion of Jews living in Greece, and that the first groups of displaced Jews are already en route to Poland. The grief of the Greek people is even deeper because: 1. According to the spirit of the armistice terms all Greek citizens were to be treated equally by the occupation forces, irrespective of religion and race. 2. Greek Jews not only have been valuable contributors to the financial progress of the country, they generally have been loyal and have shown full understanding of their duties as Greek citizens. They have shared in the common sacrifices on behalf of their Greek mother country, being among the first to join in the struggle of the Greek nation to defend its historical rights. 3. The well-known loyalty of the Jews living in Greece already rules out any claim that they participated in actions likely to endanger the security of the Military Forces of Occupation. 4. In the conscience of the Nation, the children of our common Mother Greece are regarded as being an integral part of the Nation, entitled to enjoy all the privileges of the national community, independently of any religious or dogmatic differences. 5. Our holy religion repudiates any racial or religious distinctions, supremacy or inferiority, stating that 'there is neither Jew nor Greek' (Gal. 3, 28), and condemns every tendency to create distinctions on grounds of racial or religious differences. 6. The sharing of a common fate, both in days of glory and in periods of national disaster, has produced unbreakable bonds between all Greek citizens of every race. We are well aware of the deep opposition between the new Germany and the Jews, nor do we intend do defend or criticize international Jewry and its activities in the sphere of the political and financial problems of the world. We are only interested in, and concerned with, the lives of 60,000 fellow-citizens. We deeply appreciate their noble feelings, brotherly disposition, progressiveness, economic activities, and, above all, their incontestable love for their country during the long periods we have lived together. As a proof of this last statement, we point to the great number of Greek- Jewish sacrifices offered, without complaint or hesitation, on the altar of duty for our common homeland. We are sure that the Government and the people of Greece are agreed on this matter. We are confident that you have already taken the necessary steps to plead with the Occupation Forces, to defer this painful measure of the expulsion of Jews living in Greece. We are hopeful that you already have pointed out to the highest authorities that such treatment of the Greek Jews - cruel in comparison with what happened to the Jews of other nationalities - makes this measure even more unjust, and thus morally inadmissible. <155> If they pretend that these measures are taken for security reasons, an adequate solution should be possible. Preventive measures could be taken, such as the confinement of the males only (except aged men and children) in a place in the country, under the supervision of the Occupation Forces. Thus, security will be protected even against imaginary dangers, and the Jews of Greece will not suffer the adversities of the expulsion. The Greek people will be ready, if asked, to give their full guarantee for a measure taken on behalf of their brothers in distress. We hope the Occupation Forces will understand the senselessness of the persecution of Greek Jews, who are considered the most peaceful, loyal and productive elements in our country. If, however, the Germans insist, against every hope, on their policy of expulsion, we think that the Government, as the holder of the remaining political power in our country, should take a firm stand against these actions. It should be made clear that full responsibility for this injustice will lie with the foreigners. Let no one forget that all acts committed during this difficult period, even those committed against our will and beyond our power, will one day be examined by our Nation; it will ascertain the responsibility of everyone. On that day of National judgment, the moral responsibility of those in authority, who have failed to express by some courageous gesture the unanimous anguish and protest of the Nation against all actions which are derogatory to our unity and pride, such as the expulsion of the Jews, will weigh heavily. [363] Yours Truly, Damaskinos, Archbishop of Athens and Primate of all Greece. The memorandum was signed by the president of the Greek Academy; the rectors of the University and the Polytechnic Institute; the chairman of the Association of writers, painters and artists; lawyers, surgeons, industrialists, and chambers of commerce. It should be noted that the memorandum mentions six reasons why the Jews should not be deported; only one of them is strictly religious; four reasons stress that the Jews were loyal citizens of Greece and that they belonged to the nation. <156> The Archbishop and his friends did not intend "to defend or criticize international Jewry and its activities in the sphere of the political and financial problems of the world". It is not clear whether they really meant this or tried to appeal to the mind of the addressee. At all events, the remark is regrettable. Another memorandum was sent to the Representative of the Reich. It read as follows: Athens, March 24, 1943. To His Excellency the Representative of the Reich for Greece, Mr. Guenther Altenburg, In Town. Excellency, The undersigned are not seeking at present to interfere in any way in the questions of general tactics of the German forces in our country or elsewhere, but simply to submit certain views, regarding a question which is keeping the entire Greek population in suspense and anxiety; we are sure that you will examine these views in a spirit of benevolence and understanding. They concern the persecution of the Greek Jews of Salonika, who have long been legally under the jurisdiction of our country. Not only have they never given occasion for complaint, but on the contrary, they have always offered proof of earnest and sincere collaboration. In critical times, their acts of self-sacrifice and self-abnegation were apparent. We must add that the above mentioned Jews have never acted against our interests, even in the smallest matters; on the contrary, they have always felt a sense of responsibility towards the Greek majority. Most of them belong to the poorer classes. It should be noted that Greek Jews have quite a different mentality to that of the Jews living in Germany and have no knowledge whatsoever of the language of Poland where they are being sent to live. in addition to the above facts, we wish to add that during the long course of our history, ever since the era of Alexander the Great and his descendants, and through all the centuries of Greek Orthodoxy down to the present time, our relations with the Jewish people have always been harmonious. We believe therefore that, in your high office as ruler of our country during the present war, you will not hesitate to accept our present request and decide, even if provisionally, to suspend the expulsion of Greek Jews from Greece until the Jewish question can be examined in the light of a special and detailed investigation. Our present request is based upon the recent historical fact, that during the surrender of Salonika and, later, that of the whole of Greece, among the clauses of the protocol, the following is included: 'The Occupation forces promise to protect the life, the honour and the properties of the population'. Certainly this clause implies, that no persecution would be made against Greek subjects, on the account of religion and race, and that consequently the theory relating to racial or religious discrimination would not be applied in Greece. <157> This was further confirmed later by a clear declaration made by General Tsolakoglou, to whom the Occupation Forces had entrusted the Presidency of this country, and who stated explicitly: "There is no Jewish question in Greece and there never will be." "All Greeks occupied in peaceful work may rest assured that their honour, life and property are under protection of the Occupation Forces and of the Government. Excellency, some days ago the Berlin radio transmitted an article of a German reporter, which was a real hymn to the traditional quality of hospitality of the Greek people in all occasions, even in the cases of supposed enemies. What must be the anguish of these people, who have been infused by thousand years of Christianity and its message of love of one's neighbour, when they see their brothers tom away from their homeland. Especially, when, for many years they have embraced it with unlimited confidence and a spirit of irreproachable solidarity towards us. Excellency, in the name of the lofty ideas of the Greek spirit, and of the culture of your country, both of which have so powerfully influenced the whole world, we beg that the expulsion of our Jewish fellow-citizens be halted as soon as possible. We assure you that the whole Greek nation will sincerely appreciate a gesture of such historic importance. Damaskinos. Archbishop of Athens and Primate of All Greece. (This Memorandum was also signed by the leading citizens who had signed the Memorandum sent to the Prime Minister). There are some dubious remarks in this Memorandum: "It should be noted that Greek Jews have quite a different mentality to that of the Jews living in Germany", and "In the name of the lofty ideas of the Greek spirit and of the culture of your country (Germany)". That does not alter the fact that much in the Memorandum is to be lauded. Archbishop Damaskinos did not cease his activities. He again saw Altenburg asking for his intervention. Following the formation of the new Government of John Rallis, he briefed the new Prime Minister and asked him to discuss fully the question with the commander-in-chief of East-Europe, Marshal Loehr. At the same time he took the following steps: <158> a. He requested the President of the International Red Cross in Greece to ask the Governments of the European countries, to interest themselves on behalf of the Jews of Greece, considering that their expulsion to Poland would mean total extermination. b. He negotiated with the International Red Cross to supply food for the kitchen established for the Jews of Salonika who had been put into a concentration camp. He then asked the Greek Government to furnish the necessary technical means. In fact, the kitchen started operating immediately. The Ministry of Social Welfare undertook its organization and the International Red Cross provided large supplies of food. c. He undertook, secretly, to send to Salonika the contribution of the Jews of Athens to the Jews of Salonika. Their contributions were sent by the Archbishop to Genadios, the Bishop of Salonika. Thus far the biographer of Archbishop Damaskinos. Comments on the attitude of Church leaders and lower clergy are favourable: "Monks, regardless of the great dangers or considerations of religion or faith, hid persecuted families and rendered secret but effective help to multitudes of unfortunate people, who could no longer subsist without employment, and thus had to leave their hiding place and give themselves up to the Germans." [364] "The heads of the Orthodox Church in Greece defied the Nazi edicts and exhorted their faithful followers to shun anti-Semitic slogans and outrages. It is reported that in May 1943 alone, six hundred Greek priests were arrested and lodged in concentration camps because they refused to obey a Nazi order to preach anti-Jewish sermons. Much help and Jewish rescue work go to the credit of the Greek Orthodox clergy." [365] What happened in Salonika enables us to realize that the attitude of Church leaders frequently had a very limited influence on the population, even in Greece. Dr. Nathan Eck, the editor of the revised edition in Hebrew of the book of Michael Molho and Joseph Nehama, has the following to say about the situation in Salonika: "... The attitude of the non-Jewish population in Salonica to their Jewish neighbours was not very friendly. <159> Many of them were former residents of Turkey who, in 1922, were transferred to Greece on an exchange basis, and their economic and social status was similar to that of the Jews. As a result of their feelings of hatred and competition, it was not easy to find anyone among the non-Jews who would agree to endanger his life and the life of his family in order to hide Jews in his home... The authors Molho-Nehama are wary of casting aspersions and blame on the general non-Jewish population but remain satisfied with mere hints. Here and there, there is a short remark which outweighs a host of express statements. For example, the following remark: 'It is likely that local factors (in Salonica) were active in the implementation of the deportations in order to get rid of competitors who proved a burden to them in their commercial life' (Part II, p. 11). Indeed, as the authors point out, only seventy Jews, most of them married to non-Jews, succeeded in finding hiding places in Salonica..." [366] Another comment: "The great bulk of the population, while not indifferent, played the role of an interested if shocked spectator. However, this situation began to change after Archbishop Theophilos Damaskinos, who later became a regent, intervened forcefully on behalf of the Jews threatened with deportation. The Archbishop's vigorous protest about the action contemplated against the small Jewish population of Greece created a stir throughout the country." [367] The attitude of the non-Jewish population in Salonika, where most of the Jews were living, was lamentable. Such information should prevent us from accepting stereotypes such as "the Greek - or the Dutch, or the French - population has done everything to save the Jews". b Athens and Southern Greece Following the Italian armistice, the Germans took over the administration of Athens and other parts of Southern Greece. General Stroop, the "Conqueror of the Warsaw Ghetto", arrived in Athens on September 10, 1943, and took over the function of Higher SS leader. <160> On October 3, 1943, the Jews were ordered to register. The seizure of the Jews on the Greek mainland was to be completed in three days, from March 23-25. Jews living on the Greek islands were deported in June and Jule, 1944. More than sixty thousand Jews out of the 79,950 who had been living in Greece, were deported. [368] The following is quoted from "The Destruction of Greek Jewry, 1941-1944": "... On Tuesday, September 21, 1943, Athens' Chief Rabbi, Elia Barzilai, was ordered to submit to the German authorities a list containing the names and addresses of all Jews living in Athens... A delegation led by Rabbi Barzilai paid a visit to the Archbishop who declared that, to his deep regret, he did not see how he could do anything on behalf of the Jews, despite his willingness to help them. The only alternative left was to go into hiding, or disappear, the Archbishop said. When the Rabbi requested permission for the Jews to hide in the churches, the Archbishop replied: 'Willingly, but it is a mistake to think that there you will be safe. They will not hesitate to seize you. However, I could, with the help of the English, arrange a transfer to the Middle-East for those Jews who are prepared to go...'" [369] At the instigation of Archbishop Damaskinos, priests preached in the churches that Jews should be aided. He also intervened with the German authorities so that children younger than 14, as well as, persons married to parties of the Greek Orthodox faith, should be exempted from the strict anti-Jewish regulations. [370] According to Moissis, the fact that more than 10,000 Jews saved themselves was largely due to the efforts of the Orthodox Church under Archbishop Damaskinos. A few days proceeding the German attempt to corral the Jewish population, the Church issued a circular to all priests, parishes and convents, exhorting them to lend succour and safety to the victims of Nazi barbarism. [371] <161> I have not succeeded in retrieving a copy of this circular, nor was Mr. Moissis able to give any additional information. He confirmed to me that Archbishop Damaskinos had done much for the rescue of the Jews: "Archbishop Damaskinos knew my place of refuge, in the neighbourhood of Athens, and sent me provisions every month. He did the same for other Jews ...whose hiding place he knew." [372] It seems unlikely that a circular letter was issued: a copy might easily have fallen into the hands of the persecutors. In those days one did not put such a message in writing but it was passed on orally. 26 DENMARK a. The Time of Moderation Germany occupied Denmark on April 9, 1940. The position of Denmark under the German occupation was unique in many respects: the King had remained; the Danish Government continued to function until August, 1943; the Germans were interested in keeping things as quiet as possible and granted to Denmark a certain independence in internal affairs, and the attempt to deport and exterminate the Jews of Denmark started relatively late: September, 1943. A total of 7,700 Jews were living in Denmark, a number of them refugees from Germany and elsewhere. <162> In December 1941, participants in a conference of Danish pastors [373] considered the possibility of presenting a petition to Parliament demanding that all members of Parliament should vote against any racial legislation. But the proposal was withdrawn as it was considered undesirable to focus to much public attention on the question. [374] The same question was discussed at another conference of pastors which met in the provincial town of Askov. One of the participants wrote to Rabbi Friediger: "... For us it is not just a question of the Jews and their rights; for the Danes this first of all must be the question of the right of a small nation to exist, particularly as this is also a question of our whole national attitude and the basis of democracy: equality and human dignity." [375] Frederik Torm, a professor of theology at the University of Copenhagen, brought about a common decision of the theological faculty and of the students, declaring that, should persecution of the Jews begin, they would voice their opposition vigorously and publicly. This internal decision was put into practice, in October, 1943. [376] The Church Press in Denmark could publicly denounce anti-Semitism at a time when the Press in other countries had long since been completely silenced. The Rev. Johannes Nordentoft, in one of his articles, called for an active war against the anti-Semitic propaganda of the Nazi press. He pointed out that "those who remain silent or disapprove by merely shrugging their shoulders become accomplices". [377] An article in the Church gazette of Sonderbourg, edited by Dean Halfdan Hoegsbro, stated: <163> "Hatred of the Jews is prompted by the demand for a scapegoat... We will not lend our support to the introduction of anti-Jewish laws; Jew hatred is an infectious disease, to which the innate sense of justice of the Danish people will not permit them to succumb. It is a disease that we shall cast out from our midst. Shame upon us if we ever allow ourselves to fall victim to it." [378] The Skydebjerg-Aavup Church Gazette, comparing the anti-Jewish drive to that of medieval times, wrote: "Our Danish minds will not let themselves become infected by this disease... Anti-Jewish legislation is tantamount to lawlessness, and if we forsake justice, then we will be submitted to a degradation worse than war and suppression." [379] In January, 1943, the Bishop of Copenhagen, Dr. Fuglsang-Damgaard, publicly warned against racial hatred. [380] The pro-Nazi press frequently attacked "the Church's dogged opposition to attempts to initiate anti-Jewish restrictions". [381] The first occasion on which the Danish Bishops approached the authorities en bloc to protest on behalf of the Church of Denmark, was when they addressed a protest to the Minister of Justice containing the following paragraph: "... We draw to your attention the feeling of protest which is spreading in the Church of Denmark. This feeling of protest is due, above all, to the way in which justice is administered in these days. Men are being arrested without the public being given any information about how the arrested persons are treated in prison. Anti-Semitic propaganda is being artificially incited. At the same time pastors receive warnings from the Government that they must not comment on the persecution of the Jews..." [382] <164> b. The Deportation Attempt; the Protest In the summer of 1943, disturbances occurred in several provincial towns. The Germans took reprisals and the people reacted to this by proclaiming strikes. A German ultimatum was rejected by the Danish Government. Thereupon martial law was proclaimed on August 29, 1943. Dr. Werner Best, the German envoy in Copenhagen, received full powers as Reich pleni- potentiary. The Danish Government had resigned. The day to day affairs of its ministries remained in the hands of the permanent Department directors; the director of the Danish Foreign Ministry, Nils Svenningsen, became the chief spokesman of the administration. The Germans now planned the deportation of the Jews in one night, October 1-2. On September 28, however, a German in Copenhagen, Duckwitz, revealed this to Danish friends of his, H.C. Hansen and H. Hedtoft, who warned Henriques, the president of the Jewish community. On the morning of September 29, the Jewish congregations which met in their synagogues for the services of the Jewish New Year were warned. The raids took place as planned. In the night of October 1-2, 202 Jews were captured in Copenhagen and 82 elsewhere in Denmark. About 200 others were arrested later on, most of them caught in flight. The great majority, however, succeeded in hiding themselves. The Swedish Government had publicly expressed its willingness to admit the Danish Jews into Sweden. 7,220 Jews were secretly moved to the beaches and then ferried by Danish fisherman to safety. [383] At the end of August, 1943, the Bishop of Copenhagen, Dr. Fuglsang-Damgaard, asked for an interview with the Director of the Foreign Ministry, who declared that the Jewish question had not been raised. Nobody had been arrested because of race or religion. When the Director had asked Dr. Best about this matter, he had answered: "The question has not been broached at all". [384] <165> Dr. Fuglsang-Damgaard reported this in a letter to the pastors of his diocese, dated September 4, 1943, adding that later developments would be followed attentively. "From our experience with the German habit of breaking promises, it was not thought wise to take Dr. Best's words too seriously. Unfortunately however, his words perhaps did set our minds too much at rest." [385] The Churches, however, made necessary preparation in case persecution of the Jews would begin. Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard convened with pastors belonging to the unofficial Pastors' Organisation P.U.F. [386] and asked them to prepare a draft for a public protest, to be read out from the pulpits. It was ready a short time later. The Bishop suggested some changes but there was hardly time to make them as events developed rapidly. On September 17, 1943, some Jewish houses in Copenhagen were raided. Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard thus had another interview with the director of the Foreign Ministry, Svenningsen. In a letter to the Bishops, dated September 23, he informed them that: "... the raid did not indicate that they (the Germans) would raise the Jewish question, but that it was connected with a suspicion of certain persons. Thereafter I asked the Director of the Department to inform the German authorities that their raising of the Jewish question would be met by a joint protest by the Church and the Bishops. The Director promised to inform the Germans of this..." Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard relates: "The Jewish community was in a very difficult situation. The chief-rabbi, Dr. Friediger was interned in the camp of Horsercad, just as the time of the great feasts of the year was approaching. We did what we could to obtain his release, so that at least he could lead the services during the feasts. At the beginning of the fateful week (during the night of the first October) I paid a visit to the chairman of the Jewish community organisation, the advocate of the Supreme Court, C.B. Henriques. <166> I shall never forget it. I came to express our heartfelt fellowship with his community and to say that we were remembering the Jews in our prayers, not the least in those days when they celebrated their great feasts, and also in order to assure him that we would do what we could to help the interned to get their liberty again..." [387] "On 29th September, about 10 o'clock, the chairman of the Jewish community organisation, Advocate Henriques, came to me and told me that it was almost sure that the Jewish question would now be raised. There existed an order from Hitler himself to raise it. The ships for the deportation were said to be in the harbour. I went at once to the Department of Religious Affairs and asked for an interview with the Director of the Department who, however, at that time did not know anything about such imminent action. Immediately after this I went to the Department of Foreign Affairs and obtained an interview with the Director. He told me that, according to information he had received from different sources, there could be no doubt that the situation was very serious. A meeting of the Directors of the Departments was to be held on the question at two o'clock...I returned to the Ministry of Religious Affairs, in order to tell Mr. Thomsen, the Director of the Department, how serious the situation was, asking him to present a protest to the meeting and to inform the German authorities also about the contents of the protest." [388] Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard then returned to his residence. The protest was written in the presence of his assistants in the office. He signed it on behalf of the Bishops. "We were conscious that this was a decisive moment. We expected at the time, that the signature would cost me both my office and my freedom. The protest was sent by a messenger to the Director of the Department to whom personally it was handed. I went to the Dean in order to arrange with him the things to be done if I should be arrested." [389] All the Bishops received the protest by express letter, with a request for their immediate support and with the appendix: "In case persecution of the Jews should begin, this Protest must be read in the churches, and I propose that the pastors commence the reading with the following sentence: 'On the 29th September of this year the Bishops sent to the leading German authorities, through the Directors of the Departments, a letter with the following contents:...'" <167> On Saturday, October 2, 1943, theological students despatched the Protest to all the manses in Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard's diocese. On that same evening, the Bishop again was advised by the Ministry of Religious Affairs and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, to consider the consequences. "But there was nothing to reconsider. The matter had to be completed." [390] The Protest "Wherever persecutions are undertaken for racial or religious reasons against the Jews, it is the duty of the Christian Church to raise a protest against it for the following reasons: 1. Because we shall never be able to forget that the Lord of the Church, Jesus Christ, was born in Bethlehem, of the Virgin Mary into Israel, the people of His possession, according to the promise of God. The history of the Jewish people up to the birth of Christ includes the preparation for the salvation which God has prepared in Christ for all men. This is also expressed in the fact that the Old Testament is a part of our Bible. 2. Because a persecution of the Jews is irreconcilable with the humanitarian concept of love of neighbours which follows from the message which the Church of Jesus Christ is commissioned to proclaim. With Christ there is no respect of persons, and He has taught us that every man is precious in the eyes of God. 'There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.' (Gal. 3, 28). 3. Because it contradicts the sense of justice, inherent during centuries in our Danish civilisation and which lives in the Danish people. In accordance with the above principles, all Danish citizens have equal rights and duties before the law and freedom of religion assured to them by the constitution. We understand by freedom of religion the right to exercise our faith in God according to vocation and conscience, in such a way that race and religion can never be in themselves a reason for depriving a man of his rights, freedom or property. Despite different religious views we shall therefore struggle to ensure the continued guarantee to our Jewish brothers and sisters of the same freedom which we ourselves treasure more than life. The leaders of the Danish Church are conscious of our responsibility to be law-abiding citizens; we do not needlessly revolt against those who exercise the functions of authority over us; but at the same time, we are obliged by our conscience to maintain the law and to protest against any violation of human rights. Therefore, we desire to declare unambiguously our allegiance to the word that we must obey God rather than man." On Behalf of the Bishops: Fuglsang-Damgaard. [391] <168> What strikes us is that the Public Protest stressed the special relationship existing between Christians and Jews, while the second point of the protest states that "every man is precious in the eyes of God". The text mentioned (which also was quoted by many other Churches in different lands) seems more applicable to the position of members of the Church who are of Jewish origin ("There is neither Jew nor Greek,... for ye are all one in Christ Jesus"). However, Christians of Jewish origin were not mentioned in the Protest at all. This in itself was certainly fortunate, for reasons discussed in ch. 4. Finally, the letter of Protest states that "we must obey God rather than man". It must have been clear to every church goer that, in fact, the Bishops were summoning him to active resistance against the German measures. In one of the churches in Copenhagen the Bishop began his sermon on that particular Sunday by telling what had happened and unequivocally expressing his own view. Finally, when the protest was read out to the congregation as a Pastoral Letter of the Church leaders, all those who were present stood up in order to express their approval. [392] A Danish Lutheran pastor informed me that whenever the Danish Bishops issue a public declaration, the faithful consider two questions: 1 Is what the Bishops say right? 2 What gave them the right to speak on my behalf? When, therefore, the congregation stood up when Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard read out the protest, this can be seen as expressing the congregation's opinion that he had rightly spoken on their behalf. No Bishop nor pastor, to the best of my knowledge, directly suffered or was even arrested because of the public protest. In conclusion of this paragraph we record Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard's comment on the situation after the Church had given its testimony: "The protest had been made and it was not repeated. A repetition would have meant a weakening of it. Furthermore, it would not have been of any use. That was clear to everyone who knew the situation. What had now to be done was to bring help to those compatriots who were deported, persecuted or in hiding. <169> The whole Danish population understood this and all circles in our country came together to render this help. This was a time when there was no rest by day or by night; when it happened that a man in the street would come and give one 10,000 kroner; when a code-language developed in order to keep the mutual contact alive; when one felt an unspeakable happiness and gratitude whenever somebody was saved." [393] c. After the Rescue Operation Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard and other Church leaders also contributed to the sending of gift parcels to the Jews who had been deported. On November 29, 1943, the Bishops jointly addressed Dr. Best through the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in order to gain his support for this work. The appeal read as follows: "It is with deep sorrow and disappointment that we perceive through developing circumstances, that our appeal to the German authorities over the Jewish question has not born fruit. But our interest in, and deep sympathy with, our deported countrymen is undiminished, and as there now seems to be a possibility that we can send support and aid in the form of food from this country, we wish to suggest to the Danish Church communities that they should send help to the interned Jews, in the form of gift parcels, through the Red Cross. In our relationship with the community, we know that the Christian conscience of our people and their conception of justice has suffered a painful wound, and how deep a need they feel to help. We would therefore be grateful to the Director of the Department of Foreign Affairs if he would inform Dr. Best of our attitude and point out to him that support from competent German representatives towards a good solution of this question would be met with deep satisfaction within Church circles, the members of whom would, through this Christian and humane activity, find a way to express their deep concern over this matter." [394] The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Social Affairs, the Red Cross and the pastors of Copenhagen acted unanimously in this large-scale assistance to the Danish Jews in Theresienstadt, an action which was successful beyond all expectation. Of the 475 Jews who were deported to Theresienstadt, all returned with the exception of 53 who had died. <170> In December, 1943, Bishop Malmstrom prayed for the Jews in a broadcast religious service. Thereupon the German authorities demanded the right to make a preliminary censorship of broadcast services. Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard then sent a statement through the Foreign Ministry to the German authorities, in which he stated that if censorship was introduced, neither the Sunday services nor the morning devotions would continue to be broadcast, and that the reason for this measure would be made public from all pulpits. A week later, the Bishop was informed by the German authorities that "the incident was due to a misunderstanding". [395] In February, 1944, the Bishops sent a letter to their congregations in which they requested prayer "for God's ancient chosen people, trusting that God will help where we see no way to do so." [396] <171> The crucial question, whether the Church was influenced by general public opinion or whether it was the other way round, has been discussed in ch. 2. THE SATELLITE COUNTRIES 27 SLOVAKIA On the eve of the German invasion of Czechoslovakia, on March 14, 1939, Slovakia declared its independence, and on March 23, the agreement of German protection was signed. Following the first Vienna award on November 2, 1938, parts of former Slovakian territory with about 40,000 Jews were annexed by Hungary, together with parts of Sub Carpathian Ruthenia. After the occupation of all of Carpatho-Ruthenia containing 100,000 Jews, by Hungary, about 90,000 Jews remained in "independent" Slovakia. A Catholic priest (Dr. Josef Tiso) was head of the Slovakian State. On April 18, 1939, the first anti-Jewish decree was enacted. A special Department for Jewish Affairs was opened in the Ministry of Interior. It co-operated with the Hlinka Guard. The Council of the Evangelical (Lutheran) Pastors' Union decided, in its session of November 21, 1939, to send a Memorandum to the President and the Government of Slovakia, regarding the Hlinka Youth organization and the Hlinka Guard. We quote the following: "We, as Evangelical Christians and as citizens, cannot agree with the following facts: the annulment of individual rights and freedom of certain people; the taking of steps against the Jews without legal basis, by means of violence, for instance, that the men of the Hlinka Guard, during the night, dragged Jews - women, mothers and children - out of their beds and transported them to concentration camps; illegally imposing of fines etc.; transgressions which are performed though they are contrary to the law and to Christian ethics." [397] <172> The first deportation train left Slovakia on March 26, 1942. In August 1942, the Jewish population had been reduced to 25,000. On August 23, 1944, a rebellion broke out which was ruthlessly quelled. In the autumn of 1944, 13,500 of the remainder of Slovakian Jewry were deported. In the whole of Slovakia there remained not more than about 4,000 to 5,000 Jews. [398] The Convent of (Lutheran) Bishops, under the Chairmanship of Dr. Vladimir Cobrda and Dr. Samuel Stefan Osusky, decided to issue a Pastoral letter about the "Jewish Question", on May 20, 1942. We quote the following: "... The Evangelical (Lutheran) Church neither can nor wishes to interfere in the executive power of the competent government departments, whose duty it is to solve the problems. The Church, however, is convinced that it is possible and thus also necessary to solve this problem in a just, humane and Christian way, according to the Christian principles which are based on the eternal laws of God and the teaching of Christ. According to this teaching, all men are endowed with the right to live, to earn a honourable livelihood, and the right to family-life. It also protects the honour of the Jews as human beings, so that not one of them should feel deprived because of his national, religious or racial attachments. The racial law however, which some people champion, is contrary to the Christian faith, which accepts the biblical message that God is the Creator of all things and of all mankind, 'from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name' (Ephesians 3, 14). 'He is the head, and on him the whole body depends. Bonded and knit together by every constituent joint, the whole frame grows through the due activity of each part, and builds itself up in love' (Ephesians 4, 16). To our sorrow we have been compelled to witness deeds which cannot be justified. They are contrary to human feelings, to justice and to the law of God; they are in no way related to love. Such things could not happen, if all would honour the declaration broadcast by the Ministry of Interior, that no harm would be done to the Jews, that they would be treated in a humane and Christian way, and that they should just have to work as the other citizens. <173> The Church cannot reconcile itself to these deeds which we have witnessed in many places. The Church cannot but express its sorrow about them and reject them. If members of the Evangelical Church participated in these deeds, they must be severely condemned for this..." [399] "The Times" of August 11, 1942, commented on this pastoral letter as follows: "The Slovak Lutheran Church, under the leadership of the Bishops Dr. Cobrda and Dr. Osusky, has taken the lead in the fight against Nazism in Slovakia. From the pulpits of all Protestant Churches in Slovakia a pastoral letter was read on May 31. In this the bishops condemned an 'immature political ideology' modelled on Nazi and Fascist lines and emphasized loyalty to the Gospel of Christ. They also condemned the anti-Jewish policy and defended the right of the Church, to baptize proselytes from Judaism on religious grounds. The pastoral letter, the first of its kind in this part of Europe, has caused a profound sensation in central and south-eastern Europe (particularly in Hungary, where a substantial Protestant congregation exists). Nazi circles in Slovakia are particularly aggrieved since the bishops in question are considered as leading authorities in Church matters, even outside Slovakia... Roughly one sixth of the Slovak population are Protestants." We have discussed the matter of the so-called "mercy-baptisms" in chapter 5. Suffice it here to mention that pastors in Slovakia were in peril of their life if they dared to baptize Jews, during the second world war. 28 RUMANIA In June, 1940, the Russians took back Bess Arabia and occupied Northern Bucovina. In August, Hungary carved out for itself Northern Transylvania and the Bulgarians occupied Southern Dobrudja. On September 5, General Ion Antonescu took over the government as Conducator of Rumania, and on October 7, 1940, German troops arrived in Rumania. At the beginning of 1941, the Fascist Iron Guard tried to overthrow General Antonescu. The revolt was crushed, but members of the Iron Guard had murdered hundreds of Jews in Bucharest. <174> In June, 1941, Germany invaded Russia; Rumania reconquered Bucovina and Bess Arabia. On July 29, 1941, Rumanian soldiers murdered at least 4,000 Jews in Jassy. The Rumanians deported an estimated 185,000 Jews from Dorohoi, Bucovina and Bess Arabia to Transnistria, in the Soviet Ukraine. By May, 1942, about two-thirds of these Jews had died. [400] Strong anti-Semitic influences were manifest in the Rumanian Orthodox Church. On August 18, 1937, Patriarch Miron Cristea had issued a statement calling upon the Rumanian nation "to fight the Jewish parasites". [401] Chief Rabbi Dr. Safran relates his frantic efforts to try to avert the deportation of the Jews in the districts of Dorohoi, Bucovina and Bessarabia. It was decided that he should approach the head of the Orthodox Church, the old Patriarch Nicodemus. "... During the dramatic conversation I had with the Patriarch, who was rather indifferent at the beginning pretending that it was all the affair of the government, he changed his attitude in view of my growing emotion which I was unable to hide from him. I spoke of the terrible responsibility he was taking upon his conscience in the eyes of the Supreme Judge, and ended by throwing myself at the feet of his pontifical seat. Deeply moved, the Patriarch lifted me up and promised to do his best. On taking my leave of him I sensed that he intended to ask for the support of the Queen-mother." [402] Chief Rabbi Safran immediately took steps to get in touch with King Michael and the Queen-mother Helena to prepare them for a possible appeal from the Patriarch Nicodemus. "The Patriarch, on his part, first sought unsuccessfully, to intervene with Antonescu; and then addressed himself to the King and the Queen-mother. <175> The Queen-mother suggested that Baron Manfred von Killinger, the German ambassador, should be invited to the palace for a meal during which a last appeal should be attempted. In the course of this dinner the Queen-mother spoke fervently on behalf of the innocent victims, but he, in the presence of the King and the Patriarch, responded with an obstinate, brutal refusal." These interventions of the Queen-mother and the Patriarch (who unfortunately was to disappoint Dr. Safran later on) nevertheless helped to make it possible for the rest of the Jewish population of Czernovitz to stay in the Bucovinian capital. [403] Chief Rabbi Safran then heard of the arrival of the Metropolitan of the Bucovina, Tot Simedrea, in Bucharest, whose anti-Semitic feelings were known. Nevertheless Dr. Safran called on him. "Contrary to my expectations, Mgr. Simedrea revealed an understanding attitude. He told me of the feelings aroused in him by the sight of the Jews of Czernovitz being deported to the ghetto, during which he had seen a Rumanian soldier carrying a sick old Jewish women on his shoulders. He also had heard the heart-rendering cries of Jewish mental patients who formed part of this tragic convoy. The Metropolitan effectively intervened with the Government of Bucharest and on his return to Czernovitz exerted pressure on the Governor-General of the Bucovina. These, together with other similar appeals, brought to an end the deportation of Jews from the capital of this province." [404] In the summer of 1942, pressure was exerted on Antonescu by the Germans, to order the deportation of all Jews of Rumania. The Germans obtained the consent of the Rumanian Government for this. Trains were already prepared for the deportation. Then a delegation of the Jewish communities of South Transylvania informed Dr. Safran that all technical steps for the operation had just been taken in their province. Appeals to the authorities had been in vain. Dr. Safran relates: "One sole course remained to be tried - an appeal to Metropolitan Balan, head of the Orthodox Church of Transylvania, well-known both for his anti-Semitism and for the great influence he had with leading figures in the government, and with Marshal Antonescu in particular. <176> Following a brief consultation we gave up the original idea of my proceeding to Sibiu, for fear of arousing the attention of the Gestapo and the Centre for Jewish Affairs. I accordingly adopted a most daring course. Using the services of an intermediary, I begged the Metropolitan to come to Bucharest." In the meantime, Metropolitan Balan had come to the capital and informed Dr. Safran by telephone that he would be waiting for him at the house of General Vaitoianu with whom he was staying. "Our meeting took place in an extremely tense atmosphere. I assumed an accusing tone which could only have been inspired by despair. [405] The Metropolitan walked up and down the room without saying a word. Finally he took up the telephone and called Marshal Antonescu with whom he asked for an urgent interview. The Marshal was reported to be busy, but they agreed to have lunch together. In the meantime I communicated to Mgr. Balan the news that for several weeks the authorities in Bucharest had been deporting not only Jews, condemned without trial, of not having reported for compulsory labour, but also their parents and children. The Metropolitan immediately telephoned the Vice-Premier, Minister Michael Antonescu, and told him what he just had learned. The Minister promised to look into the matter. As a result, after a few days there were no more deportations from Bucharest. I accompanied the Metropolitan to his car which was to take him to the Dictator, pleading with him to use all the means in his power to obtain a favourable decision. My prayers followed him after he had left... Three hours later the sonorous voice of the Metropolitan told me over the telephone that the Marshal had given in. The Jews of South Transylvania had been saved." [406] There are other countries in which Church leaders courageously and whole heartedly stood up for the Jews and yet their interventions seldom had any result at all. In Rumania, however, the intervention of the Orthodox leaders seems to have been quite successful. It is typical of Rumania that no public protests were issued. Church leaders personally intervened. These interventions took place only after Chief Rabbi Safran had implored the Orthodox leaders to come to the rescue of the Jews. <177> It is difficult to ascertain what exactly moved these apparently reluctant saviours to take action. The change of heart with Patriarch Nicodemus seems to have come after Dr. Safran had spoken "of the terrible responsibility he was taking upon his conscience in the eyes of the Supreme Judge". Metropolitan Simedrea told Dr. Safran "of the feelings aroused in him by the sight of the Jews of Czernovitz being deported to the ghetto ". According to a report of Matatias Carp, there was in 1940 a Jewish population in Rumania of approximately 760,000, of whom 400,000 were massacred. "Among the victims, 250,000 lie on the conscience of the Rumanian Fascist Government directly. [407] There are two other non-Roman Catholic Churches of some importance in Rumania. The Reformed Church of Rumania is the Church of the Hungarian national minority. I have not been able to find any particulars about the attitude of this Church regarding anti-Semitism. The Evangelical (Lutheran) Church of the Augsburg Confession is mainly the Church of the German immigrants. In spring 1942, the National Consistory of this Church decided, on a motion of Bishop Staedel, that their Church would join the "Institute for Research into the Jewish influence upon German Church life", founded in Eisenach (Germany). A study group was formed, which, in close contact with the Eisenach Institute, sought "to make the results of its scientific work fruitful for the life and future form of the Lutheran Church in Rumania". At the first conference of the study group, at the beginning of March, 1942, the following statement by Bishop Staedel was accepted as the guiding principle for the work as a whole: "We are deeply convinced that at this time of national revival, we are making it extremely difficult for a German to come to Jesus Christ if we present him with a continuous and detailed treatment of the Old Testament. In the two hours every week, which are meant to be devoted to bringing the message of the Saviour to the German in his national character and community, we have absolutely no room for the national and messianic history of the Israelite-Jewish people. <178> Therefore we advocate the elimination of the Old Testament so far as possible from the religious life of the Germans, and thus from the Lutheran religious instruction." [408] A statement made by the leader of the "scientific work" of the study group described the motives underlying its work as follows: "The decisive impulse has come to us from outside, from the political life of the German people. In the national-socialist revolution, however, this nation has confessed to a year-long guilt, for having failed to guard its God-given torch of the Nordic Aryan vision of life, allowing it to flicker and die out under the influence of foreign, especially Jewish, intrigues. Now this light will once again burn for the nation in all its purity. What wonder then that people are now coming to the Church, demanding of it the same confession of guilt, even more insistently because the Church has taken the Bible of the Jews into its own canon of Scripture. Thus it has consciously held open at least an aperture through which an essentially foreign spirit could infiltrate into our national life. [409] Bishop D. Friedrich Mueller, the present head of this Church, replied to my circular letter and stated: "As soon as the alliance (between Germany and Rumania) came into force, the fascist government of Rumania promulgated a law by which a 'German community in Rumania' was constituted. Par. 4 of this law granted to the leader of this community the right, to issue decrees compulsory upon the Rumanian citizens of German descent. Thus supported, the 'leader of the community' succeeded in compelling Dr. Victor Glondys, the Bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Rumania, to resign, whereupon he appointed his political associate, Wilhelm Staedel, as the head of the Church. Even Staedel did not give in to him completely but tried to follow the policy of the 'German Christians'. [410] In a admonition to my congregation I made a stand against both attempts. This led to several actions of persecution... By secret consultations we could win about 80 per cent of our pastors for resistance and a clear Christian preaching, based on the Old as well as the New Testament... I do not know of any case in which members of my Church co-operated in the persecution of the Jews. Unfortunately there are no documentary proofs of this, because of the atmosphere of the time. During the fascist dictatorship in Rumania censorship existed, which prevented publication of statements on behalf of the Jews. <179> I could not, for instance, publish my warning mentioned above nor send it by mail. Copies of it had to be passed on from hand to hand. Similarly, as a precaution, I had to destroy my archives during the persecution. I myself no longer have a copy." [411] I requested Dr. Safran to comment on this letter. He replied: "Concerning the attitude of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Rumania towards my co-religionists in distress during the period of Nazi oppression, I must tell you that we did not receive any help or comfort from this Church in our terrible suffering, not even a token of human compassion. In 1942, in order to request his intervention on our behalf, I intended to go to the Metropolitan of the Orthodox Rumanian Church, Mgr. Balan, whose residence was in Sibiu, where also was the Centre of the Evangelical Church. I was warned, however, that the members of this Church living in Sibiu were capable of betraying me to the Gestapo - with which they maintained direct relations - in order to prevent me from approaching Mgr. Balan." [412] The letter from Bishop Mueller seems to suggest that there existed a kind of "Confessing Church" in Rumania. If this name is correct for the group mentioned by him, it should be added that the existence of this "Confessing Church in Rumania" was not, contrary to what can be said about the Confessing Church in Germany, a very manifest phenomenon. Apparently its existence was not manifest to Dr. Safran. Bishop Staedel "tried to follow the policy of the German Christians". He certainly matched them in anti-Semitic heresies. 29 BULGARIA a. The Preliminary Phase Bulgaria was part ally, part satellite of Germany. In September, 1940, it acquired southern Dobrudja from Roumania. In March, 1941, the German army was admitted to Bulgaria. The Germans took Macedonia from Yugoslavia, Thrace from Greece, and handed them over to Bulgaria. <180> The number of Jews in Bulgaria at the end of 1939 amounted to 50,000. Approximately 15,000 more were added to the Bulgarian power sphere in the newly won territories. [413] The "Law for the Protection of the Nation'; containing provisions for the definition, expropriation and concentration of the Jews, was adopted by a majority of the Parliament at the end of December 1, 1940, and promulgated on January 21, 1941. In August, 1942, wearing the yellow star was made compulsory for the entire Jewish population. At the same time Belev was appointed as Bulgarian Commissioner for Jewish Affairs. On November 15, 1940, the "Holy Synod of the Bulgarian Church" sent a letter of Protest to the Prime Minister (Filov), with a copy to the Speaker of the Parliament. The letter was signed by the Deputy Chairman of the Holy Synod, Metropolitan Neophyte. It read as follows: "The Bulgarian Church has always kept a faithful and watchful eye on the destiny of the Bulgarian people throughout its existence. She has always had an unbroken link with its destiny, and shared in its wishes and longings, its joy and sorrow, its pain, its misfortunes and ideals. This concern of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church for the Bulgarian people was strongest in days of trial and danger. In such days she did everything in her power to prevent the nation from making big mistakes, as it was capable of doing, and to protect it from the dangers and calamities that threatened it. And whenever the warning voice of the national Church was heeded our people was kept from major disasters. On the other hand, when it ignored the warning voice of the Church, our people underwent danger and suffering. The Bulgarian Church follows with great satisfaction the efforts of our people and those of the Bulgarian authorities to protect the people and the fatherland from dangers that lie in wait for them from different quarters. Therefore, now too, the national Church is very glad to note that the Government is preparing a 'Law for the Protection of the Nation', to protect our people and everything Bulgarian from such dangers. The Church considers it her duty, however, precisely for the benefit of the nation, to draw the attention of the competent authorities to several defects in the proposed law, which could have bad consequences, and which also touch the Church as a divine institution, whose duty it is to watch over all her spiritual children and cause the will of God to rule in the cause of righteousness and mercy among human beings and the nations... <181> Let no account be taken of laws against the Jews as a national minority, but let purposeful steps be taken against all the real dangers to the spiritual, cultural, economical, public and political life of the Bulgarian people, from whatever direction these dangers come." [414] It is typical of this letter that most of its contents could also have been written by any anti-fascist political, party, instead of by a Church. Early in 1941, it became known that the "Law for the Protection of the Nation" was going to be ratified. Metropolitan Stephan then called for a plenary session of the Holy Synod of the Bulgarian Church, which passed a resolution agreeing to send a letter of protest to the Prime Minister and to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, in which it was pointed out that: "... The principle of racialism which is the basic idea on which the above mentioned law is founded, has no justification from the point of view of the teachings of Jesus... The principle of racialism which encourages persecution and denies the rights of people, merely because of their race, in this case the Jewish race, has no justification, and therefore one cannot base the 'Law for the Protection of the Nation' on the principle of racialism. One cannot turn the 'Law for the Protection of the Nation' into a means of oppression and persecution of the Jewish minority in the land." [415] On September 9, 1942, the Metropolitan of Sofia, Stephan, preached a sermon, probably in preparation of the "Feast of the Exaltation of the Honourable and Life-giving Cross". This feast of the Orthodox Church falls on September 14. The Metropolitan declared that: "... God had punished the Jews for the crucifixion of Jesus in that He had expelled them from their country and had not given them a country of their own. And thus, God had determined the destiny of the Jews. <182> However, men had no right to exercise cruelty towards the Jews and to persecute them. Especially Christians ought to see their brothers in Jews who had accepted the Christian religion and to support them in every possible way. He stressed several times in his sermon that truly it is in God's hands to punish twice and three times, but it is forbidden for Christians to do such a thing." [416] Apparently there existed a brand of "theological" anti-Semitism in the Church of Bulgaria. Fortunately, it is difficult to state that "God had punished the Jews ... and had not given them a country of their own", since, in 1948, the State of Israel came into being. Perhaps we may consider it an encouraging fact that people who held such views of "theological" anti-Semitism, nevertheless have such an excellent record when practical help to the persecuted was proved necessary. This consideration, however, should not be used to exempt Church leaders from their duty to educate the faithful in a more Biblical and thus more humane spirit than that of Metropolitan Stephan's sermon, in 1942. b. The Attempt to Deport the Jews In January, 1943, Eichmann's representative Dannecker arrived in Bulgaria. On February 22, 1943, he concluded a written agreement with the Bulgarian Commissioner for Jewish Affairs, Belev, which provided for the deportation of 8,000 Jews from Macedonia, 6,000 from Thrace and 6,000 from Old Bulgaria. In March, deportations from the occupied Greek and Yugoslavian territories started. 11,363 Jews were deported from these regions. [417] There were personal interventions by Church leaders, and an official Protest from the Synod of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church was issued, on behalf of the Bulgarian Jews who were threatened with deportation. <183> Abraham Alphasy, who was then Head of the Jewish Community of Sofia, relates: "... At that time I went, as the Chairman of the Jewish Congregation, to Metropolitan Stephan, a man with a highly-developed sense of justice, who was a faithful friend of the Jews. When I informed him about the preparations to deport the group of Jews to Germany and requested his intervention, he asked me from whom I had received this information. I replied that it was from a reliable source but for obvious reasons I could not reveal it. Then he immediately dressed and went to the palace of King Boris. The King, who guessed for what reason the Metropolitan had come, sent a message informing him that he was ill and could not receive him. The Metropolitan intimated, as he himself told me, that he would not leave the palace before he had seen the King. Finally, the King was compelled to receive him. The Metropolitan requested him to cancel the order to deliver the Jews to the Germans. The Metropolitan told him that, in the event that they would assault the Jews in order to send them to Germany, he would give instructions to open the gates of the churches and monasteries. They would give the Jews shelter. 'In this situation the King was compelled to promise to do as requested,' the Metropolitan told me..." [418] We quote the following from the testimony of Joseph Geron, who served as head of the Jewish Community in Sofia, and afterwards became the Chairman of the Union of Jewish Congregations in Bulgaria: "... Continuing, the witness gave details about united action with the head of the Church in Sofia, Metropolitan Stephan, by whom he was received three times. Dr. Kalmi, one of the leaders of Jewry, kept in touch with the general secretary of the Holy Synod, the body authorized to direct religious affairs in Bulgaria. Thanks to these contacts a meeting between the King and representatives of the Church took place concerning the rescue of the Jews... During his first meeting with the head of the Church in Sofia, the Metropolitan Stephan, he had said to him among other things: 'Cannot the Bulgarian Church do something similar to what the Catholic Church and the Pope himself are doing for the Jews, with an action for their rescue?' To this Stephan answered that the Bulgarian Church would follow the example of the Catholic Church and would do, and allow to be done, everything possible on behalf of the Jews..." [419] <184> In March, 1943, Metropolitan Stephan called for a plenary session of the Holy Synod which was held April 2, 1943. He informed all the Metropolitans of the danger that was threatening Bulgarian Jewry. The Metropolitans unanimously decided to send a letter of Protest to the Prime Minister, Filov, and to the Minister of the Interior and of Religions. The letter read as follows: The Law for the Protection of the Nation "The idea of passing a Law for the Protection of the Nation which would annul dangers to our people and our state, on which the national, spiritual and moral unity of the Bulgarian people is founded, was accepted by our Holy Orthodox Church, which is the eternal guardian of the destiny of the Bulgarian people, and which knows better than others, from bitter historical experience, what it would mean to our people to be divided by false religious, national and economic teaching, and to be exploited by any minority. The need to restrain such disintegrating political and religious-sectarian ideas, has always existed in our country, as it also exists now. To-day, too, when the new destiny of our people is being decided, it is more than ever necessary to limit, with the help of the law, disintegrating factors in our land and, to harness them to the building of the healthy spiritual powers of our people and, to guarantee economic opportunities for every Bulgarian. However, already when this Law for the Protection of the Nation was made, the Holy Synod of our Church gave warning and begged that it should not be only based on the existing foundations and concepts, because in that case it would not meet the great objective standing before it: to safeguard against disintegrating influences and, to unite the Bulgarian people in a spiritual entity. The Law for the Protection of the Nation was created with the express purpose of limiting the Jewish minority; the main concept of the law is based on racialism. At that time the Holy Synod informed the Government, that the principle of racialism cannot be justified from the point of view of the Christian doctrine, being contrary to the fundamental message of the Christian Church, in which all who believe in Jesus Christ are men and women of equal worth. 'There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus' (Gal. 3, 28). The principle of racialism, according to which certain members of the community can be persecuted, restricted and deprived of their rights only because they belong to a certain race, in this case the Jewish race, cannot be justified from the standpoint of Christian ethics. Therefore the Church emphatically demands that the Law for the Protection of the Nation shall not be based mainly on the principles of racialism, but on those of spiritual wholeness and the protection of our people, so that it may safeguard them from those disintegrating influences which affect spiritual and religious values, and also from economic financial exploitation. <185> They did not listen to the voice of our Holy Synod. We now see, that the Law for the Protection of the Nation, nearly two years after its promulgation, instead of meeting its great task of safeguarding the Nation from damaging and disintegrating influences, and uniting its creative, healthy, spiritual and economic powers into a spiritual and moral unity, has turned into a means of restricting and persecuting the Jewish minority in our country." Christians of Jewish Origin "Many times our Holy Synod has requested in writing the honourable Government, from the promulgation of the Law until to-day, to ease the restricting passages of the Law against Christians of Jewish origin, and against the Jews in general. Until now both the written requests and the interventions of the Holy Synod have remained unanswered. Neither has any alleviation in the fate of the Jewish minority been granted. The Christians of Jewish origin are still forced to wear the star with the six points, the symbol of the Jewish religion, and they pay taxes to the Jewish consistory; in fact this is a gross profanation of our holy Orthodox religion, in as much as they have been baptized and received into the Church, some of them long before there was any word at all about the Law for the Protection of the Nation. In spite of our repeated requests to exempt them - what insults they have to bear as Christians - there has been no alleviation whatsoever." The Jewish Minority "Neither has there been any easing in the situation of the Jewish minority as a whole. Quite the contrary, restrictions are increasing daily. It has gone so far that these citizens of our country are deprived of the most elementary rights, and the Department for Jewish Affairs is free to do with them as it wishes; sending them to camps and deporting them from the country. Our people, with soul and conscience, mind and conviction, cannot tolerate injustice, cruelty and violence against anybody. It cannot accept what is being done now to the Jewish minority. Its human and Christian conscience is perplexed. The Holy Synod has also received requests from different quarters - from leading citizens who are outstanding Bulgarians, from well-known businessmen who love their fatherland, from Bulgarian mothers - to demand righteous and a humane treatment of the Jewish minority in the country. The Holy Synod of the Bulgarian Church cannot ignore its divine command and its holy duty. It must, according to the teaching of the Gospel concerning love of one's neighbour, raise a compassionate and defending voice in aid of the suffering sand wronged people; it must beg, guide and convince, so that the measures in general against the Jews may cease or at least be eased. God's law, which transcends all human laws, definitely obliges us not to be indifferent in the face of the sufferings of innocent people, of whatever race. The majority of our people also place their relationship with the suffering Jewish minority on this biblical and humane foundation. <186> Understandably our Holy Synod, as we have already stressed in another letter to the honourable Government, does not deny the right of the Bulgarian authorities to preserve the security of the State and to take all steps to safeguard this security; to persecute, to restrict, to punish. But the Holy Synod is charged with the divine duty to remind the Government that these steps must be taken with justice and in a humane spirit, so that they may surely attain their aim and be effective and lasting for the protection of the State. Until now, a historical line of justice and integrity has been the sure means for the protection of our people and our State. On these eternal foundations we also base our national and righteous demands, side along our hopes. The Bulgarian people as a whole has always, until now, been just and tolerant. Our nation, although it has suffered more than all the nations, does not love, nor tolerate, violence and cruelty We have this name and by it we are known amongst the other nations. We have realized our national aspirations, precisely because we knew they were just; and we wanted justice, both for ourselves and for others. May we Bulgarians, who have longed so much for a fair and decent attitude towards ourselves, now forsake our strongest weapon? The Bulgarian Orthodox Church fears that, if we destroy the eternal foundation - the right to live as free men and the divine commandment to be just - there no longer will be left to us, as a small people, any other strong support for our existence. The Bulgarian State must, therefore, abide by these truths, and apply them to all its subjects, who are guiltless (except for the fact that they were born in Bulgaria, but not of Bulgarian parents). A divine command and divine justice cannot be disregarded. The Holy Synod, meeting in the special session of April 2, of this year, has decided - after considering its deep concern for the honour and future of the Bulgarian people, and its responsibility before God - to inform you that the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, as a national and divine institution, cannot agree to principles such as racialism, in which it is possible to foment hatred and to indulge in violence and cruelty. It cannot accept the principle that any race be deprived of the human right to live, since this right is in accordance with the fundamental principles of Christian religion and morality. The Bulgarian Orthodox Church is of the opinion that she cannot deny help and protection to the persecuted and oppressed. If she were to refuse such help, she would be unfaithful to herself. In this case our Holy Church was asked for help, by the Jews as well as by Christian Bulgarians, in order to improve the fate of the Jews in general. The Church does not deny and even especially stresses the duty and the right of the honourable Government to take the necessary steps to protect the people and the State from all dangers. However, she must stress the duty of the State to abide by the principles of justice and the Christian Gospel." Three Requests "In consideration, therefore, the Holy Synod has decided to request you urgently: <187> 1. Not to deprive the Christians of Jewish origin and the Jews of our country in general of the elementary rights of human beings and of citizens; not to deprive them of the right to live in the country and of the possibility to work and to live as human beings. 2. The restricting decrees regarding the Jews must be both eased and not be enforced too strictly. 3. To cancel the unjustifiable obligation whereby Christians of Jewish origin wear both the Christian cross and the Jewish star, and whereby they pay taxes to the Jewish community. The Bulgarian Church considers herself especially obliged to raise her voice for the protection of the Christians of Jewish origin, who have cut themselves off from the Jewish community and who have been received into the bosom of the Bulgarian Church. She cannot accept that these Christians wear the symbol of the Jewish religion and that they pay taxes to the Jewish religious community, or that they be deported from their fatherland. In this case the Church cannot help but recall to mind the words of our Lord: 'and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again' (Matthew 7, 2), and with concern raise her voice in warning. We pray that God's blessing may be upon you, and fervently praying in the name of Jesus, we remain,..." [420] Unfortunately, this Protest complained that "Christians of Jewish origin are still forced to wear the star with the six points", stating that "this is a gross profanation of our holy Orthodox religion". It also defended the Jews in general, stating that "the principle of racialism cannot be justified from the point of view of the Christian doctrine, being contrary to the fundamental message of the Christian Church." However, much of the argumentation was still national, rather than religious. Typical is the expression: "The Holy Synod,... after considering its deep concern for the honour and future of the Bulgarian people, and its responsibility before God... (in that order!). Absence of sound theology as regards the position of the Jewish people, combined with national considerations, is especially dangerous when one considers that (contrary to the case in Bulgaria) the national interest does not require to stand up for the persecuted Jews. <188> After meetings had been held between the Metropolitan Stephan and Jewish businessmen, it was deemed essential to bring about a meeting between King Boris and the Holy Synod. However, the meeting did not take place immediately. This moved the Metropolitan of Vidin, Neophyte, the Chairman of the Holy Synod, to appeal to members of his flock (and intentionally, wide publicity was given to this letter) expressing opposition to the anti-Jewish measures. The Metropolitan Stephan, for his part, preached in the churches of Sofia, condemning the anti-Semitic policy of the Government and thus defending the Jews of his town. "In that period, nobody in Bulgaria could compare with the higher clergy in courage. As a result of this outcry, the Government was compelled to arrange an audience between the King, the Cabinet and the higher clergy. The meeting took place on April 15, 1943, in the royal palace in Sofia. King Boris, the Metropolitan Stephan, Neophyte, Kyril, the Prime Minister Filov and others participated in the discussions in which the clergy defended the Jews with great courage." [421] In May, 1943, the Commissioner for Jewish Affairs, Belev, submitted to King Boris two alternate plans: one for the deportation of all Bulgarian Jews to Poland, the other for their evacuation to the country. The King chose the latter. The expulsion order was published on May 25. [422] The Jews expelled from the cities were housed with Jewish families in the country and in schools. They were never deported from Bulgaria. On May 23, instructions concerning the deportations from Sofia began to be received by the Jews. Rabbis Daniel Ben Zion and Dr. Hanael, together with the lawyer Adolf Chaymov and Mr. Menachem Moshonov, decided to go to Metropolitan Stephan, who had called for them, in order to beg his intervention for the cancellation of the deportation decision. Mr. Moshonow relates: <189> "... We went to the Metropolitan at 8,30 a.m. He wanted to know what we were doing and we told him everything in detail. He received us early and apparently was greatly concerned about our situation, because he was still in his dressing gown. After he had listened to us, he calmed us and promised to continue to do everything in his power to prevent the deportation of the Jews from the country. Metropolitan Stephan added that at the ceremony in honour of the feast of the saints Kyril and Methodius, which was taking place on that same day, May 24, 1943, he would meet the King and would speak to him again about that same matter. He seemed to be very moved and full of hope. He stressed anew that at one of his last meetings with the King, the latter, in the presence of the ecclesiastical high official Kyril, had specifically stated that the Jews would not be deported from Bulgaria. When we parted from the Metropolitan, he reassured us saying: 'Go and calm your brethren, tell them from me that the King has promised, and a King's word is not reversed'." [423] Contrary to the situation in Rumania, the Church leaders in Bulgaria could indeed claim to express the feelings of "the majority of our people", [424] when they stood up for the Jews. Moreover, the great majority of the Bulgarians belonged to the Orthodox Church. Seldom, however, can a Church leader afford to address his King as Metropolitan Stephan addressed King Boris, in the telephone conversation which is related by Solomon Mashiach. His visits to Metropolitan Stephan probably took place on May 25 and 26, 1943. <190> "I went to the residence of prelate Stephan. He gave me a kind welcome and ordered that we should not be disturbed. He locked the door and I began to tell him our troubles. After he had listened to me with emotion and attention for nearly half an hour, he said: 'This I cannot permit as long as I live. There are many among the Jewish people who have rescued Bulgaria; they sacrificed much on behalf of the nation. I shall speak with the King immediately. I wish you to hear our conversation.' The prelate took the telephone and was connected with the King. After an exchange of words of no interest as far as the Jews are concerned, the prelate said: 'Boris, my son, I am not at all satisfied about you. One hears lately of many things done to our Israelite brethren. Think very hard [425]; it is unworthy of you and of the Bulgarian people.' The King asked: 'But what - what did you hear and from whom?' 'Things have come to my knowledge which I would rather not believe. They are a disgrace and shame to you and to the Bulgarian people. I cannot explain them to you by telephone. If you wish, come to me, or I shall come to you at once, to see with my own eyes what your reaction will be.' The King began to stammer and to excuse himself, saying that he could not meet Stephan on that day. He then made an appointment with him for the next day. I whispered to prelate Stephan: 'That will be too late'. Then the prelate said to him: 'Boris, let it not be too late. Pull yourself together, my son.' 'It will not be too late, I promise you. To-morrow we shall see one another.' Thus ended the first conversation. Prelate Stephan said to me: 'Come to-morrow morning, between 9 and 10. He is trying to give me the slip but I shall not permit him to bring such a disgrace, even if I would lose my head..." "Next morning I again went to the Metropolitan Stephan to hear the outcome. He immediately took the telephone and was connected with the palace. The King's Councillor (Dr. Neshev, if I am not mistaken) replied. He said that the King had been urgently called away and had not intimated where he was going or when he would return. Metropolitan Stephan got very angry and said: 'Tell me where the little king is, you milksop. Tell others that you do not know, but beware if you continue to be stubborn'. Dr. Neshev apologized, saying he had been instructed not to reveal that the King was in his palace Krichim. He begged the Metropolitan not to divulge this information, as it would cause him trouble. Metropolitan Stephan promised to say nothing, but he asked Dr. Neshev: 'Did he expressly instruct you that you should not even reveal his whereabouts to me'? Dr. Neshev replied in the affirmative." <191> "Metropolitan Stephan was very angry and said to me that the King would regret his deed very much. 'At one time I saved his father's head and to him I gave the throne; now this is his reward to me.' In a great perturbed state of mind he took the telephone and spoke to the King in Krichim palace. I heard, word for word, the following: 'Boris, you forget yourself. You elude me and hide. You know that for me there are no secrets under the sun. You know that at one time I saved your father's head and your throne. But it is doubtful whether I, after these acts of yours, shall be able to save your head. Give the matter serious thought and uproot this demoniac influence from your heart.' He then put down the receiver. Afterwards the telephone began to ring. I said to Metropolitan Stephan: 'They are calling you'. He replied: 'I know; he wants to speak to me over the telephone but I shall not answer him unless he will come personally to apologize to me. You will see that he will not dare to cause you evil.'..." [426] The last recorded activity of Metropolitan Stephan on behalf of the Jews is a telegram sent to the King, in which was written: 'Do not persecute, so that you may not be persecuted. With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. I know, Boris, that from heaven God will keep watch over your actions.'" [427] Another outstanding leader of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church who intervened on behalf of the Jews was the Metropolitan of Plovdiv, Kyril. Belev had ordered the internment of the "influential Jews" in several cities. On March 10, 1943, some of the Jews in Plovdiv were arrested. Early in the morning of that day, Kyril sent a telegram to the King and called upon the representatives of the regime, to inform the government that from that very moment, because of the action against the Jews, he (Kyril) had ceased to be a loyal citizen and would act according to the dictates of his conscience. [428] <192> Leviev relates another incident in which Metropolitan Kyril was the hero: "It is fitting to bear in mind, as a token of the personal courage of Metropolitan Kyril, the date of May 20, 1944. Early in the morning, when it was still dark, he was awakened by a Jewish boy, who had been sent to inform the Metropolitan that during that night large groups of Jews had again been arrested. The Metropolitan went to the Jewish quarter, where many Jews were gathered in a square; Rabbi Samuel, who was wholly dedicated to his people, was at their head, giving them courage. The appearance of the Metropolitan was received by the Jews with relief and hope. The Metropolitan immediately went to the district office where he only found Kolev, the deputy district officer, of whom he demanded particulars about the extent and the meaning of the arrests. Kyril draw his attention to the dangerous consequences which might result from the confusion, created in the mind of the public, and who were not likely to remain inactive in the face of renewed injustice and violence. It was explained to him that about 2,000 Jews had been arrested because a group of five Jewish youngsters had joined the underground movement. The Metropolitan demanded that they set the arrested Jews free; otherwise great public disturbances would occur. After having obtained a promise in this respect, he went to the police station, where the arrested people were held, and encouraged them. He met with the police commander and with his assistants, and pointed out to them that the entire public was following with attention the fate of the arrested Jews. The arrested people were set free at the end of that day." [429] It appears that an important factor influencing Church leaders in Bulgaria to act was their genuine concern. Thus they were easily accessible whenever their help was needed. It seems to be a small feature in the over-all picture, but it is significant: Kyril got up early in the morning when it was still dark and rushed to the rescue of the arrested Jews in Plovdiv; Stephan received Jewish leaders when he was still in his dressing gown. Jewish leaders in Israel as well as Jews in Bulgaria who now live under a Communist government, have expressed their appreciation of the help rendered by the Church in Bulgaria. We quote the following from the testimony of Joseph Geron, who served as head of the Jewish community in Sofia, and afterwards became the Chairman of the Union of Jewish Congregations in Bulgaria: <193> "... The witness stressed the fact that the Bulgarian Church, on many occasions and at different periods, revealed understanding and sympathy for the Jews, and took important actions for their rescue... Concerning the Bulgarian Church, her attitude to the Jews was always very correct, but during the events which accompanied Jewish life under the rule of Prime Minister Filov, the Church revealed an attitude of open sympathy, and exercised strong moral pressure on all the decisive factors in Jewish affairs... What then were the factors that, directly and indirectly, helped in the rescue of the Jews of Bulgaria? One may answer that there were collective and individual factors. Among the former, the Orthodox Bulgarian Church, with its leaders Stephan, Neophyte and Paisly, take the first place..." [430] Of course, in Bulgaria just as in other countries there were many factors helping to influence the outcome. King Boris and the Cabinet were in a position to withstand German pressure to some extent if they wished so. The victories of the Soviet armies made their mark on the minds of the people. It appears, however, that the activities of the leaders of the Orthodox Church were an important contribution to the positive outcome. All the Jews of Bulgaria survived. Yet, there remains one nagging question: did the Orthodox Church of Bulgaria try to render any aid to the more than 11,000 Jews who were deported from the Greek and Yugoslavian territories occupied by Bulgarian troops? It seems that they did not, but perhaps there was no time to intervene. [431] 30 HUNGARY a. The Preliminary Phase In November, 1938, Hungary annexed some Slovakian districts and part of Sub Carpathian Ruthenia. In March, 1939, the remainder of the latter territory was annexed. In August, 1940, Hungary occupied Northern Transylvania. In April, 1941, part of Yugoslavia was occupied. In its enlarged state, Hungary had a Jewish population of 750,000 within its borders. [432] <194> On June 22, 1941, Germany invaded Russia and the Hungarians joined forces with the Germans. On August 8, the third anti-Jewish law was enacted. [433] This law defined who was to be considered a Jew, according to the well-known principles of the Nuremberg laws. "Bishop Ravasz, the leading speaker of the representatives of the Reformed Church, after having delivered his address of refusal, read a solemn declaration signed by all the Bishops, and by four general elders, in which the signatories protested against the passage of the law and disclaimed all responsibility for its passage." [434] I have tried to obtain a copy of Bishop Ravasz's address of refusal and of the declaration mentioned above. Dr. Elek Mathe, of the Reformed Church of Hungary, replied to my request: "Unfortunately there is no available copy of the address referred to in your letter...; even less, newspaper cuttings, for the simple reason that at that time the daily press was under strict government control and the text of such an address could not be printed. [435] In the summer of 1941, the Hungarian government ordered an inquiry into the citizenship of all the Jewish residents of Northern Hungary. 11,000 Jews unable to give satisfactory proof of their citizenship were deported to Galicia, where a systematic extermination was carried out by the German troops. "Baroness Edith Weisz called on Bishop Ravasz, and asked for his intervention. The Bishop requested an audience with the Regent, and appearing before him, informed him of the situation and asked that the Minister of Interior be instructed to give due regard to humanitarian viewpoints. <195> Bishop Ravasz then called on Francis Kereszres-Fischer, Minister of the Interior, who himself later on was carried away by the Germans, warning him that after the conclusion of the war an account would have to be given before world Protestantism, of the fate meted out to the Jews. He requested the adoption of such measures as would enable him to appear before any foreign Church body in future days, with a clear conscience regarding these matters. An end was put to all abuses and the lives of many persons were saved." [436] Bishop Ravasz thus tried to do something on behalf of non-Hungarian Jews, this in contrast to the tendency of those in other lands who rendered resistance only when Jews of their own nationality were deported. From March, 1942, to March, 1944, Kallay was Prime Minister. His Cabinet withstood German pressure to deport the Jews. b. Mass Deportations On March 17, 1944, Regent Horthy was "invited" to a conference with Hitler, who informed him of the imminent occupation of Hungary by German troops. Horthy had to agree to Kallay's dismissal. The aerodromes of Budapest were seized by a German task force. A new Government was appointed under Sztojay. The Arrow Cross leader, Laszlo Baky, was appointed Undersecretary of State in the Ministry of Interior, and Laszlo Endre Administrative Under-secretary and expert on Jewish affairs. Veesenmayer was appointed as Ambassador to Hungary and as Plenipotentiary of the German Reich. Eichmann came to Budapest at the end of March. On March 29, 1944, it was decreed that all Jews must wear the yellow star. Concentration of all the Jews took place at a rapid pace. In May, the first deportation trains left for Auschwitz. At the end of June, 381,661 Jews had been deported. On July 9, 1944, the total number was 437,402. The evacuation of the Jews of Budapest was planned for July. <196> Concerted pressure was exerted on Regent Horthy to stop the deportations. Switzerland and Sweden made urgent requests. The Turkish and Spanish governments also intervened. The Papal nuncio was, according to Sztojay, calling "several times" a day. On July 6, Sztojay informed Veesenmayer that the Regent had given the order that the deportations should stop. In fact, the stoppage occurred in the middle of July and it lasted until October. On April 3, 1944, Bishop Laszlo Ravasz addressed a letter of protest to the Minister of the Interior. In this document Bishop Ravasz did not object to the stigmatization of the Jews, but to the regulations that required members of the Reformed Church to wear the star of David. [437] At the same time he called on Ambrozy, the Regent's chef de cabinet, and asked to be granted an audience with the Regent. He was informed that "the Regent regards himself a prisoner and will not receive anyone". Subsequently Bishop Ravasz called on the Minister of Interior, who asked him to return at 7 p.m. the same day. "Jaross, who kept the Bishop waiting till 8 p.m., agreed, after a heated argument, to exempt certain Church dignitaries and persons of Jewish origin who had contracted mixed marriages." [438] On April 6, the General Assembly of the Reformed Church addressed a petition to the Prime Minister, urging him to be mindful of the claims of humanitarian thinking, and demanding the extension of granting exemptions. "All the activities carried on by the Churches in these days, centred around the Jewish question. However, as the government was but a mere tool in the hands of the Nazi regime, expressly antagonistic toward the Churches, it paid little regard to the action of the Churches. The results reached accordingly were rather meagre. Yet, meagre as they were, they meant the saving of many lives. The most important result was the exemption secured for members of mixed marriages. This one measure alone meant exemption from the wearing of the yellow star and its fearful consequences for several thousand families <197> The Churches already at that time demanded the formation of a body authorised to grant exemptions whenever individual merits made the granting of the same justified. This demand, although not granted in its original form, led later on the recognition of the Regent's right to grant exemption, through which channel some twenty thousand persons were given exemption. [439] Under the influence of the news reaching the capital, Bishop Ravasz asked the Regent - a Protestant - for an audience, which was granted on April 12, 1944. "He entreated the Regent to abstain from any action in connection with the Jewish question, for which at some future date he might have to bear the responsibility, pointing out that the blame for cruelties, should these occur, would be laid at his door and that he would render himself liable to trial for same. 'The desperadoes,' said the Bishop, 'will not fail to make an attempt to have their own accounts paid out of the moral capital of others'. Horthy reassured the Bishop." [440] A few days later, however, Baron Zsigmond Perenyi, President of the Upper House, called upon Bishop Ravasz and informed him of his sad experiences in Northern Hungary. On April 28, Bishop Ravasz was again received in audience by the Regent, to whom he passed on the information gathered by Perenyi. Horthy's answer was as follows: "Only a few hundred thousands Jews were scheduled to leave the country with the labour battalions. No harm will befall them, not a hair of their heads will be touched. They will enjoy the same treatment as the nearly hundred thousand Hungarian labourers employed abroad?..." The Regent admitted that complaints had been received from Nyiregyhaza, whereupon he had sent for the Minister of Interior, Jaross, and had asked for an investigation to be instituted. Jaross had charged his two Under- Secretaries with the investigation, and had since reported that a stop had been put to the scandalous treatment. [441] On May 9, 1944, Bishop Ravasz called on Prime Minister Sztojay and protested against the atrocities committed against the Jews. <198> "He presented the petition of the Reformed Assembly referring to the horrors which occurred during the concentration of the Jews at Marosvisihely, Kolozsvir, Kassa and Nagybanya. The Prime Minister seemed to have been informed about the situation and declared that he condemned the brutalities, stating that he had given instructions for the separation to be carried out drastically, but humanely. "The Jews are a race", he said, "and thus the regulation of the Jewish problem is not a question of religion, but of race". [442] On May 17, 1944, the Assembly of the Reformed Church sent a letter to Prime Minister Sztojay in which two matters were emphasized. First, it recalled the promises which the Prime Minister had made regarding amelioration of the cruel measures and, second, it protested against the segregation of the Jews which had already begun. "We are compelled to declare that we most resolutely disapprove the segregation of persons classified as Jews. We are of the opinion that the measures adopted by Christian Society in times past in this direction, must not be repeated... The second thing which we have to mention is as yet an anxious presentiment. Signs are not lacking to show that, besides segregation, the deportation of the Jews beyond the country's boundaries is also in preparation. We have to call your Excellency's attention to the tragic developments which mark the conclusion of Jewish deportations in other countries, and we beg your Excellency to do all that can be done in order to impede such happenings and to avert responsibility for such acts from the Royal Government and from the whole nation." [443] Bishop Ravasz then tried to join forces with the Roman Catholic Church and informed the Chairman of the Holy Cross Society (which was charged with the protection and care of Catholics of Jewish origin) of his willingness to make the introductory steps for a united action. On June 15, 1944, he sent a letter to the Primate, Justinian Serkdi, saying that he had already prepared the draft for a memorandum (of which a copy was included) to be sent to the Government, as "a final earnest warning" before the Churches should "voice their solemn declaration in protest, in the presence of the country and the world". No reply from Primate Seredi, however, was received. [444] <199> As nothing could be learned from the press, the authorities of the Church sent a young pastor to Kassa, the largest ghetto. He returned from his trip of inspection, reporting that, notwithstanding the protestations and promises of the Prime Minister, the deportation of Jews had begun. Therefore pastors were dispatched to carry the text of the memorandum that had been prepared, to the nine Bishops, in order to obtain their consent. After they had signed it, a deputation presented it to the Prime Minister, on June 23, 1944. Its text was as follows: "In our memorandum of May 19 we mentioned, with foreboding, that there was a possibility of the deportation of the Hungarian Jews to an unknown destination. Since then information has reached us, according to which Jews have been crossing the frontier in sealed wagons day after day, disappearing from our sight, bound for an unknown destination. Each of these wagons contained about 70 to 80 persons of different sex, age and social standing, of both Israelite and Christian faith. The persons deported, as well as, their relatives are convinced that this journey is leading to final destruction. The solution of the Jewish question is a political task. We now are not dealing with politics. The execution of this solution is a great work of administration. We are not experts on that. But the moment the solution of the Jewish question challenges the eternal laws of God, we are in duty bound to raise our voice, condemning, but at the same time imploring, the head of the responsible Government. We cannot act otherwise. We have been commanded by God to preach His eternal Gospel, to give evidence of the unalterable laws of His moral order for this generation, whether people like it or not. Although humble and sinful men, we, in the bondage of faith and obedience to this heavenly command, possess the right to give evidence of the Word of God and to condemn every action which outrages human dignity, justice or charity, and which loads upon the head of our people the horrible responsibility of innocently shed blood. As Bishops of the two Protestant Churches we protest against devout members of our congregations being punished merely for being considered Jews from a racial point of view. They are being punished for a Jewish mentality from which they, and in many cases their ancestors, have solemnly disconnected themselves. Their lives, as regards Christian spirit and morality, are not considered in the least. <200> Finally we, as Hungarians and as clergymen, repeatedly implore Your Excellency to put an end to the cruelties, even disapproved of by yourself, and to enforce the declaration made by a prominent member of your Cabinet, protesting against the very idea of a senseless and cruel destruction of the Jews. We do not wish to aggravate your Excellency's political position; we even wish to promote the solution of the great task you have taken upon yourself. For this reason, for the time being, we do not carry our protest before the Hungarian public, although this course will incur for us the reproach and accusation of the leading bodies of the Christian Churches. Should, however, our intervention prove ineffective, we will be obliged to testify before the congregations of our Church and the Protestants of the world, that we did not suppress the message of God. As a last attempt we appeal, through the kindness of your Hungarian heart and the Christian feelings of your Excellency, to the leniency of the Royal Hungarian Government. We desire that this, the most painful manifestation in our whole history hitherto, should become the case of the Government." [445] The Bishops were afraid of "the reproach and accusation of the leading bodies of the Christian Churches", in the event of remaining silent. Apparently the anticipated verdict of Churches in other countries, and of the World Council of Churches, was one of the factors which urged action. The Churches made a clear stand in this memorandum, though certainly not everything in it is of prophetic power. The deputation submitting this memorandum, which in its way was a kind of ultimatum, supported it by word of mouth. Prime Minister Sztojay answered bluntly: "The two Secretaries of State of the Ministry of Interior have reported that, except in certain cases, no atrocities have been committed. Germany has need of man power, and the Jews are being taken there for labour purposes." In their reply, the members of the Protestant deputation pointed out to the Prime Minister that deported babies, pregnant women and old people were certainly of no use for that purpose. Sztojay's answer to this was that the authorities did not want the Jews working abroad to feel anxious about the families they had left behind, nor the families to worry as to the fate of the deported Jewish men. <201> The deputation proposed that the Churches be permitted to care for children whose parents had been selected for such "labour purposes". The Prime Minister consented to this request, but asked that it be submitted in writing. The deputation immediately composed and handed over the written request. It was never answered. [446] A Confidential Report sent by the Hungarian Protestants to the Secretary of the World Council of Churches, Geneva, states: "... Not a single line on all this has been published, either in the ecclesiastical or in the daily press; for when the first Memorandum was personally handed over, the Government made it a condition that the whole intervention be handled with the utmost discretion and no press-comments whatsoever were to be made: in this case the Government were willing on their part to do everything possible; if press-comments were made it would appear as though the Government, considering the echoes in the press, had taken alleviating i.e. modifying measures in their sudden fear. The date to answer the last Memorandum expires to-morrow and if no adequate essential measures are taken by then, uniform sermons and a strongly worded pastoral letter will be read from every pulpit on next Sunday." [447] No answer came to the Memorandum. Thus Bishops Ravasz and Kapi decided to address an open declaration to the congregations and to the Protestant Christianity of the world: "We request all our brethren, the pastors belonging to our communions, that they read the following message to the congregations at the conclusion of next Sunday's morning service: To all congregations of the Hungarian Reformed Church and of the Hungarian Lutheran Church, Grace unto you and peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Brethren in Christ! The undersigned Bishops of the Hungarian Reformed Church and of the Hungarian Lutheran Church address you and inform you, in the presence of God, of the steps taken before the Royal Hungarian Government in the name of the Protestant Churches. <202> We notify the congregations that the two Protestant Churches, after several proposals both by word of mouth and in writing, on June 21st presented to the Royal Hungarian Prime Minister a solemn memorandum of request and protest. This memorandum pointed out the more than regrettable events accompanying the concentration and deportation of Jews, whether Christian or not. After having stated that the solution of the Jewish question violates eternal Divine laws, the memorandum continued its proposals as follows: 'We have been commanded by God to preach His eternal Gospel, to give evidence of the unalterable laws of His moral order in this generation, whether people like it or not. Although humble and sinful men, we, in the bondage of faith and obedience to this heavenly command, possess the right to give evidence of the Word of God and to condemn every action which outrages human dignity, justice or charity, and which loads upon the head of our people the horrible responsibility of innocently shed blood.' At the same time we beseeched the Royal Hungarian Government to put an end to the cruelties which were also condemned by members of the Cabinet, and to enforce those declarations that protested against the very suggestion of the destruction of the Jews, while at the same time they issued orders that the Jews should be treated humanely. We were deeply afflicted when we were forced to admit that our entreaties had been in vain. We, the Bishops of the two Protestant Churches, considered it to be our duty to inform our faithful, as well as, every member of our congregation and the universal community of Christ's Holy Church of these events. We summon the congregations to repentance and the entire Hungarian nation to penitence under the mighty hand of God. Pray to Him and beseech Him to turn His mercy and His supporting Grace towards our Hungarian nation." Your loving brethren in Christ: the last Sunday in June, 1944. [448] The proclamation was lithographed and, as a necessary precaution, put into differently coloured envelopes. It was intended to post it to the two thousand clergymen in the country from different provincial post offices. At this juncture, the Minister of Religion and Education sent word by telephone that a pastoral letter of the Primate, addressed to the Bishops and priests of the Roman Catholic Church, had been intercepted and that the Government wished to have a conference with the Churches. On July 11, 1944, the Minister visited Bishop Ravasz, who was ill. "The Minister declared that the Prime Minister had promised the abolition of atrocities, the cessation of further deportations and that the isolation of the Jews would be carried out in a humane manner. 'That,' he said, 'was the agreement with the Catholic Church'. <203> He could not at that time produce it in writing, but that was the text and essential contents of the agreement with the Catholics. At great length he persuaded and threatened the sick Bishop that if they persisted in protesting in public, the Church would be 'overwhelmed', or the Government might resign, thereby paving the way for the coming into power of the Arrow Cross Party. If, however, they came to an agreement, the lives of 250,000 Budapest Jews would be saved." [449] Bishop Ravasz believed the Minister's statement regarding the agreement with the Primate, but he insisted that the clergy should, at any event, be allowed to read out a short note in the Reformed Churches. This note was immediately drafted. It reads as follows: "Reverend Pastor! We request that you read the following announcement at the conclusion of next Sunday's morning service [July, 16]: 'The Bishops of the Reformed Church of Hungary and the Evangelical (Lutheran) Church of Hungary wish to inform the congregations that in connection with the Jewish question, and particularly in the case of baptised Jews, they have repeatedly intervened with the competent Government authorities. Their endeavours in this respect are continuing'." [450] It is difficult to answer the question whether it was the right decision to cancel the public proclamation of the pastoral letter form all the pulpits. Dr. Mathe wrote to me: "... This circular [the pastoral letter] reached all the pastors, and they undoubtedly communicated its contents to most of their parishioners." [451] The deportations were stopped. The Archbishop of Canterbury addressed "the Christian people of Hungary" through the B.B.C., in July, 1944. He begged them "to do your utmost, even taking great personal risks, in order to save some if you can". [452] This appeal may have had more direct, practical effects than the short note that was read out from the pulpits. <204> c. The Terror at the End On October 15, 1944, Regent Horthy was arrested by the Germans and the new Nazi-dominated regime of Szalasi was installed. On October 20, 22,000 Jewish men were rounded up. By the end of October, 35,000 Jewish men and women had been seized. The majority of them were marched off to Austria, without food. All who fainted and fell, were killed on the spot. The 160,000 Jews who had remained in Budapest were herded into a ghetto where they were exposed to raids by German and Hungarian Nazis, and to the bombardments of the Russian guns. On December 13, 1944, the Russians stormed Budapest. On January 18, 1945, the ghetto was liberated by the Red Army. The fighting for the Buda citadel continued until February 13, 1945. After Szalasi's reign of terror had begun, Bishop Ravasz intervened in the name of the Protestant Churches. He demanded the fulfilment of five points. Three of them were in connection with the Jews: ... c. Humane methods in the treatment of Jews. Revocation of the order which, in cases of mixed marriages, empowered the non-Jewish party to obtain a divorce, and declared as Jewish the party that failed to comply with this regulation. d. The cessation of the deportations. e. Security for the lives of the Jews. On November 24, 1944, the Deputy Prime Minister replied in the name of the Government. He informed then that Szalasi had succeeded in obtaining the Fuehrer's permission to grant the following points: "No alteration to be made in the legal status of mixed marriages, the Jews to be separated from the rest of the population of Budapest, and the labour service companies to be directed towards the German frontier, because it was to be feared that they might commit atrocities in the case of a Russian occupation. When carrying out these measures, however, the principle of humanity would be respected." [453] <205> On November 26, 1944, Bishop Ravasz again wrote to the Roman Catholic Primate proposing united action. "The Primate, tired and very ill, replied that he had already intervened with Szalasi and that he did not feel like repeating the intervention in the company of others." [454] On Dec. 1, 1944, the Bishops of the Reformed and Lutheran Churches presented a note to the so-called "Leader of the Nation". "It follows from the prophetic office of Christ's Church that the servant of the Church should always raise his voice when men's acts gravely violate God's laws", wrote Bishop Ravasz. The letter stressed, that "the treatment meted out mocks God's eternal laws which prescribe humane treatment even toward one's enemies, and brings down God's anger on the head of the nation. This treatment casts a dark blot on the name of the Magyar nation which, for a thousand years, had been known to the world for its generosity and chivalry." [455] A pastoral letter issued in December, 1944, called on the pastors to pray at the services for "the scattered flock of Israel, the homeless and the persecuted." [456] On May 9, 1946, the Hungarian Reformed Church declared that "in deep humility she confesses her guilt and offence against God's honour... She had not laboured in time to warn the people and the rulers, when they embarked on a course contrary to God's laws, and she had not strongly taken her stand on the side of the innocent persecuted human beings." [457] <206> THE NEUTRAL COUNTRIES 31 SWITZERLAND a. Press Censorship Switzerland remained neutral throughout the second world war, but it was surrounded by the Axis powers and to a great extent economically dependent on them. The Swiss Government tried to avoid offending the Germans, and thus the press was forbidden to make foreign propaganda or to publish stories about atrocities committed by the warring parties, "of which the objective correctness could not be verified". Even in June, 1943, the press censorship issued the following order: "There recently appeared several articles about Jews and Polish clergy, without mentioning their source of information. It is understandable that our conscience should be moved by all such inhuman treatment, but yet we must strictly obey the instructions of the Press emergency law, which stipulates that it is our duty to suppress rumours and foreign propaganda." [458] Thus censorship imposed silence on the press concerning reports of "bloody murders of hostages and persecution of Jews". The first time, however, that, to the best of my knowledge, Church leaders in Switzerland spoke out about the persecution of the Jews during the second world war, they did so in a protest against censorship of the Press. On October 27, 1941, the following Petition was presented by the "Social Study Committee of the Swiss Reformed Pastors Union" to the Swiss Federation of Churches: <207> 1. We take the liberty of drawing the attention of the Swiss Federation of Churches, which is the spokesman of the Swiss Churches to the Federal Authorities, to the alarming position of the Evangelical Reformed Church. 2. The press-censor has repeatedly taken severe measures against men who, as representatives of the Evangelical Church, have raised their voices to inform public opinion. These measures have aroused deep and widespread concern in many circles to whose notice they have come, despite the ban on the publication of such matters, and have led to the opinion that the Evangelical Church is no longer allowed to pronounce the truth entrusted to its care... 3. We especially bear in mind the silence imposed on us by our censorship concerning the injustice of the bloody murders of hostages and the persecution of Jews. When mentioning this subject, we should certainly not shout about it from the roof tops, but under no circumstances should our sense of justice and injustice be blunted within our national conscience. Otherwise we shall invoke God's heavy punishment on our country. Therefore, we take exception to the reproach levied at us by some, that such intrepid talk of injustice by a foreign nation, is a misjudgement. 4. The apprehension we bring to your notice particularly gains alarming weight by the fact that we, as Evangelical and democratic citizens of Switzerland, have to look on while un-Christian and undemocratic ideologies and deeds cross our borders unhindered in the form of many foreign newspapers and illustrated periodicals, which are thus able to exert their influence on young and old. Does not this give rise to the impression that our highest authorities do not sufficiently recognize the danger of a moral and spiritual capitulation on our part, or consider it to be of only secondary importance? We therefore request the Federation of Churches: a. That it remonstrate with the highest responsible authorities of our country and draw their attention to the deep concern and alarm which these measures by our censorship have aroused in large circles of our Evangelical Church. b. That it publicly voice its opinion on the matter and unequivocally make known its stand, with the full weight of its authority. c. That it emphatically take a stand on behalf of all persons in our Church, whose freedom of speech is endangered or impaired, and that it encourage our Church authorities and Synods to make use of their divinely authorized right of freedom of speech. [459] On November 17, 1941, a conference of the "Swiss Protestant Relief Society for the Confessing Church in Germany" was held at Wipkingen near Zurich. It was attended by 300 churchmen from all parts of Switzerland. A Resolution regarding the Censorship of ecclesiastical publications was presented and unanimously adopted. We quote from this resolution the following: <208> "The undersigned Reformed Swiss Pastors have taken note of the following facts: That the Department for Press and Radio of the army has imposed preliminary censorship on the periodical Neue Wege, and thus has prevented its further publication; ... that the same office has demanded of the Swiss press that they refrain henceforth from taking any stand on the execution of hostages by a foreign power;... They herewith publicly protest against these measures, as they are concessions to the spirit and methods of a policy incompatible with the Reformed Confession and pernicious to the Swiss Federation. They herewith publicly declare that they are determined to continue to fulfil their duty, to declare the truth to our people, the suppression of which is attempted by these measures." One hundred pastors signed this "Protest and Declaration", which was submitted to the Federal Government and to the Army Commanders. [460] The same Conference adopted the following Resolution on "The Jewish Problem": "The Conference meeting to-day at Zurich-Wipkingen sends to the Committee of the Swiss Protestant Church Federation the urgent request that it should take action so that all the Reformed Churches in Switzerland may make a public statement on the Jewish problem. Not only the most recent deportations of the Jews, whose number and character are particularly frightful, but also certain announcements which have appeared even in the Swiss press, make it a duty for the Church, for the sake of its own members, to proclaim before the whole world: 1. That the Church, to which the Gospel of the mercy of God is entrusted, calls its members to pray for the suffering Jewish people and to do everything they can to alleviate this suffering. 2. That the Church, to which the message of the creation of man in the image of God is entrusted, condemns as a revolt against the will of God as Creator the violence which is done to the image of God in persecuting a race and humiliating it. 3. That the Church, to which the message of the Revelation of God in the people of Israel is entrusted, knows itself, as the Church of Jesus Christ, to be bound up in a special way with the fate of the Jewish nation. Because 'salvation comes of the Jews' (St. John 4, 22), anti-Semitism is incompatible with membership in the Christian Church." [461] <209> On August 30, 1942, a meeting was held of the "Young Church", attended by about 6,000 young people. Supreme Court Justice Dr. M. Wolff, who in his capacity as President of the Synod conveyed the greetings of the Church of Zurich, declared: "Switzerland is in extremely danger. One speaks of a new order in Europe, but this order is characterised by attacks on other nations; by the murdering of hostages and the persecution of Jews. This new order means a denial of the Christian faith... The best contribution the Church of Switzerland can render to-day is, to be a true Church, faithfully proclaiming the word of God. Its freedom to preach must therefore be preserved unrestrictedly. We shall be grateful for a State Church, so long as the State recognizes the Church's right to exercise its function as Watchman. Zwingli has unequivocally insisted on this. Unfortunately, the Church's function as Watchman is now being threatened by press censorship. The State must not demand that the Church should refrain from clearly distinguishing between right and wrong. The Church must now fight for its right to raise its voice against the rejection of poor refugees; in a clear "Yes" to Jesus Christ, and in a clear "No" to the dark powers of this world." [462] On October 28, 1942, Dr. Wollf said in his Opening Address to the Synod of Zurich: "... It is therefore not surprising that, when a clearer profession resulted through the awakening of the Church in recent years, its freedom of speech was often denied by political coercion, and the Church was told that it had no right to interfere in Government matters. ... The Gospel knows nothing about neutrality of opinion and nothing of a policy of false silence, advocated currently by higher circles." [463] b. Anti-Semitism within and outside Switzerland In several declarations anti-Semitism within, as well side, Switzerland was denounced unequivocally, but the name of Germany was seldom mentioned. In May, 1942, the Synodal Council of Bern published the following Declaration: <210> "Deeply concerned by the fact that hatred of the Jews is being stirred up both openly and secretly also in our country, the Council of the Evangelical Federation of Churches has requested the cantonal Church authorities to use their good offices so that our attitude as Evangelical Christians towards the Jewish question be maintained against all such plots. Our attitude towards Jewry is not based on economical or racial problems. It is not even a matter of conducting oneself humanely and decently; the question has a far deeper significance and only can be understood correctly and answered in the light of biblical teaching. Therefore above all it is essential, that we reach a Christian understanding of the Jewish question; only then shall we be able to overcome, on the basis of a deeper understanding, the common prejudices and slogans; and especially, the latent disparaging attitude towards the Jews. Wherever anti-Jewish attitudes appear within a congregation, we must not remain passive; we have an obligation to emphasize the Evangelical stand on this matter, and to admonish and counsel. Above all, we should not slacken in our intercession on behalf of the people of Israel." [464] In June, 1942, a similar Declaration was issued by the Council of Pastors in Geneva: "Our Church cannot keep silent in face of anti-Semitic propaganda which is in danger of becoming stronger in our own country. At a time when the Jews elsewhere are the victims of plunder and persecution, the Church must define her spiritual position. 1. The Apostolic message which declares that there is no longer Jew nor Greek in Jesus Christ forbids us to make any distinction in the community of the baptized. A Jew attached to the Christian Church by his conversion and baptism is a member of it on exactly the same basis as every other faithful Christian. 2. Christendom has denied the spirit of her Lord every time she has maltreated or persecuted the descendants of those for whose pardon Jesus prayed to the Father. Our obligation is to deal with all men in justice and charity on the grounds that they are indeed our brothers. 3. The race from which came the prophets and the apostles, and to which Jesus Christ belonged, deserves our respect. We owe Jews a debt of gratitude, and if Christians pray to God for the conversion of the chosen people they must also implore divine mercy for persecuted Israel; they must sympathize with the grief which they are suffering; they must suffer in sympathy the injustices which Jews once more are suffering. Strong in the convictions of our Evangelical faith we invite members of our Churches to resist all efforts to introduce in our country anti-Semitic racialism which is condemned by the spirit of our Master and by all teaching which is derived from the Holy Scriptures. [465] <211> On September 30, 1942, the Assembly of the Swiss Pastors' Union, meeting at Liestal, adopted the following Resolution: "We confess on the basis of the Holy Scripture that the hope of the Church through the grace and faithfulness of God in Jesus Christ is indissolubly bound up with the hope for the Jews. We therefore declare that all anti-Semitism is irreconcilable with confession of Jesus Christ. It is the holy duty of every Christian to help the tortured Jews by intercession and active love." [466] That warnings against anti-Semitic influences in Switzerland were not superfluous, was shown in the Report concerning the Fund Drive for Aid to Refugees, which was held in October-November, 1942. The Report stated: "... The reasons for the diverse reactions to our fundraising appeals in the German and the French-speaking parts of Switzerland, are of a complex nature. From an inquiry made by the cantonal committees we learn that the press in general took a stand against aid to refugees. An article by Pierre Grellet, the Bern correspondent of the 'Gazette de Lausanne', published in November, had a distinct undercurrent of anti-Semitic feeling, characteristic of his attitude. There were also other expressions of anti-Semitism in the press. In contrast to the German-speaking press which protested against the turning away of refugees from our borders, this action triggered no particular reactions in the French-speaking press. [467] c The Admission of Refugees Like the Government of the Netherlands, the Swiss Government had already closed the Swiss borders before the war. <212> The Church Council of Canton Zurich stated, in 1938: "It pains us that consideration for so many unemployed citizens in our own nation prevents us from offering a protecting asylum to the suffering refugees, who, like wild game, are chased from country to country." [468] In the summer of 1942, mass raids took place in France and many Jewish refugees tried to find asylum and safety in Switzerland. They often crossed the French-Swiss frontier "illegally". On August 13, 1942, the border police were instructed to send back civilian refugees from France who had entered into Switzerland illegally, with the exception of political refugees. "Refugees for racial reasons only, for instance Jews," were not considered political refugees. [469] The Federation of the Protestant Churches as well as other organizations turned to the Federal authorities. [470] Their protests were not ineffectual. On August 23, Federal Councillor von Steiger ordered that in special cases rejection should be waved. On August 24, a meeting was convened with the "Swiss Central Office for Refugee Aid", where all the Institutions for refugee aid were represented. The "Central Office" informed the press of the result of this partly tumultuous meeting on the same day: "Foreign refugees, who had entered Switzerland before 13th August, 1942, and register with the police, will be sent back only if, after careful investigation, they must for important reasons be considered undesirable." [471] <213> On August 30, 1942, at the meeting of the "Young Church" which has been mentioned before [472], Rev. W. Luthi said: "Sin separates us from God. What has happened in the case of the refugee problem comes under the same heading. Even though we understand that events may be motivated by political considerations, our conscience is burdened by such events in three ways. First, because the rejection of the poorest of the refugees was not an act of humanity. Second, because any claim to humanitarianism becomes hypocritical. And third, because it was an act of ingratitude towards God, who has so graciously protected our own country. Now we may well fear that, after what has happened, God will no longer be for us, but against us." The morning session ended with words of greetings by the Rev. Hans Roduner, who thanked the authorities for their consent "to revoke the painful measures in force against the refugees". He called upon the Young Church to make great sacrifices for the refugees and ensure the support of fifty of them. The reply of Federal Councillor von Steiger, who spoke in the afternoon, was typical of the Government point of view: "Of course the Federal Councillor would like to help all the refugees. However, when thousands of victims of a shipwreck cry out for help, the one in command of a small and fully occupied lifeboat, that is limited in capacity and provisions, must seem heartless if he cannot take them all into his boat. Nevertheless, it is humane to give warning against false hopes, and at least try to save those already aboard. As regards the measures adopted concerning the refugee problem, Federal Councillor von Steiger is prepared to accept full responsibility." [473] Since September 26, 1942, the following categories of refugees were admitted: a. Obviously ill persons and pregnant women. b. Refugees over 65 years old; married couples if at least one of them was over 65 years. <214> c. Children under the age of 16 travelling alone. d. Parents with children under 16 years. e. Refugees who claimed and could prove that they had close relatives in Switzerland or, otherwise, close relations with Switzerland (Residence for a long time). However, French Jews without exception had to be deported "as they were in no danger in their own country". In doubtful cases (when it was not clear whether a refugee came under one of the categories mentioned, or when deportation appeared to be exceptionally severe) the Police Department had to be contacted by telephone. It was ascertained that 3,800 persons had entered Switzerland illegally during September. [474] On October 28, 1942, in his opening address to the Synod of Zurich, Dr. Wollf said: "... The dominant spirit, in no way identical with the sentiments of the people, has become despondent and even pitiable. Its exponents, who can be found not only in the Federal Council but also in the Parliament, pay homage to the opinion that expediency, craftiness and a so-called realistic policy are greater importance to our salvation than the spirit of the Gospel and of freedom and of truth. The misery of the dominant spirit has become evident in recent months in the shameless treatment of the refugees. We must not pass over in silence the disgrace and shame we have brought upon ourselves when, because of cold political calculations, we returned to misery and threat of death, those refugees who believed they had found within our borders a refuge from danger... It is not the beauties of our country nor our safe existence, which make Switzerland worthy of our defence and devotion, but the fact that it is the centre of freedom and justice. The Declaration of the Federal Council and the three coalition parties, contained no sign of their having grasped the challenge of the hour. [475] In contrast to this, it may be said that the Reformed Church, and, in particular, the Executive Committee of the Swiss Federation of Evangelical Churches, has in no uncertain manner fought for recognition of the demands of our Christian conscience. These have found their most impressive formulation by the President of our Federation of Churches: <215> 'God, through His commandments in the Old and New Testament, has placed us unequivocally on the side of the weak, the oppressed and the destitute, no matter what their race or nationality. Confession of faith in Jesus Christ is, for the Christian, almost always also related to recognition of our responsibility to our suffering brothers. The least of His brethren to-day are the oppressed refugees in their physical and mental distress. Christ will either find us on their side or on the side of His persecutors.' The mitigations, now granted by the authorities, may be accepted as revoking their heartless orders. But this is not a lasting or definite solution. The fight for an honourable and humane conduct must continue. Protests alone will not suffice. Indignation is shallow if it is unaccompanied by the will to act. The members of the Church, as well as its critics, justly demand that it put up a determined stand on behalf of the outcasts. Generous contributions to the Refugee fund, and willingness to accept refugees in our homes, must now furnish proof that our nation wishes its ancient Christian traditions to be upheld. Each one of us should do his part to atone for our guilt in this matter. Injustice, force and inhumanity triumph around our borders. These terrible events can no longer allow us only to consider expediency. The only truly realistic policy is the one which accepts God as the highest Reality, and considers Him more important than all calculations of worldly wisdom, which only lead us astray." [476] In the months October and November, 1942, a general collection for the Aid to Refugees was held. Because of political considerations on the part of the authorities concerned, the planned 5-minute broadcasts could not take place. Nevertheless, the General Management of the broadcasting services agreed to broadcast short appeals under the slogan "Contribute towards an Asylum for the Homeless". [477] The "Swiss Central Office for Aid to Refugees" stated: "If, however, the result of the fundraising is disappointing, all is lost. Not only will the organizations have no more money, but our opponents who even now are urging the complete closing of our borders, will then say to the Federal Government: 'Close the doors, let nobody in. The Swiss people do not want them...'" [478] Many Church leaders publicly recommended this collection. Prof. Karl Bart did so in the following words: <216> "There are reasons for and against aid to refugees as currently suggested to us Swiss. The reasons for are: The Christian reason. 'In as much as ye have done it unto one of these least, ye have done it unto me.' The refugees are our concern: not because they are valuable or agreeable human beings, but because in all the world they are to-day the lowest and the most miserable people, and as such they, with their inseparable companion the Saviour, knock on our door. They are our concern, not in spite of their being Jews but just because they are Jews, and as such are the Saviour's brethren in the flesh. (I suggest that this first reason is the strongest and may well be the one decisive and effective reason in this matter). The Swiss reason. The refugees (whether they are aware of it or not) do us a great honour, in looking upon our country and seeking it out as the last refuge of justice and mercy. Many of the great and dreadful things which occurred in our time will be forgotten. After centuries, however, it will still be asked, whether Switzerland proved true to its name as the free Switzerland in these days, or renounced it. The question whether the Lest that we Swiss are capable of and have, can be preserved throughout the present crisis, will be decided only by opening our hearts and hands to these refugees, or by turning our backs upon them. The Humane reason. We see in these refugees the fate we have miraculously been spared. It is quite true that we also are not too well off to-day. It is, however, equally true that we are well enough off to be in a condition exactly opposite to these unfortunate fellow-creatures: well-fed and even rich. Can we bear this, without wanting to help them to the best of our ability? Would it not be disgraceful, even to let our lips suggest any reasons at all against offering such aid?" [479] In December, 1942, 1,595 refugees were admitted and 330 sent back. At the end of December, the number of immigrants and refugees amounted to 16,200. Of the refugees, 8,467 had entered Switzerland illegally between August 1, 1942, and Dec. 31, 1942. This development led the Department of Police to propose to the Federal Council that new decrees, more stringent than the preceding ones, be issued for the whole of the Swiss border. Apparently the order of Sept. 26, 1942, that being a Jew was no reason for admittance, mostly was not observed. [480] <217> The decree of Dec. 29, 1942, ordered that foreigners arrested whilst crossing the border or in the region of the border (up till 10 kilometres) must be turned back immediately. Exemption would be granted to the categories a, b and c mentioned in the decree of Sept. 26, 1942. [481] "Further, parents with children not over six years old; or if at least one of their children is not older than six; refugees who can prove that they have a spouse, parents or children in Switzerland; or when at least one of a married couple has been born in Switzerland. [482] The "Report of the Swiss Protestant Relief Society" comments: "We are grateful that a Delegation of the Federation of Churches also remonstrated with the Federal Government in the matter. No substantial amendments to the decree were obtained, but in practice the attitude of the authorities was more obliging than the wording of the decree leads one to assume. The possibilities of providing asylum, and the readiness of the authorities to grant it, are in no small measure dependent on the willingness of the Swiss people to make sacrifices for the refugees. We therefore emphatically insisted that the congregations of the Evangelical Church should take upon themselves the financial responsibility for the upkeep of as many refugees as possible, and so to fulfil towards individual refugees Christ's commandment of love. [483] In the first seven months of 1943, 1,821 refugees were sent back and 4,733 admitted. "Its is impossible to determine, how many Jews were among those admitted; apparently they made up the vast majority." [484] On May 9, 1943, the Synod of the Evangelical-Reformed Church of the City of Basel adopted the following Resolution: "The Synod, deeply concerned by the information received regarding instruction given by the authorities to the border guards and the dreadful horrors still being undergone by refugees wanting to cross our borders, charges the Church council to urge the Executive Committee of the Federation of Churches to remonstrate afresh with the responsible authorities on behalf of the refugees according to the Church's responsibility to be a Protector, and desires that the congregation, through the 'Church Messenger', be kept suitably informed of the Synod's negotiations concerning the refugee and asylum problem. [485] <218> In October, 1943, the Church Council of Zurich addressed the following message "To the Reformed People of Zurich": "... We are able only through rumours to gain a vague impression of the dreadful reality. And because it is beyond the powers of our imagination, we are in danger of closing our hearts and trying to suppress any awareness of the fact that daily, hourly, indeed every single moment, thousands suffer, bleed, starve, despair, die. We also let ourselves be misled by a falsely understood neutrality, which freezes our feelings towards the distress of foreigners, or causes in us a moral apathy towards injustice and inhumanity, sometimes even making us adopt the catchwords and evil slogans of anti-Semitism and racial hatred, and persuading us to accept ideals which are hostile to the Gospel of love to God and to ones neighbour... All humane people are haunted by descriptions of the sufferings to which members of the Jewish people have been exposed during these past four years of war, this following centuries of being slandered, ridiculed, beaten and persecuted throughout the Christian era! Expelled from home and work, forcibly separated, children tom from the arms of their mothers, mothers from the arms of their children, anew they are uprooted just when they had supposed they had found a protecting refuge. They have been tossed towards an uncertain destiny, which all too often only spelled destruction, misery, starvation, beatings, despair and death. Indeed, no other nation has been so overwhelmed by storms of persecution and deluged by sufferings, as has been the people of Israel. Who as a Christian, or as a Swiss, can fail to be oppressed by the distress of the Jewish people, or to be confronted by questions unsolvable by the words guilt and atonement, because we have certainly sufficient cause to ask questions about our own guilt in this matter and to apply to ourselves Christ's word: 'Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.' Such an admission can result only in one thing: the emergence of a deep sympathy and a desire to help wherever and however we can, to grant refuge to the homeless, to shelter the exposed, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to visit the imprisoned, to support the weak, to comfort the mourning; in accordance with the example of the good Samaritan and the teaching and promise of our Master: 'In as much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me'..." [486] In November, 1943, the "Social Study Committee of the Swiss Union of Reformed Pastors" published the following Statement: <219> "... With shame and sorrow we see this purposeful turning away from Christ in a monstrous effort to exterminate entire races and peoples. The Christian conscience cries out against this. We therefore appeal to all those in responsible positions in the world, to save what still may be saved. We demand that the Swiss Government which maintains diplomatic relations with all governments in the world, devise with them and with the International Red Cross, a plan of rescue. In the name of Jesus we demand that our authorities put a stop to the driving back of refugees to their death, until final measures are taken, and to grant them a safe, Christian asylum. Our thanks go to the people of Switzerland for their cordial hospitality, even though it is hampered by authority!..." [487] In my opinion this is the sharpest protest against the official refugee policy of the Swiss government that was ever published during the second world war. At the end of 1943, it was ordered not to send Jewish refugees back if they objected. Thus Jews who fled Italy after its occupation by the Germans, were to be admitted; however, in the case of a real 'run' one might have to stop admitting them for some time. [488] It is, in my opinion, undeniable that the protests of the Churches and Church" leaders contributed to alleviating the measures against the refugees and their ultimate cancellation in practice. In the meantime, unspeakable sufferings had been inflicted on refugees who had been sent back and fell into the hands of their mortal enemies. d. Aid to Refugees We already mentioned some of the activities of the "Swiss Protestant Relief Society for the Confessing Church in Germany", [489] for instance the Annual Conference held on November 17, 1941, and its participation in the general collection for Aid to Refugees, held during October-November, 1942. In order to show the spirit in which this refugee work was done, we record the following letter which was sent by the Executive Council of the Society to the Swiss-Israelite Union of Congregations, on June 22, 1943: <220> "You have ordered a call to an Assembly of Mourning, for next Sunday, 27th June, 1943. You will then recall the horrible decrees to which Jews in Europe are subjected, and the unspeakable hardship and oppression under which people nowadays suffer and die. Together with you we are deeply shocked at the mass murder that has engulfed European Jewry. Only with dread and horror can one read of the number deported from Germany, France, the Netherlands, Rumania and Greece. We fight against allowing suffering to become a familiar routine, and against blunting of concern on the part of our people of Switzerland at such distress. To us these dry figures represent human beings, who have lived, suffered and died. Their mass graves and their ashes will, till the coming Day of the Lord, be a shocking accusation against a Europe which forgot God. As Christians we cannot let the Assembly of Mourning of the Swiss-Israelite Union of Congregations pass without a cordial word of sympathy and participation. Deeply moved, we shall join our thoughts with yours in intercession. We know that each murder and every act of violence is rooted in the godless thinking of godless minds. The unkind word and the unappreciative gesture are signs of poisoning of the minds. The fact that this poisoning could assume such terrible proportions in 'Christian' Europe, where especially the Jewish people are victimised, shames us and gives us cause for severe self-accusation. So little have we Christians understood Jesus Christ and so far apart from him have we lived, that godless thinking was able to create this insane racial hatred and merciless cruelty in our midst, raging as a demon against the Jews. On your day of mourning we join hands with you in sympathy and sorrow. At the same time we confess our guilt before God and mankind. We regret every word of contempt, we Christians ever uttered against Jews. We regret that we have shamed Jesus Christ by our self-righteousness and our hardness of heart. We regret that we Christians were not more loyal to our Master and thus failed courageously to struggle, in time, against every expression of anti-Semitism. On this day of your mourning we implore the Almighty for his mercy, for the sake of Jesus Christ, with the publican's prayer of penitence: 'God be merciful to us sinners'. On your day of mourning we pray that God's mercy may be upon you, and the deep consolation of His promise from the precious Old Testament, which also has comforted us again and again: 'And I will cause the captivity of Judah and the captivity of Israel to return, and will build them, as at first. And I will cleanse them from all their iniquity, whereby they have sinned against me. And it shall be to me a name of joy, a praise and an honour before all the nations of the earth, which shall hear all the good that I do unto them: and they shall fear and tremble for all the goodness and for all the prosperity hat I procure to it' (Jeremiah 33, 7-9). <221> 'The Lord thath sent me to bring good tidings, to heal the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn' (Isaiah 61, 1-2). 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me' (Psalm 23, 4). 'For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee' (Isaiah 54, 10)." [490] Strong powers in Switzerland objected to the admission of refugees. Therefore the "Protestant Relief Society" undertook action in two different but interdependent fields: influencing public opinion, and rendering practical aid. Books and pamphlets were published and distributed. [491] Rev. Paul Vogt was appointed 'Refugee pastor', and was later joined by two other ministers. They launched the "Place of Refuge Operation", [492] asking members of the Church to provide places in their homes to Jewish refugees who were unable to work: pregnant women, mothers with little children; people ill, invalided or old. Another way to help for the local churches was to pay the maintenance (120 Franc per month) of a refugee being cared for in one of the houses of the homes of the Society. [493] "Help was not just rendered to Protestant refugees; the majority of them were Jewish... We are convinced that we may not exploit the difficult situation of our proteges by trying to convert them. Rather, we respect the religious conviction of the Jews, whose care has been entrusted to us. <222> Therefore two Refugee homes were opened for observant Jews;... one accommodating 35 refugees, the other 26. Plans for a third refugee home were prepared. In order to reunite married couples and families, houses were rented in which a total of 111 persons were accommodated. Up till the end of 1943, 348 persons were helped and places for another 219 persons were in preparation." [494] On October 1, 1944, 868 refugees who were unable to work were accommodated by the Protestant 'Place of Refuge Operation'. 739 of them were Jewish, 115 Protestant, 8 Catholic (mixed marriage) and 6 without religion. One hundred and seventy-nine places, especially for children, were reported to the Committee for Aid to Children. [495] Far be it for us to belittle the efforts of Rev. Paul Vogt and others, who did what they could. Yet the number of refugees who were helped is small in relation to the terrible need that existed. Moreover, in Switzerland, people did not risk their lives or freedom by taking in a Jewish refugee, as happened in many other countries. e. The Deportation of the Hungarian Jews On July 4, 1944, the following circular letter was sent by Prof. Karl Barth, Prof. Emil Brunner, Dr. W.A. Visser 't Hooft and Rev. Paul Vogt to pastors in Switzerland: "We send to you, enclosed, two messages from Hungary and a covering letter dated June 19, 1944, which came from reliable sources and reached Switzerland through diplomatic channels. The messages have shocked us deeply. Out of a sense of responsibility we feel it our duty to convey these messages to you. We do not doubt that you will read them and let them circulate within your own group. They are also known to the competent authorities." [496] There followed a wave of public protests. We quote some of them. [497] <223> On July 9, 1946, the Church Council of the Canton Zurich urged that the following message be read from every pulpit: "The present day truly has revealed enough frightful things, but in the last weeks one piece of news has reached us which far exceeds anything that we have heard for years. Reliable witnesses inform us of terrible persecution of the Jews in Hungary. In a few weeks between three and four hundred thousand people have been sacrificed, and who knows how many more there will be. Many are dying of exhaustion or hunger, but the majority meet their death by gas. In one single place, at Birkenau, four crematoria are in use, in which every day six thousand people can be gassed and burned and incinerated. Hitherto Hungary had more than a million Jews. A number of towns already have been cleared of Jews. Persecution is said to be impending in the capital, if it has not already begun. We do not know what can have induced the government to take these dreadful measures and at whose door the responsibility for this dreadful deed must lie. What can we do? It is not for us to pass self-righteous judgment on the acts of other peoples, for we are not guilt-free. It does not lie in our power to order the cessation of atrocities. The Swiss Protestant Church Federation addressed an urgent request to the Federal Council and to the International Red Cross that they would do everything possible to rescue the Jews still living in Hungary. We invite congregations to make solemn intercession for all those who must tread this dark road simply because they belong to another race. Let us also pray for our sister-Evangelical Church in Hungary, that strength and guidance be granted to her at a time when her people is taking upon itself such a terrible load of guilt. Let the word of the Psalmist be our prayer: 'Keep not Thou silence, O God: hold not Thy peace, and be not still, O God'." [498] The Council of the Evangelical Church of Canton Glarus, on July 12, issued a circular letter to all local ministers, drawing attention to the horrible reports of the extermination of Hungarian Jewry and stressing that, in all probability, reality would prove even more horrible than those reports implied. After having mentioned the appeals made by the Federation of Churches to the Federal Council and the International Red Cross, the circular letter continued: <224> "We fully realise that at present we are incapable of stopping the demonic powers by any human means. Only God can do that, and we invoke His aid. We request you to inform your congregation of these horrors in a fitting manner, and in your prayers to intercede with God on behalf of those that are threatened. Finally, the Church Council hereby issues a call to leave all vengeance and retaliation to Him who has proclaimed: 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord'." [499] At about the same time, the following Proclamation was issued by the Council of the Synod of Bern: "Added to the untold miseries that the Jews have had already to suffer in various countries, the terrible mass murders of the Jews in Hungary which, according to reliable information were carried out recently, surpass all imagination and defy any description. The inhuman removal of people of all ages who, solely on account of their racial origin, no longer are considered fit to exist, is a monstrosity unparalleled in history, as well as a grievous sin and guilt before God. As Christians who have received light and life, salvation and mercy from Jesus Christ, we feel a painful indignation in the face of such methods of extermination. We declare that such destruction of our fellow-men was conceived by a spirit and will which came from below, and which will bring a curse and doom on humanity. A deep sympathy unites us with the countless victims. We thank our brethren of the faith in Hungary for their courage in standing up, in time, against these monstrosities in spite of great difficulties, and we urge them to continue to do everything in their power to stop these horrible mass murders. We call on Christians in our own country to fight all hatred and thirst for revenge among people of different origin and race, and to resist all prejudices and offensive slogans wherever they may appear. Let us not tire of intercession on behalf of the ancient people of the Covenant, of Israel." [500] In August, 1944, the following circular letter was published by the Church Council of Canton Graubunden: "Ecclesiastical and other proclamations and directives draw our attention to the fate of Hungarian Jewry. No pen is able to describe, no soul can sense, and no Christian mind can imagine what is being done to these unfortunate people. The human mind is powerless to grasp the horrors, day by day enacted with cool determination and limitless hate. Shocked cries, objections and protests, to those in authority have remained ineffective. Brotherly help to those threatened by death is not possible. <225> Only one thing remains to the Christian, of which he cannot be deprived: prayer. Dear brethren, prepare the people, before offering your public prayers, by referring to the sufferings of the Jewish people of whom the Son of God was born. Tell openly from the pulpits how many hundreds of thousands are being exterminated in gas chambers and crematoriums, while further multitudes tremble in desperation, because the hour is at hand when they too will be herded like cattle, deported and slaughtered. Tell how human dignity is degraded, how man's rights are trampled upon, so that all Christian feelings have received a deadly wound. Remember in your prayers at church the unfortunate who are persecuted, urging all members of your congregations likewise to remember them in their prayers at home in solitude. The prayer of the merciful heart availeth much. Through it God's presence may become real in distant gas chambers; consolation and indestructible faith may shine in their horror-stricken eyes and upon their deadly-pale faces. Such prayer may also have the power to reawaken petrified consciences, and to paralyse the hands engaged in deadly tasks. The prayer should be said in repentance over unbrotherly words also spoken in our country about Jews now and in the past..." [501] 32 SWEDEN The political situation of Sweden was comparable to that of Switzerland: each country tried to preserve its neutrality, was afraid of a German attack, and sometimes gave in to German demands. Yet Sweden expressed its willingness to receive all the Jews from Denmark, whilst Switzerland closed its borders. We should, however, bear in mind that to Switzerland, owing to its geographical position, the challenge of the refugee problem was much greater than to Sweden. The Swedish Church denounced the persecution of the Jews more sharply than did the Swiss Churches. Apparently Swedish Church leaders were not afraid of offending Germany. But in Sweden there was no press censorship, as was the case in Switzerland. On November 29, 1942, Manfred Bjorkquist was consecrated first Bishop of Stockholm. Along with the Bishops of the Swedish Church, there were also present representatives of the Church of Denmark and the Church of Finland. The Quisling Minister for Church Affairs in Norway sent an indignant letter to Archbishop Eidem, because he had not been invited to send a representative to the consecration. Dagens Nyheter, commenting on this report, wrote: <226> "What happened in Norway recently is sufficient explanation, if it is confirmed that Sweden's Archbishop did not reply to the letter. Archbishop Eidem's warning at Lutzen on November 6th against national self-sufficiency and arrogance provides an adequate answer. When now for the first time we see these things happening near at hand we are aghast at this self-sufficiency and arrogance; this complete contempt for human values." [502] The last sentence refers to the deportation of the Jews of Norway. On the first Sunday in Advent, 1942, the following Proclamation was issued by the Swedish Bishops: "Hatred blinds and hardens. Hatred leads to destruction. Hatred is the most frightful and monstrous of the dark powers which now are dominating an unhappy earth. Jesus Christ condemns hatred in all its forms without exception. His words and deeds, His life and death, all mean an absolute judgment upon hatred. Whatever stands in contradiction with the royal command of love, which is the sum of the will of God, is sin, sin against the living God. Men may trample upon the commandments of the All-Highest. But God Almighty lives. And whoever turns away from Him has deserted the springs of life and is walking in the way of death. If we really want to be Christians, we must in all seriousness take up the fight against hatred, against all hatred. We must be strictest towards ourselves, so that we may not leave the smallest room in our heart for the evil spirit of hatred. So far as our voice reaches, we must, each in his own circle, stand up for love in word and deed, and fight hatred and the deeds of hatred. With horror and dismay we have learned in the last two days how an un-Christian racial hatred, which has spread over many lands in the world like a mortal pestilence, has now expressed itself in shocking acts of violence in our immediate neighbourhood, on our Scandinavian peninsula. Human beings are being subjected to the greatest sufferings, not because they have been legally convicted of misdeeds - they have not even been accused of such things by regular legal procedure - but solely because they belong by descent to a certain race. <227> We have been deeply moved to hear the courageous Christian admonitions which our oppressed Norwegian sister-Church has directed to those in power in their country, not to rebel against the clear Word of God by doing deeds of violence in blind racial hatred. Everything that lies in our power to assist the poor people affected by this hatred is being done. That is our elementary duty as Christians and as human beings. But even if we cannot do much to help the unfortunate, we can and must bear them and their needs upon our hearts. We Bishops of the Swedish Church call all our fellow-Christians in Sweden, in the Name of God, to include these our tortured brethren of the race of Israel in our faithful and constant intercessions, and to make daily prayers to our Father in Heaven for the many who are suffering violence and disaster at this time." [503] At a service of intercession in Goteborg Cathedral on the first Sunday in Advent, Dean Nysted said: "Everything we have heard of the nameless sufferings of the Jewish people in past times dwindles to nothing in comparison with the fate that has overtaken them in recent years. We have read with disgust of the slave hunts of former times and the cargoes of slaves which were carried like cattle to America. Who could have dreamt anything so frightful as that such a ship would sail along our coasts last week, laden with men, women and children, who have no other fate to expect than that of the slaves or cattle for slaughter, and that not because of any crime of which they have been convicted but because they are of Jewish descent. The Church of Sweden must not keep silent when such a thing happens at our frontiers. If we were to keep silent, the stones would cry out. We are shocked to the depths of our hearts when we think of the sufferings of these unhappy people. We tremble at the dragon's teeth of hatred which are senselessly being sown... What harvest must grow from such seed? We stand powerless. What is being prepared for the Jews who have remained in Norway? Can our authorities do anything to save them? We implore them to consider this question seriously and without delay." [504] In a broadcast sermon, Bishop Aukn of Strangnas commented upon the events of the time: "Violence is triumphing, and the commandments which form the bases of our human common life are remorselessly being trampled upon. Every day brings new pictures of horror. Recently we received the news that the frightful plague of racial persecution has descended upon our Scandinavia... There are probably no limits to the depths to which people who are blinded by hatred may sink. <228> But at the same time a wonderful thing is happening: in the midst of this darkness we are witnessing a bold and firm steadfastness which remains unmoved even when it leads to persecution and martyrdom. Such events have opened the eyes of many people who were subject to the prejudice that we have only to reckon with material factors and the resources of outward force. They bear witness to the power of the Holy Spirit, to the power of Christ, which works in secret and is unconquerable. If we in our Swedish Church are able to begin the new Church year as a free Church in a free country, that lays upon us a great responsibility: to stand up in unshakable faithfulness for the holiness of the laws of God, when the most elementary demands of justice are trampled upon." [505] At a Meeting of Protest, held in Stockholm on the same Sunday, Dr. Natanael Beskow said: "Here we are not concerned with neutrality or politics, but with humanity or inhumanity. Nothing of that kind must ever happen in Sweden. Indifference in face of a crime is in itself a crime." The meeting passed the following Resolution: "In the name of Christianity and democracy, humanity and justice, we protest against the mass deportations of Jewish citizens from our nearest neighbour country, not for crimes committed but because of their race. We do this for the sake or our Northern community, but we are angry and distressed that Northern men have been able to commit this deed of shame. We protest in the name of international law, for without security in law all human order collapses, whether it be called old or new." [506] Svenska Morgonbladet reported that it had received expressions of sorrow and sympathy from the leaders of various Church congregations. Bishop John Cullberg said at Strangnas: "After what happened earlier in Norway, the latest telegrams about the persecution of Jews are not surprising. But we are profoundly shocked. The Norwegian Church has, through its statements, already interpreted the Christian conscience's protest against these atrocities. It must be loudly proclaimed that we in Sweden support this protest. <229> With bleeding hearts, we think of the martyrs. And what should we say of their tormentors? All we can say is: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do'." [507] Although leading men within the Swedish Free Churches already at an early stage had separately expressed their feelings in the press regarding the persecution of the Jews in Norway, the Free Churches' Co-operation Committee wished to emphasize their mutual standpoint: "God is the Father of all, and all men are called to receive the advantage of the adoption of sons, independent of race and birth. Racial persecution is thus a sin and a rebellion against God. The Jew is our neighbour, and we wish to love him as ourselves. Facing what is happening in Norway, we feel grief and distress. We are onlookers at a situation where our neighbour is being treated as something sub-human. We cannot remain silent witnesses to this We wish that our deeds could bring help, to undo what has been done. Our hope is that God will turn evil to good. We wish to join in the appeal of the Bishops of the Swedish Church, in the name of God, for intercessions for our tortured brethren of the race of Israel, and to make daily prayers to our Father in Heaven for the many who are suffering violence and disaster at this time." [508] Under the subject heading "Christian Gathering", a meeting was held on December 6, 1942 at Hedvig's Church at Norrkoping. This meeting was arranged by clergymen. Speakers were Vicar Thysell, Pastor Einitz Genitz and Vicar Knut Ericson. We quote the following from Vicar Thysell's address: "The information concerning 1,000 Jews driven from their homes, robbed of their property and transferred to Germany to meet a most cruel fate, has shaken us thoroughly and deeply. Those Jews were loyal Norwegian citizens: they had done nothing wrong. They were punished because they were Jews, without trial or verdict. <230> The people of Norway were the first to speak up and protest through their Church. The brave and strong words from Norwegian Church leaders, themselves oppressed and persecuted, have moved us profoundly. Now we, too, must speak. There are occasions when it would be denying truth to remain silent. We bear a special responsibility towards God and humanity when such things are happening around US. We Swedes are best able to represent the world's conscience in this case, and we feel that we also owe our Norwegian brethren a clear and unequivocal declaration on our stand. We also have another responsibility in this case, one that lies even nearer to us: our responsibility towards the Jewish brethren, who belong to our own people. The contamination of anti-Semitism has also reached our own country. Infamous and false propaganda is being spread from plague centres within our own borders. We have hitherto belittled this danger. Now we see to where it is leading. It is time for us to wake up! We must also at this hour think of the mass persecution of Jews which is taking place in other countries. From available information it appears that the anti-Semitic wave is still rising. The threat now also concerns half-Jews. Our taking a stand might seem meaningless to all of these. We cannot stop violence. It may, however, in a secret way, bring a ray of consolation and hope into despairing hearts. We have named our meeting 'Christian Gathering'. That our consciences react to the outrage which is happening, is the result of the spiritual values of life which we have received from Christ and the Prophets of Israel - from the very people who are now being persecuted in so many countries. On those basic values rests our Nordic judicial culture. We pride ourselves on Sweden being a constitutional state. Here no one can be sentenced and punished except on the basis of justice. Here, right is not equal to might. Above the power of the state stand those eternal truths of our relation to God and each other, which have been revealed to us and which, in our consciences, appear as indefeasible values of life. Arnulf Overland says: 'Some things are greater than you. There are mountains with snow. There are dearer things than your life; you shall fight for it'. The dearest thing we have are those values of life that Christ gives us. The persecution of the Jews is not the only proof - but the most horrible of all - of a denial of these values of life. We are here to-day to confess our belief in these eternal foundations for human society, which God himself has laid. We believe in God, our Lord Jesus Christ, and our Father, who has called us all, independent of race and all other differences, to receive the adoption of sons and to live in communion with Him and each other. We wish to adhere to this Christian evaluation of man. And we reject as hostile to God and anti-Christian that brutal conception of man, and that contempt of mankind, which forge the acts of violence in anti-Semitism. We regard the brotherhood of humanity as holy, and brotherly action as our goal. We feel it our obligation to act towards our Jewish brethren in accordance with Jesus' rule of life: 'All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them'. <231> Do we seriously mean them to be our confession of faith? Do we dare uphold it, as our Norwegian brethren have done, even if our faith should be tried as gold is tried in fire? Whatever happens, we need not fear, if we follow Jesus Christ, the eternal King. The weapons of iniquity are doomed annihilation. Christ stands on the side of the persecuted. His spirit, the Spirit of Truth, Righteousness and Love, is strongest of all. The day of freedom shall again dawn for the persecuted and oppressed." [509] It is remarkable that earlier deportations of Jews in countries such as Germany, France and the Netherlands, did not prompt the Swedish Church leaders to raise their voices, though the number of deportees was much greater than that of the Jews deported from Norway. It seems likely that what was happening in Western Europe was less known in Sweden than what was happening in Norway. Moreover, human beings generally are more moved by cruelties committed on their doorstep, than by what happens further away. The Proclamation of the Swedish Bishops expressed "horror and dismay" because "an un-Christian racial hatred... has now expressed itself... in our immediate neighbourhood, on our own Scandinavian peninsula". As far as we know, the Swedish Church did not issue a Protest against the persecution of the Danish Jews. In fact, events in Denmark took place so rapidly that a Protest would hardly have done any good. The pressure of the Swedish Archbishop (and others) on the Swedish Government to make public their willingness to receive all Danish Jews, was important. It appears that this step, indirectly, saved many lives. Dr. Leni Yahil relates the following: "The Swedish Foreign Office contacted Richert, the Swedish envoy in Berlin, on the same day, September 29 [1943], and again on the next day, September 30, in order to plan with him the appeal to the German Foreign Office. It was decided that Richert would ask the Germans whether there was a basis to the rumours about an impending deportation of the Jews from Denmark, and that he would stress the fact that such a deportation would cause great indignation in Sweden. Moreover, he was to propose that all Danish Jews be transferred to Sweden and concentrated there in a camp and that the Swedish Government would be responsible that 'they would not be able to undertake any activity that might be harmful to Germany'. <232> It became evident that the Swedes did not intend to take any further action. [Niels] Bohr, Ebbe Munk and their friends, however, were of a different opinion. As we know from entries in Ebbe Munk's diary and from his letters to Christmas Moeller in London, it was the Danish group with the active support of prominent Swedish circles which brought about the publication by the Swedish Government of the appeal to the Germans. On October 2, the day following on the night of the persecution in Denmark, Bohr had an interview with the Foreign Secretary, Guenther. It seems that already on the preceding day the Danes had tried to persuade the Swedes to publish their appeal to the Germans in the hope that such a publication might prevent the deportation. Since this had not been done, Bohr requested the Swedish Foreign Secretary to repeat his appeal to the Germans and to propose to them that the boats on which the Jews were concentrated, be directed to Sweden instead of to Germany. Guenther proposed this to the German Ambassador Thomsen, who called on him at 9 o'clock in the evening on that day. A reply to this proposal was never received. Through Kammerherr von Kruse, the Danish Ambassador in Stockholm, and with the active support of Prof. Stefan Hurvitz, an audience with the King of Sweden was arranged for Bohr, in the afternoon of the same day. During this audience Bohr proposed to the King that the Swedish appeal to Germany be published. The King did not reply, but at the end of the audience the Foreign Secretary was called in. That same evening the Swedish radio broadcasted an announcement about the steps taken by Sweden in Berlin. The announcement stressed that the Swedish Ambassador, on behalf of his Government, had declared that Sweden was willing to receive all the Danish Jews. We know that this announcement encouraged the Jews as well as their Danish helpers to organize the mass escape. In his letter to Christmas Moeller, dated October 12, Munk told that the Swedish Government only agreed to publish the announcement, after the Arch- bishop, professors and other prominent persons had declared that they were prepared to sign an open letter to the Government about the subject." [510] The King of Sweden was present when, in May, 1944, Archbishop Eidem delivered his opening address to the General Assembly, to which 2,600 parish-delegates and guests from all over the country had come. Archbishop Eidem said: "... Our Christian conscience must keep constantly on the alert in the face of all that is happening in the world around us. Might is not right. Power is not justice. Torture is not permissible in any circumstances. Innocent people must not be made in any way responsible or punished for the acts of others. Houses and entire communities must not be purposely destroyed in order to intimidate or cripple an enemy. <233> People of a particular racial and national group, such as the unhappy people of the Jews, must not be persecuted and martyred because of their membership in that race or national group. All such actions are not only barbarism but sin... It is indeed no wonder that a frightful harvest of hatred and vengefulness is growing from the sowing of such seeds on our poor earth. As Christians we are called to take up the fight against hatred in every shape and form in this world, which now seems to be a free field for unleashed evil forces; and we must conduct this fight first of all in our own hearts, but each man also in the place where he lives. And we must not grow tired or weary in this fight." [511] It would be interesting to know how far the King was influenced by this stand of his Archbishop when, shortly afterwards, he appealed to Regent Horthy on behalf of the Hungarian Jews. It is my impression that the Church of Sweden also undertook steps on behalf of the Jews about which we know nothing, and perhaps never shall. Concerning two steps, we do know at least something. Firstly, the secretary of the Church of Sweden's Committee for Foreign Affairs, Rev. Johansson, communicated to me: "It is true that Archbishop Eidem paid a visit to Hitler himself, but no details are officially known". [512] Secondly, the German Ambassador in Slovakia, Ludin, informed the German Foreign Office in a letter dated January 3, 1945, that the Archbishop of Uppsala had addressed the Slovak Prime Minister (Tiso) with a plea for the transfer of "the unfortunate Jewish brethren" to neutral territories. [513] We have, however, not succeeded in retrieving a copy of Archbishop Eidem's letter. <234> COUNTRIES AT WAR WITH GERMANY 33 GREAT BRITAIN a. The First Period Few voices were publicly raised in England during the years 1940 and 1941. In 1940, the Battle of Britain apparently occupied the national attention so much that people tended to forget everything else. If any statements made by ecclesiastical leaders were issued in 1941 (except the statement of the Church of Schotland, mentioned below), I have failed to find them. The Beckley Social Service Lecture is delivered annually in connection with the Methodist Conference in Great Britain. Its purpose is to review certain major problems in the field of social service from the point of Christian responsibility. In the year 1940 the Rev. W. W. Simpson, now secretary of the Council of Christians and Jews, was invited to deal with the refugee problem and the fight against anti-Semitism. His lecture was published in book-form. [514] In May 1940, the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland issued the following statement: "The General Assembly deplore the continued persecution of Jewish minorities in Central Europe, and deeply regret that the situation has worsened in Hungary. The General Assembly warmly appreciate the vigorous protest against the new anti-Jewish legislation made by the Hungarian Reformed Church, and assure the Committee and the missionaries themselves of their sympathy with all endeavours to minister relief and comfort and hope to suffering Jews, so far as it may be in their power to do so." [515] <235> I regret that I have not succeeded in finding any confirmation of the "vigorous protests" made by the Hungarian Reformed Church. In May 1941, the Assembly anew expressed: "their deep sympathy with the Jewish people in their tragic sorrow, and, realising the gravity and intricacy of the problem, approve the settling up of a Sub-Committee to survey the whole situation, and they resolve to appoint six members ad hoc to assist in this survey." [516] This expression of sympathy was repeated in May, 1942, whilst the General Assembly also warned "their faithful people against the growing menace of anti-Semitism." [517] We record the statements issued by the Presbyterian Church of Ireland during the second world war in this chapter, as most of the members of this Church live in the Northern part of Ireland which is under the sovereignty of Great Britain. In June, 1942, the Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Ireland issued the following "Resolution anent the Jewish People": "That the following resolution, adopted at a recent conference in connection with the Presbyterian Alliance, be given the warm approval of the General Assembly: 'That this Conference of representatives of the Presbyterian Churches of Great Britain and Ireland, held at Edinburgh on the 28th day of January, 1942, having considered the position of the Jews in the problem of post-war reconstruction, deplores any denial to persons of Jewish descent of the right of equal treatment before the law and of other rights due to their status as ordinary citizens, and urges that all Governments shall take immediate steps to restore to the full status of human dignity such Jewish people as have been deprived of it, and, in particular, that all legislation unjustly diminishing the rights of Jews, as such, shall be repealed at an early date; recognising also that liberty of conscience is an essential part of civil liberty, and that a free exchange of religious convictions is a necessary condition of all understanding between races and nations, the Conference urges on all Governments the recognition of the unfettered right of every individual to free choice in religious faith and to the public profession and preaching of it so long as these rights do not run counter to public law and order. The Conference urges His Majesty's Government, in conjunction with other allied and friendly nations, to provide for some scheme of emigration for Jews who cannot find a home in Europe." [518] <236> b. Mass Massacres. The Fate of the Refugees On June 26, 1942, Reports of the massacre of Jews in Poland were broadcast by the B.B.C. The Chief Rabbi, Dr. Hertz, based a special Sunday evening broadcast on the reports. On July 8, 1942, the Archbishop of Canterbury inveighed, on the European service of the B.B.C., against "so terrible a violation of human and Divine law." [519] On October 15, 1942, the Bishop of Chichester spoke in the Upper House of the Convocation of Canterbury: "The torture and the ceaseless and systematic deportation of the Jews form some of the darkest chapters in the tragic history even of that people, and the latest report which has reached this country tells of the deportation, in terrible circumstances, of thousands of Jewish refugees from Vichy France, where they had thought they were safe from the oppressor, to Occupied France and thence to Eastern Galicia, leaving behind them between five thousand and eight thousand children of whom many are now orphans, while large numbers do not know their parents or their own names, and all are waiting for the charity of Britain, or America or Switzerland to give them sanctuary." [520] Also in October, the Archbishop of Canterbury sent the following Message to the Jewish Bulletin: "The situation of the Jews is unique, and yet has lasted for many centuries. They are a people conscious of close and real unity, and yet they have no motherland. Other people have survived and maintained their identity when there was no national State to which they could be loyal; but there was always a homeland inhabited by the people who remembered their days of independence and hoped for its restoration. For the Jews there has been no such a homeland. Their eyes might turn to Palestine; but though there were Jews among the population there, they did not form the bulk of it. The Jews as a people have been homeless. They have lived among the other peoples of the earth, and they have been loyal citizens of the nations which have made them welcome. But if their hosts turn against them they have no remedy. In earlier periods this has happened from time to time. In our day it has happened on a scale without parallel. Their sufferings are appalling and entirely undeserved. It should be our aim to assist them in all ways in our power; for their need is desperate. <237> But there is more in their claim than a plea for sympathy. One of the tests of a people's civilisation is its capacity to treat well a defined minority. To fail in this is to revert to the ethics of the wolf-pack; and to succeed is the evidence of moral stability. In the case of the Jews our task is the easier because the moral principles which we profess are largely drawn from that sacred literature which we share with them. We should be standing together in loyalty to those principles against all who repudiate or ignore them. Anti-Semitism is evidence of a barbarous outlook and a religious apostasy." [521] In the same month, the Free Church Federal Council sent a letter to the Chief Rabbi, Dr. Hertz, expressing "the deep feelings of indignation and sympathy with which the Free Churches of this country regard the cruel persecution from which the Jewish race is suffering through the tyranny exercised by the Axis powers". The message continued: "We assure you of our continued prayers to Almighty God that its sufferings may speedily be brought to an end, and that all peoples may once again enjoy freedom of worship, preaching and teaching according to conviction without incurring civil disability or penalty in any form." [522] On October 29, 1942, an audience of 10,000 assembled in the Albert Hall to voice their protest against "the ruthless policy of extermination decreed by the Nazis and their satellites against the Jewish population in all territories under their sway". The Archbishop of Canterbury was in the chair. "Speaking about the deportations from France, the Archbishop mentioned the fact that children from two years upwards are now also being deported. 'There is something familiar about that,' he said, 'but when the earlier Nazis massacred the Innocent of Bethlehem it was on those of two years and less that destruction fell; and that in a smaller number.'... The Archbishop concluded by saying that: "he was grateful for this opportunity to share in the effort to express our horror at what has been and is being done, our deep sympathy with the sufferers, our claim that our own Government should do whatever is possible for their relief, and our steadfast resolution to do all and bear all that may be necessary to end this affliction." <238> Dr. I. S. Whale, Moderator of the Free Church Federal Council, speaking in the name of the Free Church, declared that anti-Semitism in all its forms was "an outrage against that sanctity of law which is one of the most precious gifts of ancient Israel to modern Christianity". Bishop Matthew spoke on behalf of the Roman Catholic Church. The following resolution, moved by the Archbishop of Canterbury, was unanimously adopted: "This meeting, representative of British public opinion and of the United Nations fighting in the cause of freedom, places on record its profound indignation at the unparallel atrocities which have been and are being committed daily by the German Government and its satellites against the unarmed citizens of countries under the Nazi yoke. It records its horror at the deliberate policy of extermination which the Nazis have declared against the Jews wherever they are to be found, and extends its profound sympathy to the families of the unhappy victims of a systematic terror carried out by wholesale massacre, the murder of innocent hostages, the inhuman separation of children from their parents and other unspeakable cruelties and atrocities. This meeting expresses its heartfelt admiration for the heroism and gallantry of the fighting forces of the United Nations now leading us to victory, and desires to convey its deep sense of gratitude to those people in the occupied territories who, despite the terror, have done so much to help and succour their Jewish fellow-victims." [523] On November 10, 1942, the Archbishop of Canterbury, inaugurating a new Parliamentary session, drew once more the attention to the extermination of the Jews, that "horror which is going on almost at our door". Contrasting "what is still our standard of living" with the ordeals of the afflicted, "packed in cattle trucks... sixty in each...given little food" so that "on one occasion they all died of starvation", he inquired "whether it is thought possible that we may be able to do something to bring relief to these sufferers". He mentioned as a shining example "the amazing generosity" of the Swiss whose "frontier has been technically closed but actually open" and suggested that Britain should give aid to the Swiss in support of refugees who can make their way there. He also recommended the granting of visas to those able to reach Britain: <239> "I hope that we should not in such a case waste our time in considering whether we have done as much or more than other nations for people who are in this kind of distress; the only question which really matters is whether we have done all we can... Again I hope we shall not waste time by considering whether these people fall into the categories drawn up to regulate such matters. Categories are nothing but administrative headings, and can be altered, if we wish, to include some who do not fall under them..." [524] The Archbishop of Canterbury again urged the Government, in a letter to "The Times" [525], to admit to Britain "any refugee who might succeed in escaping". c. Retribution for the Persecutors; Intercession for the Persecuted At the beginning of December, 1942, the Archbishop of York delivered a speech in the House of Lords. The Archbishop said: "Men, women and children are being ruthlessly put to death by massacre, poison, gas, electrocution, or being sent long journeys to unknown destinations in bitterly cold weather without food or drink. Children that die on the way are cast out from the open trucks to the side of the railway. Such is Hitler's new order." The Archbishop called upon the Government "...to state solemnly that when the hour of deliverance comes, retribution will be dealt out not only on the cold-blooded and cowardly brutes who order these massacres, but also on the thousands of underlings who appear joyfully to be carrying them out." [526] The "Solemn Statement" requested by the Archbishop of York (and many others) was published on December 17, 1942, simultaneously in London, Washington and Moscow, with the assent and support of all the Allied Governments and of the British Dominions. The text was as follows: <240> "The attention of the Governments of Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Greece, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Norway, Poland, the United States of America, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics, and Yugoslavia, and of the French National Committee, has been drawn to numerous reports from Europe that the German authorities, not content with denying to persons of Jewish race in all the territories over which their barbarous rule has been extended the most elementary human rights, are now carrying into effect Hitler's oft repeated intention to exterminate the Jewish people in Europe. From all the occupied countries Jews are being transported, in conditions of appalling horror and brutality, to Eastern Europe. In Poland, which has been made the principal Nazi slaughterhouse, the ghettos established by the German invaders are being systematically emptied of all Jews except a few highly skilled workers required for war industries. None of those taken away are ever heard of again. The able-bodied are slowly worked to death in labour camps. The infirm are left to die of exposure and starvation or are deliberately massacred in mass executions. The number of victims of these bloody cruelties is reckoned in many hundreds of thousands of entirely innocent men, women and children. The above-mentioned Governments and the French National Committee condemn in the strongest possible terms this bestial policy of cold-blooded extermination. They declare that such events can only strengthen the resolve of all freedom-loving peoples to overthrow the barbarous Hilarity tyranny. They reaffirm their solemn resolution to ensure that those responsible for these crimes shall not escape retribution, and to press on with the necessary practical measures to this end." [527] The Bishop of London, Dr. Fisher (later on to be the Archbishop of Canterbury) voiced in the House of Lords "the whole hearted support for the statement which is forthcoming from Christian circles". Referring to the appeal made by the Archbishop of York, the Bishop said: "It would be a satisfaction to the Archbishop and others if it were made clear that retribution will be exacted not only from those who devised and ordered these proceedings, but also in due degree of responsibility from those who carried out joyfully and gladly the orders which were given to them. The deeds were so repugnant to the laws of God and to every human instinct of decency that whoever took a share must receive due retribution for them. He hoped that it would be made clear that we and all our Allies would offer free asylum gladly to all who could escape." The Bishop also urged that: <241> "Neutral countries should be encouraged to grant sanctuary to refugees by a guarantee that for every Jewish refugee from Nazi tyranny they would receive, the United Nations would undertake to share in the cost of maintenance and would make possible the resettlement after the war of refugees in a permanent and abiding home." [528] At the end of January, 1943, the Archbishops of Canterbury, York and Wales issued, "in the name of the Bishops of the three provinces", a statement in which they again stressed the two main points in the Bishop of London's speech in the House of Lords in December, 1942, namely: support of the Declaration made by the Allied Governments that "those responsible for these crimes shall not escape retribution and the demand to provide a sanctuary for the victims. The "Appeal to the Government" reads as follows: "The Bishops of England and Wales have been profoundly stirred by the declaration made in both Houses of Parliament on behalf of His Majesty's Government on December 17th, 1942, describing the barbarous and inhuman treatment to which the Jews are being subjected in German-occupied Europe. They note that the number of victims of this policy of cold-blooded extermination is already reckoned in hundreds of thousands of entirely innocent men, women and children. They note further that the extermination already carried out is part of the carrying into effect of Hitler's oft-repeated intention to exterminate the Jewish people in Europe, which means in effect the extermination of some six million persons in the territories over which Hitler's rule has been extended. The Bishops of England and Wales declare that the sufferings of these millions of Jews and their condemnation, failing immediate rescue, to a cruel and certain death, constitute an appeal to humanity which it is impossible to resist. They believe that it is the duty of civilised nations, whether neutral or Allied, to exert themselves to the utmost possible extent to provide a sanctuary for these victims. They therefore urge the Government of the United Kingdom to give a lead to the world by declaring its readiness, in consultation with the Dominion Governments, to co-operate with the Governments of the United and neutral nations in finding an immediate refuge in territories within the British Empire as well as elsewhere for all persons threatened with massacre who can escape from Axis lands, or for those who have already escaped to neighbouring neutral countries and can make room for other refugees to take their place." [529] <242> That not everyone agreed with the demand for retribution becomes evident from a speech given by the Archbishop of York at a city meeting in Leeds, on March 14, 1943. The Archbishop had been told that he was unchristian in asking for retribution. Objections were evidently made to the Archbishop's request that "refugees from this horror can find a refuge wherever the British flag flies". Apparently there was the feeling that there might be spies amongst the refugees; that the territories under the British flag would be flooded by a mass immigration of Jewish refugees, and that this would create insurmountable problems after the war. The Archbishop said the following: "...The persecution of the Jews is, however, unique in its horror. It has the characteristics which make it stand by itself in the long history of cruelty and tyranny. It is a deliberate policy of extermination directed against, not a nation, but a whole race. Neither their nation, nor their profession, nor their character will save Jews from this sweeping sentence. They are doomed without trial, without crime, without the possibility of defence, simply because they belong to the race from which the prophets came, and of which our Lord and His disciples were members. They are condemned to death to satisfy the blood lust of a cruel and wicked megalomaniac who by fraud and violence now holds the greater part of Europe in his grasp... What can be done? 1. Let the German people know what is being done in their name. 2. Let the German people also be told solemnly and repeatedly that sure retribution awaits not only the master criminals who have ordered these horrors, but also their brutal underlings who are carrying them out, often apparently with zest. I have been told that I am un-Christian in asking for retribution. Have those who thus criticise never read that the Christ said that rather than a man should offend one of these little ones it were better that a millstone should be hanged about his neck and he be cast into the sea. I ask for this broadcasting of the Allies' determination to punish, in the hope that it may stay the hands of at any rate some of the criminals. Fear is sometimes effective when mercy makes no appeal. 3. We must make it plain that refugees from this horror can find a refuge wherever the British flag flies. Every precaution will have to be taken against spies. And the refuge will only be promised for the period of the terror. Few will be able to reach our shores. But give them this hope of refuge. 4. Support the Government in the efforts they are now making, with other allied powers and the neutrals, to help the Jews now in danger and to provide succour for their refugees. <243> We must do all we can in the name of Christianity and humanity to save at any rate a remnant from these foul murderers. Victory is the only sure road to their deliverance. The war becomes increasingly a crusade not only to preserve freedom and justice, but also to overthrow and shatter cruelty and tyranny in their most savage and hateful forms." [530] At the end of 1942, a statement was issued by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Moderator of the Free Church Federal Council, urging that special intercessions be offered in all churches on the first Sunday of the New Year: "We do not doubt that in all congregations prayer is throughout this time being offered for the Jews of Germany and the occupied countries, who are suffering so terrible an affliction and over whom the threat of extermination is hanging. It is a bitter grief that our nation can do so little to help, but short of victory in the war there is no way in which we can ourselves effect anything comparable with the need, and the massacre goes on day by day. We should be united in constant prayer to Almighty God that this monstrous evil may be checked and the Jews delivered from their tormentors; and as a focus for such united prayer we urge that special intercessions be offered in all churches on the first Sunday of the New Year." [531] Seven "representative German Lutheran Pastors in England" commented, in a letter published in "The Times", as follows: "On the first Sunday of the New Year when the Gospel appointed to read in all German Lutheran Churches is the story of the murder of the innocent (St. Matthew 2, 16-18), we ministers of the German Lutheran Church in England feel in duty bound to call our congregations to solemn prayer and intercession for the Jewish people in their unparalleled sufferings. It was the anti-Jewish legislation as applied to the ministry which brought the Lutheran Church in Germany to its first witness against idolatry and barbarism and caused it to become a 'Confessing Church'. Some of us wish that the protest then made had been stronger, more general, more frequent; but it is not for us who now live in safety to criticise those who under fire have done their utmost not to bow to Baal. While they are silenced by the terrors of persecution, we know that they would want and expect us to speak on their behalf and in the name of all who confess themselves Christians in Germany. <244> In fellowship with them and in solidarity with the people of whom Christ our Lord was born, in solemn protest and deep repentance we recall the words of the Old Testament: 'Open thy mouth, judge righteously and plead the cause of the poor and needy'. (Prov. 31, 8-9)." [532] d. Practical Steps Demanded; the Bermuda Conference Many times Church leaders in Great Britain demanded that their Government should take practical steps for the rescue of the Jews of Europe. Some of their statements on this subject have already been recorded in the preceding paragraph. In a letter to "The Times", the Bishop of Chichester recommended that Germany should be officially requested to let Jews emigrate to neutral countries. [533] In Parliament, an all-party committee of members of both houses was formed to prod the Government into action. Its first meeting, on January 27, 1943, was addressed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. [534] On February 4, 1943, at the annual meeting of the Council of Christians and Jews, the Archbishop of Canterbury referred to "the deep concern felt by all sections of the British public at the reports of mass extermination of Jews and others at the hand of the Nazis". He outlined "the steps which he had taken as one of the Joint Presidents of the Council, and in association with the leaders of the other sections of the Christian community, in the hope of securing some measure of relief to the victims of this persecution." [535] On March 23, 1943, the Archbishop of Canterbury presented the following Resolution to the House of Lords: "To move to resolve, that, in view of the massacres and starvation of Jews and others in enemy and enemy occupied countries, this House desires to assure His Majesty's Government of its fullest support for immediate measures, on the largest and most generous scale compatible with the requirements of military operations and security, for providing help and temporary asylum to persons in danger of massacre who are able to leave enemy and enemy-occupied countries." <245> The Archbishop said: "...We are wisely advised not to limit our attention in this connection to the sufferers of any one race, and we must remember that there are citizens of many countries who are subject to just the same kind of monstrous persecution, and even massacre. None the less, there has been a concentration of this fury against the Jews, and it is inevitable that we should give special attention to what is being carried through, and still further plotted against them... "We are told that the only real solution is rapid victory. No doubt it is true that if we could win the war in the course of a few weeks we could still deliver multitudes of those who are now doomed to death. But we dare not look for such results, and we know that what we can do will be but little in comparison with the need. My whole plea on behalf of those for whom I am speaking is that whether what we can do be large or little it should at least be all we can do." The Archbishop then told of the deportation of Jews from Moravia, Germany, Rumania, and Holland, and of the slaughter of Jews in Poland. He continued: "I believe that part of our difficulty in arousing ourselves and our fellow- countrymen to the degree of indignation that it would seem to merit is the fact that the imagination recoils before it. It is impossible to hold such things at all before the mind. But we are all agreed in this House on the main purpose of this Motion, to offer our utmost support to the Government in all they can do; but with all sympathy for members of His Majesty's Government, I am sure they will forgive some of us who wonder whether quite everything possible has really already been done." The Archbishop recalled "the solemn statement of the United Nations made public on December 17", and contrasted "the solemnity of the words then used, and the reception accorded to them, with the very meagre action that had actually followed". "It is the delays in the whole matter while these horrors go on daily that make some of us wonder whether it may not be possible to speed up a little. One must admit that some of the arguments hitherto advanced as justifying the comparative inaction seem quite disproportionate to the scale of the evil confronting us. As reasons for no further action, "the great part that has been taken by this country and other countries in the relief of the refugees" was pointed out. <246> "That, of course, would be relevant if the people in the other lands were suffering great discomfort or great privation, but when what you are confronted with is wholesale massacre, it seemed to most of us not only irrelevant but grotesquely irrelevant." The Secretary of State for the Colonies had given a promise with regard to the admission of Jews to Palestine, on February 3, but on February 24 no attempt to move these persons had yet taken place. The Archbishop made a plea that action should be taken as promptly as possible to carry out the promises given by the Colonial Secretary. He also urged, "that we should revive the scheme of visas for entry into this country". "We want to suggest the granting of blocks of visas to the Consuls in Spain and Portugal and perhaps in Turkey to be used at their discretion. We know of course that the German Government will not give exit permits. What matters is that we should open our doors irrespective of the question whether the German door is open or shut, so that all who can may come... It is of the greatest importance to give relief to those neutral countries because there is at present a steady stream or perhaps more accurately a steady trickle of refugees from France both into Spain and into Switzerland. The numbers that those countries, already suffering a good deal in shortage of food and with their standard of life so far below our own, will be able to receive are of course limited. If we can open the door at the other side and bring away from Spain and Portugal and (if transport is available but probably it would not) from Switzerland and also from Turkey those who are able to make their escape there, we shall render it far more probable that the channels through which that trickle percolates will not be blocked... Then, once more, it is urged, that we should offer help to European neutrals, to encourage them to admit new refugees, in the form of guarantees from the United Nations to relieve them of a stipulated proportion of refugees after the victory, or, if possible, sooner; that we should offer direct financial aid... There is one point I would raise more tentatively... It is that through some neutral power an offer should directly be made to the German Government to receive Jews in territories of the British Empire and, so far as they agree, of the other Allied Nations on a scheme of so many each month. Very likely it would be refused, and then Hitler's guilt would stand out all the more evidently. If the offer were accepted there would of course be difficulties enough, but it would be the business of the Germans to overcome these so far as concerns the conveyance of the refugees to the ports, and efforts could be made to secure help from Sweden and other neutral countries for shipping from the ports... Some of us have wondered how far the possibility has been considered of receiving any considerable number, particularly of children, in Eire and whether the Government of Eire have been consulted about this... <247> "It is said that there is a danger of Anti-Semitic feeling in this country. No doubt that feeling exists in some degree, and no doubt it could very easily be fanned into flame, but I am quite sure it exists at present only in comparatively small patches. It is very local when it exists at all, and therefore it receives a degree of attention beyond what it deserves. But if the Government were to decide that it was wise and practicable to put in action any of the proposals that I have laid before your Lordships, it would be very easy for the Government, by skilful use of the wireless, to win the sympathy and confidence of the people for their proposals, especially if a large number of those who were brought out were children and were being delivered from almost certain death... The whole matter is so big and other claims are so urgent that we want further to make the proposition that there shall be appointed someone of high standing for whom this should be a primary responsibility... My chief protest is against procrastination of any kind. It was three months ago that the solemn declaration of the United Nations was made and now we are confronted with a proposal for an exploratory Conference at Ottawa. That sounds as if it involves much more delay. It took five weeks from December 17 for our Government to approach the United States, and then six weeks for the Government of the United States to reply, and when they did reply they suggested a meeting of representatives of the Government for preliminary exploration. The Jews are being slaughtered at the rate of tens of thousands a day on many days, but there is a proposal for a preliminary exploration to be made with a view of referring the whole matter after that to the Inter-Governmental Committee on Refugees. My Lords, let us at least urge that when that Conference meets it should not meet for exploration only but for decision. We know that what we can do is small compared with the magnitude of the problem, but we cannot rest so long as there is any sense among us that we are not doing all that might be done. We have discussed the matter on the footing that we are not responsible for this great evil, that the burden lies on others, but it is always true that the obligations of decent men are decided for them by contingencies which they did not themselves create and very largely by action of wicked men. The priest and the Levite in the parable [536] were not in the least responsible for the traveller's wounds as he lay there by the roadside and no doubt they had many other pressing things to attend to, but they stand as the picture of those who are condemned for neglecting the opportunity of showing responsibility. We at this moment have upon us a tremendous responsibility. We stand at the bar of history, of humanity and of God. I beg to move." [537] <248> After the Archbishop of Canterbury had spoken, Lord Rochester spoke "as a Methodist layman": '...No one can preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ and remain indifferent to social institutions which contradict that teaching. Wherever the Churches find practices which are contrary to Christian doctrine, whether they be such diabolical and horrifying practices as these we are more especially considering this afternoon, or others, it is no more than their bounden duty to denounce them... We are concerned with all persecuted minorities, but the Christian necessarily feels an intimate responsibility in regard to the Jews, since Christ 'according to the flesh' came out of Israel. Almost every page of the New Testament shows how close was the association between religious Judaism and the first followers of Christ... 'I must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh.' [538] And woe to us if we leave any stone unturned in seeking to aid and succour those of our fellow human beings who are suffering this cruel Nazi stumbling- block of offence. The Nazis have indeed debased themselves even unto hell, but let us remember' the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity,' as we recall those words in the 57th chapter of Isaiah: 'Cast ye up, cast ye up, prepare the way, take up the stumbling-block out of the way of my people'. [539] I support the Motion of the most reverend Primate, and I would urge the redoubling of our efforts to succour 'one of the least of these', as we recall the latter part of the 25th chapter of St. Matthew." [540] It is remarkable that, contrary to what one might have expected, it was the Archbishop who made the practical suggestions and the "Methodist layman" who cited texts from the Bible. It is a pity that one expression in the Archbishop's motion ("immediate measures, on the largest and most generous scale compatible with the requirements of military operations and security") provided the Government with an excuse to do practically nothing. In order to understand the Archbishop's words, one should, however, try to realize how manifold were "the requirements of military operations and security" in those days. <249> Obviously the Archbishop was well-informed about the persecutions on the continent of Europe. He had received (as he himself stated in his speech) reports from the World Jewish Congress, Geneva, and from the Board of Deputies of British Jews. Dr. Riegner, of the World Jewish Congress, sent an aide-memoire to the British Ambassador in Bern "on behalf of the secretariats of the World Council of Churches and of the Jewish Congress". The covering letter, dated March 22, 1943, stated: "We should also appreciate it if His Majesty's Government would see fit to pass on the main contents of this aide-memoire to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the British Section of the World Jewish Congress". [541] But if the aide-memoire was passed on, it must have come too late for the meeting in the House of Lords. The speech of the Archbishop in the House of Lords deserves careful study. It sheds an important light on the attitude of the Government regarding the Jewish refugees. The Archbishop mentioned the proposal for an exploratory Conference at Ottawa. The country (Canada) in whose capital the conference was to be held, however, had not been informed, and thus the conference was held at Bermuda, on 19-29 April, 1943. The statement issued at the end of its deliberations merely promised recommendations - which were not disclosed - and the setting up of an inter-governmental organization to handle the problem in the future. The verdict on the allied Governments that "History will record the Bermuda Conference as a monument of moral callousness and inertia" is not too severe. [542] The British Council of Churches, made up of the official representatives of the Church of England, the Church of Scotland and the Free Churches, met in London on April 13th and 14th under the presidency of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The following resolution was passed on anti-Semitism: <250> "The British Council of Churches warmly welcomes the statements made by the leaders of many Christian Churches expressing fellow-feeling with the Jewish people in the trials through which they are passing and the desire to aid them in every practicable way. In particular the Council notes with admiration and thankfulness the statements on this subject which have issued from Christian leaders in enemy-occupied countries. The Council affirms that anti-Semitism of any kind is contrary to natural justice, incompatible with the Christian doctrine of man and a denial of the Gospel. Malicious gossip and irresponsible charges against Jews, no less than active persecution, are incompatible with Christian standards of behaviour. The Council welcomes the decision to hold in Bermuda a Conference in which the British and American Governments will seek jointly to find practical ways of rendering immediate and continuing assistance to Jews and other imperilled people. The Council considers that every possible step ought to be taken to rescue from massacre the Jews in enemy and enemy occupied territories. It is convinced that both Christian and Jewish people in this country would give strong support to a lead from His Majesty's Government in offering sanctuary in Great Britain for a considerable number of children and adults, additional to those received before September, 1939, and would be ready to make sacrifices so as to provide hospitality for them during the war. The Council further asks that the Bermuda Conference will suggest measures for rendering the requisite material assistance for the maintenance of refugees who reach neutral countries, and will give assurance to those countries of readiness to cooperate in plans for post-war settlement of the refugees in other parts of the world." [543] In May, 1943, the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland stated: "The General Assembly protest anew against the atrocious persecution of the Jews in Nazi-occupied countries, and in the name of Christ condemns the inhumanity and sacrilege of anti-Semitic policy. They warmly approve of the steps taken by the Government to assist refugees, and respectfully urge it to continue and extend its efforts as far as possible. They assure the Jewish people of their deep sympathy in their grievous distress, and earnestly commend them to the prayerful concern and compassion of the Church." [544] The Assembly of the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland passed the following Resolution (also in May, 1943): "They call upon His Majesty's Government to promote, in concert with the Governments of the United States of America and other associated nations, effective measures for enabling Jews and other victims of German brutality to escape and find refuge. <251> In their view the strong abhorrence and detestation of the persecutors, which are felt throughout the civilised world, and of their purpose of exterminating the Jews, should be followed by energetic action, not only to bring to justice in due course the instigators and perpetrators of the massacres, but to give immediate aid, welcome and asylum in this and other free countries to those in peril, even though some risk to our own country may be involved. To this end they ask that restrictions regarding age, country of origin or means of support should not be put in the way to liberty and safety. They ask the Churches to show and inculcate a friendly and helpful attitude to such refugees, to pray for the deliverance of those who cannot escape beyond the reach of their barbarous enemies, and to resist as un-Christian all tendencies to anti-Semitism. [545] On June 10, 1943, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland adopted the following Resolution: "The General Assembly has learned with great satisfaction that His Majesty's Government is prepared to collaborate with the United States of America in providing asylum for as many victims of German hate as can escape or be rescued from the danger which threatens them, and to consult with the Dominion Governments and the Governments of neutral countries with regard to united action, so that as many of the threatened people as ever possible may be helped. In view of the tremendous urgency of the situation, the General Assembly requests His Majesty's Government to carry out their promises to provide immediate and effective relief for those in such dire peril." [546] Churches and Church leaders had, as quoted so far, expressed their desire and hope that the Government would take practical steps for aiding refugees. The Bishop of Chichester, however, expressed his disappointment in a letter to the Editor of "The Times": "The Foreign Secretary is about to make a statement in the House of Commons on the result of the Bermuda Conference, and the policy of His Majesty's Government with regard to refugees. It will be almost exactly five months after the declaration of December 17, condemning the wholesale massacre of the Jews by the Nazis 'in the strongest possible terms'. It is a historic moment in the record of our dealings with the persecuted and the oppressed. It is quite certain that if the British and American Governments were determined to achieve a programme of rescue in some way commensurate with the vastness of the need, they could do it. Nor can there be any doubt about the response which would be given in Britain to a clear lead based on the principles of humanity. <252> There are difficulties. But so far as shipping is concerned, these should be greatly reduced as a result of the victories in North Africa. The need of a big camp to which those now in neutral countries could be sent must be patent to everybody. And the case for a revision of the regulations to allow many more to enter the United Kingdom is overwhelming. The guilt of 'this bestial policy of cold-blooded extermination' lies with the Nazis. But can we escape blame if, having it in our power to do something to save the victims, we fail to take the necessary action, and to take it swiftly?" [547] A few days later the Bishop of Chichester published the following letter in "The Times": "In the House of Commons on Wednesday Mr. Peake referred to my letter printed in your issue of May 18. His principal charge was 'that the Bishop made no attempt to indicate what was the programme of rescue which he suggested'. He added that he had searched Hansard for the House of Lords ever since December 17, but had failed to find any speech by myself on the subject. I was present at the debate opened by the Archbishop of Canterbury on March 23 and was prepared to speak. But owing to the number of speakers, representing all shades of opinion, on that occasion I, with others, stood down. It is not, however, true to say that I have made no suggestions as to a programme of rescue. In a letter in your columns on December 28, 1942, I referred to the suggestion made by Sir Neill Malcolm in his letter of December 22, and made further suggestions, such as the obtaining of facilities from the protecting Power for the transportation of Nazi victims from Germany and German occupied territories to the nearest frontier, with a view to entry into places of refuge; a guaranteeing to neutral Governments willing to give sanctuary to such victims of an evacuation of as many as possible after the war; and the establishment of reception areas in lands outside Europe. I am also a member of the Parliamentary Committee, and I support the 12-point programme for immediate rescue measures drawn up by the National Committee for Rescue from Nazi Terror, and widely published. I am glad to hear of the extension of categories of individuals eligible for visas, which forms a portion of the first of these points. I entirely agree that a programme of rescue must be a programme of victory. But this is not inconsistent with a determination by the Government to do everything possible for temporary sanctuary. There is a great difference between the spirit of a Government which says, 'We are resolved to do everything in our power, we wish we could do more, but such and such steps shall be taken at once in spite of all the difficulties', and the pessimistic attitude which simply repeats, 'We are filled with burning indignation at the horrors perpetrated by the Nazis against these people. We are determined to punish the guilty when the war is over. But for the present these people are beyond possibility of rescue." [548] <253> On July 28, 1943, the Bishop of Chichester strongly supported the plea for urgent government action in a speech in the House of Lords which was very critical of official policy and action. He contended that: "...in the matter of the systematic mass murder of the Jews in the Nazi- occupied territories of Europe, which was the reason why the Bermuda Conference was called, there has been a deterioration in the determination to grapple with the problem." After quoting earlier promises made on behalf of the Government, he criticized the achievement of this Conference. "...On April 19-29 the Bermuda Conference took place. It began in a spirit of pessimism. Its official pronouncement at the end said that the delegates 'had examined the refugee problem in all its aspects'. The Jews were not mentioned. Agreed confidential recommendations were made which were designed to lead to the relief of a substantial number of refugees of all races and nationalities. Not a word was said about 'temporary asylum'..." Particularly the Bishop emphasized the obligation to give priority to the persecuted Jews, and the responsibility of both neutral countries and of the Allied Governments to find temporary asylum for Hitler's victims. "... It is in the face of this systematic murder, especially in the last twelve months, that I and so many others plead with the Government to act in a new way. With the appeal of the stricken people ringing in our ears, we would be false to our tradition if we failed to do everything we can." [549] e. Towards the End As far as we know, few statements were issued during the last period of the war. Significant was the Archbishop of Canterbury's warning, on Dec. 8, 1943, that "the sufferings of the Jews be kept in full view of all people so that the spirit of indignation and compassion in them will not die out". <254> "It is one of the most terrible consequences of war that the sensitiveness of people tends to become hardened, "Dr.Temple said. "We could hardly live these days if we felt the volume of suffering of others in the world as acutely as we felt in peacetime". "There is a great moral danger in the paralysis of feeling that is liable to be brought about. It is most important for our own moral health and vigor that we express horror at the persecution of the Jews." Dr. Temple said the persecution of Jews on the Continent, and particularly in Poland, "almost baffles imagination and leaves one horrified at the power of the evil that can show itself in human nature." [550] Another warning came from the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland (May, 1944): "The General Assembly express their profound sorrow at the lamentable condition of the Jews in Europe, and in the name of Christ renew their reprobation of the inhuman atrocities committed against them. They assure the Jews of their deep concern and sympathy, commend them to the brotherly offices and prayerful compassion of all Christian men and women, and warn the members of the Church of Scotland against the growing danger of anti-Jewish prejudice and propaganda. They respectfully urge the Government to continue to offer every facility to enable refugees to escape from the tyranny and oppression of Nazism." [551] In June, 1944, the Archbishop of Canterbury, presiding at a meeting of the Council of Christians and Jews, denounced the continued persecution and attempted extermination of the Jews by the Germans, whose activities he described as "one of the most hideous of the elements even in the recent German record". Dr. Temple moved a resolution expressing concern at the increasing peril to the Jewish communities involved in the extension of Nazi domination in Central and South Eastern Europe, coupled with satisfaction at the steps taken in North Africa and southern Italy to remove all discriminatory legislation against Jews and other victims of Nazi intolerance. He and many others, he said, had been disappointed that there had not been a greater willingness shown on the part of the authorities to help those who were trying to escape from German-dominated countries... [552] <255> On July 7, 1944, the Archbishop of Canterbury addressed the following message to Hungary through the B.B.C.: "I am eager to speak to the Christian people of Hungary, so far as I can do so, because of news sent to me through one of the most reliable of ecclesiastical neutral sources - and what I hear from that source only confirms what is reported also through other channels. The report is that a wholesale round-up of Hungarian Jews is taking place under orders from the German Government, and that those who are carried off have little chance of survival. According to this report, the Jews are being deported daily. Already the Eastern provinces have been cleared of Jews. Now the process is beginning in the Western districts including the capital. The conditions of travel are such that on arrival many already are dead; others are killed and cremated at Auschwitz. If the Christians of Hungary know the facts I am perfectly confident that they are also doing everything they can to save these doomed people by hiding them and helping them to escape. But it may be that inside Hungary the facts are concealed. It is for this reason that I feel bound to tell you of them, and beg you to do your utmost, even taking great personal risks, in order to save some if you can. Then you will earn in very special degree the words of approval and thanks: 'In as much as ye did it unto one of these My brethren ye did unto Me' (Matthew, 25, 40). I speak as a Christian who cannot help to Christians who can. For the honour of our common Christianity I implore you to do your utmost." [553] 34 THE UNITED STATES a. The Time of America's "Neutrality" It would have been possible to record the statements in this paragraph under "The Neutral Countries". The United States officially entered into the war in December, 1941. Japan attacked Pearl Harbour on Dec. 7 and Hitler declared war upon the United States, on Dec. 11, 1941. Until that time, it was at least pretended that the United States was neutral and the spirit of isolationism was still strong. Before 1942, strong statements against anti-Semitism were issued by Protestant Churches in the U.S.A., especially by the Federal Council of Churches. After Hitler's declaration of war, however, the statements took on an additional clarity: "Anybody spreading anti-Semitism is helping Hitler just as much as if he were a paid agent of the Reich." [554] Anti-Semitism became "treason against God, treason against the country." [555] <256> On the evening of December 14, 1939, a mass meeting was held at Madison Square Garden, New York, for the purpose of registering a protest against the treatment of the Jews in Poland and other areas under the Nazi regime. The meeting was attended by 20,000 people. Expressing the sympathy of Christians, Dr. Samuel McCrea Cavert, General Secretary of the Federal Council of Churches, pointed out, that Christians as well as Jews were suffering in Poland and other parts of Europe and that "Christians have a direct stake in what is happening". In conclusion, he said: "Out of the calamity in Europe, there emerges one by-product for which we may be thankful - the new sense of fellowship between Jew and Christian in America. Nothing so quickly unites men as a cry of desperate human need. I do not believe there has ever been a time when Christian hearts in America beat in such sympathy for their Jewish neighbours. There are differences of religious conviction between Jew and Christian - at one point a momentous difference - but we share together the priceless spiritual heritage of Israel. As His Holiness Pope Pius XI truly and nobly said, 'Spiritually we are all Semites'." [556] The United Church of Christ issued the following statement in 1940: "One of the most disturbing currents in America to-day is anti-Semitism. Under the cover of an attack upon the Jews a covert attack is being made on Christianity. The manipulators of anti- Jewish propaganda are not concerned with the alleged evils they denounce; but they are concerned to destroy the teachings of the Bible - that God, the Lord and Creator of all men, is a holy God - and the prophetic morality of the Old Testament. They attack under cover of anti-Semitism God the Lord who is not bound to any nation but is Lord of all nations. They attack justice, righteousness, mercy and the divine command for holiness. They attack the law which Christians and Jews alike acknowledge as God's requirement. Twentieth century anti-Semitism reveals its true character in its demand on the Church to surrender the Old Testament and to deny that the God of Abraham, of Moses and the Prophets is the Father of Jesus Christ. <257> Anti-Semitism is flatly contradictory to the express teaching of St. Paul. In Romans 11, St. Paul reminds the Gentile Christians, just as we need to be reminded today, that Israel is the stem on which Gentile Christians have been grafted. 'You owe,' he wrote, 'your position to faith. You should feel awed instead of uplifted.' And again, 'So far as the gospel goes, they (the Jews) are enemies of God, which is to your advantage; but so far as the election goes, they are beloved for their father's sake. For God never goes back upon his gifts and call.' St. Paul discovered in anti-Semitism a pride which needed to be rebuked. 'You owe your position to faith'; that means, not something we have by right of possession, not something we can take for granted, not any kind of inherent superiority at all. Faith is the gift of God. Moreover, God has not repudiated Israel. They are still beloved. Anti-Semitism is not only one form of human pride; it is repudiation of the declared purpose of God. We recommend that General Synod declare its condemnation of anti-Semitism and urge upon the members of the Church in the name of Christ the duty to serve in love the brothers of Christ according to the flesh." [557] The Federal Council of Churches of Christ in the United States published the following Resolution, in December, 1940: "We express as Christians our sympathy with the Jewish people in this hour of calamity for so many of their group in Europe. We deplore the existence of anti-Semitism in America and declare our opposition to it because it is contrary to the spirit and teachings of Christ. We call upon His followers to create Christian attitudes toward the Jews. This should be a matter of primary concern for every Christian Church in every community." [558] On September 19, 1941, the Executive Committee of the Federal Council adopted the following statement: "On many previous occasions we have expressed our abhorrence of the religious and racial intolerance which afflicts our world today. We have especially emphasized our opposition to unjust and unchristian attacks upon the Jews. In so doing we have been whole-heartedly supported by similar utterances officially made by the highest governing bodies of the great dominations which cooperate in the Federal Council of Churches. <258> Recent evidences of anti-Jewish prejudice in our own country compel us to speak again a word of solemn warning to the nation. Divisiveness on religious or racial grounds is a portentous menace to American democracy. If one group be made the target of attack today, the same spirit of intolerance may be visited on another group to-morrow and the rights and liberties of every group thus be put in jeopardy. We condemn anti-Semitism as un-American. Our nation is a free fellowship of many racial and cultural stocks. It is our historic glory that they have been able to live together in mutual respect, each rejoicing in the rich contribution which the others have made to the common good. Anti-Semitism is an insidious evil which, if allowed to develop, would poison the springs of our national life. Even more strongly we condemn anti-Semitism as un-Christian. As Christians we gratefully acknowledge our ethical and spiritual indebtedness to the people of Israel. No true Christian can be anti-Semitic in thought, word or deed without being untrue to his own Christian inheritance. In behalf of the Christian churches which comprise the Federal Council we voice our renewed determination to unite in combating every tendency to anti-Semitism in our country. We recognize that a special responsibility rests upon us who belong to the numerically strongest group, to be staunch advocates of the rights of minorities." [559] In 1941, the following "Manifesto to our Brethren and Fellow Citizens of Jewish Race and Blood" was signed by one hundred and seventy Protestant ministers representing one hundred and sixty-six churches and twenty-four denominations in the City of New York: "With genuine anguish of heart we behold how in many places across the world today cruel forces of oppression and persecution are being released upon men and women and children of Jewish race and blood. With profound concern we note from time to time within our own beloved nation the manifestation of a spirit of anti-Semitism. The conscience of Protestant Christendom, as recorded at the great ecumenical conference held at Oxford, England, during July of 1937, expressed itself in no uncertain terms when with unanimous voice it affirmed that 'against all racial pride, racial hatred and persecution and the exploitation of other races in all their forms, the church is called by God to set its face implacably and to utter its words unequivocally both within and without its borders. There is a special need at this time that the church throughout the world brings every resource at its command against the sin of anti-Semitism.' With this pronouncement we are in complete accord of heart. Therefore, we would disavow any words or action promoted by the spirit of anti-Semitism, which emanate from sources that purport to be Christian. Such words and actions label themselves unchristian. <259> We call upon our Christian brethren to guard their hearts, their minds, their lips, their hands from emotions, thoughts, words or deeds that partake of 'the sin of anti-Semitism'. To that end we command to them the quest for 'the fullness of Christ' within their lives. We call upon our fellow citizens to remember that anti-Semitism is a threat to democracy and a denial of the fundamental principles upon which this nation is founded. We extend to our brethren and fellow citizens of Jewish race and blood our solemn assurance that by the constraint of our deepest Christian conviction we shall oppose unceasingly 'the sin of anti-Semitism' and we shall strive continuously for the realization of that brotherhood which humanity needs, democracy requires and Christianity demands." [560] b. At War with Germany. Co-operation with Jewish Leaders The Executive of the Federal Council addressed the following "Message for Race Relations Sunday" (Febr. 8, 1942) to its members: "For all the law is fulfilled in one word even this: thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." Gal. 5, 14. Let us translate this pattern into a social program. Our pronouncements must now be supported by our practices. Where attacks are made upon Jews or the sinister spirit of anti-Semitism appears, we must protest in the Name of Christ and the Church... Where any racial minority within our borders is exploited or barred from equal opportunity, we Christians must take a stand for the sake of our faith. We must, furthermore, create a genuine fellowship that will prevent the development to such injustice towards any group. Our love for the Church requires that it be pre-eminently the abode of fellowship. The Church, by reason of its origin in the universal Christ, must be a brotherhood of all peoples, remembering that in Him there is neither Jew nor Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free. Therefore, let every follower of Christ search in his own soul to see if any enemies of brotherhood are lurking there. Let him examine his own daily relationships. Let us all in this awful and creative hour march resolutely forward, not faithless nor fearful, but confident in the future when democracy and brotherhood are one. "If a man say I love God and hateth his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen." 1 John 4, 20. [561] <260> In September and October, 1942, the General Secretary of the Federal Council, Dr. Samuel McCrea Cavert, visited France and Switzerland. The Director of the World Jewish Congress at Geneva, Dr. Gerhart M. Riegner, stated: "With regard to our knowledge of the Nazi plan of total extermination of European Jewry, I wish to state that the first report on this plan reached me in the last days of July 1942 and I communicated it to Rabbi Wise in New York and Mr. Silverman in London during the first days of August 1942 (through diplomatic channels). Dr. Wise received the message during the last days of August 1942 and asked Mr. Cavert to use his visit to Geneva at the beginning of September 1942 to find out from us whether deportation really meant extermination. After having spoken to one of us - I believe to Prof. Guggenheim - he confirmed this in a cable to the United States." [562] On Dec. 11, 1942, at the great Biennial Assembly of the Federal Council, the following Resolution on Anti-Semitism was adopted: "The reports which are reaching us concerning the incredible cruelties towards the Jews in Nazi occupied countries, particularly Poland, stir the Christian people of America to the deepest sympathy and indignation. It is impossible to avoid a conclusion that something like a policy of deliberate extermination of the Jews in Europe is being carried out. The violence and inhumanity which Nazi leaders have publicly avowed toward all Jews are apparently now coming to a climax in a virtual massacre. We are resolved to do our full part in establishing conditions in which such treatment of the Jews shall end. The feelings of the Jewish community throughout the world have recently been expressed in a period of mourning, fasting and prayer. We associate ourselves with our Jewish fellow-citizens in their hour of tragic sorrow, and unite our prayers with theirs. We confess our own ineffectiveness in combating the influences which beget anti-Semitism in our own country, and urge our constituencies to intensify their efforts in behalf of friendly relations with the Jews. We urge that all plans for reconstruction in Europe shall include measures designed to secure full justice for the Jews and a safe and respected place for them in western civilisation. For those who, after the war, will have to emigrate from the war-ridden lands of Europe, immigration opportunities should be created in this and other lands. We recommend that the officers of the Federal Council transmit this action to the Jewish leaders in person." [563] <261> On Dec. 31, 1942, the Synagogue Council of America published a New Year message it had addressed to the Rev. Dr. Samuel McCrea Cavert, secretary of the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in America, and to Mgr. Michael J. Ready, general secretary of the National Catholic Welfare Conference. The message was signed by Dr. Israel Goldstein, president of the Council. "American Jews," the message said, "share with their Christian brothers the sense of having been privileged to bear burdens not only in answering the call of our nation's defence needs, but also in heeding the call of human needs overseas. "To the Jews of Hitler-ridden Europe the year 1942 has been the most catastrophic in their tragedy-laden history. Helpless women, aged and children, and defenceless men have been slaughtered wholesale and a whole people has been marked for extermination. Among no other people is such a toll being taken. If the executioner's hand is not soon stayed, all the Jews whom it can reach will perish." The message said the greeting was "preferred to you and to the great body of Christians whom you represent", and expressed hope for an Allied victory and a just peace in 1943. [564] On January 6, 1943, the heads of the six Jewish organizations which comprised the Synagogue Council of America, under the chairmanship of Rabbi Israel Goldstein, met in conference with official representatives of the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in America. The purpose of the meeting was to afford an opportunity to discuss together what the Christian Churches could do to assist the Jews of Europe. Desiring to express its sympathy in something more than resolutions, the Federal Council arranged for the conference with the Jewish leaders. Several fruitful suggestions emerged as to ways in which the Churches might help to develop stronger support for the needs of refugees from Europe, a measure of relief in the form of food for at least some of the Jews in Europe, and a safe and respected place for Jews in the post-war world. [565] c. Practical Steps Demanded; the Bermuda Conference <262> "On March 1, 1943, a great demonstration, one of the largest ever held in the United States, took place in Madison Square Garden at the initiative of the Congress and under the joint auspices of the American Jewish Congress, the American Federation of Labour, the CIO, and the Church Peace Union. Twenty-two thousand people crowded into the great hall, while 15,000 stood outside throughout the evening listening to the proceedings through amplifiers. The demonstration was addressed by Dr. Chaim Weizmann, Dr. Stephen S. Wise, Governor Thomas E. Dewey, Mayor Fiorello H. LaGuardia, Senator Robert F. Wagner, William Green, and others. The British Section transmitted cable messages from the Archbishop of Canterbury and the late Cardinal Hinsley, whose last public utterance it was before his death a week later. The meeting laid down a 12-point program for the rescue of European Jewry prepared by World Jewish Congress experts. The effect was immediate. On the following day, Undersecretary of State Sumner Welles declared that a note had already been sent to Great Britain on February 25 offering the cooperation of the United States in organizing an intergovern- mental meeting for study of methods to save 'political refugees' in Europe. The meeting came to be known as the Bermuda Refugee Conference..." [566] On March 1, 1943, the Executive Committee of the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in America appealed to the Governments of the United States and Great Britain "to consider offering financial assistance to Jewish refugees who have escaped to neutral countries from Nazi held territory, and the possible establishment of temporary places of asylum for those evacuated from Europe". The committee urged that the proposals be considered at the forthcoming conference in Toronto of representatives of the two governments on the Jewish problem. The suggestion was part of a three-point program calling for a report by the council's department of research and education on the treatment of Jews under the Nazi regime and setting aside May 2 for observance in churches as a "Day of Compassion" for the Jews in Europe. The committee's action was a sequel to the adoption at the council's biennial meeting in Cleveland in December of a statement setting forth the organization's determination "to do our full part in establishing conditions" in which harsh treatment of Jews should end. The proposals outlined by the committee for consideration of the British and American representatives at Toronto were: <263> "To offer financial assistance for the support of refugees that neutral governments (for example, Switzerland, or Sweden, Spain, Portugal and Turkey) may receive from areas under Nazi control, as a result either of infiltration across their borders or of negotiations with the Axis powers, with the expectation that, after the war, such refugees would be repatriated in their own countries. "To provide places of temporary asylum to which refugees whom it may be possible to evacuate from European countries may be removed, these refugees to be supported in camps for the duration of the war, with the understanding that they will then be repatriated in their own country or be provided with permanent homes in other ways." At the same time the committee urged Christians throughout the country "to give their moral support to whatever measures afford promise of rescuing European Jews whose lives are in jeopardy." The committee invited all Christians to "join in united intercession on May 2 for the victims of racial and religious persecution as a special occasion for the expression of Christian sollicitude." [567] The practical steps proposed by the Executive Committee of the Federal Council to the Governments of the United States and Great Britain were similar to the steps proposed by the Archbishop of Canterbury in the House of Lords at about the same time, [568] and to the Aide-memoire sent by the Secretariats of the World Council of Churches and of the World Jewish Congress (Geneva), to the American and British Governments. [569] Not withstanding all this, the Bermuda Conference became "a monument of moral callousness and inertia". [570] d. Different Churches Speaking on Different Occasions The following is a chronological record of statements made by Churches or Church leaders in the United States from May, 1943, until the end of the second world war. Henry St. George Tucker, Presiding Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church and president of the Federal Council of Churches, in a statement on the observance by the Council of a "Day of Compassion" for persecuted European Jews, said that there had been found a "rising tide of concern among Christians" over their fate. <264> Dr. Tucker said it was the first time Christian churches had set aside a specific day for a "united expression of their sympathy with a suffering and persecuted Jewry". "What is happening to the Jews on the Continent of Europe is so horrible that we are in danger of assuming that it is exaggerated," he said, and cited a recent survey by the council of evidence that he said indicated that under the Nazis a policy of deliberate extermination of Jews was carried out. "The survey shows that the actual facts are probably more, rather than less, terrible than the reports," he continued. "The Christian people of America vigorously protest against this brutal and cruel persecution. But protest is not enough." Two remedial measures have been set forth by the council: First financial assistance for support of refugees reaching neutral countries from Nazi- occupied areas, and second, provision of temporary asylum to which refugees evacuated from European countries may be removed. [571] On October 20, 1943, American religious leaders denounced "the recent acts of terror in Denmark" and expressed sympathy for the Jews in that country. The Rev. Dr. P.O. Bessel, president of the Augustan Synod, Minneapolis, said that the synod was shocked at the German barbarism in Denmark, but was happy about Sweden's firm stand in offering refuge to the persecuted Jews. The Rev. Dr. Samuel McCrea Cavert, general secretary of the Federal Council, said that "the American churches have been thrilled by the news that the Danish Church has refused to be cowed into silence in the face of the Nazi attack upon Jews in Denmark". [572] The following article in "The New York Herald Tribune" shows how strong anti-Semitic influences in the United States were, in 1943: BISHOP OXNAM ASSAILS BEATING OF JEWISH BOYS Bishop G. Bromley Oxnam, of the Boston area of the Methodist Church, denounced today the alleged beating of Jewish boys as an apparent expression of incipient Fascism and, in a statement, demanded, "who is flooding the nation with anti-Semitic literature, and why?" <265> Declaring that "the beating of Jewish boys is not the work of hoodlums," Bishop Oxnam expressed hope that Jews, Catholics and Protestants could unite "in demanding that these beatings stop and that steps be taken to discover and destroy the dangerous forces that lie back of them." The Bishop's statement followed the placing of charges before Governor Leveratt Saltonstall that Jews had been made the victims of ruffians over a period of months in the Boston area. The Governor, acting upon a petition of which Bishop Oxnam was one of the signers, has appointed five prominent citizens of various faiths to an advisory committee on anti-Semitism. "The beating of Jewish boys must stop," the statement said. "The beaters must be apprehended and punished. The beating of any boys by gangs is bad enough at any time. The beating of boys of a particular race is worse. But the real menace lies in the apparent fact that these beatings are an expression of incipient Fascism, that they follow a similar pattern, and that, in one case, at least, the beaters wore black shirts. "Who is flooding the nation with anti-Semitic literature, and why? Who finances these movements? Why is it that the anti-Semitic leaders now under Federal indictment have attacked such religious organizations as the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in America, the Methodist Church and other Protestant religious bodies? Why has Franco, the Fascist dictator of Spain, been extolled? Bishop Oxnam, in an interview with "The Boston Traveller", said that the recent outbreaks of racial violence in the Dorchester, Roxbury and Mattapan districts of Boston follow a pattern. "I was in Germany when these things began there. It is the same pattern in which organized gangs beat up a scapegoat race whether they be Jews or any one else," he asserted. He asserted that Fascism is prevalent in Brooklyn now, and predicted that it would show itself in Detroit and sections of the Pacific Coast before long. "I think Brooklyn, New York and Boston are currently the most difficult centres, however," he added. [573] In Dec., 1943, a Senate resolution proposed the creation of a special commission "to bring about the rescue of the surviving Jews of Europe". Eight Protestant leaders sent "a Christmas Appeal for speedy adoption of the Resolution" to Vice President Henry A. Wallace, Senate majority and minority leaders and members of the House and Senate committees involved. Asserting that "more than 2,000,000 European Jews have been slaughtered by the Nazis, the message added that "we cannot approach Christmastide without declaring that too many of us have been found wanting in the will to rescue these suffering people." <266> "Let no possible sanctuary be closed, whether in America or elsewhere," the appeal said. "Let each door of refuge be kept open. This is the Christian way." The message was signed by Bishop William T. Manning (Protestant Episcopal); Archbishop Athenagoras (Greek Orthodox); Bishop William J. McConnell (Methodist), and others. [574] On Jan. 15, 1944, fifteen hundred persons attended a rally against anti-Semitism at Carnegie Hall. Dr.Henry Smith Leiper of the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in America, chairman of the meeting, asserted that anti-Semitism was "treason against God, treason against the country". "Anybody spreading such slander," he said, "is helping Hitler just as much as if he were a paid agent of the Reich." Dr. Leiper and several others spoke out against what they said was the desire on the part of many to approach the problem of anti-Semitism with too much caution. Dr. Leiper said that exactly this idea prevailed in Germany in 1932, but did not halt the rise of fascism. [575] The biennial convention of the United Lutheran Church in America adopted, on Oct. 13, 1944, the following Resolution: "Recognizing that the Jewish problem has been made one of the central elements in the present assault on civilization, the United Lutheran Church in America, viewing with concern the manifestations of a rising tide of anti-Semitism in American life, begs its members to consider their Jewish brethren in the spirit of Luther, who spoke kindly things of them as 'blood brothers of our Lord', to use every available means to assure the Jewish people of their communities of the efforts of our church for the preservation of their rights, and to offer prayers on their behalf." [576] We do not record all the statements issued by Protestant Churches in the United States over the years 1943-1944. The Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. and the United Presbyterian Church in North America issued a statement in 1943; the American Baptist Convention, the Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. and the General Synod of the United Church of Christ issued a statement in 1944. Most of these statements condemned anti-Semitic and anti-Negro prejudices. <267> e. The Churches in the U.S.A. that kept Silent Three important Protestant denominations in the United States did not speak out unequivocally against anti-Semitism and the persecution and extermination of the Jews: the Southern Baptist Convention, the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod, and the American Lutheran Church. [577] John G. Mager comments: "... It might have been felt that since a large proportion of the membership of the Synod was of German origin or descent, it would have made for ecclesiastical suicide if the official organ of the Synod made pronouncements against a country to which many were bound by ties of blood, culture and sentiment..." [578] It must be borne in mind that the Lutheran Churches in Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Slovakia clearly expressed their horror at German anti-semitism, and they did so under much more difficult circumstances. This should dissuade us from wrong platitudes such as: "Lutherans tend to be anti-Semitic". Recently it has been suggested that "the causal chain that links Christian belief and faith to secular anti-Semitism begins with orthodoxy - commitment to a literal interpretation of traditional Christian dogma". [579] My knowledge of the situation of Churches in America is limited. Therefore I would not venture to suggest that there is a causal chain between the orthodoxy of a Church in America and its failure to denounce anti-Semitism. Moreover, in other countries, like the Netherlands for example, such a connection does not appear to exist. <268> It is noteworthy, however, that the three great Protestant Churches in the United States mentioned above, which failed to issue a clear statement against anti-Semitism, were not members of the Federal Council. Moreover, the Southern Baptist Convention and the Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod) are not members of the World Council of Churches, to this day. These Churches apparently did not feel challenged by the protest issued by the Assembly of the Church of England, in 1935, as was the Federal Council; [580] they did not receive the information provided by the General Secretariat of the World Council of Churches, Geneva, during the war. [581] Ecclesiastical isolationism is very dangerous indeed, especially in a time of crisis. They were probably afraid of watering down their own principles by co-operating with other Churches and this lack of co-operation and communication probably contributed to the fact that they did not fulfil the word of the Bible: "Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy". (Prov. 31, 8-9). 35 THE WORLD COUNCIL OF CHURCHES The war years were the testing time of the World Council. Contacts with Great Britain and the United States were relatively frequent until the end of 1942, when the whole of France was occupied by the Germans. Since it proved impossible to hold fully representative meetings, the Provisional Committee met and continued to meet in three groups - one in Geneva under the leadership of Dr. Boegner (later of Dr. Koechlin), one in Great Britain under Archbishop Temple, and one in New York under Dr. John R. Mott. <269> The fact that the World Council had offices in New York, London, and Geneva, proved a blessing, for each office had its area of contacts with Churches which the other could not reach. [582] When the second world war broke out, the World Council of Churches was still "in process of formation", and it had not as yet an adequate apparatus at its disposal. But the General Secretary, Dr. Visser 't Hooft, and the Director of the Department for Refugees, Dr. Freudenberg, had their contacts with the World Jewish Congress in Geneva, and with Church leaders in Germany and the occupied countries. They could thus pass on valuable information to the Churches in the free world, and stir them to action. a. Letters Sent to the International Red Cross On October 29, 1941, Dr. Visser 't Hooft sent the following Memorandum to the President of the Mixed Relief Committee of the International Red Cross, Prof. Dr. Karl Burckhardt: Memorandum on the Situation in Poland I. "We have received some information about the situation in the General government of Poland from a reliable and objective observer who has been travelling there during recent weeks. According to him, there exists a great difference between city and country. In the large cities, especially in Warsaw, the Polish and, to a greater extent the Jewish population, is suffering famine. Typhus is spreading in and outside the ghetto of Warsaw. Our spokesman heard of 2,000 cases in the ghetto alone. The mortality of infants less than three years old is amounting to 26%... We know of only one modest relief activity: American Poles have, in co-operation with American Mennonites, the German Red Cross, the Polish and the American Relief Committee (Hoover), organized a soup-kitchen, where they weekly distribute to the distressed population of Warsaw, fish purchased in Danzig for DM. 5,000. This feeding, which is merely a drop in the ocean, reaches Poles as well as Jews. Moreover, a despatch of medicine from the United States is expected to arrive in Lisbon one of these days. II. The greatest wave of deportations of German Jews and Christians of Jewish origin to Poland has been going on since the middle of October. Seven thousand Jews were deported from Berlin to Litzmannstadt on the nights of October 18/19 and 19/20. 20,000 Jews of the Rhineland are already there, or are en route. 2,000 are to be transported from Prague. Deportations from Vienna have already been going on for some time. A number of Jews from Breslau is believed to be engaged in labour in the Bohemian Riesengebirge. <270> According to our spokesman, the able-bodied men who have been deported to Poland are constructing roads behind the Eastern front whilst the able-bodied women are employed in ammunition factories. In Litzmannstadt hut camps are said to be provided as temporary lodging, but we have no particulars about this. The deportees were allowed to take only a handbag and 10 RM. with them. Sufficient protection against the cold will be out of the question. One may assume that these measures are the beginning of the complete deportation of the Jews and Christians of Jewish origin from the Reich and the Protectorate. This concerns people the majority of whom, owing to their mental powers having been overcharged for many years, will be unfit to cope with these new hard measures. III. In view of its Christian responsibility the Provisional Ecumenical Council of the Churches cannot heedlessly close its eyes to this misery of the refugees in Poland. As it practically can no longer carry out its own relief work, it feels all the more its duty to intervene with the competent bodies towards quick relief action. The Jewish organizations, generally speaking, are no longer in a position to undertake effective steps on behalf of their co-religionists. The Jewish question touches the centre of the Christian message: neglect of the Church to raise its warning and protective voice here, and do all in its power to help, would be disobeying its God. It is, therefore, the duty of the Christian Churches, and especially of their Ecumenical representative, the Provisional Ecumenical Council, to intervene on behalf of the persecuted. IV. Therefore the Provisional Ecumenical Council of the Churches appeals to the competent bodies of the Red Cross with the request to pay special attention to the situation in Warthegau and the General government of Poland. We urge that the Red Cross speedily send a delegate, if possible a medical man, to the regions in question. This delegate would have to investigate, especially in the large Polish cities, the most urgent needs of the Polish as well as of the Jewish population, thus ascertaining the medical, sanitary and clothing requirements. Such a survey should include not only the Warthegau (especially Litzmannstadt) but also the region of Lublin where the Jews from Germany, Austria and Bohemia who were deported in the winter of 1939/1940 are said to be living. We hardly know anything about their fate but it is most certainly very critical. The Provisional Ecumenical Council is prepared to request urgent support from its member Churches, especially those in the United States, for a relief action organised by the International Red Cross." [583] <271> Dr. Visser 't Hooft stated in the covering letter that he had also sent a copy to the President of the Red Cross, Dr. Huber, and that he would be grateful for a speedy reply. On June 3, 1942, the Secretary of the Ecumenical Commission for Refugees, Dr. A. Freudenberg, sent the following letter to the Mixed Relief Committee of the International Red Cross: "An absolutely reliable correspondent requests us, to communicate to the organizations of the Red Cross the following: 'A serious lack of restoratives, digitalis etc. is prevalent in the Jewish ghettos in the East, especially in the camps of Yzbica and Piaski near Lublin, and also in Riga, Wilna, Kowno, Warsaw and Lodz. Many people who had been admitted to the hospitals because of diminishing strength and under-nourishment or other reasons, must now perish there owing to a lack of these restoratives. They could be saved if one could supply them with strengthening food. I have been implored to inform the International Red Cross about this, so that it may render aid wherever possible.' This information, indicating that the deportees and the Polish Jews are suffering terribly from famine, has been confirmed by others As most of them are destitute, numerous cries of distress have reached us both directly and indirectly. Therefore we join in the request of our correspondent, and implore the organizations of the International Red Cross to continue to relieve the fate of these unfortunate people in every possible way." [584] On December 3, 1942, Dr. Visser 't Hooft again wrote to the President of the Mixed Relief Committee of the International Red Cross, Prof. Dr. Karl Burckhardt. The letter reads as follows: "We refer to our letter of 29th October, 1941, in which we submitted to you a Memorandum concerning the persecution and the misery of the Jews in Poland. Since then the situation has deteriorated in an alarming way. No doubt you have been informed of the mass executions of which the Polish Jews and the Jews in Poland deported from the European countries, are the victims. To the information that has reached other organizations, we can add the contents of a message received from a very distinguished German personality whose reliability we can guarantee. The message informs us that at one place in Poland, 6,000 Jews - men, women and children - are being shot every day. These executions are made in three groups, each of 2,000 persons, and this has already been going on for weeks. <272> In our Memorandum of 29th October, 1941, we remarked that the Jewish question touches the centre of the Christian message. Therefore we feel compelled to raise our voice anew on behalf of these people who are being threatened with extermination. We therefore permit ourselves to renew our suggestions of last year, that the International Committee of the Red Cross take urgent steps to send delegates to the areas in question. There is reason to hope that such steps, even if they do not directly have the desired result, would encourage certain circles in Germany to combat the mass executions more energetically. Though from the letters received from Theresienstadt in Bohemia it is not possible to ascertain the real conditions existing in this reception centre, we would be grateful if the requested action could also include that city." [585] The letter mentions "certain circles in Germany". These were groups of resistance with which the Secretariat of the World Council of Churches was in contact, especially the "Kreisau Circle" and Dietrich Bonhoeffer with his friends. [586] b. Co-operation with the World Jewish Congress A unique aspect of the activities of the World Council of Churches regarding the persecution of the Jews was the close co-operation between Dr. Visser 't Hooft and Dr. Freudenberg on the one hand, and the Director of the World Jewish Congress at Geneva, Dr. G. M. Riegner. Dr. Riegner stated: "... My correspondence with Dr. Freudenberg starts already in November, 1940, and during certain periods we have been in nearly daily contact". [587] In the same letter to Dr. Visser 't Hooft, Dr. Riegner wrote: <273> "I remember that you and the World Council have also played an important part in convincing the Swiss authorities of the deadly danger threatening the Jews in all occupied countries and trying to obtain from them a more liberal attitude in admitting refugees. I remember distinctly, though I do not find any trace in writing, that I have put at your disposal several times very detailed information and reports which you have been good enough to communicate on behalf of the World Council of Churches to the Swiss authorities. If I am not mistaken, at least on one occasion you have personally intervened with Federal Councillor von Steiger in such matter." Dr. Riegner commented on this point as follows: "I am still convinced that these interventions of the World Council have been at certain moments of great value. In the course of the discussions which I had during the last year with either Dr. Visser 't Hooft or Dr. Freudenberg, I became convinced that these representations have most probably been made by Dr. Alfons Koechlin, (Base]), the former head of the Protestant Federation of Switzerland and one of the Presidents of the Provisional World Council at that time. Dr. Koechlin, of course, received the material from Dr. Visser 't Hooft and Dr. Freudenberg." [588] Jews and Christians also co-operated together in breaking the wall of silence. The Secretary of the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in the United States, Dr. McCrea Cavert, visited Dr. Visser 't Hooft in Sept., 1942. Dr. Riegner reports about this visit: "With regard to our knowledge of the Nazi plan of total extermination of European Jewry, I wish to state that the first report on this plan reached me in the last days of July I 942 and I communicated it to Rabbi Wise in New York and Mr. Silverman in London during the first days of August 1942 (through diplomatic channels). Dr. Wise received the message during the last days of August 1942 and asked Mr. Cavert to use his visit to Geneva at the beginning of September 1942 to find out from us whether deportation really meant extermination. After having spoken to us - I believe to Prof. Guggenheim - he confirmed this in a cable to the United States." [589] In the same letter to Dr. Visser 't Hooft, Dr. Riegner stated: "Some of the very forceful speeches by Dr. Bell and other dignitaries of the Anglican Church in the House of Lords were based on reports which we have communicated to them." <274> A telegram was sent by Dr. Visser 't Hooft to the Archbishop of Canterbury and to the Federal Council of Churches in the United States. Its contents were as follows: 15.000 Berlin Jews brought to assembling centres Some hundreds shot. Total evacuation Berlin in execution. Similar news other regions prove extermination campaign at climax. Please back Allied rescue efforts suggest rapid proposals exchange against German civilians and guarantees of re-emigration money food supply enabling European Neutrals to grant transitory asylum. [590] On March 23, 1944, Dr. Visser 't Hooft and Dr. Freudenberg sent a telegram to the Bishop of Chichester, Dr. Bell: Most anxious destiny 800,000 Hungarian Jews among whom numerous Christians stop suggest you contact Mr. Silverman World Jewish Congress, I Harley Street W.I. and support suggestions cabled by Riegner to Silverman stop suggest also interest Church of Scotland. [591] We know of another joint approach made by the Secretariats of the World Council of Churches and the World Jewish Congress. The following Aide-memoire was sent to the Governments of the United States and Great Britain, and to the High Commissioner for Refugees of the League of Nations: Aide-memoire <275> The Secretariats of the World Council of Churches and of the World Jewish Congress have taken note with great satisfaction of the aide-memoires exchanged between the Governments of the United States of America and Great Britain on the present situation of refugees in Europe, and of their decision to meet at Ottawa with a view to a preliminary exploration of ways and means for combined action by the representatives of their Governments. [592] Having studied the suggestions and proposals contained in the aide-memoires of the two Governments, the Secretariats of the World Council of Churches and of the World Jewish Congress beg to express their views on the above-mentioned topic. While welcoming most warmly the determination of the Allied Governments to bring help to the persecuted people of all races, nationalities and religions, fleeing from Axis terror, they wish to emphasise that the most urgent and acute problem which requires immediate action, is the situation of the Jewish communities under direct or indirect Nazi control. The Secretariats of the World Council of Churches and of the World Jewish Congress have in their possession most reliable reports indicating that the campaign of deliberate extermination of the Jews organised by the Nazi officials in nearly all countries of Europe under their control, is now at its climax. They therefore beg to call the attention of the Allied Governments to the absolute necessity of organising without delay a rescue action for the persecuted Jewish communities on the following lines: 1. Measures of immediate rescue should have priority over the study of post-war arrangements. 2. The rescue action should enable the neutral States to grant temporary asylum to the Jews who would reach their frontiers. For this purpose a definite guarantee by the Governments of the United States of America and Great Britain, and possibly by other Allied Governments including the British Dominions, should be given to the neutral States, that all refugees entering their territories would be enabled to be repatriated or to re-emigrate as soon as possible after the end of the war. In view of the special characteristics of the Jewish problem, in view of the attitude adopted in the past by many European governments, and furthermore, in view of the present attitude of absolute political neutrality adopted during the hostilities by the neutral countries, it may be stated that the giving of assurance for the prompt repatriation of refugees upon the termination of hostilities, would in the present circumstances not be considered as a sufficient guarantee by the neutral States. Only explicit and comprehensive guarantees of remigration of the refugees, given by the Anglo-Saxon Powers as a reinforcement of any assurances of repatriation which may be given by the Allied Governments in exile, can lead the neutral countries to adopt a more liberal and understanding attitude towards the Jewish refugees. <276> These guarantees should provide for the granting of facilities concerning the supply of food and funds for the maintenance of refugees during their stay in the neutral countries. 3. A scheme for exchange of Jews in Germany and the territories under German control for German civilians in North and South America, Palestine, and other countries, should be pressed forward by all possible means. We should like to stress the fact that the number of nationals of Axis countries living in Allied countries - particularly in North and South America - exceeds by far the number of nationals of Allied countries living in Axis countries. We feel that in spite of the great difficulties which we do not underestimate, a workable scheme of exchanging Jews for Germans would constitute an important method of rescuing a considerable number of persecuted people from the countries under Nazi control. In view of the immediate urgency of the situation, the admission of Jews to the scheme of exchange should be granted en bloc to the greatest possible number, as conditions no longer allow time-wasting and in many cases fruitless individual investigations. This scheme might include war-time security measures. Concrete proposals should be submitted without delay to the Governments representing Allied interests in Germany by the Governments of the United States and Great Britain. The International Red Cross Committee may also be approached by the Allied Governments and asked for support in this matter. [593] Dr. Riegner sent this aide-memoire to the British Ambassador in Switzerland "on behalf of the Secretariats of the World Council of Churches and of the World Jewish Congress". Dr. Visser 't Hooft forwarded it to the Ambassador of the United States, requesting in his covering letter, dated March 19, 1943, that the aide-memoire should be forwarded to the American Government, to the Federation of Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and to the American branch of the World Jewish Congress. He also stated that he had sent a copy to Mr. Allan Welsh Dulles with whom he had "quite recently had the pleasure of discussing the matter". Mr.Dulles was the representative of the "Office of Strategic Services" of the American Government, at Bern. The sending of this aide-memoire was, I think, the first time in history that an important organization of Churches officially approached Governments, jointly with an important Jewish organization. <277> c. Aid to Refugees In 1938, the Provisional Committee of the World Council of Churches was formed. Its first ordinary session took place at Saint-Germain (near Paris), in January, 1939. It was at this meeting that the Bishop of Chichester, George Bell, unequivocally proposed that the Council create a special department to deal with refugee problems. He himself had been a pioneer in this work. He felt that "the time had come to aid the entire mass of non-Aryans". He meant not only the non-Aryan members of the Church but also the others, albeit there being a special responsibility towards members of the Christian Church. [594] Soon afterwards Dr. Adolf Freudenberg was appointed the first secretary of this new department for aid to refugees. The Ecumenical Commission for Refugees rendered aid to refugees in the camps of France at the end of 1940. It was also engaged in first aid to the people in the camp of Gurs. Later on, France remained the main field of activities. "The Christian aid included Christians as well as Jews. There was co-operation with Jewish organizations in many respects. Thus, for instance, the Commission for Refugees could act as the intermediary for financial aid to Jewish families and children who were in hiding in Belgium, Holland, Hungary and other countries." [595] The Churches in three countries rendered financial aid: first and foremost Switzerland, but also Sweden and the United States. "Switzerland donated Sw. Fr. 77,000 in 1941; the United States donated only Sw. Fr. 10,000 and Sweden Sw. Fr. 6,000. The United States soon realized the importance of the aid to refugees and in the following year the Churches in the United States donated Sw. Fr. 241,000 and later Sw. Fr. 368,000. Obviously they really did understand the significance of this work. I think that this was also due to the fact that Dr. Cavert (the then General Secretary of the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.) visited us. Later on I myself went to the United States and was able to explain to them the importance of the matter." [596] <278> When, in the summer of 1942, Lava1 began to hand over the Jews of the unoccupied area of France to the Germans, members of the French Protestant Youth Organization Cimade brought many refugees to the Swiss frontier. Switzerland, however, was not willing to grant asylum to them. The Ecumenical Commission for Refugees, "closely co-operating with other organizations", succeeded in assuring the admission of "many hundreds" of these refugees. [597] Another endeavour to save lives failed. The Committee had, with the help of American Christians, succeeded in obtaining entrance visas into the United States for 1,000 Jewish children from France, but the occupation of Southern France by the Germans foiled this plan. [598] Dr. Visser 't Hooft was personally active in an "illegal" organization which helped Dutch Jews to pass through France to Switzerland. He helped its leader, Jean Weidner, with money from a collection for this purpose amongst Dutchmen living in Switzerland. [599] The former secretary of the Jewish Committee of Coordination in Switzerland, Mr. H. H. Gans, relates the following incident as regarding to the granting of passports and certificates of citizenship granted by South-American Governments to Jews in French concentration camps: "...We had declared... that the beneficiaries would not try to use their new 'citizenship' after the war. But probably owing to their fear of an invasion of new citizens after the war, some countries dared not postpone the nullification until after the war... The Spanish Ambassador immediately passed on this fatal message (to the Germans) and 300 'South-Americans' were deported from Vitel. The World Congress informed me at night. Consternation was great. <279> I contacted Dr. T. Lewenstein [the then Chief-Rabbi of Zurich and Dr. Visser 't Hooft. Together we sent a telegram to the Queen. There was an immediate reaction: Her Majesty's Ambassador at Buenos Aires was ordered to intervene. Very shortly after this, an entirely favourable result was obtained." [600] Mr. Gans also stated that once he paid a large amount of money on behalf of persons hidden in Holland, through the kind offices of Dr. Visser 't Hooft. From Holland came the confirmation: "The organization thanks you very much for the money transferred from Switzerland." [601] The testimony of Mr. Gans also speaks of the matter of sending gift parcels to the Jews in concentration camps: "No parcels could have been sent and no other help could have been rendered, if we had not been supported continuously by Dr. Visser 't Hooft, General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, Geneva... His contribution to the Dutch resistance movement will certainly be described by others. Suffice it here to point out the general importance of the presence of such a man in Switzerland, and the fact that busy though he was, he never refused to see me whenever I asked for an interview, and that happened almost every day. No detail of our relief work was unimportant to him." [602] It appears that neither Dr. Visser 't Hooft nor Dr. Freudenberg were formalistic in their activities. They understood, in contrast to so many in and outside occupied Europe, that "illegal" acts were, in those special circumstances, morally justified. Thus money was "illegally" transmitted to Jews in hiding; and refugees were supported who had entered into Switzerland "illegally." What has been said about Church leaders in Bulgaria, can be applied to Dr. Visser 't Hooft and Dr. Freudenberg: they were gravely concerned, and thus they were available whenever their help was requested. In June, 1944, the Ecumenical Commission for Aid to Refugees published the following statement: <280> The Fate of the Jews in Hungary "The Ecumenical Commission for Refugees exists in order to give material and spiritual aid to refugees of all faiths. Its main task is therefore to relieve the suffering of the refugees rather than to protest against the treatment meted out to them. But there are situations in which the only aid we can give is in the form of a solemn and public protest. To-day this is the case. Trustworthy reports state that so far some four hundred thousand Hungarian Jews are deported in inhuman conditions and, in so far as they have not died on the way, brought to the camp of Auschwitz in Upper Silesia where, during the past two years, many hundreds of thousands of Jews have been systematically put to death. Christians cannot remain silent before this crime. We appeal to our Hungarian Christian brethren to raise their voice with us to do all they can to stop this horrible sin. We appeal to Christians of all countries to unite in prayer that God may have mercy on the people of Israel." [603] 36 TERRITORIES IN WHICH THE CHURCHES REMAINED SILENT The heading of this Chapter must be regarded with some reservation, firstly because I may have failed to find statements which were issued, and secondly because even the admission by a Church that it did not speak out, cannot always be trusted. In fact, I have in my possession a letter from the official representative of an important Church in Europe, stating that his Church had not publicly protested against the persecution of Jews; yet later on much material was found proving that it had done so. It is notable that the Churches which, as far as we know, kept silent, were minority Churches, with the exception of the Lutheran Church of Finland which was, however, not directly confronted with the challenge of the persecution of the Jews. a. Austria <281> On March 12, 1938, German troops entered Austria; it was then absorbed by the German Reich. The Jews in Austria were subjected to all the horrors which the Jews in Germany suffered. The legend that Austria was the first victim of Hitlerian aggression, to which official endorsement was given by the victorious Allies, is slow to die. In fact, the people in Austria were more national-socialist than in Germany proper: the frenzy with which the "aggressor" Hitler was received by the Viennese is proof enough of this. Many of the leaders of the Third Reich were Austrians, as for instance Seyss-Inquart, Kaltenbrunner, Globocnik and Rauter. Hitler himself originally came from Austria. Little is known about the attitude of the Protestants in Austria with respect to anti-Semitism during the war. [604] In 1966, the General Synod of the Lutheran Church adopted a "Message to the Congregations on Jews and Christians". The message stated that: "...Unfortunately, however, the Christian conscience of our people has not been strong enough to withstand a hatred based on racial differences. This is an alarming sign of the demonic powers of darkness to which we have been exposed and which have not been sufficiently resisted by our Church. Because the Church was entrusted with the Word of reconciliation and the message of peace, its guilt is much greater than that of all other groups. We must acknowledge and confess this guilt. The miracle of God's forgiveness makes our repentance possible..." [605] b. Belgium Professor W. Lutjeharms, who teaches Church history at Brussels, communicated to me why, in his view, the Protestant Churches did not publicly protest against the persecution of the Jews during the war. Part of the reasons he advances are, in my opinion, also applicable to minority Churches in other lands. <282> 1. The Protestants comprise less than half percent of the total population. 2. The Protestants nowhere formed a sufficiently concentrated group among the population. 3. The Protestants in those days had very few representatives in cultural and political circles. 4. The Protestant voice was not heard outside its own group before 1940; hardly at all over the radio and certainly not through daily newspapers. 5. The Protestant Churches represented a distinctly foreign flavour: many pastors and members were foreigners. 6. An official public protest would neither have impressed the authorities nor the population. The Protestants could only act effectively on the personal level. In this respect pastors as well as lay members time and again risked their lives, to help Jews as much as they could. There remains the question, why the small Protestant Churches in Belgium undertook official and public steps in 1933, and not, for instance, in the years 1935 and 1938. It is possible that such steps were undertaken, but that they were not sufficiently published, and thus forgotten (Cf. above, point 4). At least 25,000 Jews were deported from Belgium. Individual Protestants have rescued Jews [606] but these activities are outside the scope of our subject. c. The Protectorate Czechoslovakia was deprived of Sudetenland in the Munich pact of September 29, 1938. On March 14, 1939, Slovakia declared its independence. On March 15, 1939, German forces occupied Prague; Czechia as the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia became part of the German Reich. <283> An estimated number of 71,000 Jews were deported, and perished. Apparently no Church in Bohemia-Moravia publicly protested. It is true, of course, that there hardly was any address to which they could send a protest, except the Government in Berlin which would probably have paid even less attention than it paid to the protests of the "Confessing Church", the members of which were Germans and not Czechs. However, a public protest, read out from the pulpits, could have stirred up the members of the Czech Churches and would have encouraged them to help the Jews. In a letter to me, dated November 12, 1965, it was stated by Dr. Viktor Hhjek, Chairman of the Synod of the Evangelical Church of Czech Brethren: "Individual members of our Church have tried to help Jewish families in different ways and have indeed helped them. This has always been dangerous, and the persons involved suffered often from the German occupying force. But the pressure of this force was so heavy that it was out of the question to undertake anything publicly and officially." [607] The Synod of the Evangelical Church of the Czech Brethren recognized, in 1945, that "our Church did not have enough courage or power to withstand the fury of the enemies of Christ directed against the Jews." [608] d. Poland <284> The atrocities committed against the Jews in Poland are beyond description. At the end of 1939, 3,300,000 Jews lived in Poland; of these 2,900,000 were murdered. [609] Moreover, most of the Jews arrested by the Germans, in other occupied countries and in the German Reich itself, were deported to Poland and perished there. Thus it was in Poland that the vast majority of the six million was murdered. There is little to relate about the reactions of the non-Catholic Churches in Poland; there hardly exist such Churches at all. I received two replies to my circular letter; the first is from Dr. Andrzej Wantula, Bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. I quote the following from his letter: "During the war, our Church was liquidated by the Germans and the majority of the pastors imprisoned, the remainder working in a newly founded German Church. Our Church, therefore, could not carry out any activities. Individual pastors privately have helped the Jews. I myself, in my former parish, have tried to relieve the position of the Jews and partly succeeded in this. These, however, are individual cases, which are outside the scope of your interest." The second reply came from the Executive of the small "Polish-Catholic Church". [610] I quote the following: "Our Polish-Catholic Church was exposed to many persecutions, under the National-Socialist domination during the second World War. However, we protested many times, against the persecution of the Jews, also publicly whenever this was possible. In addition to material help, we provided the persecuted Jews with baptismal certificates, enabling them to obtain ration cards and identity cards. In this way they were protected from further persecution. We cannot, unfortunately, send you any proofs, e.g. documents, letters or photostats concerning our activities, as all the material was destroyed during the war." It is difficult for me to believe that the Polish-Catholic Church has "protested many times and publicly", if one is to understand that these protests were made in writing, and officially sent to the German authorities. But perhaps pastors of this Church expressed their protest in their sermons, and if this is so, it was at least something, especially in Poland. <285> The activities and attitude of the head of the Greek-Catholic Church in Galicia, the Metropolitan Andrew Sheptitsky, whose Church is united with Rome, is outside the scope of our subject and is thus not related here. [611] e. Finland Finland refused to give up her 2,000 Jews. "We are an honest people," declared Witting, the Finnish Foreign Minister. "We would much rather die with the Jews than give them up." [612] I received the following reply to my circular letter: "...Finland was never actually occupied by the German army, with the exception of the Northern region... Finland remained a sovereign country and it was, as far as I know, the only country within the German sphere of influence where Jews were protected against German claims. It seems to be very difficult to ascertain whether the Church had any direct involvement in this. It must remain, therefore, more or less an academic question, since nothing actually happened, in spite of the hesitation of the Government during some critical days." [613] f. Italy There are hardly any non-Roman Catholic Churches in Italy. Best-known is the Waldensian Church. The Waldenses themselves have been severely persecuted throughout the centuries. The right of free worship was granted to them by the Constitution of 1848. This "pre-Reformation Protestant Community" has 25,000 members. Official declarations against anti-Semitism of such a small minority Church could hardly expected, though the majority of the Waldenses had been strongly anti-fascist. [614] <286> g. Russia The Orthodox Church was the established Church in Russia, until 1917. Under the Communist regime many Church leaders were imprisoned or murdered; many church buildings were closed, some turned into museums. The Constitution of 1936 allows the Church freedom of worship, but not of propaganda. Printing of Bibles was not permitted. Anti-religious propaganda, however, was systematically carried out. In the wake of the German invasion (June, 1941), the Patriarch of Moscow declared himself loyal to the Russian cause and to the Soviet government. Anti-religious measures were relaxed to some degree. As far as we know, no public declaration against anti-Semitism was issued by the Orthodox Church, nor by any of the smaller Christian communities in Russia. [615] It is estimated that 1,500,000 Jews perished in the Nazi- occupied part of Russia. 37 IN CONCLUSION I have tried to give the answers to some questions related to our subject, but there remain many unanswered questions. It is beyond the scope of this investigation, to analyse the influence of Luther's attitude towards the Jews upon the German Protestants. Suffice it to say, that many anti-Semites quoted from Luther's brochure "Concerning the Jews and their Lies" (1542), and not from his earlier: "Jesus was born a Jew". (1523) The anti-Jewish sermons of St. Chrysostom, preached at Constantinople at about the turn of the 4th century, are well-known. We have not investigated as to how far these sermons had an influence upon the Eastern Churches in our time. <287> Another question: What exactly was the influence of the Lutheran conception of the "two dominions" through which God rules this world (the spiritual one, or the Church, and the secular one, or the "worldly authorities") on the attitude of the Lutheran Churches towards the persecuted Jews? Why did the Lutheran Churches in Denmark, Norway, Slovakia and Sweden denounce anti- Semitism whilst the record of the Lutheran Churches in America is poor in this respect? The people, according to Luther, have not the right to resist the authorities; only princes have. Was there a notable difference between the Lutheran Churches and the Churches of Calvinist origin regarding their attitude towards the "ungodly government" of Hitler in the 20th century, just as such a difference is said to have existed in the 16th century? What about possible differences between continental and Anglo-Saxon Protestants regarding their theological conception of the Jews, between Protestant Churches in the West and Orthodox Churches in Eastern Europe, between non-Roman Catholic Churches and the Church of Rome? How far did the conception of St. Paul about the people of Israel, as expounded in Romans 9-11, encourage the Churches to stand up for the Jews, or how far did the opinion that the Church has "replaced" Israel as the people of the Covenant, prevent Churches from taking action? We have hardly touched on practical questions such as the dilemma of whether "to speak or to save" ("reden oder retten"). It would be easy to make up a much longer list of unanswered questions, but it is difficult to establish facts even though they happened in our lifetime, and it is even more difficult to interpret them correctly. I can only hope that the documentation provided by this book will stimulate others to further study and investigation. I hope that I have succeeded to some extent in showing how complicated the situation was, and how careful we ought to be if we try to answer the question, how far Christian leaders and Churches fulfilled or failed to fulfil, the commandment which they profess to consider divine: "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself". <288> However, I do not suggest that to understand all is to pardon all. To me, Dr. Visser 't Hooft's conclusion seems to be well-balanced: "We may conclude this section by pointing out that while many Christians failed in their duty to resist in word and deed the inhuman racialism of National Socialism, there were a not inconsiderable number of Church leaders and simple Church members who rendered a clear witness to the reality of the Christian faith. The Christians who were involved in the struggle know better than anyone how often the Churches and they themselves failed to do what ought have to be done. Thus the Churches in Germany spoke not only for themselves, but for others who had been in a similar situation when after the war they confessed publicly their sense of guilt in this respect." [616] It is difficult to draw conclusions. Mostly generalizations are dangerous. I myself have the impression that public opinion tends to overrate the practical help rendered by individual Christians. Only a minority of professing Christians willingly risked their lives in order to help and save their Jewish neighbours. The Bible condemns such a lack of self-sacrificing love. When, however, human beings judge, particularly if they are people who themselves did not have to undergo the test, they should remember the Jewish saying: "Judge not thy neighbour until thou art come in his situation." [617] On the other hand, public opinion possibly tends to underestimate the official activities of Churches against anti-Semitism, because they are not generally known. The attitude of the Churches with regard to the persecution of Jews under Hitler's reign of terror was far from uniform. The picture is neither completely black, nor purely white. White and black are mingled. Thus the name chosen for this publication is "The Grey Book". The darkness of the holocaust was so great that one can hardly comprehend it. It is understandable that there are people who tend to ignore the lights that were so small, far too small. But "the greater the darkness, the brighter the light, be it no more than that of a small candle." [618] <289> In cases where Church leaders or individual Christians did risk their lives, they should remember the words of their Lord: "Is the master grateful to the servant for carrying out his orders? So with you: when you have carried out your orders, you should say, 'We are servants and deserve no credit; we have only done our duty'."(Luke 17, 9-10). On March 23, 1943, the Archbishop of Canterbury declared in the House of Lords: "We stand at the bar of history, of humanity and of God". It is appropriate to conclude this book with the words of Ecclesiastes (12, 13-14): "Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." <290> APPENDIX I DECLARATIONS AGAINST ANTI-SEMITISM ISSUED AFTER THE SECOND WORLD WAR Much has been spoken against anti-Semitism by non-Roman Catholic Churches and Church leaders, after the Second World War. We only mention the most important declarations and statements. On April 8, 1948, the NATIONAL BRETHREN COUNCIL (Reichsbruderrat) of the Evangelical Church in Germany, meeting at Darmstadt, issued the following "Message Concerning the Jewish Question". "...It may rightly be said that after what has happened, after all that we allowed to happen in silence, we have no authority to speak now. We are distressed about what happened in the past, and about the fact that we did not make any joint statement about it. We have not forgotten that a number of pastors and churches did speak out, and suffered for doing so; we thank God for it, and we thank them. We thank all who, in our own country and abroad, have helped us with old and new insights into the Word of God, and who have taken action by setting up warning signs. Today when retribution is meted out to us for what we did to the Jews, there is increasing danger that we may take refuge from God's Judgment in a new way of anti-Semitism, thus conjuring up all the old evils once again. In this perilous situation and amid this temptation God's Word speaks to us and helps us to find the right attitude to the Jews. It is under pressure of this Word that we speak, because we are filled with anxiety about the future and burdened by the past, and because we feel obliged to express our gratitude to all those individual people who spoke out, took action and suffered doing so... It was a disastrous mistake when the Churches of our time adopted the secular attitude of mere humanity, emancipation and anti-Semitism towards the Jewish question. There was bound to be a bitter retribution for the fact that anti-Semitism rose and flourished not only among the people (who still seemed to be a Christian nation), not only among the intelligentsia, and in governmental and military circles, but also among Christian leaders. <291> And when finally this radical anti-Semitism, based on racial hatred, destroyed our nation and our Churches from within, and released all its brutal force from without, there existed no power to resist it - because the Churches had forgotten what Israel really is, and no longer loved the Jews. Christian circles washed their hands of all responsibility, justifying themselves by saying that there was a curse on the Jewish people. Christians no longer believed that the promise concerning the Jews still held good; they no longer preached it, nor showed it in their attitude to the Jews. In this way we Christians helped to bring about all the injustice and suffering inflicted upon the Jews in our country. This is what the Word of God teaches us, so that we recognize with shame and grief what a great wrong we have done to Israel, and how deep our guilt is. As a Church we have failed to be the witness of salvation for Israel. Now we have to face the judgments of God which are coming upon us one after the other, so that we may bow beneath the mighty hand of God in sincere repentance, both as a Church and as a nation..." [619] On April 27, 1950, the Synod of the Evangelical Church in Germany, meeting at Berlin-Weissensee, issued a "Message of Guilt towards Israel", from which we quote the following: "...We declare that by dereliction of duty and in keeping silent we also are guilty of the crimes committed by people of our nation towards the Jews... We pray all Christians to rid themselves of all anti-Semitism whatsoever, to resist it earnestly where it raises its head again, and to meet Jews and Jewish Christians in a brotherly spirit. We pray the Christian congregations, to care for Jewish cemeteries in their territory if nobody is in charge of them." [620] On January 12, 1960, the Executive of the United Evangelical Church of Germany issued the following Declaration: "The Executive of the United Evangelical Lutheran Church of Germany most sharply condemns the expressions of anti-Semitism which have stirred the public in the last weeks. Moral condemnation of the crimes committed by Germans against the Jews cannot be evaded, though it is difficult to explain the motives of this wave (of anti-Semitism) which encompasses many lands. The reaction of the public must not be limited to declarations of sympathy towards Jewish fellow citizens but must aim at uncovering their own failures. It is especially important, to break the silence which frequently is maintained here between the older and younger generation, and to help our young people to come to their own clear judgment of the history of the Third Reich and what led up to it." [621] <292> On February 26, 1960, the Synod of the Evangelical Church in Germany, meeting at Berlin-Spandau, published the following Resolution, after the synagogue of Cologne was daubed with swastikas: "The fact that the honour of our Jewish neighbours has been offended, fills us with horror and shame. We express our solidarity with those who have been offended and insulted... We are guilty towards youth, to whom we have failed to teach and to bear the witness we owe them. It is not surprising, therefore, that the evil spirit increases its influence, again and again, among our youth. However, anew we must realize and attest: the hatred of the Jews which breaks out, again and again, is public godlessness... Therefore, let parents and educators break the widely-spread, painful silence, in our country about co-responsibility for the fate of the Jews. Let them resist everything that seduces the young generation into hatred of the Jews... Therefore, stand up for the payment of reparations. Keep in mind, however, that true repentance is more essential than financial compensation, which only can mean little to people who lost most of their relatives by acts of violence... Therefore, pray for God's peace upon Israel. Pray for the peace of Israel amongst the nations, on the borders of its State and amongst us." [622] During the trial of Eichmann, the Synod of the Evangelical Church in Germany stated (Berlin-Spandau, Febr. 17, 1961): "...All surviving Germans who at the age of discrimination witnessed the atrocities of the annihilation of the Jews, and even those who helped their Jewish compatriots under oppression, must confess before God, to have become accessories to the deeds by lack of alert and self-denying love..." [623] After several years of discussion on the subject of the relationship of the Church to the Jewish people, the 10th German Evangelical Kirchentag, 1961, set aside one work-group to deal specifically with this subject. Work-group VI of the Kirchentag produced the statement which follows, and it was adopted as the official Report of the Assembly: <293> "Jews and Christians are insolubly linked with each other. The denial of this link brought forth the hostility to Jews within Christendom. It became one of the main causes of the persecution of Jewry. Jesus of Nazareth is betrayed wherever members of the Jewish people among whom he was born are despised as Jews. Every hostility towards Jews is godlessness and leads to self-destruction. The present trial in Jerusalem concerns us all. We Evangelical Christians in Germany recognise that we are involved in it by reason of our guilt. Because of the need for fresh thought and conversion, we call upon the German public to make the following points their own: 1. Parents and educators should break their silence when meeting the young generation. They should confess their own failure and bring to light the origins of the crimes so that we all may learn how to face the present together. In the present world political situation, throwing off our own failure onto others must threaten not only one section of mankind but all life. 2. The inhumanity of compulsory systems of command where men can argue that criminal orders must be obeyed, is calculated to warn us against the inhuman potentialities of the modern organisation of State and society. We must be ready to take upon us political responsibility even in spite of risks. Those who were concerned in the preparation and implementation of persecution should resign from high office. 3. Where Jews live amongst us, it is our duty to promote their well-being as best as we can. Likewise everything must be done by us Germans which serves the reconstruction and peace of the State of Israel and its Arab neighbours. Compensation claims by victims of racial persecution should be settled with special urgency and generosity. The material compensation must be matched by a rebirth of the spirit. In Germany, the so-called Jewish question is today above all a question concerning the future of the Germans. 4. As against the wrong doctrine preached for centuries that God has cast away the Jewish people, we once again affirm the word of the Apostle: 'God hath not cast away His people, which He foreknew' (Romans 11, 2)..." [624] On March 13, 1964, the Synod of the Evangelical Church in Germany issued the following Declaration on the trials of Nazi criminals: "...Only ignorance can speak of 'soiling one's own nest' when in fact the cleaning of a badly soiled nest is at stake. Nor is it in any way profitable to try to hide behind the wrongs committed by other nations against members of our people during the war. The mass murder of Jews and other ethnic groups, with which the German name is connected, is not thereby erased... <294> Even the citizen who had no direct share in the crimes, nay, even he who did not know of them, has a share in the guilt because he was indifferent towards the perversion of all moral standards and all notions of right and wrong among our people. Nor can we exempt ourselves and our congregations from this guilt. For where all Christians were called upon to uphold the Gospel entrusted to us, to make public affirmation of the everlasting dominion of God in all spheres of our lives, and, thus armed, to protect the victims of the regime, especially the Jews living amongst us, only few had the insight and the courage to resist. Forced into this humiliating position, we cannot pretend to be unconcerned with the trials now pending, nor can we turn our gaze away from the crimes now being revealed. It was the folly of our entire nation, and the omissions of us Christians, that enabled those crimes to be perpetrated. There is nothing here that can be condoned, and we must resist all temptations to indulge in self-justification. Rather is it our duty to follow the defendants now as they stand before God and His judgment." [626] In 1963, the Evangelical Kirchentag of German speaking Switzerland adopted the following Resolution: "Israel and the Church belong together. God has chosen them both and formed a Covenant with them - first with Israel, then with the Church. The Church has been grafted onto the stem of God's People. Hence: if one member suffers, all the other members suffer with it. We confess our guilt with regard to Israel, that we Swiss people did not suffer with the Jews either, thus betraying our fellowship with God's ancient people. Our hope rests in the fact that we know our sins are forgiven. But for us forgiveness must mean active repentance. Let us make atonement through action. As Swiss people and Christians let us recognize the following tasks as our next step, and transform them into action: 1. We urge all Christians, both individually and collectively, to take part in assisting the Jews and promoting mutual contact and mutual respect. 2. We regard it as our Christian duty to oppose all forms of discrimination against Jewish people, and we expect the same attitude from all our fellow-Christians. 3. Short, inexpensive instructive booklets are needed as soon as possible, so that Christians can remedy their ignorance of Jewish history. 4. We recognize a sub-conscious anti-Semitism here in Switzerland too, with devastating and far-reaching effects. We urge the Church to devote more attention to this question. (Parish evenings, evenings for parents, evenings for mothers, instruction to religious teachers, training of religious teachers). 5. The intercession for Israel, which exists in most liturgies, should be made an integral part of the worship-service." [627] <295> On February 6, 1967, the Archbishop of Sweden sent a circular letter to the ministers of the diocese, from which we quote the following: 'On various occasions accusations have been made against the Church of Sweden for anti-Semitism. This is especially directed towards the way in which the passion-history is created. From abroad many appalling examples are known in which 'the Jews' are described as a deicide people, as referring not only to the mob in front of the palace of Pilate which wanted Jesus to be crucified but to the whole people and the generations after them. In the Swedish tradition of preaching and teaching this is completely unaccepted. Any feeling of revenge and hatred against Romans and Jews is repudiated and it is emphasized that it is our own sin which has brought Jesus to the cross... The Gospel is against all racial and group discrimination. Each person shall be judged on his own merits according to what he himself is and does. There is no graduation of the value of man; all are called to be children of God and are therefore our brothers and sisters, and Christ died for all. After all, God alone is the Judge, but never we ourselves." [628] On March 18, 1964, the following Statement was issued by the Archbishop of Canterbury: "It is always wrong when people try to lay blame upon the Jews for the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In the event the Roman Governor was no less responsible for what happened. The important fact, however, is that the crucifixion was the clash between the Love of God and the sinfulness and selfishness of the whole human race. Those who crucified Christ are in the true mind of the Christian Church representatives of the whole human race, and it is for no one to point a finger of resentment at those who brought Jesus to his death, but rather to see the crucifixion as the divine judgment upon all humanity for choosing the ways of sin rather than the love of God. We all must see ourselves judged by the crucifixion of Christ." [629] The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland adopted a statement against anti-Semitism nearly every year. Here follow some examples. <296> 1945 "The General Assembly express their renewed sympathy with the Jews in their present circumstances and assure them of the Church's friendly interest in all that pertains to their future welfare and in particular commend the active steps, which are being taken to restrain Anti-Semitism and promote better understanding between Christian and Jew." [630] 1947 "The General Assembly, aware of the growth of anti-Semitic feeling, condemn anew this attitude as un-Christian and contrary to the mind of our Lord; call upon their faithful people to guard against this grave danger; assure the Jewish people of their deep sympathy in the present uncertainties and remember especially the many Jews in the Displaced Persons Camps in Europe still awaiting some scheme for their settlement in other lands." [631] 1953 "The General Assembly view with concern the renewed outbreaks of anti-Semitism in various countries, renew their condemnation of this evil thing and call upon their faithful people to be on the alert to oppose any signs of it in this country." [632] 1957 "The General Assembly express their concern that the threats of annihilation directed against the State of Israel still continue. They express profound sympathy with the State of Israel in the crisis with which she is confronted and earnestly hope that the United Nations will now direct all possible efforts towards a just and lasting settlement between Israel and the Arab States, so that Israel's future will no longer be in jeopardy." [633] 1962 "The General Assembly, in view of the horrors recalled by the Eichmann trial, remind the Church - especially the youth of the Church - of the deadly danger of Anti-Semitism, which has in the past so cruelly wounded the brotherhood of the human family." [634] Many Protestant Churches in the United States publicly registered their opposition to anti-Semitism. We only quote the following Resolution, adopted by the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America, on June 5, 1964: "The General Board of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., recognizing the ever-present danger of anti-Semitism, renews the call to the Churches and the community to recognize (in the words of the First Assembly of the World Council of Churches) 'anti-Semitism, no matter what its origin, as absolutely irreconcilable with the profession and practice of the Christian faith'. <297> The spiritual heritage of Jews and Christians should draw us to each other in obedience to the one Father and in continuing dialogue; the historic schism in our relations carries with it the need for constant vigilance lest dialogue deteriorate into conflict. We confess that sometimes as Christians we have given away to anti-Semitism. We have even used the events of the Crucifixion to condemn the Jewish people, whereas (in the words of the Third Assembly of the World Council of Churches) 'the historic events which led to the Crucifixion should not be presented as to fasten upon the Jewish people of today responsibilities which belong to our corporate humanity and not to one race or community'. The General Board urges that the members of its constituent communions seek that true dialogue with the religious bodies of the Jewish community through which differences in faith can be explored within the mutual life of the one family of God - separated, but seeking from God the gift of renewed unity - knowing that in the meantime God can help us to find our God-given unity in the common service of human need." [634] In 1948, the World Council of Churches held its first Assembly, at Amsterdam. 147 Churches in forty-four countries were represented by 351 official delegates. A report on "The Christian Approach to the Jews" was heard by Assembly, and its deliberations were commended to all member Churches "for their serious consideration and appropriate action". We quote the following: Introduction ... We cannot forget that we meet in a land from which 110,000 Jews were taken to be murdered. Nor can we forget that we meet only five years after the extermination of 6 million Jews. To the Jews our God has bound us in a special solidarity linking our destinies together in His design. We call upon all our Churches to make this concern their own as we share with them the results of our too brief wrestling with it."... 3. Barriers to be Overcome "...We must acknowledge in all humility that too often we have failed to manifest Christian love towards our Jewish neighbours, or even a resolute will for common social justice. We have failed to fight with all our strength the age-old disorder of man which anti-Semitism represents. <298> The Churches in the past have helped to foster an image of the Jews as the sole enemies of Christ, which has contributed to anti-Semitism in the secular world. In many lands virulent anti-Semitism still threatens and in other lands the Jews are subjected to many indignities. We call upon all the Churches we represent to denounce anti-Semitism, no matter what its origin, as absolutely irreconcilable with the profession and practice of the Christian faith. Anti-Semitism is sin against God and man...". [635] In 1961, the World Council of Churches held its third Assembly, at New Delhi. 200 Churches were represented by more than a thousand official participants. The following Resolution on Anti-Semitism was adopted: "The Third Assembly recalls the following words which were addressed to the Churches by the First Assembly of the World Council of Churches in 1948: 'We call upon all the Churches we represent to denounce anti-Semitism, no matter what its origin, as absolutely irreconcilable with the profession and practice of the Christian faith. Anti-Semitism is sin against God and man. Only as we give convincing evidence to our Jewish neighbours that we seek for them the common rights and dignities which God wills for his children, can we come to such a meeting with them as would make it possible to share with them the best which God has given us in Christ.' The Assembly renews this plea in view of the fact that situations continue to exist in which the Jews are subject to discrimination and even persecution. The Assembly urges its member Churches to do all in their power to resist every form of anti-Semitism. In Christian teaching the historic events which led to the Crucifixion should not be so represented as to fasten upon the Jewish people of today responsibi- lities which belong to our corporate humanity and not to one race or community. Jews were the first to accept Jesus and Jews are not the only ones who do not yet recognize him." [636] In 1964, a Consultation on "The Church and the Jewish People" under the auspices of the Lutheran World Federation was held at Legumkloster, Denmark. The following statement was adopted: III. The Church and Anti-Semitism <299> "Anti-Semitism is an estrangement of man from his fellowmen. As such it stems from human prejudice and is a denial of the dignity and equality of men. But Anti-Semitism is primarily a denial of the image of God in the Jew; it represents a demonic form of rebellion against the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; and a rejection of Jesus the Jew, directed upon His people. 'Christian' anti-Semitism is spiritual suicide. This phenomenon presents a unique question to the Christian Church, especially in light of the long terrible history of Christian culpability for anti- Semitism. No Christian can exempt himself from involvement in this guilt. As Lutherans, we confess our own peculiar guilt, and we lament with shame the responsibility which our Church and her people bear for this sin. We can only ask God's pardon and that of the Jewish people. There is no ultimate defeat of anti-Semitism short of a return to the living God in the power of His grace and through the forgiveness of Jesus Christ our Lord. At the same time, we must pledge ourselves to work in concert with others at practical measures for overcoming manifestations of this evil within and without the Church and for reconciling Christians with Jews. Towards this end, we urge the Lutheran World Federation and its member Churches: 1. To examine their publications for possible anti-Semitic references, and to remove and oppose false generalisations about Jews. Especially reprehensible are the notions that Jews, rather than all mankind, are responsible for the death of Jesus Christ, and that God has for this reason rejected His covenant people. Such examination and reformation must also be directed to pastoral practice and preaching references. This is our simple duty under the commandment common to Jews and Christians: 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour'. 2. To oppose and work to prevent all national and international manifestations of anti-Semitism, and in all our work acknowledge our great debt of gratitude to those Jewish people who have been instruments of the Holy Spirit in giving us the Old and New Testaments and in bringing into the world Jesus Christ our Lord. 3. To call upon our congregations and people to know and to love their Jewish neighbours as themselves; to fight against discrimination or persecution of Jews in their communities; to develop mutual understanding; and to make common cause with the Jewish people in matters of spiritual and social concern, especially in fostering human rights..." [637] An International Conference of Christians and Jews was held at Seelisberg, in 1947, and attended by sixty-five persons from nineteen different countries. They adopted the following "Address to the Churches", which became widely known as "The Ten Points of Seelisberg": <300> 1. Remember that One God speaks to us all through the Old and the New Testaments. 2. Remember that Jesus was born of a Jewish mother of the seed of David and the people of Israel, and that His everlasting love and forgiveness embrace His own people and the whole world. 3. Remember that the first disciples, the apostles, and the first martyrs were Jews. 4. Remember that the fundamental commandment of Christianity, to love God and one's neighbour, proclaimed already in the Old Testament and confirmed by Jesus, is binding upon both Christians and Jews in all human relationships, without any exception. 5. Avoid disparaging biblical or post-biblical Judaism with the object of extolling Christianity. 6. Avoid using the word Jews in the exclusive sense of the enemies of Jesus, and the words the enemies of Jesus to designate the whole Jewish people. 7. Avoid presenting the Passion in such a way as to bring the odium of the killing of Jesus upon Jews alone. In fact, it was not all the Jews who demanded the death of Jesus. It not the Jews alone who were responsible, for the Cross which saves us all reveals that it is for the sins of us all that Christ died. Remind all Christian parents and teachers of the grave responsibility which they assume, particularly when they present the Passion story in a crude manner. By so doing they run the risk of implanting an aversion in the conscious or subconscious minds of their children or hearers, intentionally or unintentionally. Psychologically speaking, in the case of simple minds, moved by a passionate love and compassion for the crucified Saviour, the horror which they feel quite naturally towards the persecutors of Jesus will easily be turned into an undiscriminating hatred of the Jews of all times, including those of our days. 8. Avoid referring to the scriptural curses, or the cry of a raging mob: His blood be upon us and upon our children, without remembering that this cry should not count against the infinitely more weighty words of our Lord: Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do. 9. Avoid promoting the superstitious notion that the Jewish people is reprobate, accursed, reserved for a destiny of suffering. 10. Avoid speaking of the Jews as if the first members of the Church had not been Jews. [638] <301> APPENDIX II SOME PARTICULARS ABOUT THE CHURCHES MENTIONED [639] Austria The Protestant Churches in Austria are minority Churches. The (Lutheran) Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession has 406,966 members; the Reformed Church of Austria has 16,078 baptized members. Belgium The Protestant Churches in Belgium are minority Churches, together comprising less than half percent of the population. The total number is less than 50,000. Bulgaria The Orthodox Church in Bulgaria claims a number of six million members, being the vast majority of the population. There is no other Christian community of any numerical importance in Bulgaria. <302> Czechoslovakia The largest non-Roman Catholic Churches in Bohemia and Moravia are: the Evangelical Church of Czech Brethren (295,354 baptized members), the Czechoslovak Church, and the Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession in Silesia (48,000 members). There are two Protestant Churches in Slovakia: the Reformed Church of Slovakia (165,000 baptized members) and the Evangelical (Lutheran) Church in Slovakia (520,000 members). Denmark The vast majority of the people of Denmark belong to the Lutheran Church, which has 4,104,000 members. Finland The vast majority of the population of Finland belongs to the Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Church, which has 4,429,137 members. France The Protestants in France are a small minority, numbering altogether not more than 800,000 souls. Members of the Protestant Federation of France are: The Reformed Church of France (375,000), the Reformed Church of Alsace and Lorraine (50,000), the Lutheran Church of Alsace and Lorraine (240,000) and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of France (50,000). Germany The vast majority of the Protestants of Germany belonged to one of the 28 Landeskirchen (Lutheran, Reformed or Uniate), of which the largest was the Church of the Old Prussian Union, with 18 million members. In all, there were forty-five million Germans who were, nominally at least, members of the Protestant Church. Great Britain and Ireland The main non-Roman Catholic Churches in England are: the Church of England, claiming 2,989,704 members and 15 million adherents (1950); the Methodist Church (775,294 members and 2,2250,000 adherents in 1955); the Congregational Union of England and Wales (451,523 members in 1955); the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland (246,400 members in 1955) and the Presbyterian Church of England, having 70,298 communicants. <303> There are four Free Presbyterian Churches in Scotland, as well as Baptist, Episcopal, Congregational and Methodist Churches. The Church of Scotland is by far the largest Church, having 1,281,559 communicants. The political partition of Ireland did not divide any of the Churches. Most of the non-Roman Catholic Churches were represented in the United Council of Christian Churches in Ireland. The (Episcopalian) Church of Ireland has 400,000 members. The Presbyterian Church in Ireland has 140,395 communicants and 397,500 baptized members. The Methodist Church has approximately 30,000 communicants and 100,000 baptized members. Greece The vast majority of the population of Greece belongs to the (Orthodox) Church of Greece, which has an estimated 8,000,000 members. Hungary According to the 1941 census, there were in Hungary 9,775,310 Catholics, 2,785,782 Calvinists (Reformed Church of Hungary), and 729,289 Lutherans (Hungarian Evangelical Church). Italy The Waldensian Church has 25,000 members. Other non-Roman Catholic communities are the Methodist and Baptist Churches. Their total membership amounts to about 0,19 per cent of the population. The Netherlands The DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH has 3,500,000 baptized members. The Reformed Churches in the Netherlands had 640,984 members in 1940. The Evangelical Lutheran Church has 52,587 members. The other Churches mentioned are of about the same size, or smaller. <304> Norway The (Lutheran) Church of Norway has 3,456,687 members, being 96,2 per cent of the population. Poland Out of a population of 32,000,000 there are a 130,000 Protestants. 100,000 of them belong to the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Poland. Smaller communities are the Evangelical-Reformed Church (5,000 members); the Baptist Church (2,500 members) and the United Gospel Church (7,500 members). Rumania The vast majority of the population of Rumania belongs to the Rumanian Orthodox Church, which has an estimated 11,500,000 members. The Reformed Church of Rumania is the Church of the Hungarian national minority; it has 693,511 baptized members. The Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession is mainly the Church of German immigrants; it has 183,399 members. Russia Before 1917, the Orthodox Church of Russia claimed a membership of 100,000,000. Estimates about the present situation - "perhaps 25-50,000,000" - are unreliable. Smaller communities are the Union of Evangelical Christian Baptists of U.S.S.R. and the Lutheran Churches in former Estonia (350,000), Latvia (350,000), and Lithuania (30,000). Sweden The vast majority of the population of Sweden belongs to the (Lutheran) Church of Sweden, which claims 7,000,000 members. Switzerland The Protestant Churches of Switzerland are cantonal Churches, distinct and independent from one another. In most of the cantonal Churches, the legislative body is the Synod and the executive organ the Synodal Council. <305> The Federation of the Protestant Churches of Switzerland at first consisted only of National Churches, but it soon admitted the Free Evangelical Churches, the Methodist Church and the "Evangelische Gemeinschaft". The Federation has 2,888,122 baptized members. The United States The following are some of the greatest Churches affiliated to the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in America in the year 1942 with their membership for the years ending in 1941-1942. Northern Baptist Convention 1,538,871 National Baptist Convention 3,911,611 Congregational Christian Churches 1,052,701 Disciples of Christ 1,655,580 Protestant Episcopal Church 1,074,178 United Lutheran Church (consultative) 1,709,290 The Methodist Church 6,640,424 Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. 1,986,257 The total membership was 25,551,560 The Federal Council of Churches united with 11 other national inter- denominational organizations, to form the National Council of Churches, in 1950. Its 34 member Churches have a total membership of about 42 million persons. The most important Protestant denominations which are not members of the National Council of Churches are: Southern Baptist Convention (present membership 10,770,573); the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (present membership 2,692,889); the American Lutheran Church (present membership 2,541,546). Yugoslavia The greatest non-Roman Catholic Church is the Serbian Orthodox Church which has about 8,000,000 members. Other Churches are: the Reformed Christian Church of Yugoslavia (30,000 members) and the Slovak Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession in Yugoslavia. The World Council of Churches <306> The World Council of Churches is a fellowship of more than 200 Churches of Protestant, Anglican, Orthodox and Old Catholic confessions. It includes in its membership Churches in more than 80 countries. In 1961, the Orthodox Church of Russia also joined the World Council of Churches. A number of large Churches, however, are not World Council members. 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Talmon, The Unique and the Universal - Some Historical Reflections, London 1965, Chap. IV: Mission and Testimony - The Universal Significance of Modem Anti-semitism, p. 119 ff. page III 3 Kirchliches Jahrbuch fur die Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland 1933- 1944, hrsg. von Joachim Beckmann, Gutersloh 1948, p. 76 f., quoted according to: Der Nationalsozialismus, Dokumente 1933-1945, herausgegeben, eingeleitet und dargestellt von Walther Hofer, Frankfurt a/M, 1957 (henceforth: Hofer), p. 140. 4 Visser 't Hooft, pp. 61, 64-65. This reference to the first of the Ten Commandments by the Church in its struggle against the totalitarian and pseudo-messianic character of the Nazi regime already appeared in: Wort der Bekenntnissynode der evangelischen Kirche der altpreussischen Union an die Gemeinden, 4/5 March 1935 in Berlin-Dahlem; par. 1: The first commandment reads: 'I am the Lord God. Thou shalt have no other gods besides me. 'We obey this commandment alone having faith in Jesus Christ who was crucified and resurrected for us. The new religion is a revolt against the first commandment." Cf. Hofer, p. 144. page V 5 Visser 't Hooft, p. 64. Page VI 6 Heinrich Schmidt, Apokalyptisches Wetterleuchten, Ein Beitrag der Evangelischen Kirche zum Kampf im 'Dritten Reich', Munchen, 1947, p. 305. This source also appears in: Friedrich Zipfel, Kirchenkampf in Deutschland 1933-1945 - Religionsverfolgung und Selbstbehauptung der Kirchen in der national-sozialistischen Zeit, Berlin I 965, p. 31. 7 Hofer, p. 128. 8 On the origin of the term: "metapolitics" cf. Constantin Frantz: "Offener Brief an Richard Wagner", Bayreuther Blaetter, Jahrgang 1, No. 6 (June 1878), op. 169. Cf.: Peter Viereck, Metapolitics - The Roots of the Nazi Mind, N.Y. 1961 (1941), p. 4. 9 Visser 't Hooft, p. 71. page VII 10 See in this volume pp. 131 - 132 . Cf. Visser 't Hooft, p. 57. page VIII 11 These sources of modem anti-semitism have recently been treated in: Shmuel Ettinger, "The Critique of Judaism in the Teachings of the 'Young Hegelians' as one of the Roots of Modem Anti-semitism", Lecture given at the Academia scientiarum Israelitica, Jerusalem, 1969 (in press, Hebrew). Ibid: "The Roots of Modern Anti-semitism", (Hebrew) Molad, Jerusalem, New Series Vol. 11 (xxv), No. (219) Jan.-March, 1969, p. 323 ff. On the theoretical relationship between theological criticism and racial theory, cf. Nathan Rotenstreich, Judaism and Jewish Rights, (Hebrew), Tel-Aviv, 1959, Chaps, 1, 3, 5, 6. Ibid. "For and against Emancipation: The Bruno Bauer Controversy", in Leo Beck Institute, Year Book IV, London, 1959, p. 3 ff. Cf. also: Eleonore Sterling, Er ist wie Du - aus der Fruehgeschichte des Anti-semitismus in Deutschland (1815-1850), Munchen 1956, 235 pp. For sources on modern anti-semitism in the Critique of positivistic religion by the deists and rationalists in France, cf. Arthur Hertzberg, The French Enlightenment and the Jews, N.Y.-Phil. 1968, 420 pp. 12 Ludwig Feuerbach, Das Wesen der Religion, Dreissig Vorlesungen, 1845 (1848), Dritte Vorlesung, Leipzig, 1908, p. 12. page IX 13 Friedrich Nietzsche, Gesammelte Werke, Gesamtausgabe, Kroner, Leipzig, Vol. VII, p. 273: ... Das Christenthum ist ein Aufstand alles Am-Boden-Kriechenden gegen das, was Hoehe hat; das Evangelium der Niedrigen macht niedrig...". 14 Alexander Bein, Der moderne Anti-semitismus und seine Bedeutung fur die Judenfrage, Vierteljahreshefte fur Zeitgeschichte, Stuttgart, 1958, pp. 345/6. 15 Moritz Freystadt, Der Christenspiegel von Anti-Marr, ein offenes Sendeschreiben an die modernen Judenfeinde, 5e Anlage, Koenigsberg 1863, pp. 3, 8, 20, 21, 39. page X 16 Wilhelm Marr, Streifzuege durch das Koncilium von Trient - Voltaire frei nach erzaehlt, Hamburg, Otto Meissner Verlag, 1868, pp. 95/6. In this work Marr emphasizes the fact that the criticism of Christianity was for the most part directed against the Catholics who were called by the spokesmen of German nationalism in the period of Bismarck 'ultramontanists.' At the same time he claims: "We... reject Christianity as well as Judaism... We reject... all religions...". Cf. p. 102. 17 Marr, like most of the fathers of antisemitic ideology, is not consistent in his antisemitic arguments or in his anti-Christian motives. Different views are held at different times, and contradictory views are expressed at the same time. Thus, Marr sometimes does not oppose Christianity but seems to be a proponent of "practical Christianity" with an eye to the social policy of Bismarck in the 80's of the last century, or as a proponent of "Christian-German realism. Thus, we also note an anti-Christian sentiment directed not so much against Protestantism as against Catholicism. The Anti-Catholic attitude of the fathers of racial anti-semitism was part of the national awakening in the days of the Second Reich, an awakening that was based to a considerable extent on the tradition of Protestant sovereignty. Of the many sources of antiCatholic anti-semitism from the first days of this movement the propaganda of Ottomar Beta is typical, as we find in his book which he dedicated to Bismarck, "Juda-Jesuitismus, where, among other things, he says: "The arrogant assumption of infallibility of the Jewish descendents in Rome is nothing more than an ultramontanist firework to divert the eyes of the Germanic peoples from the more ominous capitalistic infallibility of their racial brethren in wordly garb... The source appears in the anti-semitic collection: Antisemiten-Spiegel - die Antisemiten im Lichte des Christenthums, des Rechtes und der Moral, Danzig, 1892, (A.S. further), p. 136. page XI 18 Walter Holsten, Adolf Stoecker als Symptom seiner Zeit - Anti-semitismus in der evangelischen Kirche des 19e Jahrhunderts? The article appears in: Christen und Juden - Ihr Gegenueber vom Apostel- konzil bis heute, herausgegeben von Wolf-Dieter Marsch und Karl Thieme, Mainz/Goettingen 1961, p. 182 ff. On this ambivalent character of anti-semitism, cf. the words of A. Stoecker to the German Kaiser, 25. 9. 1880: "...Im Ubrigen habe ich in allen meiner Reden gegen das Judentum offen erklaert, dass ich nicht die Juden angreife, sondern nur dies frivole, gottlose, wucherische, betruegerische Judenthum, das in der Tat das Unglueck unseres Volkes ist...". This source is found in: Dietrich von Oertzen, Adolf Stoecker - Lebensbild und Zeitgeschichte, Berlin 1910, Vo1.1, p. 213. Cf. also: Paul W. Massing, Vorgeschichte des politischen Anti-semitismus, Frankfurt a/M, 1959, (P. Massing: further) p. 31. page XII 19 Adolf Stoecker, Christlich-Sozial; Reden und Aufsaetze, 1885, p. 153 f. Cf. also P. Massing, p. 238/9, note 64. According to the second edition of the addresses and works of A. Stoecker of the year 1890, P. Massing quotes the entire document which concludes with the words: "... A return to more of Germanic law and economic life, a return to Christian faith - this will be our slogan." page XIII 20 R. Seeberg, Reden und Aufsaetze von Adolf Stoecker, Leipzig 1913, p. 141/2. Cf. also the above essay of Walther Holsten, p. 119. 21 Above, note 19, p. 211. page XIV 22 Eugen Duhring, Wert des Lebens, 3. Auflage, 1881, p. 5: "... paradoxe Lehre von der Umkehrung oder Kreuzigung aller Fleischregungen...". 23 Eugen Doehring, Die Parteien in der Judenfrage, Separat-Ausgabe von Hefte 7, 8 des ersten Bandes der Schweitznerischen internationalen Monatschrift, Leipzig 1882, Verlag Theodor Fritsch, p. 403 ff. page XV 24 A.S. Danzig, 1892, p. 137 fl. Cf. also: these sources in a pamphlet issued by the "Verein zur Abwehr des Anti-semitismus", which also issued the "AntisemitenSpiegel. The name of this pamphlet is: "Antisemitisches Christenthum und christlicher Anti-semitismus", Flugblatt No 7, p. 1/2 (Year not given). 25 The anti-intellectual meaning of this doctrine that seeks to relegate the image of Jesus to the mythology of racial anti-semitism was pointed out by several writers already during the Second Reich. Cf. the many publications of the "Verein zur Abwehr des Anti-semitismus," beginning in 1892, and in condensed form: Antisemiten-Spiegel, Berlin- Frankfurt a/M, 1911 , p. 161 ff. On the historical background of the anti-intellectual character of racial doctrines and on the influence of anti-intellectualism on this interpreta- tion that would transplant Jesus from his Jewish origin and make him a member of the Aryan race, cf.: Fritz Stern, The Politics of Cultural Despair - A study in the Rise of the German Ideology, Berkeley and Los Angelos, 1961, pp. 41/2: to divorce Christianity and Judaism even at this late stage would be a recognition of an unambiguous historical truth and of Jesus' own intent...". cf. pp. 139, 143, 144, 145, 163, 199. page XVI + XVII 26 From the journal "Hammer", published in: A.S. Berlin-Frankfurt a/M, 1911, p.201. 27 Ibid. p. 203. The anti-Christian meaning of modem anti-semitism and its historical sources have recently been noted by Salo W. Baron in: Deutsche und Juden, Beitraege, etc., Frankfurt a/M, 1967, p. 84/85: "...It is unmistakable how the resistance against everything that Judaism and Christianity stand for has increased since the 70's of the 19th century, and it is no exaggeration to say that this development prepared the ground for the Nazi assumption of power...". I have dealt with this question at length in the last chapter of my book, cf. UneiTal, Christians and Jews in the Second Reich (1870-1914), Chap. V: "Christian and anti-Christian Anti-Semitism", (Hebrew), in Press, The Magnes Press, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem. On the anti-Christian elements in racial anti-Semitism, cf. also: Edward H. Flannery, The Anguish of the Jews, N.Y. London, 1965, p. 180 ff. See also: Hermann Greive, Theologie und Ideologie - Katholizismus und Judentum in Deutschland und Oesterreich (1918-1935), Heidelberg, 1969. In this book the author stresses that a clear-cut distinction between Christian anti-semitism or "kirchlicher Anti-Judaismus" and racial anti- semitism or "Rassenanti-semitismus" is not warranted. His conclusion is: "...dass anti-juedische Vorurteile im Katholizismus der diskutierten Periode auf breitester Basis nachgewiesen werden koennen... Die anfaenglich vielfach nicht unerhebliche Verschiedenheit in der Judenfeindlichen Argumentation zumindest der tonangebenden Kreise in Katholizismus und auf voelkisch-antikirchlicher Seite wich im Laufe der Zeit immer weiter reichenden Vermittlungstheorien zwischen den sozial, kulturell und religioes orientierten und den voelkisch-rassischen Anti-semitismus..."; p. 222/223. A similar conclusion that stresses the direct connection between the theological and historical anti-Jewishness of Christianity and modem anti-semitism is reached by: A. Roy Eckardt, Elder and Younger Brothers -The Encounter of Jews and Christians, N.Y., 1967, Chap. 1, The Enigma, 1, p. 8: "There can be little serious doubt that Christendom's traditional antipathy to the Jews is the major historical root of anti-semitism in the Western world. Historically speaking, anti-semitism derives from 'the conflict of the Church and the Synagogue.' Here is the Crime of Christendom. Such distinguished and authoritative historians as James Parkes and Jules Isaac have chronicled this fact definitely...". This thesis, about the historical continuation between the anti-Jewish attitude in Christianity and modern anti-semitism rests not only on the theological attitude of Christianity but also on the legal history of the persecution of Jews by Christians, beginning in the forth century. This is treated by: James Parkes, The Conflict of the Church and the Synagogue - A Study in the Origins of Anti-semitism, Cleveland, N.Y., Phil., 1961, Appendix I, p. 379 ff. A similar historiographical approach is taken by Raul Hilberg who has Drawn up a comparative list of Canonical and Nazi .Anti-Jewish Measures, in his book: The Destruction of the European Jews, Chicago, 1961 , pp. 5-6. The list also appears in the above mentioned book of A. Roy Eckhardt, p. 12 - 13, where he draws the same conclusion, namely, that the Nazis "...did not discard the past; they built upon it...". And he adds to this quotation from Hilberg: "This fact makes ludicrous any unqualified claim that the Nazis were the enemies of Christendom." page XVIII 28 Cf. the works of E. Flannery, James Parkes, A. Roy Eckhardt, Marsch-Thieme; cf. above, and also: Karl Thieme, Der religioese Aspekt der Judenfeindschaft (Judentum und Christentum), in: "Judentum - Schicksal, Wesen und Gegenwart", hrsg. von Franz Boehm und Walter Dirks, unter Mitarbeit von Walter Gottschalk, Wiesbaden 1965, Vol. II, p. 603 IT. See also: "Judenfeindschaft. Darstellungen und Analysen," hrsg. Von Karl Thieme, Frankfurt a/M. Hamburg, 1963, 326 ff. Cf. especially the work of: Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich, "Judenfeindschaft in Deutschland von der Roemerherrschaft, bis zum Zeitalter der Totalitaet," p. 209 ff. Also: W.P. Eckert und E.L. Ehrlich, "Judenhass - Schuld der Christen?", Essen, 1964, 525 pp. page XIX 29 Cf. the study of: Willehad Paul Eckert: "Beatus Simonius - Aus den Akten des Trienter Judenprozesses", in the above collection, note 28, edited by W.P. Eckert and by E.L. Ehrlich, p. 329 ff; also in the same collection the work of: Kurt Hruby, Verhangnisvolle Legenden und ihre Bekaempfung, p. 281 ff. page XXI 30 Haim Hillel Ben-Sasson, Jewish-Christian Disputation in the Setting of Humanism and Reformation in the German Empire, H.T.R., 59 (1966), pp. 369-390. Salo W. Baron, Modern Nationalism and Religion, N.Y., Phil. (1947), 1960, Ch. V.: Protestant individualism, p. 117 ff. Cf. especially Salo W. Baron, Medieval Heritage and Modern Realities in Protestant-Jewish lielations, Diogenes Spring 1968, No. 61, p. 32 ff. 31 "Der Ungekuendigte Bund", hrsg. von Dietrich Goldschmidt und Hans Joachim Kraus, Stuttgart, 1962, p. 206. 32 Ibid., p. 218. page XXII 33 Visser 't Hooft, pp. 35/36. 34 Ibid., p. 36. page XXIII 35 Ibid. 36 A striking and instructive example to such a different approach has been given by the Bishops of Denmark, in their protest against the persecution of the Jews, 3 Oct. 1943. See below in this volume, on p. 168. Cf. "The Israel Digest", X1/22, Jerusalem, 1, 1, 1968, p. 3. A German translation in Freiburger Rundbrief, Vol. xx, 1968, No. 73-76, Dec. 1968, pp. 69/70. As to the historical background of this document, cf. Leni Yahil, Test of a Democracy - the Rescue of Danish Jewry in World War II, Jerusalem, 1966, pp. 59, 125, 145, 165. 37 World Council of Churches - Division of Studies, Commission on Faith and Order in cooperation with the Committee on the Church and the Jewish People: "The Relationship of the Church to the Jewish People, Collection of Statements", Geneva, July 1964, p. 19 ff. page XXIV 38 Ibid., p. 22-23 39 Ibid,. P. 22 40 Ibid., p. 23 41 Ibid., p. 26 42 Ibid., p. 27 Footnotes from Preface ---------------------- page 1 43 Much has been published about the subject of "Christian" anti-Semitism. Some literature: Jules Isaac, The Teaching of Contempt (New York, 1965); James Parkes, Anti-semitism (Quadrangle Books, 1961); Malcolm Hay, Europe and the Jews, The Pressure of Christendom on the People of Israel for 1900 years (Second printing, Boston, 1961; this book was first published as "The Foot of Pride", in 1950); Karl Thieme (Ed.), Judenfeindschaft (in German; Fischer Bucherei KG, 1963); E. Flannery, The Anguish of the Jews (New York, 1965). page 2 44 Thus a Protestant minister from Switzerland who now lives in Israel, in The Jerusahlem Post, Sept. 27, 1963. The Speaker of the Israeli Parliament, Mr.Kadish Luz, made a similar statement in the session of the Parliament on April 21, 1963. 45 The Yad Vashem Martyrs and Heroes Memorial Authority, Jerusalem, was established by Law in 1953, The Yad Vashem Act assigned to "Yad Vashem" the task "to collect, investigate and publish all evidence regarding the Catastrophe and its heroic aspects and to inculcate its lesson upon our people". page 3 46 Cf. Dr. Leny Yahil, Historians of the Holocaust; A Plea for a New Approach (in: The Wiener Library Bulletin, 1967/68, Vol. XXII, pp. 2-5). 47 Dr. Visser 't Hooft and Dr.A.Freudenberg, of the World Council of Churches, are preparing their memoirs. Rev. Armin Boyens is preparing his thesis which will have a chapter on "The Confessing Church and the Jews, 1933-1938". 48 Cf. Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Gesammelte Schriften, Munich, 1959; in German), Vol. I, p. 9 (Introduction). page 5 49 Cf. "La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne: Attitude des Eglises Chretiennes" (Geneva, 1933; in French), p.25. 50 See for the acts of individuals (Christians and non-Christians): Philip Friedman, Their Brothers Keepers (New York, 1957); Kurt R. Grossman, Die unbesungenen Helden (Berlin, 1957; in German); Heinz Leuner, When Compassion was a Crime (London, 1966); Saul Friedlaender, Kurt Gerstein Ou l'ambiguite du bien (Tournai, 1967; in French). Footnotes Part I ---------------- page 9 51 See below, on p. 113. 52 See below on p. 135-136. 53 See below, on p. 160. 54 E.H. Flannery, The Anguish of the Jews (New York,1965), p. 224. page 10 55 See below, p. 265. 56 "Unity in Dispersion", A History of the World Jewish Congress (New York, 1948 pp. 194, 195.Also see: Dr. L. de Jong, Een Sterfgeval in Auschwitz (Amsterdam, 1967; in Dutch); an English translation will be published in Yad Vashem Studies, VII (Jerusalem, 1969), pp. 39-55: "The Netherlands and Auschwitz." 57 Cf. Flannery, op. cit., p. 227: "Criticism of passivity or collaboration under the Nazis must be tempered by an understanding of the confusion wrought by the insiduous methods of Nazi propaganda and the paralysis of wills in the Nazi terror, made all the more effective by its appeal to patriotic and anti-Communist loyalties. Resistance under the circumstances should not be entirely assessed from the comfortable perspective of the postwar era. page 11 58 "Unity in Dispersion", pp. 193-196. 59 See below, p. 255. 60 Cf. H.C. Touw, Het Verzet der Hervormde Kerk ('s Gravenhage, 1946; in Dutch), 11, p. 388-390. page 12 61 In February, 1941, a general strike in Amsterdam and other places in the Netherlands was called as a protest against the deportations of Jews. The Germans proclaimed martial law and suppressed the strike by force. They proceeded to deport a total of 430 Amsterdam Jews to the concentration camp of Mauthausen, where they perished. Cf. B.A. Sijes, De Februari-Staking ('s-Gravenhage, 1954; in Dutch, with an English summary), passim. Also see: H. Knap, Vreemdeling, Bericht de Spartanen (Amsterdam, 1966), p. III: "The technical conditions for massive actions of solidarity with the Jews - if our people as a whole would have wanted them - were lacking." 62 Rolf Hochhuth, The Deputy (New York, 1963; third printing), p. 79. 63 J.J. Buskes, Waar stond de Kerk? (Amsterdam, 1947; in Dutch), p. 93. 64 Francois Mauriac, quoted by Hochhuth, op. cit., p. 6. 65 Knap, op. cit., passim. page 13 66 See below, p 259. page 14 67 See beyond, p. 147. 68 Cf., for instance, Exodus 32, 9; Isaiah 1, 2-15; Jeremiah 7, 24-26; Ezekiel 2, 3; Hosea 4, 7- 8. page 15 69 Werner Warmbrunn, The Dutch under German Occupation 1940-1945 (London, 1963), p. 279. 70 See below, on p. 175. page 17 71 Jeremiah, Amos and others. Also see: I Kings 22, 5-28. 72 See below, p. 79 ff. 73 See below, p. 245 ff. 74 See below, p. 212 ff. page 18 75 See below, on p. 201. 76 See below, on p. 99. page 19 77 Jenoe Levai, Black Book on the Martyrdom of Hungarian Jewry (Zurich, 1948), p. 217. page 20 78 A.J. Koejemans in De Waarheid, Sept. 20, 1945. page 21 79 Touw, op. cit., I , p. 69 80 Cf. Dr. J. Presser, Ondergang ('s-Gravenhage, 1965; in Dutch), 11, p. 177. For the protest, which was read from the pulpits in the Roman Catholic and Protestant Churches, see below, pp. 130 -131. page 22 81 Cf. H. Leuner, When Compassion was a Crime (London, 1966), p. 13: "Every possible means of propaganda and subtle psychology was used to separate Germans and Jews, to create an unbridgeable gulf between the members of the Aryan master race and those belonging to the family of 'parasites'. 82 W.A. Visser 't Hooft, The Ecumenical Movement and the Racial Problem (Paris, 1954), p.40. 83 Cf. the chapters 27-30 in this book. 84 Cf. ch. 31 in this book. 85 Cf. ch. 32, p. 233 86 Cf. chapters 33 - 34 in this book. page 23 87 "Unity in Dispersion", pp. 160-161. page 24 88 F. Burgdoerfer, "Die Juden in Deutschland und in der Welt"; in: "Forschungen zur Judenfrage" (Hamburg, 1938; in German), pp. 152-199. 89 Cf. ch. 18, p. 95 90 Cf. ch. 30, p. 204 page 25 91 Leuner, op. cit., p. 100. 92 Touw, op. cit., 1, p. 174. Cf. W. A. Visser 't Hooft, The Struggle of the Dutch Church for the Maintenance of the Commandments of God in the Life of the State (London, 1944), p. 13: "When threats were of no avail the Germans attempted to blackmail the Churches. In this way the Churches were brought into great conflicts of conscience. Should they give up the open protests so that this or that group of church-members might be saved? Or should they go forward, without regard for the consequences that might arise for others? These are difficult questions that no one can decide on the spur of the moment or looking at the situation from the outside." Cf. also the opinion of a group of Christians of Jewish origin (p. 130 in this book). 93 Abel J. Herzberg, Kroniek der Jodenvervolging (Arnhem-Amsterdam, 1950; in Dutch), p. 133. 94 Presser, op. cit., 11, p. 128. page 26 95 Cf. ch. 22, pp. 129. 96 Cf., however, Pinchas E. Lapide, The Last Three Popes and the Jews (London, 1967), p. 138: "At that time Archbishop Roncalli, the Apostolic Delegate to Turkey and Greece, received Mr. Ira Hirschmann, a special emissary for the U.S. War Refugee Board... sent to interview Yoel Brand in connection with Eichmann's 'blood for goods' deal. Mr. Hirschmann told Roncalli of the plight of several thousand Jews, including a number of children slated for deportation and death at Auschwitz. The Archbishop instantly made available thousands of 'baptismal certificates' for use for the doomed Jews, without conditions, and thousands were saved from the Nazi furnace." page 27 97 Quoted from a letter, dated October 14, 1965, of Dr. Jan Chabada, the present Generalbischof of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Slovakia, to me. Cf. Dr. L. Rothkirchen, "Vatican Policy and the 'Jewish Problem' in 'Independent' Slovakia (1939-1945)", in: "Yad Vashem Studies" (Jerusalem, 1967), Vol. VI, p. 46: "...the Protestant clergy... for the most part supporters of the pro-Czechoslovak line, were prominent for their more adaptable approach, mainly in the furnishing of certificates of conversion to Christianity. Some Protestant clergymen have even been charged with profitmaking motives and with granting hundreds of certificates of conversion within a day or two." Also see: R. Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews (Chicago, 1961), p. 466: "From the ethnic German organ, the Grenzbote, criticism was more vociferous. The baptisms were ternied a blasphemy, and the churchmen who engaged in them were accused of having monetary motives. Two Calvinist pastors, Puspas and Sedivy, were subsequently arrested, and Sedivy was accused of having performed not fewer than 717 baptisms." 98 Peter Meyer (Ed.), The Jews in the Soviet Satellites (Syracuse University Press, 1953), p. 571. page 28 99 Yad Vashem Archives, No. 0311 708 (A summary of the evidence by the interviewer; in Hebrew). 100 Michael Molho and Joseph Nehama, The Destruction of Greek Jewry, 1941-1944 (Jerusalem, 1965; in Hebrew), p. 142. 101 Ilias Venezis, Archbishop Damaskinos (Athens, 1952;) in Greek), ch. 34. page 29 102 Buskes, op. cit., p. 89. 103 J.J. Buskes, Hoera voor het Leven (Amsterdam, 1963), p. 193. 104 Romans 13, 8. Footnotes Part II ------------------ page 33 105 Wolfgang Scheffler, Judenverfolgung im Dritten Reich (Berlin-Dahlem, 1960), p. 26. page 34 106 Ibid., p. 26. page 35 107 Ibid., pp. 79-80. page 36 108 Ibid., p.26. 109 Cf. Bruno Blau, The Last Days of German Jewry in the Third Reich (in: Yivo Annual, vol. VIII, 1953, pp. 197-204). page 37 110 An immense number of publications appeared about the Church in Germany during the Third Reich. We mention here: "Die Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland und die Judenfrage", Ausgewaehlte Dokumente aus den Jahren des Kirchenkampfes 1933 bis 1943 (Geneva, 1945); G.van Norden, Kirche in der Krise (Dusseldorf, 1963); W.Jannasch, Deutsche Kirchendokumente (Zurich, 1946); Heinrich Hermelink, Kirche im Kampf (Stuttgart, 1950); Guenther Weisenbom, Der lautlose Aufstand (Hamburg, 1953); Wilhelm Niemoeller, Kampf und Zeugnis der Bekennenden Kirche (Bielefeld, 1948); Wilhelm Niemoeller, Die Evangelische Kirche im Dritten Reich (Bielefeld, 1956); Renate Maria Heydenreich, Versuch theologischer Wiedergutmachung; in D. Goldschmidt und H. J. Kraus (Ed.), Der ungekundigte Bund (Stuttgart-Berlin, 2. Auflage, 1963), pp. 183-283; Otto Diehn, Bibliographie zur Geschichte des Kirchenkampfes, 1933- 1945 (Gottingen, 1958); Anton Koch, Vom Widerstand der Kirche (Freiburg, 1947); Friedrich Zipfel, Kirchenkampf in Deutschland 1933-1945 (Berlin, 1965); Dr. Joseph Tenenbaum, For the Sake of Historical Balance (in: Yad Vashem Bulletin, No. 3, Jerusalem, 1958); Philip Friedman, Was there "another Germany" during the Nazi Period? (in: Yivo Annual of Jewish Social Studies, Vol. x, New York, 1955). page 38 111 Cf. the "Gesetz ueber die Rechtsverhaltnisse der Geistlichen und Kirchen- beamten" (EKD und Judenfrage, pp. 35 ff.; Heydenreich, op. cit., p. 196). 112 The full contents in: Heydenreich, op. cit. ; EKD und Judenfrage, passim. page 39 113 Hermelink, op. cit., pp. 250-251. Cf. the article of Kurt Meier, Kristallnacht und Kirche - die Haltung der Evangelischen Kirche zur Judenpolitik des Faschismus (in: Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Karl-Marx-Universitat Leipzig, 13. Jahrgang, 1964, pp. 91-106), p .99. 114 Heydenreich, op. cit., p. 228. 115 Ibid., p. 230. page 40 116 Hermelink, op. cit., 351. 117 Meier, op. cit., p. 99. Also see: Wilhelm Niemoeller, Die Bekennende Kirche sagt Hitler die Wahrheit (Bielefeld, passim). On August 23, 1936, the Memorandum was published as a "Proclamation from the Pulpit" in an amended form. Cf. Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Gesammelte Schriften; Munich, 1958), 11, p. 277 (note). page 41 118 Cf. "Die Evangelische Kirche und die Judenfrage", pp. 180 ff.; H.Grueber, Wemer Sylten (Berlin, 1956; in German); idem: An der Stechbahn (Berlin, 1960; in German); H.D. Leuner, When Compassion was a Crime (London, 1966). pp. 114-119. 119 Hermelink, op. cit., p. 461. Cf. Meier, op. cit., p. 100: "The reason that no joint protest was issued by the Confessing Church after the pogrom of November, 1938. was that the Confessing Church as an organization was under strong pressure at the time. On June 23, 1937, several members of the Reich Brethren Council were arrested; on July 1, 1937, also Martin Niemoeller. After that, the Reich Brethren Council was hardly able to act. page 42 120 Die Evangelische Kirche und die Judenfrage, p. 179. 121 Meier, op. cit., p. 101 page 43 122 Cf. below, p. 244. 123 Cf. H.C. Touw, Het Verzet der Hervormde Kerk (s'Gravenhage, 1946; in Dutch), pp. 13-34. 124 La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne, p. 21; "De Standaard" (Protestant Daily in the Netherlands before the war), April 7, 1933. 125 Cf. below, p. 93. 126 "De Standaard", April 7, 1933. page 44 127 Ibid., May 5 and 12, 1933. 128 Ibid., May 16 and 20, 1933. 129 Ibid., May 24 , 1933. 130 The addresses were published in the Brochure "Vrede over Israel" (Amsterdam, 1935; in Dutch). Also see: D. Cohen, Zwervend en Dolend (Haarlem, 1955; in Dutch), pp. 27-28. 131 "Dietschen stam". 132 Th.Delleman, Opdat wij niet vergeten (Kampen, 1949; in Dutch), pp. 55-69, 481-489. Action was also taken against members of the "Christian Democratic Union", a party of Christian socialists. Also see: Werner Warmbrunn, The Dutch under German Occupation 1940-1945 (London, 1963), p. 160. page 45 133 Ben van Kaam, Opstand der Gezagsgetrouwen (Wageningen, 1966; in Dutch), p. 16. 134 Cohen, op. cit., p. 56. 135 Cf. for - at least - questionable comments in the Protestant Press on the events in Germany: van Kaam, op. cit., pp. 25-27. Also see the article "Van eigen bodem" (in: "De Standaard", Dec. 3, 1938). 136 "De Standaard", Nov. 17, 1938. page 46 137 Ibid., November 14, 1938. page 47 138 Le IIIe Reich et les Juifs, pp. 191-192. page 48 139 Ibid., p. 193. 140 The nickname of the Protestants in Belgium and the Netherlands, in the 16th century. It became their name of honour. 141 Le IIIe Reich et les Juifs, pp. 178-179. page 49 142 Le IIIe Reich et les Juifs, pp. 200-201. La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne, p. 6. 143 Le IIIe Reich et les Juifs, p. 201. page 50 144 Ibid., pp. 202 ff. (2 x used) page 53 145 "Pour la dignite humaine" (Brochure), pp. 48-52. page 54 146 Archives of the Protestant Federation of France, Paris. 147.Ibid. page 55 148 "Journal de Geneve", April 9, 1933; quoted in: La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne, p. 23. 149 La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne, p. 24. page 56 150 Ibid., p. 24. 151 Cf. pp. 210-212. page 57 152 Schweiz. Evang. Pressedienst (E.P.D.), Zurich, Nov. 30, 1938. 153 E.P.D., ibid., p. 2. 154 E.P.D., Dec. 14, 1938. page 58 155 Professor Aage Bentsen, Docent Flemming Hvidberg, Professor Johannes Pedersen and Professor Frederik Torm. The declaration was published in "Berlingske Tidende". 156 Dr.Leni Yahil, Test of Democracy, The Rescue of Danish Jewry in World War II (Jerusalem, 1966; in Hebrew, with a summary in English), pp. 59-60. page 59 157 Cf. the article of Dr. Fuglsang-Damgaard in: Chr. Refslund - M. Schmidt (Ed.),Fem Aar (Copenhagen, 1946; in Danish), II, pp. 100-108. 158 Church Magazine "Kristen Gemenskap" (in Swedish), 1933, No. 2. page 60 159 Ibid., 1933, No. 2. page 61 160 Ibid., 1934, No. 19. page 63 161 Ibid., 1938, No. 4. page 64 162 Ibid. 163 The Hungarian Upper House had 254 members, including 34 representatives of the Churches. Cf. Albert Bereczky, Hungarian Protestantism and the Persecution of the Jews (Budapest, 1946), p. 8. Also see: Hendrik Fisch (Ed.), Kerestzteny egyhazfok felsohazi beszedi a zsidokerdesben (The Speeches on the Jewish Question by Christian Church Leaders in the Upper House; Budapest, 1947; in Hungarian); and: "Schweiz. evang. Pressedienst" (Zurich), March 27, 1946, pp. 3-6. page 65 164 Jeno Levai, Black Book on the Martyrdom of Hungarian Jewry (Zurich, 1948), p. 12. 165 Rabbi Hershkovits in my interview with him on March 29, 1966. 166 Cf. Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 9-10. 167 R.Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews (Chicago, 1961), p. 514. Cf. "Schweiz. evang. Pressedienst", March 27, 1946, p. 5: "Special endeavours were made on behalf of the Protestant Jews, not because they belonged to the Church but because it was easier to attain something for them." page 66 168 "Dimineata", Bucharest, April 15, 1933; quoted in: "La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne", p. 22. 169 Other protests, statements and declarations: Speech by the Bishop of Fulham ("The Times", April 27, 1933). Speech by the Vicar of Leeds (Manchester Guardian, April 10, 1933). Speech by the Bishop of Liverpool (Liverpool Post, April 6, 1933). Speech by the Bishop of Nottingham (Manchester Guardian, May 3, 1933). Resolution of the Council of the World Evangelical Alliance, British Section; May 1, 1933 (Dr.A.Freudenberg, the Church and the Jewish Question; Geneva, 1944; p.18). Resolution of the Baptist Union of Scotland (Glasgow Herald, June 6, 1933). Message from the Bishop of Durham; "J'accuse" (brochure, London), p. 93. Letter from the Bishop of Chichester to "The Times", May 30, 1935. page 67 170 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 3 171 Ibid., p. 4. page 68 172 Ibid., p. 4 173 Ibid., p. 5 174 Ibid., p. 3. page 69 175 Ibid., p. 5 . Cf. "Le IIIe Reich et les Juifs", pp. 218 - 219. Also see: "La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne", pp. 12-13. page 70 176 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 18. 177 Reports to the General Assembly, 1933, p. 709. 178 See p. 79. page 71 179 Acts, Proceedings and Debates of the General Assembly, 1934, p. 79. 180 Reports to the General Assembly, 1935, p. 772. page 72 181 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 15. 182 From the "Reports and Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of England", 1934. page 73 183 The Church Assembly of the Church of England usually meets for three sessions a year. It consists of the three houses of Bishops, clergy and laity. At present there are 734 members: 34 Bishops, 344 clergymen and 347 laymen. page 75 184 "The Times", November 21, 1935. The full report in the Brochure "The Jews in Germany", Debate in the Church Assembly, Nov. 20th, 1935, London. 185 Cf. R.C.D. Jasper, George Bell Bishop of Chichester (London, 1967), passim. 186 See above, on p. 74. 187 Jasper, op. cit., pp. 137-138. page 76 188 The Diocesan Conferences meet once a year or at most, twice. They are the local counterpart of the Church Assembly and consist of two houses, the Chamber of Clergy and the Chamber of Laity. The Bishop is always the president of the Diocesan Conference. 189 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 7. 190 Cf. Jasper, op. cit., pp. 135-163. Also cf.: Norman Bentwich, They Found Refuge (London, 1956), pp. 43 and 51. page 77 191 Minutes of the meetings of the Church Assembly (Archives of Church House, Great Smith Street, Westminster). page 78 192 Jasper, op. cit., pp. 142-143. 193 "Reports and Minutes of the General Assembly", 1937. 194 Freudenberg, op. cit., pp. 12-13. page 79 195 Reports to the General Assembly, 1936, p. 709. 196 Acts, Proceedings and Debates of the General Assembly, 1937, p. 71. 197 Reports to the General Assembly, 1938, p. 753. page 80 198 "The Times", November 12, 1938. 199 Minutes of the meetings of the Church Assembly (Archives of Church House, Great Smith Street, Westminster). 200 See p. 101. page 81 201 Norman Bentwich, They Found Refuge (London, 1956), p. 69. Also see pp. 78-85. 202 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 33. page 82 203 Reports to the General Assembly, 1939, pp. 691-693. See for the full text of Dr.Black's letter: The Jewish Chronicle, Nov. 25, 1938, p. 26. 204 Minutes of the Conference of the Methodist Church in Ireland, held in June, 1939. 205 Keesing's Contempary Archives, March 22, 1933; 725-E. page 83 206 Keesing, March 30, 1933; 735-B. 207 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 19. Cf. "La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne", p. 5; and: "Le IIIe Reich et Les Juifs", p. 224. page 84 208 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 20. page 85 209 I See above, p. 72 . ff. 210 Dr. Charles S. Macfarland, Across the Years (The Macmillan Co., 1936), p.168. 211 Ibid., p. 168. page 86 212 Ibid., p. 169. 213 The New York Times, June 9, 1937; Freudenberg, op. cit., pp. 20 - 21. page 87 214 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 31. 215 Federal Council Bulletin, October 1938, p. 13. 216 Ibid., December 1938, p. 3. page 88 217 Ibid., October 1938, p. 13. 218 Ibid., December 1938, p. 9 219 Ibid. page 89 220 The New York Times, Jan. 10, 1939. Among the signers were: Dr. Samuel McCrea Cavert, Federal Council of Churches; the Rt. Rev. Edwin H.Hughes, Bishop of Washington area, Methodist Episcopal Church; Bishop Charles Mead, Methodist Episcopal Church, Kansas City. 221 Cf. Arthur Morse, While Six Million Died (London, 1968), p. 253. 222 The New York Times, Febr. 19, 1939. Cf. Federal Council Bulletin, Febr., 1939, p. 7. 223 Morse, op. cit., p. 268. Cf. Arieh Tartakower and Kurt R.Grossmann, The Jewish Refugee (New York, 194.4). p. 90: "One of the chief arguments raised against this bill was that the admittance of 20,000 refugee children to the United States from Germany and the refusal to admit their parents would be against the laws of God, and therefore would be an opening wedge for a later request for the admission of about 40,000 adults, the parents of the children in question." page 90 224 The New York Times, March 26, 1939. 225 Ibid., April 27, 1939. page 91 226 National Council of Churches, Department of Information. page 92 227 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 51; Federal Council Bulletin, Febr, 1939, p.3 ff. 228 The New York Times, May 31, 1939 229 Ibid., June 13, 1939. page 93 230 See above, p. 38. 231 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 22. Cf. "La Persecution des Juifs en Allemagne", p. 27. The Resolution had been requested by the Dutch Council (see above, p. 43). 232 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 23. page 94 233 Jasper, op. cit., p. 101. 234 Minutes, Novi Sad, 1939, pp. 37-38. Cf. Jasper, op. cit., p. 104. 235 See above, p. 38. 236 Jasper, op. cit., p. 105. page 95 237 "Le Christianisme Social" (French Protestant Periodical), Nov. - Dec. 1933, p. 606. page 96 238 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 27. page 97 239 Ibid., pp. 28-29. 240 Cf. for the Oxford Conference: "The Churches Survey Their Task" (The Report of the Conference of Oxford, July 1937, on Church, Community, and State; with and Introduction by J.H.Oldham), London, 1937. Also see: Ruth Rouse and Stephen Charles Neil (Ed.), A History of the Ecumenical Movement 1517-1948 (London, 1954) pp. 587-592. The essential theme of the Oxford Conference, as was stated in the first announcement of it, was: "The life and death struggle between the Christian faith and the secular and pagan tendencies of our time." page 98 241 Jasper, op. cit., pp. 221-223. 242 "The Churches Survey Their Task", pp. 58-59. page 99 243 Ibid., pp. 230-238. Cf. pp. 72-73 (the Report on the Church and Race). 244 See p. 259. 245 See p. 142. page 100 246 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 24. 247 A conference about the Refugee Problem, called by President Roosevelt, was held at Evian, in July, 1938. It was attended by representatives of 32 countries. page 101 248 Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva. 249 See above, on p. 88 . ff. 250 See above, on p. 95. 251 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 32. 252 "Conversation entre le Dr.Visser 't Hooft, le Dr.Freudenberg et le Dr.Barot, concernant les activites Cimade-wcc pendant la guerre" (Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva; in French). Footnotes PART III ------------------- page 107 253 See for Rev. Grueber's activities: pp. 40-41. 254 Max Krakauer, Lichter im Dunkel (Stuttgart, 1947; in German), passim. 255 Krakauer, op. cit., p. 131. page 110 256 Hermelink, op. Cit., 651-652. page 111 257 Ibid., p. 564-565. Cf. Meier, op. cit., p. 104: "Apparently Wurm did not protest publicly, as he wanted to avoid providing amunition to the foreign press and thus provoking the National-Socialist authorities, which would have blocked the way of sending petitions in writing to the Government". 258 Hermelink, op. cit., pp. 654-656. 259 Ibid., pp. 657-658. See for the angry reply of Dr. Lammers: Hermelink, op. cit., pp. 700-702. The letter was dated March 3, 1944. Bishop Wurm wrote another letter, dated Febr. 8, 1945, to Reichsstatthalter Murr, on behalf of the partners in mixed marriages (Hermelink, op. cit., pp. 658-660). page 113 260 "Der ungekundigte Bund", pp. 246-247. The Message was dated Oct. 17, 1943, and published by "The New York Times, on August 4, 1944. In the Lutheran Churches, the fifth Commandment is: "Thou shalt not kill. 261 See below on p. 294. 262 Quoted by Friedman, op. cit., p 100. 263 Heinrich Grueber, Dona Nobis Pacem (Berlin, 1956; in German), p. 104. page 114 264 "Die Evangelische Kirche und die Judenfrage", pp. 6, 10, 13 and 14. 265 See below, pp. 291-295. page 115 266 see above, on pp. 111(note I ) and 113 (note I ) Cf. p. 40 (the fate of Dr. Weissler). 267 Guenter Lewy, The Catholic Church and Nazi Germany (London, 1964), pp. 23-294. page 116 268 J.Tenenbaum, Race and Reich (New York, 1956), p. 292. Also see: Jacob Robinson, And the Crooked Shall be Made Straight (New York, 1965), p. 243; Hilberg, op. cit., p. 356. page 118 269 The original test in: H.C. Christie, Den Norske Kirke I Kamp (Oslo, 1945; in Norwegian), pp. 267-268. An English translation in: Bjarne Hoye and Trygve M. Ager, "The Fight of the Norwegian Church against Nazism" (New York, 1943), pp. 146-149. page 119 270 See pp. 227-228. 271 "The Spiritual Issues of the War", No. 167, Jan. 14, 1943. 272 Christie, op. cit., p. 281. page 120 273 Dr. J. Presser, Ondergang ('s-Gravenhage, 1965; two volumes; in Dutch; an English edition is in preparation). Also see: Robinson, op. cit., pp. 240-243; Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 365-381; Abel J. Herzberg, Kroniek der Jodenvervolging (Arnhem-Amsterdam, 1950; in Dutch), passim. 274 We shall write the name of this Church in capitals, in order to prevent confusion with the "Reformed Churches in the Netherlands". page 121 275 "Interkerkelijk Overleg." Cf. H.C. Touw, Het Verzet der Hervormde Kerk ('s Gravenhage, 1946; in Dutch), 1, pp. 42-43, 138-141. 276 Cf. J.J. Buskes, Waar stond de Kerk? (Amsterdam, 1947; in Dutch), pp. 77-87. Also see: Touw, op. cit., I, pp. 47, 85 , 373-375; Delleman, op. cit., pp. 35-39. 277 Touw, op. cit., 11, pp. 259 - 260. 278 Buskes, op. cit., p. 79. pag 122 279 A moving exception was N. H. de Graaf. See for his protest: W. A. Visser 't Hooft, The Struggle of the Dutch Church for the Maintenance of the Commandments of God in the Life of the State (London, 1944), pp. 16- 17. A few days later Mr. de Graaf was arrested and sent to a concentration camp. He did not return. 280 The full text in Touw, op. cit., 11, pp. 209-215. 281 Touw, op. cit., I, p. 392. 282 Ibid., 11, pp. 227-232. An English translation of this and most of the other documents quoted in this chapter, in Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., passim. page 123 283 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., pp. 23-24. 284 Cf. Touw, op. cit., pp. 132-134; Buskes, op. cit., pp. 62- 63; Delleman, op. cit., pp. 40, 78- 80. page 124 285 Touw, op. cit., 11, p. 32; Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., pp. 26-27. page 125 286 Cf. Buskes, op. cit., pp. 35-36; Touw, op. cit., 1, p. 171; Delleman, op. cit., pp. 81-83. 287 Delleman, op. cit., pp. 42-44, 512-516. page 126 288 Quoted in "Hitler's Ten Year War on the Jews", p. 244. 289 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., pp. 42-45; Touw, op. cit., 1, pp. 388-392; 11, pp. 66- 67; Delleman, pp. 92-100. 290 Ibid. page 127 291 Touw, op. cit., 11, pp. 78- 83. 292 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., p. 36; Touw, op. cit., 11, p. 84. 293 Touw, op. cit., I, pp. 395-397. page 128 294 Buskes, p. 69. 295 Touw, op. cit., 11, p. 101. page 129 296 Ibid., I, p. 404. 297 Louis de Jong, Jews and non Jews in Nazi-Occupied Holland (in: On the Track of Tyranny, ed. Max Beloff; London, 1960), pp. 148-149. Presser is of the opinion that the other Protestant Churches would not have read out the telegram from their pulpits, if they had known about the threat, but that they were not warned against doing so (Presser, op. cit., 1, pp. 260-261). Wielek (in: H. Wielek, De Oorlog die Hitler won, Amsterdam, 1947; p. 218) is of the same opinion. The other Churches, however, did know about the threat. Cf. Henberg, p. 134; Delleman, pp. 155-157; Buskes, p. 50. Also see the version of the German General Commissioner Schmidt, quoted in Touw, 1, pp. 405-406. 298 Delta, Spring 1965, Vol. VIII/No. 1 (A Review of Arts, Life and Thought in the Netherlands), pp. 28-29. page 130 299 Touw, op. cit., 1, p. 173. 300 Ibid., 1, p. 423. page 131 301 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., pp. 52-55. 302 For practical results of this protest, see above, on p. 21. Also see: L. de Jong, De Bezetting (Amsterdam, 1963; in Dutch), 111, pp. 30-31. page 132 303 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., pp. 56-58; Touw, op. cit., pp. 150-151. 304 Touw, op. cit., 11, pp. 155-156. 305 "Delta", p. 88. page 133 306 Touw, op. cit., pp. 169-170. Also see: pp. 177-179. page 134 307 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., pp. 66-67; Touw, op. cit., 1, p. 394; 11, pp. 161-169. page 135 308 Visser 't Hooft, op. cit., p. 7. 309 Touw, op. cit., 1, pp. 371, 434. 310 Wielek, op. cit., p. 216. 311 Werner Warmbrunn, The Dutch under German Occupation 1940-1945 (London, 1963), p. 271. 312 Ibid., p. 279. page 136 313 J. J. Buskes in the Protestant Weekly "Hervormd Nederland", May 1, 1966. 314 Touw, op. cit., 1, p. 660. 315 Hilberg, op. cit., p. 364. Cf. for the situation in France during the war: Robert Aron, L'Histoire de Vichy (Paris, 1959; in French). 316 Hilberg, op. cit., p. 392. 317 Robinson, op. cit., p. 237. page 137 318 Tenenbaum, op. cit., p. 280. 319 Chief Rabbi Kaplan in L'Arche, No. 1 10, April 1966, p. 26. page 138 320 L. Poliakov, Harvest of Hatred (Pocket Edition, 1960), p. 251. 321 Cf. p. 145. Cf. Rev. Boegner's letter to Laval: "Authorized to speak on behalf of the Protestant Churches of the entire world, many of which have already asked my intervention..." (p. 146). 322 "Les Eglises Protestantes pendant la guerre et l'occupation; Actes de l'Assemblee Generale du Protestantisme Francais reunie a Nimes, du 22 au 26 octobre 1945." (Paris, 1946; in French), p. 18. 323 Ibid., p. 23. page 139 324 Ibid., p. 24. page 140 325 Ibid., pp. 25-26. page 141 326 Ibid., p. 26. page 142 327 Ibid., pp. 27-28. The letter was submitted to Marshal Petain on June 27, 1942. 328 A copy of the letter is in the Archives of the "Rijksinstituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie", Amsterdam; file: "De Zwitserse weg". For the Oxford Conference, see pp. 97-99. page 143 329 Cf. Henri Cadier in: La Chretiente au Creuset de L'epreuve, Vol. 11, p. 631 (Geneva, 1947; in French). page 144 330 Cf. Robinson, op. cit., p. 236; Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 407-408. 331 "Les Eglises Protestantes...", pp. 28-29. 332 "Cimade" (Comite Inter-Mouvement aupres des Evacues), the organization brought into being during the second world war by the Protestant Churches and the lay youth movements in France. 333 "Les Eglises Protestantes...", pp. 28-29. page 145 334 Ibid., pp. 30-31. page 146 335 Hilberg, op. cit., p. 409. 336 "Les Eglises Protestantes...", p. 31. 337 Ibid., pp. 33-34. Cf. p. 279 in this book: "Another endeavour to save lives failed. The Ecumenical Committee for Refugees had, with the help of American Christians, succeeded in obtaining entrance visas into the United States for 1,000 Jewish children from France, but the occupation of Southern France by the Germans foiled this plan." Also see: Donald A. Lowrie, The Hunted Children (New York, 1963), pp. 218-228. page 147 338 "Les Eglises Protestantes...", pp. 34-35. 339 Luke 10, 30-37. page 148 340 Sami Lattes, L'Attitude de L'Eglise en France a L'Egard des Juifs pendant la persecution (in: Les Juifs en Europe, p. 169). page 149 341 L. Poliakov, L'Hostellerie des Musiciens. Quoted by David Knout in: Contribution a L'histoire de la Resistance Juive en France (Paris, 1947), pp. 107-109. 342 C.I.M.A.D.E.: See above on p. 14 (note 2). 343 Emile C. Fabre (Ed.), Les Clandestins de Dieu (Paris, 1968; in French), p. 31. page 150 344 Ibid., p. 31. 345 Ibid., p. 66. 346 Ibid., p. 33. 347 Ibid., p. 35. 348 Ibid., p. 117. 349 Ibid., p. 120. 350 Cf., p. 212 ff. 351 "Les Clandestins de Dieu," p. 27; cf. p. 279. in this book. page 151 352 Particulars taken from Tenenbaum, op. cit., pp. 301, 339. 353 Cf. Edmond Paris, Genocide in Satellite Croatia, 1941-1945 (Chicago, 1959). 354 Joseph Schechtman in: "Hitler's Ten-Year War on the Jews", pp. 99-100. 355 Ibid., p. 108. page 152 356 See, however, the chapters in this book on Greece, Rumania and Bulgaria. 357 Tenenbaum, op. cit., p. 79. 358 Hilberg, op. cit., p. 42; Tenenbaum, op. cit., pp. 307-308. 359 Philip Friedman, Their Brothers' Keepers (New York, 1957), p. 109. page 153 360 Michael Molho and Joseph Nehama, The Destruction of Greek Jewry, 1941-1944 (Jerusalem, 1965; in Hebrew), p. 101. 361 Mr. Moissis in a letter to me dated November 2, 1966. 362 The following particulars (unless other sources are mentioned) are taken from: Ilias Venezis, Archbishop Damaskinos (Athens, 1952; in Greek); chapter 34. page 156 363 For the text of this memorandum in French, see: Michael Molho, In Memoriam (Salonika, 1948), I, pp. 118-120. The text in Hebrew in: Molho-Nehama, op. cit., pp. 106-107. page 159 364 Molho-Nehama, op. cit., p. 142. 365 Tenenbaum, op. cit., p. 106. page 160 366 Nathan Eck, New Light on the Charges Against the Last Chief Rabbi of Salonica (in: Yad Vashem Bulletin No. 17, Jerusalem; December, 1965), p. 14. Cf. the "Bericht eines aus Athen gefluechteten" (General Zionist Archives, Jerusalem, No. 841/44): "Man muss gestehen, dass die Einwohnerschaft von Athen sich menschlicher betragen haben als diejenige aus Saloniki. 367 Friedman, op. cit., p. 106. page 161 368 Molho-Nehama, op. cit., p. 224. 369 Ibid., pp. 135-136. Cf. Friedman, op. cit., p. 107: "Leaders of the Jewish community insisted that Rabbi Barzilai take refuge, a notion he rejected until Archbishop Damaskinos prevailed upon him to change his mind." 370 "The Situation of the Jews in Greece" (Published by the World Jewish Congress, New York, 1944), p. 7. 371 Asscher Moissis, La situation des Communautes juives en Grece (in: "Les Juifs en Europe"), p. 54. Quoted by Tenenbaum, op. cit., p. 310. page 162 372 Mr Moissis in his letter to me dated November 2, 1966. Another information from the same source: "After the Germans had called the Chief Rabbi of Volos, ordering him to take the necessary steps to facilitate the deportations, the latter went to the Bishop of Volos asking his advice and help. The Bishop advised him to abstain from collaboration whatsoever, and helped him to go into hiding; the majority of the Jewish population of Volos followed suit and thus was saved from deportation to Auschwitz." 373 The pastors were followers of Grundtvig (1783-1872), the teachings of whom in the opinion of Mrs. Yahil had a great influence on the views and attitude of Christians in Denmark during the German occupation. Cf. Dr. Leni Yahil, Test of Democracy, the Rescue of Danish Jewry in World War II (Jerusalem, 1966; in Hebrew, with a summary in English), p. 25. page 163 374 Yahil, op. cit., p. 33. Cf. Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard in: "Chr. Refslund & M.Schmidt (Ed.), Fern Aar (Copenhagen, 1946; in Danish, p. 101: "Our Jews urgently requested [during the first years of the war] that as far as possible there should be silence about the Jewish question". 375 Yahil, op. cit., p. 33. 376 Ibid. 377 Ibid., pp. 164-165. The full text of the article in: "The Spiritual Issues of the War", No. 144, August 6, 1942. page 164 378 "Christians Protest Persecution" (Religious News Service, "The National Conference of Christians and Jews", New York), p. 14. 379 Boris Shub (Ed.), Hitler's Ten Year War on the Jews (New York, 1943), p. 220. 380 Yahil, op. cit., pp. 164-165. 381 "Christians Protest Persecution", p. 14. 382 Harald Sandbaek and N. J.Rald (Ed.), Den danske Kirche UNDER BESAETTELSEN (Copenhagen, 1945; in Danish), pp. 27-28. Cf. Hugh Martin (Ed.), Christian Counter-Attack (London, 1943), pp. 74-75. page 165 383 Robinson, op. cit., pp. 243-247; Yahil, op. cit., pp. 158-193. 384 Fuglsang-Damgaard, op. cit., p. 102 ff. page 166 385 Ibid. Cf. Yahil, op. cit., p. 148: "Not only Svenningsen, however, was misled by Best and believed in his promises that the Jews were not in danger, but also Bishop Fuglsang-Damgaard came to the congregation, on Sept. 28th, at 3 p.m., in order to reassure its leaders, telling them that he knew from very reliable sources that the rumours were without foundation. 386 The Danish resistance movement consisted of "study circles". In Copenhagen such circles were organized on professional lines - architects, doctors, clergymen etc. The P.U.F. was the "study circle" of pastors. Not less than 90% of all pastors belonged to it. (Cf. Yahil, op. cit., p.160). pag 167 387 Fuglsang-Damgaard, op. cit., p. 103. 388 Ibid., pp. 104-105. 389 Ibid., p. 105. pag 168 390 Ibid., pp. 105-106. 391 Sandbaek and Rald, op. cit., pp. 21-22. Cf. "Fem Aar", 11, pp. 141-142. pag 169 392 Yahil, op. cit., p. 166. pag 170 393 Fuglsang-Damgaard, op. cit., p. 106 394 Ibid., p. 107. page 171 395 "International Christian Press & Information Service, Geneva, No. 43, December, 1943. 396 "Fem Aar", 11, p. 144. page 172 397 Dr. Samuel Stefan Osusky, Sluzba Narodu (Bratislava, 1947; in Slovakian), 11, pp. 133, 136. page 173 398 Cf. for the historical particulars: Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 458-475; Tenenbaum, op. cit., pp. 318-321; the article of Dr. F. Steiner, "La situation des Juifs en Slovaquie" (in: "Les Juifs en Europe", pp. 216-220); and especially the comprehensive book of Dr.Livia Rothkirchen, The Destruction of Slovak Jewry (Jerusalem, 1961), passim. page 174 399 Osusky, op. cit., pp. 230-231. page 175 400 Cf. for the historical data: Robinson, op. cit., pp. 258-265; Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 485-509; Tenebaum, op. cit., pp. 312-317; also see the comprehensive work of Theodore Lavi: "Roumanian Jewry in World War II" (in Hebrew; Jerusalem, 1965), especially pp. 11-13. 401 "Hitler's Ten-Year War on the Jews", p. 84. 402 Dr.Alexandre Safran, L'oeuvre de sauvetage de la population juive accomplie pendant l'oppression nazie en Roumanie (in: "Les Juifs en Europe"; in French), p. 209. Cf. Lavie, op. cit., pp. 108-110. page 176 403 Safran, op. cit., p. 209. 404 Ibid., p. 210. page 177 405 Dr. Safran's secretary, Israel Lebanon, related about this meeting: "Rabbi Safran quoted texts from the Old Testament and dwelt on the relationship between Judaism and Christianity, etc." (Lavie, op. cit., p. 110). 406 Safran, op. cit., pp. 211 - 212. page 178 407 Matatias Carp, Le martyre des Juifs de Roumanie (in: "Les Juifs en Europe"), p. 204. page 179 408 International Press & Information Service, Geneva, May 1942, No. 16. 409 Ibid. 410 For the "German Christians", see above, on p. 36. page 180 411 Bishop Mueller's letter to me, dated Dec. 2, 1965. 412 Dr. Safran's letter to me, dated April 18, 1966. page 181 413 Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 474-475. page 182 414 Yad Vashem Archives, 013/7-1. On the original there is a marginal note in handwriting: "I have read and investigated and shall take into consideration the contents of the above. 15. 11. 1940." 415 B. J. Arditi, Les Juifs de Bulgarie sous le regime Nazi 1940-1944 (Tel-Aviv, 1962; in Hebrew), pp. 201-202. page 183 416 Ibid., p. 92. 417 Robinson, op. cit., p. 258; Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 474-484 . Cf. "Bulgarian Atrocities In Greek Macedonia and Thrace", A Report of Professors of the Universities of Athens and Salonica (Athens, 1945), p. 47: "The whole Jewish population of Eastern Macedonia and Western Thrace, about 9,000 persons, were taken away in the night of the 3rd of March, 1943... Three or four days later ...they were handed over to the Germans." page 184 418 Yad Vashem Archives, 03/963, pp. 40-43 (in Hebrew). 419 Yad Vashem Archives, 03/1707 (in Hebrew). page 188 420 Misho Leviev, Nashata Blagodarnost ("Our Gratitude", in Bulgarian; Sofia, 1945), pp. 81-86. Eleven Metropolitans signed, according to their dioceses. page 189 421 Arditi, op. cit., p. 202. 422 Hilberg, op. cit., p. 483. page 190 423 Yad Vashem Archives, No. 03/1707 (in Hebrew). Mr.Moshonov was a goldsmith who supplied the King's palace with jewelry and had free access to the palace. Also see: Ely Barouch, Iz Istoriata na Bulgarskoto Evrejstvo ("From the History of Bulgarian Jewry", Tel Aviv, 1960; in Bulgarian), p. 146: IUGo, 'the Metropolitan began, 'and tell your people that the King solemnly promised before the Prime Minister and before me, that the Jews of Bulgaria will not be expelled from the country. Go and transmit to them this information; reassure them and let they believe in the good principle that the Lord never forgets his children. Go in peace.'It was with those words that the Metropolitan Stephan received the delegation of Rabbi Daniel Ben Zion, Rabbi Asher Hananel and Menachem Moshonov, on May 24, 1943, when the Jews of Sofia were gathered together in the synagogue Yutch-Bunar in order to beseech mercy and salvation from God, as it had become known to them that Bulgarian Jewry would also be deported to be murdered in Poland. Cf. Arditi, op. cit., pp. 216-217. 424 Cf. p. 186 in this chapter. page 191 425 Literally: "bake your head" page 192 426 Solomon Samuel Mashiach in his article "Who saved us?", published in the newspaper "Narodno Delo (Sofia, No. 467, July 4, 1958; in Bulgarian). Quoted by Barouch, op. cit., pp. 147-149. 427 Arditi, op. cit., p. 374. Cf. Matthew 7, 2. 428 Leviev, op. cit., p. 88. Cf. Arditi, op. cit., p. 289: "When the Metropolitan Kyril was convinced that the local authorities and the representatives of the Government were not inclined to help the Jews, he sent a telegram to the King, in which he declared that he would cease to be the King's loyal subject and that he would act as seemed right to him and according to the dictates of his conscience as a religious man, if the instructions for expulsion were not cancelled." page 193 429 Leviev, op. cit., pp. 88-89. page 194 430 Testimony of Joseph Geron (in Hebrew); Yad Vashem Archives, No. 03/1707. 431 Cf. above, on p. 183 (note 2). page 195 432 For the historical data in this chapter, see: Robinson, op. cit., pp. 265-269; Hilberg, op. cit., pp. 509-554; Tenenbaum, op. cit., pp. 321-332; Livia Rothkirchen, The Attitude of the Vatican and the Churches in Hungary towards "The Solution of the Jewish Question" (in: "Ha Ummah" (The Nation), Quarterly, Jerusalem; in Hebrew), 1967, No. 21, pp. 79-85. 433 For the first and second anti-Jewish law, see above, pp. 64-65. 434 Albert Bereczky, Hungarian Protestantism and the Persecution of the Jews (Budapest, 1946), p. 10. Also see: Jeno Levai, Black Book on the Martyrdom of Hungarian Jewry (Zurich, 1948), p. 25. 435 Dr. Mathe's letter to me, dated Aug. 24, 1967. page 196 436 Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 12 - 13. page 197 437 Levai, op. cit., pp. 92- 93; Bereczky, op. cit., p. 14. 438 Ibid. page 198 439 Bereczky, op. cit., p. 14; cf. Levai, op. cit p 93. 440 Levai, op. cit., p. 117; cf. Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 15-16. 441 Levai, op. cit., p. 117; cf. Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 16-18. page 199 442 Levai, op. cit., p. 217. 443 Bereczky, op. cit., p. 16. page 200 444 ibid., pp. 19-21; Levai, op. cit., 217-218. page 201 445 Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 21 - 24; Levai, op. cit., 218- 220. Bishop Ravasz and the Lutheran Bishop Bela Kapi had together prepared the draft. The Protest was signed by all the Bishops of the Reformed and the Lutheran Churches (Levai, pp. 218, 220). page 202 446 Levai, op. cit., pp. 220-221; Bereczky, op. cit., p. 24. 447 Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva. The report was dated: Budapest, June 26, 1944. page 203 448 Levai, op. cit., pp. 221 - 222; Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 24- 26. page 204 449 Levai, op. cit., p. 222; Berezcky, op. cit., pp. 27-28. 450 Levai, op. cit., p. 223; Bereczky, op. cit., p. 28. 451 Dr. Mathe's letter to me, dated Aug. 24, 1967. 452 Cf. p. 256. page 205 453 Levai, op. cit., pp. 360-361; Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 34-35. page 206 454 Levai, op. cit., p. 361; cf. Bereczky, op. cit., pp. 35-37. 455 Bereczky, op. cit., p. 37. 456 Ibid. 457 Rothkirchen, "The Attitude of the Vatican...", p. 85. Quoted from: Erno Munkhcsi, Hogyan tortent' Adatok es okmhyok a magyar zsidesAg Tragediej Ahoz (Budapest, 1947; in Hungarian), p. 146. page 207 458 For the press censorship in Switzerland during the war, see: Dr. Carl Ludwig, Die Fluchtlingspolitik der Schweiz seit 1933 bis zur Gegenwart (Bericht an den Bundesrat zuhanden der eidgenossischen Rate, Zu 7347), pp. 141, 142, 247, 289. page 208 459 "Schweiz. Evang. Pressedienst" (E.P.D.), Nov. 12, 1941. page 209 460 E.P.D. , Nov. 19, 1941. Cf. "International Christian Press & Information Service" (I.C.P.I.S.), Geneva, Nov., 1941. Also see: Alfred A. Hasler, Das Boot ist voll (Zurich, 1968; second impression, in German), pp. 131-133. 461 E.P.D., Nov. 19, 1941; cf. I.C.P.I.S., Nov., 1941. page 210 462 E.P.D., Sept. 2, 1942. Cf. Hasler, op. cit., pp. 147-150. 463 E.P.D., Oct. 29, 1942. page 211 464 Ibid., May 24, 1942. page 212 465 Ibid., July 15, 1942. Cf. "The Spiritual Issues of the War", Aug. 6, 1942. 466 I.C.P.I.S., NO. 34, Oct. 1942. 467 Cf. the Report: "Schweiz. Sammlung fur die Fluchtlingshilfe, Oct.-Nov. 1942" (Erstattet von der Schweiz. Zentralstelle fur Fluchtlingshilfe), p. 15. page 213 468 Cf. above, on p. 56. 469 Ludwig. op. cit., pp. 204-205. 470 Ibid., p. 209. Cf. Arieh Tartakower and Kurt R. Grossmann, The Jewish Refugee (New York, 1944), p. 294: "Thus the Council of the Federation of Swiss Protestant Churches appealed to the Federal authorities in August, 1942, urging that the right of asylum be not denied to non-Aryan refugees who recently arrived in Switzerland, and that liberal methods be applied to those who may yet come. Again, in September of that year, when the wave of deportations of Jews from France, Belgium, and Holland reached its crest, the Swiss National Protestant Church, in a pastoral letter concerning a nation-wide fast which was read from every pulpit, declared: '...We forsake our first love if we forget that our country must remain, as far as possible, a haven of refuge for the persecuted and refugees. To abandon this role is to betray our spiritual heritage, is 'to lose our soul in order to gain the world?. In particular, we cannot remain indifferent to the lot of the people of Israel, in whose midst our Saviour was born and who are today the object of measures whose cruelty and iniquity are the shame of our age...?" 471 Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 208-210; cf. E.P.D., August. 26, 1942; Hasler, op. cit., pp. 138-139. page 214 472 See above, on p. 210. 473 E.P.D., Sept. 2, 1942. Cf. Hasler, op. cit., pp. 122-125. Also see Ludwig, op. cit., p. 373: "In autumn 1942, when we had 10,000-12,000 refugees, it was declared that the lifeboat was fully occupied and the possibility of accepting refugees exhausted. At the end of the war Switzerland harboured 115,000 refugees." Cf. the reply of Federal Councillor von Steiger (Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 393-394). page 215 474 Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 222-224. 475 Cf. Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 214-222. page 216 476 E.P.D., Oct. 29, 1942. 477 Cf. the Report "Schweiz. Sammlung fur die Fluchtlingshilfe, Oct.-Nov. 1942 ", p.8. 478 ibid., p. 40. Cf. Hasler, op. cit., pp. 186-187. Alsosee: Ludwig, op. cit., p. 228: "The result of the collection (about Fr. 1,500,000.-) organized by the Swiss Central Office for Aid to Refugees and vigorously supported by the 'Young Church', showed that a large proportion of the Swiss people was moved by the fate of the refugees. page 217 479 "Schweiz. Sammlung fur die Fluchtlingshilfe...", p. 31. For another statement made by Prof. Karl Bart, see Hasler, op. cit., pp. 129-130. 480 Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 228-229. page 218 481 See above, on pp. 214 - 215. 482 Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 229-231. 483 "Bericht des Schweiz. Kirchl. Hilfskommittee fur Evang. Fluchtlinge uber das Jahr 1943", p. 1. 484 Ludwig, op. cit., pp. 245-246. 485 E.P.D., June 16, 1943. Cf. Ludwig, op. cit., p. 245. page 219 486 Ibid., Oct. 20, 1934. page 220 487 Ibid., Nov. 11, 1943. 488 Ludwig, op. cit., p. 268. 489 Schweizerisches Evangelisches Hilfswerk fur die Bekennende Kirche in Deutschland. page 222 490 E.P.D., June 22, 1943. 491 The following books were published : "Judennot und Christenglaube" (Zurich, 1943); "Soll ich meines Bruders Huter sein?" (Zurich, 1944); "Aus Not und Rettung" (Edited by Paul Vogt, Zurich, 1944). Some of the brochures published were: "Das Heil kommt von den Juden" (Oktober, 1938); "Thesen zu den Nachkriegsfragen der Fluchtlingshilfe"; "Vergesst die evangelische Freiplatzaktion nicht!" (1944); "Nicht furchten ist der Harnisch" (a circular letter sent monthly to regular supporters of the Refugee Aid); "Fluchtlingshilfe als christliche Diakonie" (by Paul Vogt, 1944). Rev. Vogt also pleaded the cause of the refugees in sermons and lectures (Hasler, op. cit., pp. 150-152, 206, 227-229, 301). 492 "Freiplatzaktion". 493 "Bericht des Schweiz. Kirchl. Hilfskomitees fur Evang. Fluchtlinge uber das Jahr 1943", passim. page 223 494 ibid., pp. 6-7. 495 E.P.D. , Oct. 18, 1944. 496 Archives World Council of Churches, Geneva (file CCJP). 497 Also see: E.P.D. , July 5 , 1944: "Service of Intercession and Mourning for the persecuted Jews in Hungary"; E.P.D. , July I2, 1944: "Circular letter of the Church Council of Thurgau"; "The Committee of the Synod of Waadtland, Declaration about the persecution of the Jews"; and E.P.D., July 19, 1944: "A Service of Intercession at Schaffhausen". page 224 498 I.C.P.I.C., July 28, 1944. Cf. E.P.D., July 12, 1944. The Press Department of the German Foreign Office circulated a confidential report ("The Church Council of Zurich condemns the persecutions of the Jews in Hungary") dated July 10, 1944. (Randolph L.Braham, The Destruction of Hungarian Jewry, New York, 1963; 11, p. 770). page 225 499 E.P.D. July 19, 1944. 500 Ibid. page 226 501 Ibid., Aug. 2, 1944. page 227 502 "The Spiritual Issues of the War", December 17, 1942, No. 163. page 228 503 "International Christian Press and Information Service", Dec. 12, 1942, No. 44-45. Cf. "Spiritual Issues", Dec. 12, 1942, No. 162; and "The New York Times., Febr. 2, 1943. 504 "International Christian Press and Information Service" (I.C.P.I.S.)., Dec., 1942, No. 44-45; "Spiritual Issues... ", Dec. 17, 1942. page 229 505 I.C.P.I.S., Dec., 1942, No. 44-45. 506 Ibid. page 230 507 "Spiritual Issues...", Dec. 17, 1942. Also see: "Nordiska Roster mot Jude-forfoljelse och Vald" (in Swedish; Documents and Commentaries, edited by Judisk Tidskrift; Stockholm, 1943), p. 17. 508 "Dagens Nyheter", Dec. 5, 1942. The Free Churches' Co-operation Committee represents the Missionary Society, the Baptist Church and the Methodist Church in Sweden. page 232 509 "Nordiska Roster", pp. 15-16. page 233 510 Dr. Leni Yahil, Test of Democracy (Jerusalem, 1966; in Hebrew, with a summary in English), pp. 228-229. page 234 511 I.C.P.I.S., May 1944, No. 21. 512 Cf. Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Muenchen, 1967), p. 415. 513 Livia Rothkirchen, The Destruction of Slovak Jewry (Jerusalem, 1961), p. XLIX. The full text: "Ministerprasident Tiso zeigte mich soeben mit der Bemerkung, 'was seine einzelne Leute denken', ein Schreiben des protestantischen Erzbischofs von Uppsala an den Slovakischen Staatsprasidenten. Der Schreiber interveniert 'fur die armen judischen Bruder' und bittet, da der Slovakischen Staat unter den derzeitigen Verhiltnissen keine humane Behandlung gewahrleisten konne, den in der Slovakei konzentrierten Juden den Uebertritt auf ein neutrales Gebiet zu ermoglichen." (Files of the German Foreign Ministry, YW/AA-K-327, Inland 11, Geheim, 571-K-2 13007). page 235 514 William Simpson, Jews and Christians To-day (A Study in Jewish and Christian Relationships), London, 1940. 515 Reports to the General Assembly, 1940, p. 572. page 236 516 Reports, 1941, p. 555. 517 Reports, 1942, p. 437. 518 Minutes of the Assembly, Thursday, June 11th, 1942. page 237 519 Ernest Hearst, The British and the Slaughter of the Jews-(I); in: The Wiener Library Bulletin, Vol. XXI, No. I , p. 32. 520 Jasper, op. cit., p. 155. page 238 521 "The Spiritual Issues of the War" (Bulletin published by the Religious Division of the Ministry of Information, London), No. 155, Oct. 22, 1942. Cf. Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 10. 522 "The Spiritual Issues...", No. 155. page 239 523 "The Times", Oct. 30, 1942. This and the following articles from "The Times" are taken from the "Podro-collection" (in "The Jewish Historical Archives", Hebrew University, Jerusalem). page 240 524 Hearst, op. cit., pp. 35-36. The two Archbishops of the Church of England and twenty-four Bishops (Durham, London, Winchester and the next twenty-one in order of appointment to a diocese) are members of the House of Lords. 525 Jewish Chronicle, Dec. 11, 1942. 526 "The Life of Faith" (Weekly), Dec. 16, 1942. page 241 527 Keesing's Contempory Archives, Dec. 12-19, 1942 , p. 5506. page 242 528 "Spiritual Issues...", No. 164, Dec. 24, 1924. 529 "Church of England Newspaper LONDON", Jan. 29, 1943. A similar statement was issued by the Executive Council of the World Evangelical Alliance (Ibid., Febr. 5, 1943). Cf. "Jewish Chronicle", Jan. 29, 1943, p 1. page 244 530 "Spiritual Issues...", No. 176, March 18, 1943. Cf. "The Times", March 19, 1943. 531 "The Times", Dec. 31, 1942. page 245 532 "Spiritual Issues...", No. 166, Jan. 7, 1943. 533 "Jewish Chronicle", Jan. 8, 1943. 534 Ibid., Jan. 29, 1943, p. 5. Cf. p. 10: "Derby Demands Sanctuary for Persecuted", and: "Mayor of Huddersfield calls Protest Meeting". 535 "Jewish Chronicle", Febr. I2, 1943, pp. 1, 12. page 248 536 Cf. Luke 10, 30-37 (the Parable of the Good Samaritan). 537 "Parliamentary Debates House of Lords", Vol. 126, No. 41, pp. 811-821. page 249 538 Luke 17, 1. 539 Isaiah 57, 14. 540 "Parliamentary Debates House of Lords", Vol. 126, No. 41, pp. 832-841. page 250 541 A copy of this letter is in the Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva. 542 "Unity in Dispersion", pp. 164-165. See for the Bermuda Conference: "The Wiener Library Bulletin", Vol. xv (1961), No. 3, pp. 44-47. Also see: Morse, op. cit., pp. 43-64; Tartakower and Grossmann, op. cit., pp. 420-428. page 251 543 "Spiritual Issues...", No. 181, April 22, 1943. 544 Reports to the General Assembly, 1943, p. 338. page 252 545 "The Assembly", May 1943, p. 170. 546 "Minutes of the Assembly", Thursday, June 10th, 1943. page 253 547 "The Times", May 18, 1943. page 254 548 "The Times", May 22, 1943. 549 Jasper, op. cit., pp. 156-157. page 255 550 "The New York Times", Dec. 9, 1943. 551 Reports to the General Assembly, 1944, p. 384. The italics are mine. 552 "The Times", June 15, 1944. page 256 553 "The Spiritual Issues... ", July 13, 1944. Cf. R.L. Braham, The Destruction of Hungarian Jewry (New York, 1963), 11, p. 343. 554 See p. 257. 555 Ibid. 556 Federal Council Bulletin, January, 1940. page 258 557 Department of Information of the National Council of Churches of Christ in America. The statement was prepared by the Commission on Christian Social Action and adopted by the following action: "General Synod approves Section IV and declares its condemnation of anti-Semitism. It urges upon the members of the Church in the name of Christ to regard our Jewish brethren according to the standards of Christian ethics." 558 The New York Times, Dec. 13, 1940. page 259 559 Federal Council Bulletin, October, 1941, p. 6. page 260 560 Freudenberg, op. cit., p. 53. 561 Federal Council Bulletin, Febr. 1942, p. 7. page 261 562 Dr. Riegner's letter to Dr. Visser 't Hooft, April 14, 1965 (Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva). 563 Federal Council Bulletin, January, 1943. The italics are mine. page 262 564 The New York Times, Jan. 1, 1943. 565 Federal Council Bulletin, February, 1943. page 263 566 "Unity in Dispersion", a History of the World Jewish Congress (New York, 1948), pp. 162-163. The Archbishop of Canterbury described, in his message to the meeting, the Nazi extermination of the Jews as "the most appalling horror in recorded history" (Morse, op. cit., p. 47). page 264 567 The New York Times, March I7, 1943. Cf. Federal Council Bulletin, April, 1943, p. 15. 568 See above, on p. 247. 569 See pp. 276-277. 570 See above, on p. 250. page 265 571 The New York Times, May 2, 1943. Also see the article "Day of Compassion Praised by Rabbis" (ibid., May 2 , 1943). 572 The New York Times, Oct. 21, 1943. page 266 573 New York Herald Tribune, Nov. 3, 1943. page 267 574 The New York Times, Dec. 12, 1943. 575 Ibid., Jan. 16, 1944. 576 New York Herald Tribune, Oct. 14, 1944. page 268 577 Cf. Alfred Klausner in the monthly "American Lutheran", Febr. 1965, p. 16: ...In the course of research through almost all Lutheran publications in the thirties and forties I have found no direct condemnation of the persecution of the Jews in Germany. . ." 578 In: "American Lutheran", Nov. 1964, pp. 13. 579 Charles Y. Glock and Rodney Stark, Christian Beliefs and Anti-Semitism (New York, 1966), passim. page 269 580 See above, p.84. 581 See pp. 274-277 page 270 582 Cf. W.A. Visser 't Hoofd, in: Ruth Rouse and Stephen Charles Neill (Ed.), A History of the Ecumenical Movement 1517- 1948 (London, 1954), p. 710 ff. page 271 583 Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva. The original is in German. page 272 584 Ibid.; the original is in French. page 273 585 Ibid.; the original is in French. Dr. Visser 't Hooft believes that no written reply was received from the International Red Cross, but he had several discussions with Dr. Burckhardt in which the latter told him what the Red Cross had tried to do unofficially (Communication to me from Dr. Visser 't Hooft). 586 Communication to me from Dr. Visser 't Hooft. For the contacts with the "Kreisau Circle". see: G.van Roon, Neuordnung im Widerstand (Munich, 1967), pp. 142, 146, 190, 247, 302, 308-309, 312, 330-332. For the contacts with Dietrich Bonhoeffer, see: Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Munich, 1965), pp. 243, 291, 726, 728, 818-819, 824- 835, 848-850, 859, 861, 867, and 1004. 587 Dr. Riegner's letter to Dr. Visser 't Hooft, dated April 14, 1965 (Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva). page 274 588 Dr. Riegner's letter to me, dated Nov. 6, 1967. 589 Dr. Riegner to Dr. Visser 't Hooft, April 14, 1965. Cf. Arthur D. Morse, While Six Million Died (London, 1968), pp. 3-22. page 275 590 Archives WCC, Geneva. Marginal note: "Date? Probably March, 1943". 591 Archives WCC, Geneva. The contents of the telegram sent by Dr. Riegner to Mr. Silverman were as follows: "Most anxious about destiny Hungarian Jewry the only important section European Jewry still in existence because of recent political developments stop suggesting world wide appeal of Anglo-Saxon personalities non-Jewish and Jewish including chiefs of Protestant Catholic Churches to Hungarian people warning them not to admit application of policy of extermination of Jews by German butchers or Hungarian quislings and to help Jews by all possible means in order to prevent their falling into hands of Germans stop warning should insist upon fact that attitude Hungarian people towards Jews will be one of the most important tests of behaviour which Allied Nations will remember in peace settlement after war stop similar broadcasts should be made every night in Hungarian language during the next weeks. Geneva, March 21, 1944." (Archives wcc, Geneva). page 276 592 For the results - or rather: the lack of results - of the Bermuda Conference, see above, p. 250. page 277 593 Archives WCC, Geneva. page 278 594 Cf. "Conversation entre le Dr. Visser 't Hooft, le Dr. Freudenberg et le Dr. Barot, concernant les activitCs Cimade-wcc pendant la guerre" (Geneva, December 14, 1965; mimeographed; in French). 595 Dr. Hans Fraenkel, Die Kirche im Krieg (unpublished manuscript; archives WCC, Geneva), p. 186. 596 Dr. Visser 't Hooft in "Conversation..." (see above, note 1). page 279 597 Report on Ecumenical Refugee Work since 1939 (Archives WCC, Geneva), p. 2. Cf. above, on p. 150. 598 OEKUMENISCHER AUSSCHUSS FUR FLUCHTLINGSHILFE, Jahresbericht 1942 (Archives WCC, Geneva), p. 5. 599 Cf. Herbert Ford, Flee the Captor (The Story of the Dutch-Paris Underground and its compassionate leader John Henry Weidner), Nashville, 1966. For the part played by Dr. Visser 't Hooft, see: pp. 79, 85, 95, 97, 199-201, 208, 225 , 227, 277, 279, 340 and 349. page 280 600 "Rapport van de Commissie van Onderzoek inzake het verstrekken van pakketten door het Rode Kruis en andere instanties aan Nederlandse politieke gevangenen in het buitenland gedurende de bezettingstijd alsmede inzake het evacueren van Nederlandse gevangenen kort voor en na het einde van de oorlog" (Den Haag, 1947; in Dutch), p. 111. 601 Ibid., p.112. 602 Ibid., p.114-115. page 281 603 I.C.P.I.S. (Intern. Christian Press and Information Service), Geneva, No. 26, June 1944.. The statement was also published in "Jewish News", London, July 18, 1944, p. 224; and in "Basler Nachrichten", June 29, 1944. page 282 604 Cf. Karl Stadler, Das einsame Gewissen (Vienna, 1966; in german), pp. 262-263. See for the persecutions in Austria: Herbert Rosenkranz, "The Anschluss and the Tragedy of Austrian Jewry 1938-1945"; (in: Josef Fraenkel (Ed.), The Jews of Austria (London, 1967), pp. 479-546. 605 Reformiertes Kirchenblatt fur Osterreich, March, 1966, p. 4. page 283 606 Cf. Betty Garfinkels, Les Belges face a la persecution raciale 1940-1944 (Bruxelles, 1965; in French), pp. 74-75, 100. Also see: Fernand Barth, Presence de l'Eglise (La Belgique sous l'occupation), Geneva, pp. 82, 89. page 284 607 Cf. the "Jewish Telegraphic Agency" (Zurich, July I, 1942): "A systematic campaign against the Christian Churches, attacking them for their attitude towards the Jews, has been launched in the Czech Protectorate by the 'Aryan Society', according to the Prague newspaper 'Ceske Slovo'. It is serious, the paper declares, that the clergy of all churches mostly keeps silent about the Jews. The reason why the greater part of the clergy are not opposed to the Jews is that there exist personal and dogmatic ritual relations between the Church and Jewry. The Christian faith, the paper demands, must be purged of its Jewish ingredients. Baptisms of Jews must be declared invalid and the Old Testament must be purged of everything smuggled into it by Rabbi interpreters." 608 Archives of the World Council of Churches, Geneva. The statement was dated Dec. 7, 1945. page 285 609 Tenenbaum, op. cit., p. 339. 610 The "Polish-Catholic Church" does not accept the authority of Rome; it is a member of the World Council of Churches. page 286 611 Cf. Philips Friedman, Ukranian-Jewish Relations during the Nazi Occupation (in: Yivo Annual of Jewish Social Science, New York, 1958/1959, Vol. XII, pp. 290-294); also see: Philips Friedman, Their Brothers keepers, pp.133-136. 612 Robinson, op. cit., p. 292. 613 The Rev. Esko Rintala, Secretary of the Archbishop of Finland, in his letter to me dated Febr. 21, 1966. 614 Some literature: Giovanni Miegge, L'Eglise sous le joug fasciste (Geneva, 1946; in French). Einaudi (Ed.), Lettere do condanati a morte della Resistenza Italiana (Torino, 1952; in Italian); Prearo, Terra Ribelle (Torino, 1948; in Italian); Borgna, La Resistenza nel Pinerolese (Pinerolo, 1965; in Italian). page 287 615 Friedman mentions that, according to Jewish survivors, Ukrainian priests both rescued and helped Jews. Ukrainian Baptists in Volhynia helped the Jews and in part also concealed them. Cf. Philip Friedman, Ukrainian- Jewish Relations During the Nazi Occupation (in: Yivo Annual of Jewish Social Science, Vol. XII, p. 294). page 289 616 W.A. Visser 't Hooft, The Ecumenical Movement and the Racial Problem, p. 40. 617 Ethics of the Fathers, 11, 5. 618 Leuner, op. cit., p. 16. Footnotes Appendix I -------------------- page 292 619 "The Relationship of the Church to the Jewish People" (Geneva, 1964; mimeographed); pp. 48-52; Cf. Heydenrich, op. cit., pp. 248-254. 620 Heydenreich, op. cit., pp. 256-257. Cf. the comment of Rev. Niemoeller (Ibid., pp. 257-258). page 293 621 Frank-Wilkens, Ordnungen und Kundgebungen der Vereinigten Evangelisch- Lutherischen Kirche Deutschlands (Berlin/Hamburg, 1966; second imprint), p. 203. 622 Heydenreich, op. cit., pp. 261-262. Prof. D. Gollwitzer criticized this statement as being far too weak (ibid., pp. 262-264). 623 Heydenreich, op. cit., pp. 264-265. page 294 624 "The Relationship of the Church to the Jewish People", pp. 73-76. Also see: "Wiener Library Bulletin", xv, 1961, No. 3, p. 45. page 295 625 "Wiener Library Bulletin", XVII, 1963, No. 3, p. 39. 626 "The Relationship of the Church to the Jewish People", pp. 78- 79. page 296 627 Quarterly Newsletter from the World Council of Churches' Committee on the Church and the Jewish People, March 1967, p. 17. 628 The Interpreter (published by the London Diocesan Council for Christian- Jewish Understanding), August, 1964, p. 2. page 297 629 "Reports to the General Assembly", 1945, p. 389. 630 "Reports", 1947, p. 448. 631 "Reports", 1953, p. 463. 632 "Reports", 1957, p. 528. 633 "Reports", 1962, p. 544. page 298 634 "The Relationship of the Church to the Jewish People," p. 87. page 299 635 W.A. Visser 't Hooft (Ed.), The First Assembly of the World Council of Churches (London, 1949), pp. 160-166. 636 W.A. Visser ?t Hooft (Ed.), The Third Assembly of the World Council of Churches (Second Impression; London, 1962), p. 148. Cf. the interesting discussion which preceded the adoption of the resolution (pp. 148-150). page 300 637 "The Relationship of the Church to the Jewish People", pp. 83-84. The total membership of the Churches affiliated to the Lutheran World Federation is 52,762,379. page 301 638 "Reports and Recommendations of the International Conference of Christians and Jews, Seelisberg, 1947" (Published by the Intern. Council of Christians and Jews), pp. 14-16. In February, 1961, the "International Consultative Committee of Organisations for Christian-Jewish Co-operation" was established. For the history of the "International Council of Christians and Jews" see Rev. W.W. Simpson, Co-operation between Christians and Jews, Its Possibilities and Limitations; in: Gote Hedenquist (Ed.), The Church and the Jewish People (London, 1954), pp. 117-142. page 302 639 The following publications were consulted: "The World Alliance of Reformed Churches" (Published by The World Presbyterian Alliance, Geneva, 1964); "Lutheran Directory", Supplement 1966 (Published by the Lutheran World Federation, Geneva); J. Grundler, Lexikon der Christlichen Kirchen und Sekten (Vienna, 1961; in German), Vol. 11; Guy Mayfield, The Church of England (Oxford, 1958); Stephen Neill, Anglicanism (London, 1958); Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church (Pelican Books, 1963); J. Meyendorff, The Orthodox Church (London, 1962); Ruth Rouse and Stephen Charles Neill (Ed.), A History of the Ecumenical Movement 1517-1948 (London, 1954); Figures about the Churches in the United States were received from the Department of Information of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. ***** End of footnotes ****** GJS, dec 2004 INFORMATION ABOUT THE AUTHOR: John Martinus Snoek born 1920, studied theology at the Free University in Amsterdam 1949-1953. Worked and lived with his family 11 years in Israel, (1958-1969) where he served for the Church of Scotland as minister in Tiberias. From 1970-1975 he worked as secretary of the Committee of the Church and the Jewish people with the World Council of Churches in Geneva. Publications: 1. In English THE GREY BOOK. (1969) see PG e-book #14764 2. In Dutch: The Dutch Churches en the Jews 1940-1945. (1990) ISBN 90242 0949 8 NUGI 631 3. In Dutch: Sometimes, One has to Show One's Color (1992) Both the Grey Book and the Dutch Churches 1940-1945 are prepared for Gutenberg eText by his nephew Ge J. Snoek, errors and remarks please mail to: g.snoek3@chello.nl. 
39092	----	[Illustration: Cover art] THE CONFLICT OF RELIGIONS IN THE EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE BY T. R. GLOVER FELLOW AND CLASSICAL LECTURER OF ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE HON. LL.D., QUEEN'S UNIVERSITY, CANADA FOURTH EDITION METHUEN & CO. LTD. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON First Published . . March 18th, 1909 Second Edition . . June 1909 Third Edition . . August 1909 Fourth Edition . . October 1910 BY THE SAME AUTHOR LIFE AND LETTERS IN THE FOURTH CENTURY STUDIES IN VIRGIL {v} PREFACE A large part of this book formed the course of Dale Lectures delivered in Mansfield College, Oxford, in the Spring of 1907. For the lecture-room the chapters had to be considerably abridged; they are now restored to their full length, while revision and addition have further changed their character. They are published in accordance with the terms of the Dale foundation. To see the Founder of the Christian movement and some of his followers as they appeared among their contemporaries; to represent Christian and pagan with equal goodwill and equal honesty, and in one perspective; to recapture something of the colour and movement of life, using imagination to interpret the data, and controlling it by them; to follow the conflict of ideals, not in the abstract, but as they show themselves in character and personality; and in this way to discover where lay the living force that changed the thoughts and lives of men, and what it was; these have been the aims of the writer,--impossible, but worth attempting. So far as they have been achieved, the book is relevant to the reader. The work of others has made the task lighter. German scholars, such as Bousset, von Dobschütz, Harnack, Pfleiderer and Wernle; Professor F. C. Burkitt and others nearer home who have written of the beginnings of Christianity; Boissier, Martha and Professor Samuel Dill; Edward Caird, Lecky, and Zeller; with the authors of monographs, Croiset, de Faye, Gréard, Koziol, Oakesmith, Volkmann; these and others have been laid under contribution. In another way Dr Wilhelm Herrmann, of Marburg, and Thomas Carlyle have helped the {vi} book. The references to ancient authorities are mostly of the writer's own gathering, and they have been verified. Lastly, there are friends to thank, at Cambridge and at Woodbrooke, for the services that only friends can render--suggestion, criticism, approval, correction, and all the other kindly forms of encouragement and enlightenment. ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, _February 1909_. {vii} CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. ROMAN RELIGION . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 II. THE STOICS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 III. PLUTARCH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 IV. JESUS OF NAZARETH . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 V. THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS . . . . . . . . . 141 VI. THE CONFLICT OF CHRISTIAN AND JEW . . . . 167 VII. "GODS OR ATOMS?" . . . . . . . . . . . . 196 VIII. CELSUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 IX. CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA . . . . . . . . . . 262 X. TERTULLIAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 349 {1} THE CONFLICT OF RELIGIONS IN THE EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE CHAPTER I ROMAN RELIGION On the Ides of March in the year 44 B.C. Julius Cæsar lay dead at the foot of Pompey's statue. His body had twenty three wounds. So far the conspirators had done their work thoroughly, and no farther. They had made no preparation for the government of the Roman world. They had not realized that they were removing the great organizing intelligence which stood between the world and chaos, and back into chaos the world swiftly rolled. They had hated personal government; they were to learn that the only alternative was no government at all. "Be your own Senate yourself"[1] wrote Cicero to Plancus in despair. There was war, there were faction fights, massacres, confiscations, conscriptions. The enemies of Rome came over her borders, and brigandage flourished within them. At the end of his first _Georgic_ Virgil prays for the triumph of the one hope which the world saw--for the preservation and the rule of the young Cæsar, and he sums up in a few lines the horror from which mankind seeks to be delivered. "Right and wrong are confounded; so many wars the world over, so many forms of wrong; no worthy honour is left to the plough; the husbandmen are marched away and the fields grow dirty; the hook has its curve straightened into the sword-blade. In the East, Euphrates is stirring up war, in the West, Germany: nay, close-neighbouring cities break their mutual league and draw the sword, and the war-god's unnatural fury rages over the whole world; even as when in the Circus the chariots burst {2} from their floodgates, they dash into the course, and pulling desperately at the reins the driver lets the horses drive him, and the car is deaf to the curb."[2] Virgil's hope that Octavian might be spared to give peace to the world was realized. The foreign enemies were driven over their frontiers and thoroughly cowed; brigandage was crushed, and finally, with the fall of Antony and Cleopatra, the government of the whole world was once more, after thirteen years of suffering, disorder and death, safely gathered into the hands of one man. There was peace at last and Rome had leisure to think out the experience through which she had passed. The thirteen years between the murder of Cæsar and the battle of Actium were only a part of that experience; for a century there had been continuous disintegration in the State. The empire had been increased, but the imperial people had declined. There had been civil war in Rome over and over again--murder employed as a common resource of politics, reckless disregard of the sacredness of life and property, and thorough carelessness of the State. The impression that England made upon Wordsworth in 1802 was precisely that left upon the mind of the serious Roman when he reflected upon his country. All was "rapine, avarice, expense." Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws. Such complaints, real or conventional, are familiar to the readers of the literature of the last century before Christ. Everyone felt that a profound change had come over Rome. Attempts had been made in various ways to remedy this change; laws had been passed; citizens had been banished and murdered; armies had been called in to restore ancient principles; and all had resulted in failure. Finally a gleam of restoration was seen when Julius began to set things in order, when he "corrected the year by the Sun" and gave promise of as true and deep-going a correction of everything else. His murder put an end to all this at the time, and it took thirteen years to regain the lost opportunity--and the years were not {3} altogether loss for they proved conclusively that there was now no alternative to the rule of the "Prince." [Sidenote: The cause of Rome's decline] Accordingly the Prince set himself to discover what was to be done to heal the hurt of his people, and to heal it thoroughly. What was the real disease? was the question that men asked; where was the root of all the evil? why was it that in old days men were honest, governed themselves firmly, knew how to obey, and served the State? A famous line of Ennius, written two centuries before, said that the Roman Commonwealth stood on ancient character, and on men.-- _Moribus antiquis stat res Romano, virisque._ Both these bases of the national life seemed to be lost--were they beyond recall? could they be restored? What was it that had made the "ancient character"? What was the ultimate difference between the old Roman and the Roman of the days of Antony and Octavian? Ovid congratulated himself on the perfect congruity of the age and his personal character-- _hæc ætas moribus apta meis--_ and he was quite right. And precisely in the measure that Ovid was right in finding the age and his character in agreement, the age and national character were demonstrably degenerate. It was the great question before the nation, its statesmen, patriots and poets, to find why two hundred years had wrought such a change. It was not long before an answer was suggested. A reason was found, which had a history of its own. The decline had been foreseen. We are fortunately in possession of a forecast by a Greek thinker of the second century B.C., who knew Rome well--Polybius, the intimate of the younger Scipio. In the course of his great summary of the Rome he knew, when he is explaining her actual and future greatness to the Greek world, he says:--"The most important difference for the better, which the Roman Commonwealth appears to me to display, is in their religious beliefs, for I conceive that what in other nations is looked upon as a reproach, I mean a scrupulous fear of the gods, is the very thing which keeps the Roman Commonwealth together; (_synéchein tà rhômaíôn práumata_). To such an extraordinary height is this carried among them (_ektetragóetai {4} kaì pareisêktai_) both in private and public business, that nothing could exceed it. Many people might think this unaccountable, but in my opinion their object is to use it as a check upon the common people. If it were possible to form a state wholly of philosophers, such a custom would perhaps be unnecessary. But seeing that every multitude is fickle and full of lawless desires, unreasoning anger and violent passion, the only resource is to keep them in check by mysterious terrors and scenic effects of this sort (_tois adélois phobois kai tê toiaute tragôdia_). Wherefore, to my mind, the ancients were not acting without purpose or at random, when they brought in among the vulgar those opinions about the gods and the belief in the punishments in Hades: much rather do I think that men nowadays are acting rashly and foolishly in rejecting them. This is the reason why, apart from anything else, Greek statesmen, if entrusted with a single talent, though protected by ten checking-clerks, as many seals and twice as many witnesses, yet cannot be induced to keep faith; whereas among the Romans, in their magistracies and embassies, men have the handling of a great amount of money, and yet from pure respect to their oath keep their faith intact."[3] Later on Polybius limits his assertion of Roman honesty to "the majority"--the habits and principles of Rome were beginning to be contaminated.[4] [Sidenote: The political value of religion] This view of the value of religion is an old one among the Greeks. Critias, the friend of Socrates, embodied it in verses, which are preserved for us by Sextus Empiricus. In summary he holds that there was a time when men's life knew no order, but at last laws were ordained to punish; and the laws kept men from open misdeeds, "but they did many things in secret; and then, I think, some shrewd and wise man invented a terror for the evil in case secretly they should do or say or think aught. So he introduced the divine, alleging that there is a divinity (_daimôn_), blest with eternal life, who with his mind sees and hears, thinks, and marks these things, and bears a divine nature, who will hear all that is said among men and can see all that is done, and though in silence thou plan some evil, yet this shall not escape the gods." This was a most pleasant {5} lesson which he introduced, "with a false reason covering truth"; and he said the gods abode in that region whence thunder and lightning and rain come, and so "he quenched lawlessness with laws."[5] This was a shallow judgement upon religion. That "it utterly abolished religion altogether" was the criticism of Cicero's Academic.[6] But most of the contemporary views of the origin of religion were shallow. Euhemerism with its deified men, and inspiration with its distraught votaries were perhaps nobler, a little nobler, but in reality there was little respect for religion among the philosophic. But the practical people of the day accepted the view of Critias as wise enough. "The myths that are told of affairs in Hades, though pure invention at bottom, contribute to make men pious and upright," wrote the Sicilian Diodorus at this very time.[7] Varro[8] divided religion into three varieties, mythical, physical (on which the less said in public, he owned, the better) and "civil," and he pronounced the last the best adapted for national purposes, as it consisted in knowing what gods state and citizen should worship and with what rites. "It is the interest," he said, "of states to be deceived in religion." So the great question narrowed itself to this:--Was it possible for another shrewd and wise man to do again for Rome what the original inventor of religion had done for mankind? once more to establish effective gods to do the work of police? Augustus endeavoured to show that it was still possible. On the famous monument of Ancyra, which preserves for us the Emperor's official autobiography, he enumerates the temples he built--temples in honour of Apollo, of Julius, of Quirinus, of Juppiter Feretrius, of Jove the Thunderer, of Minerva, of the Queen Juno, of Juppiter Liberalis, of the Lares, of the Penates, of Youth, of the Great Mother, and the shrine known as the Lupercal; he tells how he dedicated vast sums from his spoils, how he restored to the temples of Asia the ornaments of which they had been robbed, and how he {6} became Pontifex Maximus, after patiently waiting for Lepidus to vacate the office by a natural death. His biographer Suetonius tells of his care for the Sibylline books, of his increasing the numbers, dignities and allowances of the priests, and his especial regard for the Vestal Virgins, of his restoration of ancient ceremonies, of his celebration of festivals and holy days, and of his discrimination among foreign religions, his regard for the Athenian mysteries and his contempt for Egyptian Apis.[9] His private feelings and instincts had a tinge of superstition. He used a sealskin as a protection against thunder; he carefully studied his dreams, was "much moved by portents," and "observed days."[10] [Sidenote: Rome's debt to the gods] The most lasting monument (_ære perennius_) of the restoration of religion by Augustus consists of the odes which Horace wrote to forward the plans of the Emperor. They were very different men, but it is not unreasonable to hold that Horace felt no less than Augustus that there was something wrong with the state. His personal attitude to religion was his own affair, and to it we shall have to return, but in grave and dignified odes, which he gave to the world, he lent himself to the cause of reformation. He deplored the reckless luxury of the day with much appearance of earnestness, and, though in his published collections, these poems of lament are interleaved with others whose burden is _sparge rosas_, he was serious in some degree; for his own taste, at least when he came within sight of middle life, was all for moderation. He spoke gravely of the effect upon the race of its disregard of all the virtues necessary for the continuance of a society. Like other poets of the day, he found Utopias in distant ages and remote lands. His idealized picture of the blessedness of savage life is not unlike Rousseau's, and in both cases the inspiration was the same--discontent with an environment complicated, extravagant and corrupt. Better with nomad Scythians roam, Whose travelling cart is all their home, Or where the ruder Getæ spread From steppes unmeasured raise their bread. {7} There with a single year content The tiller shifts his tenement; Another, when that labour ends, To the self-same condition bends. The simple step-dame there will bless With care the children motherless: No wife by wealth command procures, None heeds the sleek adulterer's lures.[11] Other poets also imagined Golden Ages of quiet ease and idleness, but the conclusion which Horace drew was more robust. He appealed to the Emperor for laws, and effective laws, to correct the "unreined license" of the day, and though his poem declines into declamation of a very idle kind about "useless gold," as his poems are apt to decline on the first hint of rhetoric, the practical suggestion was not rhetorical--it was perhaps the purpose of the piece. In another famous poem, the last of a sequence of six, all dedicated to the higher life of Rome and all reaching an elevation not often attained by his odes, he points more clearly to the decline of religion as the cause of Rome's misfortunes.[12] The idea that Rome's Empire was the outcome of her piety was not first struck out by Horace. Cicero uses it in one of his public speeches with effect and puts it into the mouth of his Stoic in the work on the Nature of the Gods.[13] Later on, one after another of the Latin Apologists for Christianity, from Tertullian[14] to Prudentius, has to combat the same idea. It was evidently popular, and the appeal to the ruined shrine and the neglected image touched--or was supposed to touch--the popular imagination. Mankind are apt to look twice at the piety of a ruler, and the old question of Satan comes easily, "Doth Job serve God for naught?" Why does an Emperor wish to be called "the eldest son of the church?" We may be fairly sure in the case of Augustus that, if popular sentiment had been strongly against {8} the restoration of religion, he would have said less about it. We have to go behind the Emperor and Horace to discover how the matter really stood between religion and the Roman people. We may first of all remark that, just as the French Revolution was in some sense the parent of the Romantic movement, the disintegration of the old Roman life was accompanied by the rise of antiquarianism. Cicero's was the last generation that learnt the Twelve Tables by heart at school _ut carmen necessarium_; and Varro, Cicero's contemporary, was the first and perhaps the greatest of all Roman antiquaries. So at least St Augustine held. Sixteen of his forty-one books of Antiquities Varro gave to the gods, for "he says he was afraid they would perish, not by any hostile invasion, but by the neglect of the Roman citizens, and from this he says they were rescued by himself, as from a fallen house, and safely stored and preserved in the memory of good men by books like his; and that his care for this was of more service than that which Metellus is said to have shown in rescuing the sacred emblems of Vesta from the fire or Æneas in saving the penates from the Fall of Troy."[15] He rescued a good deal more than a later and more pious age was grateful for; Augustine found him invaluable, but Servius, the great commentator on Virgil, called him "everywhere the foe of religion."[16] The poets, too, felt to the full the charm of antiquity. Propertius[17] and Ovid both undertook to write of olden days--of sacred things ("rooted out of ancient annals"[18]), and of the names of long ago. Virgil himself was looked upon as a great antiquary. Livy wrote of Rome's early history and told how Numa "put the fear of the gods" upon his people "as the most effective thing for an ignorant and rough multitude";[19] his history abounds in portents and omens, but he is not altogether a believer. As early as a generation before Rome was burnt by the Gauls it was remarked, he says, that foreign religion had invaded the city, brought by prophets who made money out of the superstitions they roused and the alien and unusual means they employed to procure the peace of the gods.[20] {9} [Sidenote: Primitive Roman ritual] Nowhere perhaps is antiquarianism more fascinating than in the sphere of religion. The _Lupercalia_ had once a real meaning. The sacrifice of goats and young dogs, and of sacred cakes that the Vestals made of the first ears of the last year's harvest; the _Luperci_, with blood on their brows, naked but for the skins of the slaughtered goats; the _februa_ of goatskin, the touch of which would take sterility from a woman--all this is intelligible to the student of primitive religion; but when Mark Antony, Consul though he was, was one of the runners at the Lupercalia, it was not in the spirit of the ancient Latin. It was an antiquarian revival of an old festival of the countryside, which had perhaps never died out. At all events it was celebrated as late as the fifth century A.D., and it was only then abolished by the substitution of a Christian feast by Pope Gelasius.[21] Augustus took pains to revive such ceremonies. Suetonius mentions the "augury of safety," the "flaminate of Juppiter," the "Lupercal rite," and various sacred games.[22] Varro in one of his books, speaks of the Arval Brothers; and Archæology and the spade have recovered for us the _acta_ of ninety-six of the annual meetings which this curious old college held at the end of May in the grove of Dea Dia. It is significant that the oldest of these _acta_ refer to the meeting in 14 A.D., the year of Augustus' death. The hymn which they sang runs as follows:-- _Enos Lases iuvate Neve lue rue Marmar sins incurrere in pleores Satur fu fere Mars limen sali sta berber Semunis Alternis advocapit conctos Enos Marmor iuvato Triumpe._ The first five lines were repeated thrice, and _Triumpe_ five times.[23] Quintilian tells us that "the hymns of the Salii were hardly intelligible to the priests themselves,"[24] yet they found admirers who amused Horace with their zeal for mere age and obscurity.[25] {10} But an antiquarian interest in ritual is not inconsistent with indifference to religion. Varro, as we have seen, was criticized as an actual enemy of religion in spite of the services he claimed to have rendered to the gods--and the very claim justifies the criticism. So far as the literature of the last century B.C. and the stories current about the leading men in Rome allow us to judge, it is hard to suppose there has ever been an age less interested in religion. Cicero, for example, wrote--or, perhaps, compiled--three books "On the Nature of the Gods." He casts his matter into the form of a dialogue, in which in turn an Epicurean and a Stoic give their grounds for rejecting and for accepting the gods, and an Academic points out the inadequacy of the reasoning in both cases. He has also written on the immortality of the soul. But Cicero's correspondence is a more reliable index to his own beliefs and those of the society in which he moved. No society could be more indifferent to what we call the religious life. In theory and practice, in character and instinct, they were thoroughly secular. One sentence will exhibit Cicero's own feeling. He wrote to his wife from Brundusium on 30th April 58 B.C., when he was on his way to foreign exile: "If these miseries are to be permanent, I only wish, my dearest (_mea vita_), to see you as soon as possible and to die in your arms, since neither gods, whom _you_ have worshipped with such pure devotion, nor men, whom _I_ have always served, have made us any return."[26] Even when his daughter Tullia died, no sign of any hope of re-union escaped him in his letters, nor did Servius Sulpicius, who wrote him a beautiful letter of consolation, do more than merely hint at such a thing. "If the dead have consciousness, would she wish you to be so overcome of sorrow?" Horace, whose odes, as we have seen, are now and then consecrated to the restoration of religion, was every whit as secular-minded. He laughed at superstition and ridiculed the idea of a divine interest in men, when he expressed his own feeling. No one was ever more thoroughly Epicurean in the truest sense of the word; no one ever urged more pleasantly the Epicurean theory _Carpe diem_; no one ever had more deeply ingrained in him the belief _Mors ultima linea rerum est_. His candour, his humour, his friendliness, combine to give him a very human charm, but in all that is associated with the {11} religious side of man's thought and experience, he is sterile and insufficient. And Horace, like Cicero, represents a group. Fuscus Aristius, it is true, declined to rescue the poet from the bore on the ground that "it was the thirtieth Sabbath--and Horace could not wish to offend the Jews?" but we realize that this scruple was dramatic. Fuscus is said to have been a writer of comedies.[27] [Sidenote: The childhood of a pagan] But the jest of Fuscus was the earnest of many. If men were conscious of decay in the sanction which religion had once given to morality, there was still a great deal of vague religious feeling among the uneducated and partially educated classes. Again and again we read complaints of the folly of grandmothers and nurses, and it was from them that the first impressions of childhood came. Four centuries later than the period now under discussion it was still the same. "When once vain superstition obsessed the heathen hearts of our fathers, unchecked was its course through a thousand generations. The tender hope of the house shuddered, and worshipped whatever venerable thing his hoary grandsires showed him. Infancy drank in error with its mother's milk. Amid his cries the sacred meal was put between the baby's lips. He saw the wax dripping upon the stones, the black _Lares_ trickling with unguent. A little child he saw the image of Fortune with her horn of wealth, and the sacred stone that stood by the house, and his mother pale at her prayers before it. Soon himself too, raised high on his nurse's shoulders, he pressed his lips to the stone, poured forth his childish prayers, and asked riches for himself from the blind rock, and was sure that, whatever one wished, that was where to ask. Never did he lift his eyes and his mind to turn to the citadel of reason, but he believed, and held to the foolish custom, honouring with blood of lambs the gods of his family. And then when he went forth from his home, how he marvelled at the public festivals, the holy days and the games, and gazed at the towering Capitol, and saw the laurelled servants of the gods at the temples while the Sacred Way echoed to the lowing of the victims." So wrote Prudentius.[28] So too wrote Tibullus--"Keep me, _Lares_ of my fathers; for ye bred me to manhood when a tender child I played at your feet."[29] {12} How crowded the whole of life was with cult and ritual and usage, how full of divinities, petty, pleasing or terrible, but generally vague and ill-defined, no one will readily realize without special study, but some idea of the complexity of the Roman's divine environment can be gained from even a cursory survey of Ovid's _Fasti_, for example, or Tertullian's _Apology_, or some of the chapters of the fourth book of Augustine's _City of God_. "When," asks Augustine, "can I ever mention in one passage of this book all the names of gods and goddesses, which they have scarcely been able to compass in great volumes, seeing that they allot to every individual thing the special function of some divinity?" He names a few of the gods of agriculture--Segetia, Tutilina, Proserpina, Nodutus, Volutina, Patelana, Lacturnus, Matuta, etc. "I do not mention all."[30] "Satan and his angels have filled the whole world," said Tertullian.[31] [Sidenote: Fauns, trees, and wells] Gods of this type naturally make little figure in literature though Proserpina, in consequence of her identification with the Greek Persephone, achieved a great place and is indeed the subject of the last great poem written under the Roman Empire. But there were other gods of countryside and woodland, whom we know better in art and poetry. "Faunus lover of fugitive Nymphs" is charming enough in Horace's ode, and Fauns, Pans and Satyrs lend themselves readily to grotesque treatment in statue and gem and picture. But the country people took them seriously. Lucretius, speaking of echoes among the hills, says:--"These spots the people round about fancy that goat-footed Satyrs and nymphs inhabit; they say that they are the Fauns, whose noise and sportive play breaks the still silence of the night as they move from place to place.... They tell us that the country people far and wide full oft hear Pan, when, nodding the pine-cap on his half-bestial head, he runs over the gaping reeds with curved lip.... And of other like monsters and marvels they tell us, that they may not be thought to inhabit lonely places, abandoned even by the gods."[32] Cicero {13} makes his Stoic say their voices are often to be heard.[33] Pliny, in his _Natural History_, says that certain dogs can actually see Fauns; he quotes a prescription, concocted of a dragon's tongue, eyes and gall, which the Magi recommend for those who are "harassed by gods of the night and by Fauns";[34] for they did not confine themselves to running after nymphs, but would chase human women in the dark. Plutarch has a story of King Numa drugging a spring from which "two dæmons, Picus and Faunus," drank--"creatures who must be compared to Satyrs or Pans in some respects and in others to the Idæan Dactyli," beings of great miraculous power.[35] A countryside haunted by inhabitants of more or less than human nature, part beasts and part fairies or devils, is one thing to an unbeliever who is interested in art or folk-lore, but quite another thing to the uneducated man or woman who has heard their mysterious voices in the night solitude and has suffered in crop, or house, or herd from their ill-will.[36] What the Greek called "Panic" fears were attributed in Italy to Fauns.[37] "Trees," says Pliny, "were temples of divinities, and in the old way the simple country folk to this day dedicate any remarkable tree to a god. Nor have we more worship for images glittering with gold and ivory than for groves and the very silence that is in them."[38] The country people hung rags and other offerings on holy trees--the hedge round the sacred grove at Aricia is specially mentioned by Ovid as thus honoured.[39] The river-god of the Tiber had his sacred oak hung with spoils of fallen foes.[40] Holy wells too were common, which were honoured with models of the limbs their waters healed, and other curious gifts, thrown into them--as they are still in every part of the Old World. Horace's fount of Bandusia is the most famous of these in literature.[41] It was an old usage to throw garlands into springs and to crown wells on October 13th.[42] Streams and {14} wells alike were haunted by mysterious powers, too often malevolent.[43] Ovid describes old charms to keep off vampires, _striges_, from the cradles of children.[44] In fact the whole of Nature teemed with beings whom we find it hard to name. They were not pleasant enough, and did not appeal enough to the fancy, to merit the name "fairies"--at least since _The Midsummer Night's Dream_ was written. Perhaps they are nearer "The little People"--the nameless "thim ones."[45] They were neither gods nor demons in our sense of the words, though Greek thinkers used the old Homeric word _daimôn_ to describe them or the diminutive of it, which allowed them to suppose that Socrates' _daimónion_ was something of the kind. [Sidenote: The genius] But these Nature-spirits, whatever we may call them, were far from being the only superhuman beings that encompassed man. Every house had its _Lares_ in a little shrine (_lararium_) on the hearth, little twin guardian gods with a dog at their feet, who watched over the family, and to whom something was given at every meal, and garlands on great days. Legend said that Servius Tullius was the son of the family _Lar_.[46] The _Lares_ may have been spirits of ancestors. The Emperor Alexander Severus set images of Apollonius, Christ, Abraham and Orpheus, "and others of that sort" in his _lararium_.[47] Not only houses but streets and cross-roads had _Lares_; the city had a thousand, Ovid said, besides the _genius_ of the Prince who gave them;[48] for Augustus restored two yearly festivals in their honour in Spring and Autumn. There were also the _Penates_ in every home, whom it would perhaps be hard to distinguish very clearly from the _Lares_. Horace has a graceful ode to "Phidyle" on the sufficiency of the simplest sacrifices to these little gods of home and hearth.[49] The worship of these family gods was almost the only {15} part of Roman religion that was not flooded and obscured by the inrush of Oriental cults. "The Ancients," said Servius, "used the name _Genius_ for the natural god of each individual place or thing or man,"[50] and another antiquary thought that the _genius_ and the _Lar_ might be the same thing. For some reason men of letters laid hold upon the _genius_, and we find it everywhere. Why there should be such difference even between twin brothers, _He_ only knows whose influence at our birth O'errules each mortal's planet upon earth, The attendant genius, temper-moulding pow'r, That stamps the colour of man's natal hour.[51] The idea of this spiritual counterpart pervades the ancient world. It appears in Persia as the _fravashi_.[52] It is in the Syrian Gnostic's Hymn of the Soul, as a robe in the form and likeness of a man.-- It was myself that I saw before me as in a mirror; Two in number we stood, but only one in appearance.[53] It is also probable that the "Angel" of Peter and the "Angels of the little children" in the New Testament represent the same idea. The reader of Horace hardly needs to be reminded of the birthday feast in honour of the _genius_,--_indulge genio_. December, as the month of Larentalia and Saturnalia, is the month welcome to every _genius_, Ovid says.[54] The worship of all or most of these spirits of the country and of the home was joyful, an affair of meat and drink. The primitive sacrifice brought man and god near one another in the blood and flesh of the victim, which was of one race with them both.[55] It was on some such ground that the Jews would not "eat with blood," lest the soul of the beast should pass into the {16} man. There were feasts in honour of the dead, too, which the church found so dear to the people that it only got rid of them by turning them into festivals of the Martyrs. It was not idly that St Paul spoke of "meat offered to idols" and said that the Kingdom of God was not eating or drinking. In addition to all these spirits of living beings, of actions and of places, we have to reckon the dead. There were _Manes_--a name supposed to mean "the kindly ones," a caressing name given with a purpose and betraying a real fear. There were also ghosts, _larvæ_ and _lemures_.[56] It was the thought of these that made burial so serious a thing, and all the ritual for averting the displeasure of the dead. The Parentalia were celebrated on the 13th of February in their honour,[57] and in May the _Lemuria_. It is, we are told, for this reason that none will marry in May.[58] Closely connected with this fear of ghosts and of the dead is that terror of death which Lucretius spends so much labour in trying to dissipate. "I see no race of men," wrote Cicero, "however polished and educated, however brutal and barbarous, which does not believe that warnings of future events are given and may be understood and announced by certain persons,"[59] and he goes on to remark that Xenophanes and Epicurus were alone among philosophers in believing in no kind of Divination.[60] "Are we to wait till beasts speak? Are we not content with the unanimous authority of mankind?"[61] The Stoics, he says, summed up the matter as follows:-- "If there are gods and they do not declare the future to men; then _either_ they do not love men; _or_ they are ignorant of what is to happen; _or_ they think it of no importance to men to know it; _or_ they do not think it consistent with their majesty to tell men; _or_ the gods themselves are unable to indicate it. But _neither_ do they not love men, for they are benefactors and friends to mankind; _nor_ are they ignorant of what they themselves appoint and ordain; _nor_ is it of no importance to us to know the future--for we shall be more careful if we do; _nor_ do they count it alien to their majesty, for there is nothing nobler than kindness; _nor_ are they unable to foreknow. _Therefore_ no {17} gods, no foretelling; but there are gods; therefore they foretell. Nor, if they foretell, do they fail to give us ways to learn what they foretell; nor, if they give us such ways, is there no divination; therefore, there is divination."[62] [Sidenotes: Omens] All this reasoning comes after the fact. The whole world believed in divination, and the Stoics found a reason for it.[63] The flight of birds, the entrails of beasts, rain, thunder, lightning, dreams, everything was a means of Divination. Another passage from the same Dialogue of Cicero will suffice. Superstition, says the speaker, "follows you up, is hard upon you, pursues you wherever you turn. If you hear a prophet, or an omen; if you sacrifice; if you catch sight of a bird; if you see a Chaldæan or a _haruspex_; if it lightens, if it thunders, if anything is struck by lightning; if anything like a portent is born or occurs in any way--something or other of the kind is bound to happen, so that you can never be at ease and have a quiet mind. The refuge from all our toils and anxieties would seem to be sleep. Yet from sleep itself the most of our cares and terrors come."[64] How true all this is will be seen by a moment's reflexion on the abundance of signs, omens and dreams that historians so different as Livy and Plutarch record. Horace uses them pleasantly enough in his Odes--like much else such things are charming, if one does not believe in them.[65] But it is abundantly clear that it took an effort to be rid of such belief. A speaker in Cicero's _Tusculans_ remarks on the effrontery of philosophers, who _boast_ that by Epicurus' aid "they are freed from those most cruel of tyrants, eternal terror and fear by day and by night."[66] When a man boasts of moral progress, of his freedom from avarice, what, asks Horace, of other like matters? You're not a miser. Good--but prithee say, Is every vice with avarice flown away? ... Does Superstition ne'er your heart assail Nor bid your soul with fancied horrors quail? {18} Or can you smile at magic's strange alarms, Dreams, witchcraft, ghosts, Thessalian spells and charms?[67] Horace's "conversion" is recorded in one of his odes, but it may be taken too seriously. That superstition so gross was accompanied by paralysing belief in magic, enchantment, miracle, astrology[68] and witchcraft generally, is not surprising. The historians of the Early Empire have plenty to say on this. It should be remembered that the step between magic and poisoning is a very short one. Magic, says Pliny, embraces the three arts that most rule the human mind, medicine, religion and mathematics--a triple chain which enslaves mankind.[69] We have thus in Roman society a political life of a highly developed type, which has run through a long course of evolution and is now degenerating; we have a literature based upon that of Greece and implying a good deal of philosophy and of intellectual freedom; and, side by side with all this, a religious atmosphere in which the grossest and most primitive of savage conceptions and usages thrive in the neighbourhood of a scepticism as cool and detached as that of Horace. It is hard to realize that a people's experience can be so uneven, that development and retardation can exist at once in so remarkable a degree in the mind of a nation. The explanation is that we judge peoples and ages too much by their literature, and by their literature only after it has survived the test of centuries. In all immortal literature there is a common note; it deals with the deathless and the vital; and superstition, though long enough and tenacious enough of life, is outlived and outgrown by "man's unconquerable mind." But the period before us is one in which, under a rule that robbed men of every liberating interest in life, and left society politically, intellectually and morally sterile and empty, literature declined, and as it declined, it sank below the level of that flood of vulgar superstition, which rose higher and higher, as in each generation men were less wishful to think and less capable of thought. {19} [Sidenote: Universal religions] But our theme is religion, and so far we have discussed nothing but what we may call superstition--and even Plutarch would hardly quarrel with the name. That to people possessed by such beliefs in non-human powers, in beings which beset human life with malignity, the restoration of ancient cult and ritual would commend itself, is only natural. To such minds the purpose of all worship is to induce the superhuman being to go peaceably away, and sacrifice implies not human sin, but divine irritation, which may be irrational. To the religious temperament, the essential thing is some kind of union, some communion, with the Divine; and sacrifice becomes the means to effect the relation of life to a higher will,--to a holier will, we might say, if we allow to the word "holy" a width of significance more congenial to ancient than to modern thought. And this higher will implies a divinity of wider reach than the little gods of primitive superstition, a power which may even be less personal if only it is great. Religion asks for the simplification of man's relations with his divine environment, for escape from the thousand and one petty marauders of the spirit-world into the empire of some strong and central authority, harsh, perhaps, or even cruel, but at least a controlling force in man's experience. If this power is moral, religion is at once fused with morality; if it is merely physical, religion remains non-moral, and has a constant tendency to decline into superstition, or at least to make terms with it. In the hereditary religion of Rome, the only power that could possibly have been invested with any such character was Jupiter Capitolinus, but he had too great a likeness to the other gods of Italy--the gods with names, that is, for some of the more significant had none--Bona Dea and Dea Dia for example. Jupiter had his functions, but on the whole they were local, and there was very little or nothing in him to quicken thought or imagination. It was not till the Stoics made him more or less the embodiment of monotheism, that he had a chance of becoming the centre of a religion in the higher sense of the word, and even then it was impossible; for first, he was at best little more than an impersonal dogma, and, secondly, the place was filled by foreign goddesses of far greater warmth and colour and activity. _Stat magni nominis umbra_. {20} [Sidenote: Cybele and her priests] It was during the second Punic War that Cybele was brought from Asia Minor to Rome and definitely established as one of the divinities of the City.[70] The Great Mother of the gods, she represented the principle of life and its reproduction, and her worship appealed to every male and female being in the world. It inspired awe, and it prompted to joy and merriment; it was imposing and it was mysterious. Lucretius has a famous description of her pageant:-- "Adorned with this emblem (the mural crown), the image of the divine Mother is carried nowadays through wide lands in awe-inspiring state. Different nations after old-established ritual name her Idæan Mother, and give for escort Phrygian bands.... Tight-stretched tambourines and hollow cymbals thunder all round to the stroke of their open hands, and horns menace with hoarse-sounding music, and the hollow pipe stirs their minds with its Phrygian strain. They carry weapons before them, emblems of furious rage, meet to fill the thankless souls and godless breasts of the rabble with terror for the Divinity of the Goddess. So, when first she rides in procession through great cities and mutely enriches mortals with a blessing not expressed in words, they straw all her path with brass and silver, presenting her with bounteous alms, and scatter over her a snow-shower of roses, over-shadowing the mother and her troops of attendants. Here an armed band, to which the Greeks give the names of Phrygian Curetes, join in the game of arms and leap in measure, all dripping with blood, and the awful crests upon their heads quiver and shake."[71] The invariable features of the worship of Cybele are mentioned here, the eunuch priests, the tambourines, the shouting and leaping and cutting with knives, and the collection of money.[72] There is no indication of any control being exercised over these priests of Cybele by a central authority, and little bands of them strolled through the Mediterranean lands, making their living by exhibiting themselves and their goddess and gathering petty offerings. They had a bad name and they seem to have deserved it. In the book called _The Ass_, {21} once ascribed to Lucian, is a short account of such a band. The ass, who is really a man transformed, is the speaker. "The next day they packed up the goddess and set her on my back. Then we drove out of the city and went round the country. When we entered any village, I, the god-bearer (a famous word, _theophóretos_[73]) stood still, and the crowd of flutists blew like mad, and the others threw off their caps and rolled their heads about, and cut their arms with the swords and each stuck his tongue out beyond his teeth and cut it too, so that in a moment everything was full of fresh blood. And, I, when I saw this for the first time, stood trembling in case the goddess might need an ass' blood too. When they had cut themselves about in this way, they collected from the bystanders obols and drachmas; and one or another would give them figs and cheeses and a jar of wine, and a medimnus of wheat and barley for the ass. So they lived upon these and did service to the goddess who rode on my back."[74] The _Attis_ of Catullus gives a vivid picture of the frenzy which this worship could excite. Juvenal complains of the bad influence which the priests of Cybele, among others, had upon the minds of Roman ladies. St Augustine long afterwards says that "till yesterday" they were to be seen in the streets of Carthage "with wet hair, whitened face and mincing walk." It is interesting to note in passing that the land which introduced the Mother of the Gods to the Roman world, also gave the name _Theotokos_ (Mother of God) to the church. Egypt also contributed gods to Rome, who forced themselves upon the state. The Senate forbade them the Capitol and had their statues thrown down, but the people set them up again with violence.[75] Gabinius, the Consul of 58 B.C., stopped the erection of altars to them, but eight years later the Senate had to pass a decree for the destruction of their shrines. No {22} workman dared lay hand to the work, so the consul Paullus stripped off his consular toga, took an axe and dealt the first blow at the doors.[76] Another eight years passed, and the Triumvirs, after the death of Cæsar, built a temple to Isis and Serapis to win the goodwill of the masses.[77] The large foreign and Eastern element in the city populace must be remembered. When Octavian captured Alexandria, he forgave the guilty city "in honour of Serapis," but on his return to Rome he destroyed all the shrines of the god within the city walls. In time Isis laid hold of the month of November, which had otherwise no festivals of importance. [Sidenote: Isis and Serapis] Isis seems to have appealed to women. Tibullus complains of Delia's devotion to her, and her ritual. There were baths and purifications; the worshippers wore linen garments and slept alone. Whole nights were spent sitting in the temple amid the rattling of the sistrum. Morning and evening the votary with flowing hair recited the praises of the goddess.[78] Isis could make her voice heard on occasion, or her snake of silver would be seen to move its head, and penance was required to avert her anger. She might bid her worshippers to stand in the Tiber in the winter, or to crawl, naked and trembling, with blood-stained knees, round the Campus Martius--the Iseum stood in the Campus as it was forbidden within the City Walls; or to fetch water from Egypt to sprinkle in the Roman shrine. They were high honours indeed that Anubis claimed, as, surrounded by shaven priests in linen garments, he scoured the city and laughed at the people who beat their breasts as he passed.[79] The "barking" Anubis might be despised by Virgil and others, but the vulgar feared him as the attendant of Isis and Serapis.[80] Isis began to usurp the functions of Juno Lucina, and women in childbed called upon her to deliver them.[81] She gave oracles, which were familiar perhaps even so early as Ennius' day,[82] and men and women slept in the temples of Isis and Serapis, as they did in those of Æsculapius, to obtain in dreams the knowledge they needed to appease the god, or to {23} recover their health, or what not.[83] It is not surprising that the shrines of Isis are mentioned by Ovid and Juvenal as the resorts of loose women.[84] The devotion of the women is proved by the inscriptions which are found recording their offerings to Isis. One woman, a Spaniard, may be taken as an illustration. In honour of her daughter she dedicated a silver statue to Isis, and she set forth how the goddess wore a diadem composed of one big pearl, six little pearls, emeralds, rubies, and jacinths; earrings of emeralds and pearls; a necklace of thirty-six pearls and eighteen emeralds (with two for clasps); bracelets on her arms and legs; rings on her fingers; and emeralds on her sandals.[85] There is evidence to show that the Madonna in Southern Italy is really Isis re-named. Isis, like the Madonna, was painted and sculptured with a child in her arms (Horus, Harpocrates). Their functions coincide as closely as this inscription proves that their offerings do.[86] Die Mutter Gottes zu Kevlaar Trägt heut' ihr bestes Kleid. At first, it is possible that Egyptian religion, as it spread all over the world, was little better than Phrygian, but it had a better future. With Plutarch's work upon it we shall have to deal later on. Apuleius, at the end of the second century worshipped an Isis, who identified all the Divinities with herself and was approached through the most imposing sacraments. She was the power underlying all nature, but there was a spiritual side to her worship. Two centuries or so later, Julian "the Apostate" looks upon Serapis as Catholics have done upon St Peter--he is "the kindly and gentle god, who set souls utterly free from becoming or birth (_genéseos_) and does not, when once they are free, nail them down to other bodies in punishment, but conveys them upward and brings them into the {24} ideal world."[87] It is possible that some hint of this lurked in the religion from the first, and, if it did, we need not be surprised that it escaped Juvenal's notice. It was not merely gods that came from the East, but a new series of religious ideas. Here were religions that claimed the whole of life, that taught of moral pollution and of reconciliation, that gave anew the old sacramental value to rituals,--religions of priest and devotee, equalizing rich and poor, save for the cost of holy rites, and giving to women the consciousness of life in touch with the divine. The eunuch priests of Cybele and the monks of Serapis introduced a new abstinence to Western thought. It is significant that Christian monasticism and the coenobite life began in Egypt, where, as we learn from papyri found in recent years, great monasteries of Serapis existed long before our era. Side by side with celibacy came vegetarianism. No polytheistic religion can exclude gods from its pantheon; all divinities that man can devise have a right there. Thus Cybele and Isis made peace with each other and with all the gods and goddesses whom they met in their travels--and with all the _dæmonia_ too. Their cults were steeped in superstition, and swung to and fro between continence and sensuality. They orientalized every religion of the West and developed every superstitious and romantic tendency. In the long run, they brought Philosophy to its knees, abasing it to be the apologist of everything they taught and did, and dignifying themselves by giving a philosophic colouring to their mysticism. But this is no strange thing. A religion begins in magic with rites and symbols that belong to the crudest Nature-worship--to agriculture, for instance, and the reproductive organs--and gradually develops or absorbs higher ideas, till it may reach the unity of the godhead and the immortality of the soul; but the ultimate question is, will it cut itself clear of its past? And this the religions of Cybele and Isis never satisfactorily achieved. In the meantime they promised little towards a moral regeneration of society. They offered men and women emotions, but they scarcely touched morality. To the terrors of life, already many enough, they added crowning fears, and cramped and dwarfed the minds of men. {25} [Sidenote: Lucretius] "O hapless race of men!" cried Lucretius, "when they attributed such deeds to the gods and added cruel anger thereto! what groanings did they then beget for themselves, what wounds for us, what tears for our children's children! No act of piety is it to be often seen with veiled head turning toward a stone, to haunt every altar, to lie prostrate on the ground with hands outspread before the shrines of gods, to sprinkle the altars with much blood of beasts and link vow to vow--no! rather to be able to look on all things with a mind at peace."[88] And a mind at peace was the last thing that contemporary religion could offer to any one. "Human life," he says, "lay visibly before men's eyes foully crushed to earth under the weight of Religion, who showed her head from the quarters of heaven with hideous aspect lowering upon men," till Epicurus "dared first to uplift mortal eyes against her face and first to withstand her.... The living force of his soul gained the day; on he passed far beyond the flaming walls of the world and traversed in mind and spirit the immeasurable universe. And thence he returns again a conqueror, to tell us what can and what cannot come into being; in short on what principle each thing has its powers defined, its deep-set boundary mark. So Religion is put under our feet and trampled upon in its turn; while as for us, his victory sets us on a level with heaven."[89] It was the establishment of law which brought peace to Lucretius. In the ease of mind which we see he gained from the contemplation of the fixity of cause and effect, in the enthusiasm with which he emphasizes such words as _rationes_, _fædera_, _leges_, with which he celebrates _Natura gubernans_, we can read the horrible weight upon a feeling soul of a world distracted by the incalculable caprices of a myriad of divine or dæmonic beings.[90] The force with which he flings himself against the doctrine of a future life shows that it is a fight for freedom. If men would rid themselves of "the dread of something after death"--and they could if they would, for reason will do it--they could live in "the serene temples of the wise"; the gods would pass from their minds; bereavement would lose its sting, and life would no longer be brutalized by the cruelties of terror. Avarice, treachery, murder, civil war, suicide--all these things are the fruit of this fear of death.[91] {26} Religion, similarly, "often and often has given birth to sinful and unholy deeds." The illustration, which he uses, is the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and it seems a little remote. Yet Pliny says that in 97 B.C. in the consulship of Lentulus and Crassus, a decree of the Senate forbade human sacrifice--_ne homo immolaretur_. "It cannot be estimated," he goes on, "what a debt is owed to the Romans who have done away (in Gaul and Britain) with monstrous rites, in which it was counted the height of religion to kill a man, and a most healthful thing to eat him."[92] Elsewhere he hints darkly at his own age having seen something of the kind, and there is an obscure allusion in Plutarch's life of Marcellus to "unspeakable rites, that none may see, which are performed (?) upon Greeks and Gauls."[93] "At the temple of Aricia," says Strabo, "there is a barbarian and Scythian practice. For there is there established a priest, a runaway slave, who has killed with his own hand his predecessor. There he is, then, ever sword in hand, peering round about, lest he should be attacked, ready to defend himself." Strabo's description of the temple on the lake and the precipice overhanging it adds to the impressiveness of the scene he thus pictures.[94] If human sacrifice was rare in practice, none the less it was in the minds of men. _Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum_ concludes Lucretius, and yet it was not perhaps his last thought. M. Patin has a fine study of the poet in which he deals with "the anti-Lucretius in Lucretius." Even in the matter of religion, his keen observation of Nature frequently suggests difficulties which are more powerfully expressed and more convincing than the arguments with which he himself tries to refute them. "When we look up to the heavenly regions of the great universe, the æther set on high above the glittering stars, and the {27} thought comes into our mind of the sun and moon and their courses; then indeed in hearts laden with other woes that doubt too begins to wake and raise its head--can it be perchance, after all, that we have to do with some vast Divine power that wheels those bright stars each in his orbit? Again who is there whose mind does not shrink into itself with fear of the gods, whose limbs do not creep with terror, when the parched earth rocks under horrible blow of the thunderbolt, and the roar sweeps over the vast sky? ... When too the utmost fury of the wild wind scours the sea and sweeps over its waters the admiral with his stout legions and his elephants, does he not in prayer seek peace with the gods? ... but all in vain, since, full oft, caught in the whirlwind, he is driven, for all his prayers, on, on to the shoals of death. Thus does some hidden power trample on mankind.... Again, when the whole earth rocks under their feet, and towns fall at the shock or hang ready to collapse, what wonder if men despise themselves, and make over to the gods high prerogative and marvellous powers to govern all things?"[95] That Lucretius should be so open to impressions of this kind, in spite of his philosophy, is ra measure of his greatness as a poet. It adds weight and worth to all that he says--to his hatred of the polytheism and superstition round about him, and to his judgment upon their effect in darkening and benumbing the minds of men. He understands the feelings which he dislikes--he has felt them. The spectacle of the unguessed power that tramples on mankind has moved him; and he has suffered the distress of all delicate spirits in times of bloodshed and disorder. He knows the effect of such times upon those who still worship. "Much more keenly in evil days do they turn their minds to religion."[96] {28} We have now to consider another poet, a disciple of Lucretius in his early years, who, under the influence of Nature and human experience, moved away from Epicureanism, and sought reconciliation with the gods, though he was too honest with himself to find peace in the systems and ideas that were yet available. [Sidenote: Virgil] Virgil was born in the year 70 B.C.--the son of a little self-made man in a village North of the Po. He grew up in the country, with a spirit that year by year grew more sensitive to every aspect of the world around him. No Roman poet had a more gentle and sympathetic love of Nature; none ever entered so deeply and so tenderly into the sorrows of men. He lived through forty years of Civil War, veiled and open. He saw its effects in broken homes and aching hearts, in coarsened minds and reckless lives. He was driven from his own farm, and had, like Æneas, to rescue an aged and blind father. Under such experience his early Epicureanism dissolved--it had always been too genial to be the true kind. The Epicurean should never go beyond friendship, and Virgil loved. His love of the land in which he was born showed it to him more worthy to be loved than men had yet realized. Virgil was the pioneer who discovered the beauty, the charm and the romance of Italy. He loved the Italians and saw poetry in their hardy lives and quiet virtues, though they were not Greeks. His love of his father and of his land opened to him the significance of all love, and the deepening and widening of his experience is to be read in the music, stronger and profounder, that time reveals in his poetry. Here was a poet who loved Rome more than ever did Augustus or Horace, and he had no such speedy cure as they for "the woes of sorrowful Hesperia." The loss of faith in the old gods meant more to him than to them, so his tone in speaking of them is quieter, a great deal, than that of Horace. He took the decline of morals more seriously and more inwardly, and he saw more deeply into the springs of action; he could never lightly use the talk of rapid and sweeping reformation, as his friend did in the odes which the Emperor inspired. He had every belief in Augustus, who was dearer to him personally than to Horace, and he hoped for much outcome from the new movement in the State. But with all his absorbing interest in {29} his own times--and how deep that interest was, only long and minute study of his poems will reveal--he was without scheme or policy. He came before his countrymen, as prophets and poets do in all ages--a child in affairs, but a man in inward experience; he had little or nothing to offer but the impressions left upon his soul by human life. He had the advantage over most prophets in being a "lord of language"; he drew more music from Latin words than had ever been achieved before or was ever reached again. He told men of a new experience of Nature. It is hardly exaggeration to say that he stands nearer Wordsworth in this feeling than any other poet. He had the same "impulses of deeper birth"; he had seen new gleams and heard new voices; he had enjoyed what no Italian had before, and he spoke in a new way, unintelligible then, and unintelligible still, to those who have not seen and heard the same things. The gist of it all he tried to give in the language of Pantheism, which the Stoics had borrowed from Pythagoras:--"The Deity, they tell us, pervades all, earth and the expanse of sea, and the deep vault of heaven; from Him flocks, herds, men, wild beasts of every sort, each creature at its birth draws the bright thread of life; further, to Him all things return, are restored and reduced--death has no place among them; but they fly up alive into the ranks of the stars and take their seats aloft in the sky." So John Conington did the passage into English. But in such cases it may be said with no disrespect to the commentator who has done so much for his poet, the original words stand to the translation, as Virgil's thought did to the same thought in a Stoic's brain. _Deum namque ire per omnis Terrasque tractusque maris cælumque profundum; Hinc pecudes, armenta, viros, genus omne ferarum, Quemque sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas; Scilicet huc reddi deinde ac resoluta referri Omnia, nec morti esse locum, sed viva volare Sideris in numerum atque alto succedere cælo_. (Georgics, iv, 221.) The words might represent a fancy, or a dogma of the schools and many no doubt so read them, because they had no {30} experience to help them. But to others it is clear that the passage is one of the deepest import, for it is the key to Virgil's mind and the thought is an expression of what we can call by no other name than religion. Around him men and women were seeking communion with gods; he had had communion with what he could not name--he had experienced religion in a very deep, abiding and true way. There is nothing for it--at least for Englishmen--but to quote the "lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey"-- I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean, and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man; A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Virgil's experience did not stop here; like Wordsworth, he found Nature's self By all varieties of human love Assisted. He had been a son and a brother; and such relations of men to men impressed him--they took him into the deepest and most beautiful regions of life; and one of the charms of Italy was that it was written all over with the records of human love and helpfulness. The clearing, the orchard, the hilltop town, the bed of flowers, all spoke to him "words that could not be uttered." His long acquaintance with such scripts brought it about that he found in man an object of delight, Of pure imagination and of love-- and he came to the Roman people with a deep impression of human worth--something unknown altogether in Roman poetry before or after. Lucretius was impressed with man's insignificance in the universe; Horace, with man's folly. Virgil's {31} poetry throbbed with the sense of man's grandeur and his sanctity. This human greatness, which his poetry brought home to the sympathetic reader, was not altogether foreign to the thought of the day. _Homo sacra res homini_[97] was the teaching of the Stoics, but man was a more sacred thing to the poet than to the philosopher, for what the philosopher conceived to be a flaw and a weakness in man, the poet found to be man's chief significance. The Stoic loudly proclaimed man to be a member of the universe. The poet found man knit to man by a myriad ties, the strength of which he realized through that pain against which the Stoic sought to safeguard him. Man revealed to the poet his inner greatness in the haunting sense of his limitations--he could not be self-sufficient (_autárkês_) as the Stoic urged; he depended on men, on women and children, on the beauty of grass and living creature, of the sea and sky. And even all these things could not satisfy his craving for love and fellowship; he felt a "hunger for the infinite." Here perhaps is the greatest contribution of Virgil to the life of the age. He, the poet to whom man and the world were most various and meant most, came to his people, and, without any articulate expression of it in direct words, made it clear to them that he had felt a gap in the heart of things, which philosophy could never fill. Philosophy could remove this sense of incompleteness, but only at the cost of love; and love was to Virgil, as his poetry shows, the very essence of life. Yet he gave, and not altogether unconsciously, the impression that in proportion as love is apprehended, its demands extend beyond the present. The sixth book of the _Æneid_ settles nothing and proves nothing, but it expresses an instinct, strong in Virgil, as the result of experience, that love must reach beyond the grave. Further, the whole story of Æneas is an utterance of man's craving for God, of the sense of man's incompleteness without a divine complement. These are the records of Virgil's life, intensely individual, but not peculiar to himself. In the literature of his century, there is little indication of such instincts, but the history of four hundred years shows that they were deep in the general heart of man. These impressions Virgil brought before the Roman world. {32} As such things are, they were a criticism, and they meant a change of values. In the light of them, the restoration of religion by Augustus became a little thing; the popular superstition of the day was stamped as vulgar and trivial in itself, while it became the sign of deep and unsatisfied craving in the human heart; and lastly the current philosophies, in the face of Virgil's poetry, were felt to be shallow and cold, talk of the lip and trick of the brain. Of course this is not just to the philosophers who did much for the world, and without whom Virgil would not have been what he was. None the less, it was written in Virgil's poetry that the religions and philosophies of mankind must be thought over anew. This is no light contribution to an age or to mankind. In this case it carries with it the whole story that lies before us. Such an expression of a common instinct gave new force to that instinct; it added a powerful impulse to the deepest passion that man knows; and, in spite of the uncertainties which beset the poet himself, it gave new hope to mankind that the cry of the human heart for God was one that should receive an answer. Chapter I Footnotes: [1] Cic. _ad fam._ x, 16, 2, _Ipse tibi sis senatus_. [2] _Georgic_ i, 505-514 (Conington's translation, with alterations). [3] Polybius, vi, 56, Shuckburgh's Translation. [4] Polybius, xviii, 35. [5] Sextus Empiricus, _Adv. mathematicos_, ix, 54. [6] Cicero, _N.D._ i, 42, 118. [7] Diodorus Siculus, i, 2. [8] Quoted by Augustine, _C.D._ iv, 27; vi, 5; also referred to by Tertullian, _ad Natt._ ii, 1. [9] Suetonius, _Augustus_, 31, 75, 93; Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, p. 344. [10] Suet. Aug. 90, 92. [11] Horace, _Odes_, iii, 24, 9-20, Gladstone's version. [12] Horace, _Odes_, iii, 6, Delicta maiorum. [13] _De Haruspicum Responsis_, 9, 19; _N.D._ ii, 3, 8. [14] E.g. _Apol._ 25, with a serious criticism of the contrast between Roman character before and after the conquest of the world,--before and after the invasion of Rome by the images and idols of Etruscans and Greeks. [15] _Augustine C.D._ vi, 2. [16] On _Æneid_, xi, 785. [17] Propertius, v, 1, 69. [18] Ovid, _Fasti_, i, 7. [19] Livy, i, 19. [20] Livy, iv, 30. [21] Plutarch, _Romulus_, 21; _Cæsar_, 61, Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, p. 310 f. [22] Suetonius, _Aug._ 31, Warde Fowler, _op. cit._ p. 190. [23] Mommsen, _History_, i, p. 231, who translates the hymn. [24] Quintilian, i, 6, 40. See specimen in Varro, _L.L._ vii, 26. [25] _Epp._ ii, 1, 20-27, 86. [26] Cicero, _ad fam._ xiv, 4, 1. [27] Hor. _Sat._ i, 9, 69: Porphyrion is the authority for the comedies. [28] Prudentius, _contra Symmachum_, i, 197-218. [29] Tibullus, i, 10, 15. [30] _C.D._ iv, 8. "To an early Greek," says Mr Gilbert Murray, "the earth, water and air were full of living eyes: of _theoi_, of _daimones_, of _Kêres_. One early poet says emphatically that the air is so crowded full of them that there is no room to put in the spike of an ear of corn without touching one."--_Rise of Greek Epic_, p. 82. [31] _de Spect._ 5; cf. _de Idol._ 16; _de cor. mil._ 13, gods of the door; _de Anima_, 39, goddesses of child-birth. [32] Lucr. iv, 580 f. Virg. _Æn._ viii, 314. [33] Cic. _N.D._ ii, 2, 6: cf. _De Div._ i, 45, 101. Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, pp. 256 ff. on the Fauni. [34] Pliny, _N.H._ viii, 151; xxx, 84. [35] Plutarch, _Numa_, 15; _de facie in orbe lunæ_, 30; Ovid, _Fasti_, iii, 291. [36] Horace's ode attests the power of the Fauns over crops and herds. [37] Dionys. Hal. v, 16. [38] Pliny, _N.H._ xii, 3. [39] Ovid, _Fasti_, iii, 267. _Licia dependent longas velantia sæpes, et posita est meritæ multa tabella deæ_. [40] Virgil, Æn. x, 423. [41] Horace, _Odes_, iii, 13. [42] W. Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, p. 240. [43] Cf. Tertullian, _de Baptismo_, 5. _Annon et alias sine ullo Sacramento immundi spiritus aquis incubant, adfectantes illam in primordio divini spiritus gestationem? Sciunt opaci quique fontes, et avii quique rivi, et in balneis piscinæ et euripi in domibus, vel cisternæ et putei, qui rapere dicuntur, scilicet per vim spiritus nocentis. Nympholeptos et lymphaticos et hydrophobos vocant quos aquæ necaverunt aut amentia vel formidine exercuerunt. Quorsum ista retulimus? Ne quis durius credat angelum dei sanctum aquis in salutem hominis temperandis adesse._ [44] Ovid, _Fasti_, vi, 155 f. [45] Cf. (Lucian) _Asinus_, 24. _poî badixeis aôría talaipôre; oudè tà daimónia dédoikas_. [46] Pliny, _N.H._ xxxvi, 204. [47] Lampridius, _Alex. Sev._ 29. 2. [48] _Fasti_, v. 145. Cf. Prudentius, _adv. Symm_, ii, 445 f. [49] _Odes_, iii, 23. _Farre pio_. [50] On _Georgic_ i, 302, See Varro, _ap._ Aug. _C.D._ vii, 13. Also _Tert. de Anima_, 39, _Sic et omnibus genii deputantur, quod dæmonum nomen est. Adeo nulla ferme nativitas munda, utique ethnicorum_. [51] Hor. _Ep._ ii. 2, 187 f. Howes' translation. Cf. _Faerie Queene_, II, xii, 47. [52] See J. H. Moulton in _Journal of Theological Studies_, III, 514. [53] Burkitt, _Early Eastern Christianity_, p. 222. [54] _Fasti_, iii, 57; Seneca, _Ep._ 18. 1, _December est mensis: cum maxime civitas sudat, ius luxuries publicæ datum est ... ut non videatur mihi errasse qui dixit: olim mensem Decembrem fuisse nunc annum_. [55] Cf. Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, lect. xi. [56] Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, pp. 106 f. [57] Ovid, _Fasti_, ii, 409 f. Warde Fowler, _op. cit._ pp. 306 f. [58] Ovid, _Fasti_, v, 490. [59] _De Divinatione_, i, 1, 2. [60] _ib._ i, 3, 5. [61] _ib._ i, 39, 84. [62] _De Divinatione_, i, 38, 82, 83. Cf. Tertullian, _de Anima_, 46. _Sed et Stoici deum malunt providentissimum humanæ institutioni inter cetera præsidia divinatricum artium et disciplinarum somnia quoque nobis indidisse, peculiare solatium naturalis oraculi_. [63] Panaetius and Seneca should be excepted from this charge. [64] Cic. _de Div._ ii, 72, 149, 150. Cf. _de Legg._ ii, 13, 32. Plutarch also has the same remark about sleep and superstition. [65] Cf. _Odes_, iii, 27. [66] _Tusculans_, i, 21, 48. [67] Hor. _Ep._ ii, 2, 208; Howes. [68] Tertullian, de _Idol._ 9, _seimus magiæ et astrologiæ inter se societatem_. [69] Pliny the elder on Magic, _N.H._ xxx, opening sections; _N.H._ xxviii, 10, on incantations, _polleantne aliquid verba et incantamenta carminum_. [70] Livy, xxix, 11, 14; Ovid, fasti, iv, 179 f. The goddess was embodied in a big stone. [71] Lucretius, ii, 608 f. [72] Cf. Strabo, c. 470; Juvenal, vi, 511 f. [73] See Ramsay, _Church in the Roman Empire_, p. 397. The Latins used the word _divinus_ in this way--Seneca, _de teata vita_, 26, 8. [74] (Lucian) Asinus, 37. The same tale is amplified in Apuleius' _Golden Ass_, where the episode of these priests is given with more detail, in the eighth book. Seneca hints that a little blood might make a fair show; see his picture of the same, _de beata vita_, 26, 8. [75] Tertullian, _ad Natt._ i, 10; Apel. 6. He has the strange fancy that Serapis was originally the Joseph of the book of Genesis, _ad Natt._ ii, 8. [76] Valerius Maximus, i, 3, 4. [77] Dio C. xlvii, 15. [78] Tibullus, i, 3, 23 f. Cf. Propertius, ii, 28, 45; Ovid, _A.A._ iii, 635. [79] Juvenal, vi, 522 f. [80] Lucan, viii, 831, _Isin semideosque canes_. [81] Ovid, _Am._ ii, 13, 7. [82] Unless _Isiaci coniectores_ is Cicero's own phrase, _de Div._ i, 58, 132. [83] Cicero, _Div._ ii, 59, 121. For _egkolmesis_ or _incubatio_ see Mary Hamilton, _Incubation_ (1906) [84] Clem. Alex. Pædag. iii, 28, to the same effect. Tertullian on the temples, _de Pud._ c. 5. Reference may be made to the hierodules of the temples in ancient Asia and in modern India. [85] _Corp. Inscr. Lai._ ii, 3386. The enumeration of the jewels was a safeguard against theft. [86] Flinders Petrie, _Religion of Ancient Egypt_, p. 44; Hamilton, _Incubation_, pp. 174, 182 f. [87] Julian, _Or._ iv, 136 B. [88] Lucr. v, 1194. [89] Lucr. i, 62-79. [90] See Patin, _La Poésie Latine_, i, 120. [91] Lucr. iii, 60 f. [92] Pliny, _N.H._ xxx, 12, 13. Warde Fowler, _Roman Festivals_, pp. 111 f. on the _Argei_ and the whole question of human sacrifice. For Plutarch's explanation of it as due not to gods but to evil demons who enforced it, see p. 107. [93] Pliny, _N.H._ xxviii, 12; Plutarch, _Marcellus_, 3, where, however, the meaning may only be that the rites are done in symbol; he refers to the actual sacrifice of human beings in the past. See Tertullian, _Apol._ 9 on sacrifice of children in Africa in the reign of Tiberius. [94] Strabo, c. 239. Strabo was a contemporary of Augustus. Cf. J. G. Frazer, _Adonis Attis Osiris_, p. 63, for another instance in this period. [95] Lucr. v, 1204-1240. We may compare Browning's _Bp. Blougram_ on the instability of unbelief:-- Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus-ending from Euripides-- And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears As old and new at once as nature's self, To rap and knock and enter in our soul, Take hands and dance there, a fantastic ring, Round the ancient idol, on his base again,-- The grand Perhaps! We look on helplessly. [96] Lucr. iii, 53. [97] Seneca, _Ep._ 95, 33. {33} CHAPTER II THE STOICS "I am entering," writes Tacitus,[1] "upon the history of a period, rich in disasters, gloomy with wars, rent with seditions, nay, savage in its very hours of peace. Four Emperors perished by the sword; there were three civil wars; there were more with foreigners--and some had both characters at once.... Rome was wasted by fires, its oldest temples burnt, the very Capitol set in flames by Roman hands. There was defilement of sacred rites; adulteries in high places; the sea crowded with exiles; island rocks drenched with murder. Yet wilder was the frenzy in Rome; nobility, wealth, the refusal of office, its acceptance--everything was a crime, and virtue the surest ruin. Nor were the rewards of informers less odious than their deeds; one found his spoils in a priesthood or a consulate; another in a provincial governorship; another behind the throne; and all was one delirium of hate and terror; slaves were bribed to betray their masters, freedmen their patrons. He who had no foe was destroyed by his friend." It was to this that Virgil's hope of a new Golden Age had come--_Redeunt Saturnia regna_. Augustus had restored the Republic; he had restored religion; and after a hundred years here is the outcome. Tacitus himself admits that the age was not "barren of virtues," that it "could show fine illustrations" of family love and friendship, and of heroic death. It must also be owned that the Provinces at large were better governed than under the Republic; and, further, that, when he wrote Tacitus thought of a particular period of civil disorder and that not a long one. Yet the reader of his Annals will feel that the description will cover more than the year 69; it is essentially true of the reigns of Tiberius, Gaius, Claudius and Nero, and it was to be true again of the reign of Domitian--of perhaps eighty years of the first century of our era. If it was not true {34} of the whole Mediterranean world, or even of the whole of Rome, it was true at least of that half-Rome which gave its colour to the thinking of the world. [Sidenote: The Imperial court] Through all the elaborate pretences devised by Augustus to obscure the truth, through all the names and phrases and formalities, the Roman world had realized the central fact of despotism.[2] The Emperors themselves had grasped it with pride and terror. One at least was insane, and the position was enough to turn almost any brain. "Monarchy," in Herodotus' quaint sentence,[3] "would set the best man outside the ordinary thoughts." Plato's myth of Gyges was fulfilled--of the shepherd, who found a ring that made him invisible, and in its strength seduced a queen, murdered a king and became a tyrant. Gaius banished his own sisters, reminding them that he owned not only islands but swords; and he bade his grandmother remember that he could "do anything he liked and do it to anybody."[4] Oriental princes had been kept at Rome as hostages and had given the weaker-minded members of the Imperial family new ideas of royalty. The very word was spoken freely--in his treatise "On Clemency" Seneca uses again and again the word _regnum_ without apology. But what gave Despotism its sting was its uncertainty. Augustus had held a curiously complicated set of special powers severally conferred on him for specified periods, and technically they could be taken from him. The Senate was the Emperor's partner in the government of the world, and it was always conceivable that the partnership might cease, for it was not a definite institution--prince followed prince, it is true, but there was an element of accident about it all. The situation was difficult; Senate and Emperor eyed each other with suspicion--neither knew how far the other could go, or would go; neither knew the terms of the partnership. Tiberius wrote despatches to the Senate and he was an artist in concealing his meaning. The Senate had to guess what he wished; if it guessed wrong, he would resent the liberty; if it guessed right, he resented the appearance of servility. The solitude of the throne grew more and more uneasy. {35} Again, the republican government had been in the hands of free men, who ruled as magistrates, and the imperial government had no means of replacing them, for one free-born Roman could not take service with another. The Emperor had to fall back upon his own household. His Secretaries of State were slaves and freedmen--men very often of great ability, but their past was against them. If it had not depraved them, none the less it left upon them a social taint, which nothing could remove. They were despised by the men who courted them, and they knew it. It was almost impossible for such men not to be the gangrene of court and state. And as a fact we find that the freedman was throughout the readiest agent for all evil that Rome knew, and into the hands of such men the government of the world drifted. Under a weak, or a careless, or even an absent, Emperor Rome was governed by such men and such methods as we suppose to be peculiar to Sultanates and the East. The honour, the property, the life of every Roman lay in the hands of eunuchs and valets, and, as these quarrelled or made friends, the fortunes of an old nobility changed with the hour. It had not been so under Augustus, nor was it so under Vespasian, nor under Trajan or his successors; but for the greater part of the first century A.D. Rome was governed by weak or vicious Emperors, and they by their servants. The spy and the informer were everywhere. To this confusion fresh elements of uncertainty were added by the astrologer and mathematician, and it became treason to be interested in "the health of the prince." Superstition ruled the weakling--superstition, perpetually re-inforced by fresh hordes of Orientals, obsequious and unscrupulous. Seneca called the imperial court, which he knew, "a gloomy slave-gaol" (_triste ergastulum_).[5] Reduced to merely registering the wishes of their rulers, the Roman nobility sought their own safety in frivolity and extravagance. To be thoughtful was to be suspected of independence and to invite danger. We naturally suppose moralists and satirists to exaggerate the vices of their contemporaries, but a sober survey of Roman morals in the first century--at any rate before 70 A.D.--reveals a great deal that {36} is horrible. (Petronius is not exactly a moralist or a satirist, and there is plenty of other evidence.) Marriage does not thrive alongside of terror, nor yet where domestic slavery prevails, and in Rome both militated against purity of life. The Greek girl's beauty, her charm and wit, were everywhere available. For amusements, there were the gladiatorial shows,--brutal, we understand, but their horrible fascination we fortunately cannot know. The reader of St Augustine's _Confessions_ will remember a famous passage on these games. The gladiators were the popular favourites of the day. They toured the country, they were modelled and painted. Their names survive scratched by loafers on the walls of Pompeii. The very children played at being gladiators, Epictetus said--"sometimes athletes, now monomachi, now trumpeters." The Colosseum had seats for 80,000 spectators of the games, "and is even now at once the most imposing and the most characteristic relic of pagan Rome."[6] [Sidenote: "Despotism tempered by epigrams"] Life was terrible in its fears and in its pleasures. If the poets drew Ages of Gold in the latter days of the Republic, now the philosophers and historians looked away to a "State of Nature," to times and places where greed and civilization were unknown. In those happy days, says Seneca, they enjoyed Nature in common; the stronger had not laid his hand upon the weaker; weapons lay unused, and human hands, unstained by human blood, turned all the hatred they felt upon the wild beasts; they knew quiet nights without a sigh, while the stars moved onward above them and the splendid pageant of Night; they drank from the stream and knew no water-pipes, and their meadows were beautiful without art; their home was Nature and not terrible; while our abodes form the greatest part of our terror.[7] In Germany, writes Tacitus, the marriage-bond is strict; there are no shows to tempt virtue; adultery is rare; none there makes a jest of vice, _nec corrumpere et corrumpi seculum vocatur_; none but virgins marry and they marry to bear big children and to suckle them, _sera invenum venus eoque inexhausta pubertas_; and the children inherit the sturdy frames of their parents.[8] But whatever their dreams of the Ideal, the actual was {37} around them, and men had to accommodate themselves to it. In France before the Revolution, men spoke of the government as "despotism tempered by epigrams," and the happy phrase is as true of Imperial Rome. "Verses of unknown authorship reached the public and provoked" Tiberius,[9] who complained of the "circles and dinner-parties." Now and again the authors were discovered and were punished sufficiently. The tone of the society that produced them lives for ever in the _Annals_ of Tacitus. It is worth noting how men and women turned to Tacitus and Seneca during the French Revolution and found their own experience written in their books.[10] Others unpacked their hearts with words in tyrannicide declamations and imitations of Greek tragedy. Juvenal laughs at the crowded class-room busy killing tyrants,--waiting himself till they were dead. The tragedies got nearer the mark. Here are a few lines from some of Seneca's own:-- Who bids all pay one penalty of death Knows not a tyrant's trade. Nay, vary it-- Forbid the wretch to die, and slay the happy. (_H.F._ 515.) And is there none to teach them stealth and sin? Why! then the throne will! (_Thyestes_ 313.) Let him who serves a king, fling justice forth, Send every scruple packing from his heart; Shame is no minister to wait on kings. (_Phædra_ 436.) But bitterness and epigram could not heal; and for healing and inward peace men longed more and more,[11] as they felt their own weakness, the power of evil and the terror of life; and they found both in a philosophy that had originally come into being under circumstances somewhat similar. They needed some foundation for life, some means of linking the individual to something that could not be shaken, and this they found in Stoicism. The Stoic philosopher saw a unity in this world of confusion--it was the "Generative Reason"--the _spermatikós logos_, the Divine Word, or Reason, that is the seed and vital principle, whence all things come and in virtue of which they {38} live. All things came from fiery breath, _pneûma diapuron_, and returned to it. The whole universe was one polity--_politeia tou kósmou_--in virtue of the spirit that was its origin and its life, of the common end to which it tended, of the absolute and universal scope of the laws it obeyed--mind, matter, God, man, formed one community. The soul of the individual Roman partook of the very nature of God--_divinæ particula auræ_[12]--and in a way stood nearer to the divine than did anything else in the world, every detail of which, however, was some manifestation of the same divine essence. All men were in truth of one blood, of one family,--all and each, as Seneca says, sacred to each and all.[13] (_Unum me donavit_ [_sc. Natura rerum_] _omnibus, uni mihi omnes_.) [Sidenote: Harmony with nature] Taught by the Stoic, the troubled Roman looked upon himself at once as a fragment of divinity,[14] an entity self-conscious and individual, and as a member of a divine system expressive of one divine idea, which his individuality subserved. These thoughts gave him ground and strength. If he seemed to be the slave and plaything of an Emperor or an imperial freedman, none the less a divine life pulsed within him, and he was an essential part of "the world." He had two havens of refuge--the universe and his own soul--both quite beyond the reach of the oppressor. Over and over we find both notes sounded in the writings of the Stoics and their followers--God within you and God without you. "Jupiter is all that you see, and all that lives within you."[15] There is a Providence that rules human and all other affairs; nothing happens that is not appointed; and to this Providence every man is related. "He who has once observed with understanding the administration of the world, and learnt that the greatest and supreme and most comprehensive community is the system (_systema_) of men and God, and that from God come the seeds whence all things, and especially rational beings, spring, why should not that man call himself a citizen of the world [Socrates' word _kosmios_], why not a son of God?"[16] And when we consider the individual, we find that God {39} has put in his power "the best thing of all, the master thing"--the rational faculty. What is not in our power is the entire external world, of which we can alter nothing, but the use we make of it and its "appearances"[17] is our own. Confine yourself to "what is in your power" (_tà epí soi_), and no man can hurt you. If you can no longer endure life, leave it; but remember in doing so to withdraw quietly, not at a run; yet, says the sage, "Men! wait for God; when He shall give you the signal and release you from this service, then go to Him; but for the present endure to dwell in this place where He has set you."[18] To sum up; the end of man's being and his true happiness is what Zeno expressed as "living harmoniously," a statement which Cleanthes developed by adding the words "with Nature." Harmony with Nature and with oneself is the ideal life; and this the outside world of Emperors, freedmen, bereavements and accidents generally, can neither give nor take away. "The end," says Diogenes Laertius, "is to act in conformity with nature, that is, at once with the nature which is in us and with the nature of the universe, doing nothing forbidden by that common law which is the right reason that pervades all things, and which is, indeed, the same in the Divine Being who administers the universal system of things. Thus the life according to nature is that virtuous and blessed flow of existence, which is enjoyed only by one who always acts so as to maintain the harmony between the dæmon (_daimôn_) within the individual and the will of the power that orders the universe."[19] This was indeed a philosophy for men, and it was also congenial to Roman character, as history had already shown. It appealed to manhood, and whatever else has to be said of Stoics and Stoicism, it remains the fact that Stoicism inspired nearly all the great characters of the early Roman Empire, and nerved almost every attempt that was made to maintain the freedom and dignity of the human soul.[20] The government was not slow to realise the danger of men with such a trust in themselves and so free from fear. On paper, perhaps, all religions and philosophies may at first glance seem equally good, and it is not till we test them in life {40} that we can value them aright. And even here there is a wide field for error. Every religion has its saints--men recognizable to everyone as saints in the beauty, manhood and tenderness of their character--and it is perhaps humiliating to have to acknowledge that very often they seem to be so through some happy gift of Nature, quite independently of any effort they make, or of the religion to which they themselves generally attribute anything that redeems them from being base. We have to take, if possible, large masses of men, and to see how they are affected by the religion which we wish to study--average men, as we call them--for in this way we shall escape being led to hasty conclusions by happy instances of natural endowment, or of virtues carefully acquired in favourable circumstances of retirement or helpful environment. Side by side with such results as we may reach from wider study, we have to set our saints and heroes, for while St Francis would have been tender and Thrasea brave under any system of thought, it remains that the one was Christian and the other Stoic. We need the individual, if we are to avoid mere rough generalities; but we must be sure that he is representative in some way of the class and the system under review. As representatives of the Stoicism of the early Roman Empire, two men stand out conspicuous--men whose characters may be known with a high degree of intimacy. The one was a Roman statesman, famous above all others in his age, and a man of letters--one of those writers who reveal themselves in every sentence they write and seem to leave records of every mood they have known. The other was an emancipated slave, who lived at Nicopolis in Epirus, away from the main channels of life, who wrote nothing, but whose conversations or monologues were faithfully recorded by a disciple. "Notable Seneca," writes Carlyle, "so wistfully desirous to stand well with Truth and yet not ill with Nero, is and remains only our perhaps niceliest proportioned half-and-half, the plausiblest Plausible on record; no great man, no true man, no man at all... 'the father of all such as wear shovel-hats.'" This was in the essay on Diderot written in 1833; and we find in his diary for 10th August 1832, when Carlyle was fresh from reading Seneca, an earlier judgment to much the same effect--"He is father of all that work in sentimentality, and, by fine speaking {41} and decent behaviour, study to serve God and mammon, to stand well with philosophy and not ill with Nero. His _force_ had mostly oozed out of him, or corrupted itself into _benevolence_, virtue, sensibility. Oh! the everlasting clatter about virtue! virtue!! In the Devil's name be virtuous and no more about it." Even in his most one-sided judgments Carlyle is apt to speak truth, though it is well to remember that he himself said that little is to be learnt of a man by dwelling only or mainly on his faults. That what he says in these passages is in some degree true, every candid reader must admit; but if he had written an essay instead of a paragraph we should have seen that a great deal more is true of Seneca. As it is, we must take what Carlyle says as representing a judgment which has often been passed upon Seneca, though seldom in such picturesque terms. It is in any case truer than Mommsen's description of Cicero. [Sidenote: Seneca's early life] Seneca was born at Cordova in Spain about the Christian era--certainly not long before it. His father was a rich man of equestrian rank, a rhetorician, who has left several volumes of rhetorical compositions on imaginary cases. He hated philosophy, his son tells us.[21] Seneca's mother seems to have been a good woman, and not the only one in the family; for his youth was delicate and owed much to the care of a good aunt at Rome; and his later years were spent with a good wife Pompeia Paulina, who bore him two little short-lived boys. In one of his letters (108) Seneca tells us of his early life in Rome. He went to the lectures of Attalus, a Stoic teacher, who laid great stress on simplicity of life and independence of character and was also interested in superstition and soothsaying. The pupil was a high-minded and sensitive youth, quick then, as he remained through life, to take fire at an idea.[22] "I used to be the first to come and the last to go; and as he walked I would lead him on to further discussions, for he was not only ready for those who would learn, but he would meet them." "When I heard Attalus declaim against the vices, errors and evils of life, I would often pity mankind; and as for him I thought of him as one on high, far above human nature's highest. He himself used to say he was a king [a Stoic {42} paradox at which Horace had laughed]; but he seemed to me more than king,--the judge of kings. When he began to commend poverty, and to show that whatever is more than need requires, is a useless burden to him that has it, I often longed to leave the room a poor man. When he attacked our pleasures and praised the chaste body, the sober table, the pure mind, I delighted to refrain, not merely from unlawful pleasures, but from needless ones too. Some of it has stuck by me, Lucilius, for I made a good beginning." All his life long, in fact, he avoided the luxuries of table and bath, and drank water. He continues, "Since I have begun to tell you how much more keenly I began philosophy in my youth than I persevere with it in my old age, I am not ashamed to own what love of Pythagoras Sotion waked in me." Sotion recommended vegetarianism on the grounds which Pythagoras had laid down. "But you do not believe," he said, "that souls are allotted to one body after another, and that what we call death is transmigration? You don't believe that in beasts and fishes dwells the mind (_animum_) that was once a man's? ... Great men have believed it; so maintain your own opinion, but keep the matter open. If it is true, then to have abstained from animal food will be innocence; if it is false, it will still be frugality."[23] So for a year Seneca was a vegetarian with some satisfaction and he fancied that his mind was livelier than when he was "an eater of beef."[24] It is as well not to quote some contemporary methods of preparing meat.[25] However, after a while some scandal arose about foreign religions, and vegetarianism was counted a "proof of superstition," and the old rhetorician, more from dislike of philosophy than from fear of calumny, made it an excuse to put a little pressure on his philosophic son, who obediently gave up the practice. Such is the ardour of youth, he concludes,--a good teacher finds idealists ready to his hand. The fault is partly in the teachers, who train us to argue and not to live, and partly in the pupils too, whose aim is to have the wits trained and not the mind. "So what was philosophy becomes philology--the love of words."[26] There is a certain gaiety and good humour about these {43} confessions, which is closely bound up with that air of tolerance and that sense of buoyant ease[27] which pervade all his work. Here the tone is in keeping with the matter in hand, but it is not always. Everything seems so easy to him that the reader begins to doubt him and to wonder whether he is not after all "The plausiblest Plausible on record." We associate experience with a style more plain, more tense, more inevitable; and the extraordinary buoyancy of Seneca's writing suggests that he can hardly have known the agony and bloody sweat of the true teacher. Yet under the easy phrases there lay a real sincerity. From his youth onward he took life seriously, and, so far as is possible for a man of easy good nature, he was in earnest with himself. Like other youths of genius, he had had thoughts of suicide, but on reflexion, he tells us, he decided to live, and his reason was characteristic. While for himself he felt equal to dying bravely, he was not so sure that his "kind old father" would be quite so brave in doing without him. It was to philosophy, he says, that he owed his resolution.[28] Apart from philosophy, he went through the ordinary course of Roman education. He "wasted time on the grammarians,"[29] whom he never forgave, and at whom, as "guardians of Latin speech"[30] he loved to jest,--and the greatest of all Roman Grammarians paid him back in the familiar style of the pedagogue. Rhetoric came to him no doubt by nature, certainly by environment; it conspicuously haunted his family for three generations.[31] He duly made his appearance at the bar--making more speeches there than Virgil did, and perhaps not disliking it so much. But he did not like it, and, when his father died, he ceased to appear, and by and by found that he had lost the power to plead as he had long before lost the wish.[32] On the accession of Claudius to the Imperial throne in 41 A.D., Seneca, now in middle life, was for some reason banished to Corsica, and there for eight weary years he remained, till the Empress Messalina fell. A little treatise, which he wrote {44} to console his mother, survives--couched in the rhetoric she knew so well. If the language is more magnificent than sons usually address to their mothers, it must be remembered that he wrote to console her for misfortunes which he was himself enduring. The familiar maxim that the mind can make itself happy and at home anywhere is rather like a platitude, but it loses something of that character when it comes from the lips of a man actually in exile. Another little work on the subject, which he addressed later on to Polybius, the freedman of Claudius, stands on a different footing, and his admirers could wish he had not written it. There is flattery in it of a painfully cringing tone. "The Emperor did not hurl him down so utterly as never to raise him again; rather he supported him when evil fortune smote him and he tottered; he gently used his godlike hand to sustain him and pleaded with the Senate to spare his life.... He will see to his cause.... He best knows the time at which to show favour.... Under the clemency of Claudius, exiles live more peacefully than princes did under Gaius."[33] But a little is enough of this. It is clear that Seneca was not what we call a strong man. A fragile youth, a spirit of great delicacy and sensibility, were no outfit for exile. Nor is it very easy to understand what exile was to the educated Roman. Some were confined to mere rocks, to go round and round them for ever and never leave them. Seneca had of course more space, but what he endured, we may in some measure divine from the diaries and narratives that tell of Napoleon's life on St Helena. The seclusion from the world, the narrow range, the limited number of faces, the red coats, the abhorred monotony, told heavily on every temper, on gaoler and prisoner alike, even on Napoleon; and Seneca's temperament was not of stuff so stern. We may wish he had not broken down, but we cannot be surprised that he did. It was human of him. Perhaps the memory of his own weakness and failure contributed to make him the most sympathetic and the least arrogant of all Stoics. [Sidenote: Nero] At last Messalina reached her end, and the new Empress, Agrippina, recalled the exile in 49 A.D., and made him tutor of her son, Nero; and from now till within two years of his death Seneca lived in the circle of the young prince. When Claudius died in 54, Seneca and Burrus became the guardians of the {45} Emperor and virtually ruled the Empire. It was a position of great difficulty. Seneca grew to be immensely rich, and his wealth and his palaces and gardens[34] weakened his influence, while they intensified the jealousy felt for a minister so powerful. Yet perhaps none of his detractors guessed the limits of his power as surely as he came to feel them himself. Some measure of the situation may be taken from what befell when the freedwoman Claudia Acte became the mistress of Nero. "His older friends did not thwart him," says Tacitus, "for here was a girl, who, without harm to anyone, gratified his desires, since he was utterly estranged from his wife Octavia."[35] Later on, we learn, Seneca had to avail himself of Acte's aid to prevent worse scandals. In February 55 A.D. the young prince Britannicus was poisoned at Nero's table. He was the son of Claudius and the brother of Octavia--a possible claimant therefore to the Imperial throne. Nero, not more than eighteen years old, told the company quite coolly that it was an epileptic seizure, and the feast went on, while the dead boy was carried out and buried there and then in the rain--in a grave prepared before he had entered the dining-hall.[36] Ten months later Seneca wrote his tractate on Clemency. Nero should ask himself "Am I the elected of the gods to be their vice-gerent on earth? The arbiter of life and death to the nations?" and so forth. He is gently reminded of the great light that fronts the throne; that his anger would be as disastrous as war; that "Kings gain from kindness a greater security, while their cruelty swells the number of their enemies." Seneca wanders a good deal, but his drift is clear--and the wretchedness of his position. That Burrus and he had no knowledge of Nero's design to do away with his mother, is the verdict of Nero's latest historian, but to Seneca fell the horrible task of writing the explanatory letter which Nero sent to the Senate when the murder was done. Perhaps to judge him fairly, one would need to have been a Prime Minister. It may have been a necessary thing to do, in order to maintain the world's government, but the letter imposed on nobody, and Thrasea Pætus at once rose from his seat and walked conspicuously out. From the year 59 Nero was more than ever his own master. {46} His guardians' repeated condonations had set him free, and the lad, who had "wished he had never learned writing" when he had to sign his first death-warrant, began from now to build up that evil fame for which the murders of his brother and his mother were only the foundation. For three years Seneca and Burrus kept their places--miserably enough. Then Burrus found a happy release in death, and with him died the last of Seneca's influence.[37] Seneca begged the Emperor's leave to retire from the Court, offering him the greater part of his wealth, and it was refused. It had long been upon his mind that he was too rich. In 58 a furious attack was made upon him by "one who had earned the hate of many," Publius Suillius; this man asked in the Senate "by what kind of wisdom or maxims of philosophy" Seneca had amassed in four years a fortune equal to two and a half millions sterling; and he went on to accuse him of intrigue with princesses, of hunting for legacies, and of "draining Italy and the provinces by boundless usury."[38] There was probably a good deal of inference in these charges, if one may judge by the carelessness of evidence which such men show in all ages. Still Seneca felt the taunt, and in a book "On the Happy Life," addressed to his brother Gallic, he dealt with the charge. He did not claim to be a sage (17, 3); his only hope was day by day to lessen his vices--he was still in the thick of them; perhaps he might not reach wisdom, but he would at least live for mankind "as one born for others,"[39] would do nothing for glory, and all for conscience, would be gentle and accessible even to his foes; as for wealth, it gave a wise man more opportunity, but if his riches deserted him, they would take nothing else with them; a philosopher might have wealth, "if it be taken forcibly from no man, stained with no man's blood, won by no wrong done to any, gained without dishonour; if its spending be as honest as its getting, if it wake no envy but in the envious."[40] The treatise has a suggestion of excitement, and there is a good deal of rhetoric in it. Now he proposed to the Emperor to put his words into action, and Nero would not permit him--he was not ready for the odium of despoiling his guardian, and the old man's name might still be of use to cover deeds in which he had no share. Seneca was not to resign his {47} wealth nor to leave Rome. Nero's words as given by Tacitus are pleasant enough, but we hardly need to be told their value.[41] [Sidenote: Seneca's last days] It was merely a reservation of the death sentence, and Seneca must have known it. The only thing now was to wait till he should receive the order to die, and Seneca occupied the time in writing. If what he wrote has a flushed and excited air, it is not surprising. The uncertainty of his position had preyed upon him while he was still Minister--"there are many," he had written, "who must hold fast to their dizzy height; it is only by falling that they can leave it."[42] He had fallen, and still he had to live in uncertainty; he had always been a nervous man. The end came in 65, in connexion with the conspiracy of Piso. Tacitus is not altogether distinct as to the implication of Seneca in this plot, but modern historians have inclined to believe in his guilt--if guilt it was.[43] Mr Henderson, in particular, is very severe on him for this want of "gratitude" to his benefactor and pupil, but it is difficult to see what Nero had done for him that he would not have preferred undone.[44] Perhaps at the time, and certainly later on, Seneca was regarded as a possible substitute for Nero upon the throne;[45] but he was well over sixty and frail, nor is it clear that the world had yet decided that a man could be Emperor without being a member of the Julian or Claudian house. Seneca, in fact any man, must have felt that any one would be better than Nero, but he had himself conspicuously left the world, and, with his wife, was living the philosophic life--a vegetarian again, and still a water-drinker.[46] Seneca was ready for the death-summons and at once opened his veins. Death came slowly, but it came; and he died, eloquent to the last--_novissimo quoque momenta suppeditante eloquentia_. Such is the story of Seneca. Even in bare outline it shows something of his character--his kindliness and sensibility, his weakness and vanity; but there are other features revealed in his books and his many long letters to Lucilius. No Roman, perhaps, ever laid more stress on the duty of gentleness and forgiveness.[47] "Look at the City of Rome," he says, "and the {48} crowds unceasingly pouring through its broad streets--what a solitude, what a wilderness it would be, were none left but whom a strict judge would acquit. We have all done wrong (_peccavimus_), some in greater measure, some in less, some on purpose, some by accident, some by the fault of others; we have not stood bravely enough by our good resolutions; despite our will and our resistance, we have lost our innocence. Nor is it only that we have acted amiss; we shall do so to the end."[48] He is anxious to make Stoicism available for his friends; he tones down its gratuitous harshness, accommodates, conciliates. He knows what conscience is; he is recognized as a master in dealing with the mind at variance with itself, so skilfully does he analyse and lay bare its mischiefs. Perhaps he analyses too much--the angel, who bade Hermas cease to ask concerning sins and ask of righteousness, might well have given him a word. But he is always tender with the man to whom he is writing. If he was, as Quintilian suggests, a "splendid assailant of the faults of men," it is the faults of the unnamed that he assails; his friends' faults suggest his own, and he pleads and sympathizes. His style corresponds with the spirit in which he thinks. "You complain," he writes to Lucilius, "that my letters are not very finished in style. Who talks in a finished style unless he wishes to be affected? What my talk would be, if we were sitting or walking together, unlaboured and easy, that is what I wish my letters to be, without anything precious or artificial in them."[49] And he has in measure succeeded in giving the air of talk to his writing--its ease, its gaiety, even its rambling and discursiveness. He always sees the friend to whom he writes, and talks to him--sometimes at him--and not without some suggestion of gesticulation. He must have talked well--though one imagines that, like Coleridge on Highgate Hill, he probably preferred the listener who sat "like a passive bucket to be pumped into." Happily the reader is not obliged to be quite so passive. But we shall not do him justice if we do not recognize his high character. In an age when it was usual to charge every one with foulness, natural and unnatural, Dio Cassius alone among writers suggests it of Seneca; and, quite apart from his particular bias in this case, Dio is not a high authority,--more {49} especially as he belonged to a much later generation. If his talk is of "virtue! virtue!" Seneca's life was deliberately directed to virtue. In the midst of Roman society, and set in the highest place but one in the world, he still cherished ideals, and practised self-discipline, daily self-examination. "This is the one goal of my days and of my nights: this is my task, my thought--to put an end to my old faults."[50] His whole philosophy is practical, and directed to the reformation of morals. The Stoic paradoxes, and with them every part of philosophy which has no immediate bearing upon conduct, he threw aside. His language on the accumulation of books recalls the amusement of St Francis at the idea of possessing a breviary. And further, we may note that whatever be charged against him as a statesman, not his own master, and as a writer, not always quite in control of his rhetoric, Seneca was fundamentally truthful with himself. He never hid his own weakness; he never concealed from himself the difficulty of his ideals; he never tried to delude himself with what he could not believe. The Stoics had begun long since to make terms with popular religion, but Seneca is entirely free from delusions as to the gods of popular belief. He saw clearly enough that there was no truth in them, and he never sought help from anything but the real. He is a man, trained in the world,[51] in touch with its problems of government, with the individual and his questions of character, death and eternity,--a man tender, pure and true--too great a man to take the purely negative stand of Thrasea, or to practise the virtue of the schools in "arrogant indolence." But he has hardly reached the inner peace which he sought. The story of Epictetus can be more briefly told, for there is very little to tell.[52] He was born at Hierapolis in Phrygia:--he was the slave of Nero's freedman Epaphroditus, and somehow managed to hear the lectures of the Stoic Musonius. Eventually he was set free, and when Domitian expelled the philosophers from Rome, he went to Nicopolis in Epirus,[53] where he lived and taught--lame, neat, poor and old. How {50} he taught is to be seen in the discourses which Arrian took down in the reign of Trajan,--"Whatever I heard him say, I tried to write down exactly, and in his very words as far as I could--to keep them as memorials for myself of his mind and of his outspokenness. So they are, as you would expect, very much what a man would say to another on the spur of the moment--not what he would write for others to read afterwards.... His sole aim in speaking was to move the minds of his hearers to the best things. If then these discourses should achieve this, they would have the effect which I think a philosopher's words should have. But if they do not, let my readers know that, when he spoke them, the hearer could not avoid being affected as Epictetus wished him to be. If the discourses do not achieve this, perhaps it will be my fault, or perhaps it may be inevitable. Farewell." [Sidenote: Epictetus on children and women] Such, save for a sentence or two omitted, is Arrian's preface,--thereafter no voice is heard but that of Epictetus. To place, time or persons present the barest allusions only are made. "Someone said ... And Epictetus spoke." The four books of Arrian give a strong impression of fidelity. We hear the tones of the old man, and can recognize "the mind and the outspokenness," which Arrian cherished in memory--we understand why, as we read. The high moral sense of the teacher, his bursts of eloquence, his shrewdness, his abrupt turns of speech, his apostrophes--"Slave!" he cries, as he addresses the weakling--his diminutives of derision, produce the most lively sense of a personality. There is wit, too, but like Stoic wit in general it is hard and not very sympathetic; it has nothing of the charm and delicacy of Plato's humour, nor of its kindliness. Here and there are words and thoughts which tell of his life. More than once he alludes to his age and his lameness--"A lame old man like me." But perhaps nowhere in literature are there words that speak so loud of a man without experience of woman or child. "On a voyage," he says, "when the ship calls at a port and you go ashore for water, it amuses you to pick up a shell or a plant by the way; but your thoughts ought to be directed to the ship, and you must watch lest the captain call, and then you must throw away all those things, that you may not be flung aboard, tied like the sheep. So in life, suppose {51} that instead of some little shell or plant, you are given something in the way of wife or child (_antì bolbaríou kaì kochlidiou gynaikárion kaì paidíon_) nothing need hinder. But, if the captain call, run to the ship letting them all go and never looking round. If you are old, do not even go far from the ship, lest you fail to come when called."[54] He bids a man endure hunger; he can only die of it. "But my wife and children also suffer hunger, (_ohi emoì peinéousi_). What then? does their hunger lead to any other place? Is there not for them the same descent, wherever it lead? Below, is it not the same for them as for you?"[55] "If you are kissing your child, or brother, or friend, never give full licence to the appearance (_tèn phantasían_); check your pleasure ... remind yourself that you love a mortal thing, a thing that is not your own (_ouden tôn sautoû_).... What harm does it do to whisper, as you kiss the child, 'To-morrow you will die'?" This is a thought he uses more than once,[56] though he knows the attractiveness of lively children.[57] He recommends us to practise resignation--beginning on a broken jug or cup, then on a coat or puppy, and so up to oneself and one's limbs, children, wife or brothers.[58] "If a man wishes his son or his wife not to do wrong, he really wishes what is another's not to be another's."[59] As to women, a few quotations will show his detachment. He seems hardly to have known a good woman. "Do not admire your wife's beauty, and you are not angry with the adulterer. Learn that a thief and an adulterer have no place among the things that are yours, but among those which are not yours and not in your power,"[60] and he illustrates his philosophy with an anecdote of an iron lamp stolen from him, which he replaced with an earthenware one. From fourteen years old, he says, women think of nothing and aim at nothing {52} but lying with men.[61] Roman women liked Plato's Republic for the licence they wrongly supposed it gave.[62] He constantly speaks of women as a temptation, nearly always using a diminutive _korásion_, _korasidíon_--little girls--and as a temptation hardly to be resisted by young men. He speaks of their "softer voices."[63] A young philosopher is no match for a "pretty girl"; let him fly temptation.[64] "As to pleasure with women, abstain as far as you can, before marriage; but if you do indulge in it, do it in the way conformable to custom. Do not, however, be disagreeable to those who take such pleasures, nor apt to rebuke them or to say often that you do not."[65] All this may be taken as the impression left by Rome and the household of Epaphroditus upon a slave's mind. It may be observed that he makes nothing like Dio Chrysostom's condemnation of prostitution--an utterance unexampled in pagan antiquity. It is pleasanter to turn to other features of Epictetus. He has a very striking lecture on personal cleanliness.[66] In proportion as men draw near the gods by reason, they cling to purity of soul and body. Nature has given men hands and nostrils; so, if a man does not use a handkerchief, "I say, he is not fulfilling the function of a man." Nature has provided water. "It is impossible that some impurity should not remain in the teeth after eating. 'So wash your teeth,' says Nature. Why? 'That you may be a man and not a beast--a pig.'" If a man would not bathe and use the strigil and have his clothes washed--"either go into a desert where you deserve to go, or live alone and smell yourself." He cannot bear a dirty man,--"who does not get out of his way?" It gives philosophy a bad name, he says; but it is quite clear that that was not his chief reason. He would sooner a young man came to him with his hair carefully trimmed than with it dirty and rough; such care implied "some conception of the beautiful," which it was only necessary to direct towards the things of the mind; "but if a man comes to me filthy and dirty, with a moustache down to his knees--what _can_ I say to him?" "But whence am I to get a fine cloak? Man! you have water; wash it!" {53} [Sidenote: Fame of Epictetus] Pupils gathered round him and he became famous, as we can see in the reminiscences of Aulus Gellius.[67] Sixty or seventy years after his death a man bought his old earthenware lamp for three thousand drachmas.[68] Even in his lifetime men began to come about "the wonderful old man" who were hardly serious students. They wished, he says, to occupy the time while waiting to engage a passage on a ship--they happened to be passing (_párodós estin_) and looked in to see him as if he were a statue. "We can go and see Epictetus too.--Then you go away and say; Oh! Epictetus was nothing! he talked bad Greek--oh! barbarous Greek!"[69] Others came to pick up a little philosophic language for use in public. Why could they not philosophize and say nothing? he asked. "Sheep do not vomit up their grass to show the shepherd how much they have eaten--no! they digest it inside, and then produce wool and milk outside."[70] He took his teaching seriously as a matter of life, and he looked upon it as a service done to mankind--quite equivalent to the production of "two or three ugly-nosed children."[71] He has a warm admiration for the Cynic philosopher's independence of encumberments--how can he who has to teach mankind go looking after a wife's confinement--or "something to heat the water in to give the baby a bath?"[72] These then are the two great teachers of Stoicism, the outstanding figures, whose words and tones survive, whose characters are familiar to us. They are clearly preachers, both of them, intent on the practical reformation of their listeners or correspondents. For them conduct is nine-tenths of life. Much of their teaching is of course the common property of all moral teachers--the deprecation of anger, of quarrelsomeness, of self-indulgence, of grumbling, of impurity, is peculiar to no school. Others have emphasized that life is a campaign with a general to be obeyed, if you can by some instinct divine what he is signalling.[73] But {54} perhaps it was a new thing in the Western World, when so much accent was laid on conduct. The terror of contemporary life, with its repulsiveness, its brutality and its fascination, drove men in search of the moral guide. The philosopher's school was an infirmary, not for the glad but for the sorry.[74] "That man," says Seneca, "is looking for salvation--_ad salutem spectat_." [Sidenote: Self-examination] Men sought the help of the philosopher, and relapsed. "He thinks he wishes reason. He has fallen out with luxury, but he will soon make friends with her. But he says he is offended with his own life! I do not deny it; who is not? Men love their vices and hate them at the same time."[75] So writes Seneca of a friend of Lucilius and his fugitive thoughts of amendment, and Epictetus is no less emphatic on the crying need for earnestness. The Roman world was so full of glaring vice that every serious man from Augustus onward had insisted on some kind of reformation, and now men were beginning to feel that the reformation must begin within themselves. The habit of daily self-examination became general among the Stoics, and they recommended it warmly to their pupils. Here is Seneca's account of himself. "When the day was over and Sextius had gone to his night's rest, he used to ask his mind (_animum_): 'what bad habit of yours have you cured to-day? what vice have you resisted? in what respect are you better?' Anger will cease and will be more moderate, when it knows it must daily face the judge. Could anything be more beautiful than this habit of examining the whole day? What a sleep is that which follows self-scrutiny! How calm, how deep and free, when the mind is either praised or admonished, when it has looked into itself, and like a secret censor makes a report upon its own moral state. I avail myself of this power and daily try my own case. When the light is removed from my sight, and my wife, who knows my habit, is silent, I survey my whole day and I measure my words again. I hide nothing from myself; I pass over nothing. For why should I be afraid of any of my errors, when I can say: 'See that you do it no more, now I forgive you. In that discussion, you spoke too pugnaciously; after this do not engage with the ignorant; they will not learn who have never {55} learned. That man you admonished too freely, so you did him no good; you offended him. For the future, see not only whether what you say is true, but whether he to whom it is said will bear the truth.'"[76] Similar passages might be multiplied. "Live with yourself and see how ill-furnished you are," wrote Persius (iv, 52) the pupil of Cornutus. "From heaven comes that word 'know thyself,'" said Juvenal. A rather remarkable illustration is the letter of Serenus, a friend of Seneca's, of whose life things are recorded by Tacitus that do not suggest self-scrutiny. In summary it is as follows:-- "I find myself not quite free, nor yet quite in bondage to faults which I feared and hated. I am in a state, not the worst indeed, but very querulous and uncomfortable, neither well nor ill. It is a weakness of the mind that sways between the two, that will neither bravely turn to right nor to wrong. Things disturb me, though they do not alter my principles. I think of public life; something worries me, and I fall back into the life of leisure, to be pricked to the will to act by reading some brave words or seeing some fine example. I beg you, if you have any remedy to stay my fluctuation of mind, count me worthy to owe you peace. To put what I endure into a simile, it is not the tempest that troubles me, but sea-sickness."[77] Epictetus quotes lines which he attributes to Pythagoras-- Let sleep not come upon thy languid eyes Ere thou has scanned the actions of the day-- Where have I sinned? What done or left undone? From first to last examine all, and then Blame what is wrong, in what is right, rejoice.[78] These verses, he adds, are for use, not for quotation. Elsewhere he gives us a parody of self-examination--the reflections of one who would prosper in the world--"Where have I failed in flattery? Can I have done anything like a free man, or a noble-minded? Why did I say that? Was it not in my power to lie? Even the philosophers say nothing hinders a man from telling a lie."[79] {56} But self-examination may take us further.[80] We come into the world, he says, with some innate idea (_émphutos énnoia_) of good and evil, as if Nature had taught us; but we find other men with different ideas,--Syrians and Egyptians, for instance. It is by a comparison of our ideas with those of other men that philosophy comes into being for us. "The beginning of philosophy--with those at least who enter upon it aright--by the door--is a consciousness of one's own weakness and insufficiency in necessary things (_astheneías kaì adunamías_)." We need rules or canons, and philosophy determines these for us by criticism.[81] This reference to Syrians and Egyptians is probably not idle. The prevalence of Syrian and Egyptian religions, inculcating ecstatic communion with a god and the soul's need of preparation for the next world, contributed to the change that is witnessed in Stoic philosophy. The Eastern mind is affecting the Greek, and later Stoicism like later Platonism has thoughts and ideals not familiar to the Greeks of earlier days. It was with religions, as opposed to city cults, that Stoicism had now to compete for the souls of men; and while it retains its Greek characteristics in its intellectualism and its slightly-veiled contempt for the fool and the barbarian, it has taken on other features. It was avowedly a rule of life rather than a system of speculation; and it was more, for the doctrine of the Spermaticos Logos (the Generative Reason) gave a new meaning to conduct and opened up a new and rational way to God. Thus Stoicism, while still a philosophy was pre-eminently a religion, and even a gospel--Good News of emancipation from the evil in the world and of union with the Divine. [Sidenote: The true worship of the gods] Stoicism gave its convert a new conception of the relation of God and man. One Divine Word was the essence of both--Reason was shared by men and gods, and by pure thought men came into contact with the divine mind. Others sought communion in trance and ritual--the Stoic when he was awake, at his highest and best level, with his mind and not his hand, in thoughts, which he could understand and assimilate, rather than in magical formulae, which lost their value when they became {57} intelligible. God and men formed a polity, and the Stoic was the fellow-citizen of the gods, obeying, understanding and adoring, as they did, one divine law, one order--a partaker of the divine nature, a citizen of the universe, a free man as no one else was free, because he knew his freedom and knew who shared it with him. He stood on a new footing with the gods, and for him the old cults passed away, superseded by a new worship which was divine service indeed. "How the gods are to be worshipped, men often tell us. Let us not permit a man to light lamps on the Sabbath, for the gods need not the light, and even men find no pleasure in the smoke. Let us forbid to pay the morning salutation and to sit at the doors of the temples; it is human interest that is courted by such attentions: God, he worships who knows Him. Let us forbid to take napkins and strigils to Jove, to hold the mirror to Juno. God seeks none to minister to him; nay! himself he ministers to mankind; everywhere he is, at the side of every man. Let a man hear what mode to keep in sacrifices, how far to avoid wearisomeness and superstition: never will enough be done, unless in his mind he shall have conceived God as he ought, as in possession of all things, as giving all things freely. What cause is there that the gods should do good? Nature. He errs, who thinks they _can_ not do harm; they _will_ not. They cannot receive an injury nor do one. To hurt and to be hurt are one thing. Nature, supreme and above all most beautiful, has exempted them from danger and from being dangerous. The beginning of worship of the gods is to believe gods are; then to attribute to them their own majesty, to attribute to them goodness, without which majesty is not, to know it is they who preside over the universe, who rule all things by their might, who are guardians of mankind; at times[82] thoughtful of individuals. They neither give nor have evil; but they chastise, they check, they assign penalties and sometimes punish in the form of blessing. Would you propitiate the gods? Be good! He has worshipped them enough who has imitated them."[83] {58} This is not merely a statement of Stoic dogma; it was a proclamation of freedom. Line after line of this fine passage directly counters what was asserted and believed throughout the world by the adherents of the Eastern religions. Hear Seneca once more. [Sidenote: Providence] "We understand Jove to be ruler and guardian of the whole, mind and breath of the Universe (_animum spiritumque mundi_), lord and artificer of this fabric. Every name is his. Would you call him fate? You will not err. He it is on whom all things depend, the cause of causes. Would you call him Providence? You will speak aright. He it is whose thought provides for the universe that it may move on its course unhurt and do its part. Would you call him Nature? you will not speak amiss. He it is of whom all things are born, by whose breath (_spiritu_) we live. Would you call him Universe? You will not be deceived. He himself is this whole that you see, fills his own parts, sustains himself and what is his."[84] Some one asked Epictetus one day how we can be sure that all our actions are under the inspection of God. "Do you think," said Epictetus, "that all things are a unity?" (_i.e._ in the polity of the cosmos). "Yes." "Well then, do you not think that things earthly are in sympathy (_sympathein_) with things heavenly?" "Yes." Epictetus reminded his listener of the harmony of external nature, of flowers and moon and sun. "But are leaves and our bodies so bound up and united with the whole, and are not our souls much more? and are our souls so bound up and in touch with God (_synapheis tô theô_) as parts of Him and portions of Him, and can it be that God does not perceive every motion of these parts as being His own motion cognate with Himself (_symphyoûs_)?"[85] He bade the man reflect upon his own power of grasping in his mind ten thousand things at once under divine administration; "and is not God able to oversee all things, and to be present with them, and to receive from all a certain communication?" The man replied that he could not comprehend all these things at once. "And who tells you this--that you have equal power with Zeus? Nevertheless, he has placed by every man a guardian (_epítropon_), each man's {59} Dæmon, to whom he has committed the care of the man, a guardian who never sleeps, is never deceived. For to what better and more careful watch (_phylaki_) could He have entrusted each of us? When then you (plural) have shut your doors and made darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not; but God is within and your Dæmon (Greek: _ho hymeteros daímón_); and what need have they of light to see what you are doing?"[86] Here another feature occurs--the question of the dæmons. Seneca once alludes to the idea--"for the present," he writes to Lucilius, "set aside the view of some people, that to each individual one of us a god is given as a pedagogue, not indeed of the first rank, but of an inferior brand, of the number of those whom Ovid calls 'gods of the lower order' (_de plebe deos_); yet remember that our ancestors who believed this were so far Stoics, for to every man and woman they gave a _Genius_ or a _Juno_. Later on we shall see whether the gods have leisure to attend to private people's business."[87] But before we pursue a side issue, which we shall in any case have to examine at a later point, let us look further at the central idea. The thoughtful man finds himself, as we have seen, in a polity of gods and men, a cosmos, well-ordered in its very essence. "In truth," says Epictetus, "the whole scheme of things (_tà hóla_) is badly managed, if Zeus does not take care of his own citizens, so that they may be like himself, happy."[88] The first lesson of philosophy is that "there is a God and that he provides for the whole scheme of things, and that it is not possible to conceal from him our acts--no, nor our intentions or thoughts."[89] "God," says Seneca, "has a father's mind towards the good, and loves them stoutly--'let them,' he says, 'be exercised in work, pain and loss, that they may gather true strength.'" It is because God is in love with the good (_bonorum amantissimus_) that he gives them fortune to wrestle with. "_There_ is a match worth God's sight (_pardeo dignum_)--a brave man paired with evil fortune--especially if he is himself the challenger."[90] He goes on to show that what appear to be evils are not so; that misfortunes are at once for the advantage of those whom {60} they befall and of men in general or the universe (_universis_), "for which the gods care more than for individuals"; that those who receive them are glad to have them--"and deserve evil if they are not"; that misfortunes come by fate and befall men by the same law by which they are good. "Always to be happy and to go through life without a pang of the mind (_sine morsu animi_) is to know only one half of Nature."[91] "The fates lead us: what time remains for each of us, the hour of our birth determined. Cause hangs upon cause.... Of old it was ordained whereat you should rejoice or weep; and though the lives of individuals seem marked out by a great variety, the sum total comes to one and the same thing--perishable ourselves we receive what shall perish."[92] "The good man's part is then to commit himself to fate--it is a great comfort to be carried along with the universe. Whatever it is that has bidden us thus to live and thus to die, by the same necessity it binds the gods. An onward course that may not be stayed sweeps on human and divine alike. The very founder and ruler of all things has written fate, but he follows it: he ever obeys, he once commanded."[93] To the good, God says, "To you I have given blessings sure and enduring; all your good I have set within you. Endure! herein you may even out-distance God; he is outside the endurance of evils and you above it.[94] Above all I have provided that none may hold you against your will; the door is open; nothing I have made more easy than to die; and death is quick."[95] Epictetus is just as clear that we have been given all we need. "What says Zeus? Epictetus, had it been possible, I would have made both your little body and your little property free, and not exposed to hindrance.... Since I was not able to do this, I have given you a little portion of us, this faculty of pursuing or avoiding an object, the faculty of desire and {61} aversion and in a word the faculty of using the appearances of things."[96] "Must my leg then be lamed? Slave! do you then on account of one wretched leg find fault with the cosmos? Will you not willingly surrender it for the whole? ... Will you be vexed and discontented with what Zeus has set in order, with what he and the Moiræ, who were there spinning thy nativity (_génesin_), ordained and appointed? I mean as regards your body; for so far as concerns reason you are no worse than the gods and no less."[97] [Sidenote: The holy spirit within us] In language curiously suggestive of another school of thought, Seneca speaks of God within us, of divine help given to human effort. "God is near you, with you, within you. I say it, Lucilius; a holy spirit sits within us (_sacer intra nos spiritus sedet_), spectator of our evil and our good, and guardian. Even as he is treated by us, he treats us. None is a good man without God.[98] Can any triumph over fortune unless helped by him? He gives counsel, splendid and manly; in every good man, What god we know not, yet a god there dwells."[99] "The gods," he says elsewhere, "are not scornful, they are not envious. They welcome us, and, as we ascend, they reach us their hands. Are you surprised a man should go to the gods? God comes to men, nay! nearer still! he comes _into_ men. No mind (_mens_) is good without God. Divine seeds are sown in human bodies," and will grow into likeness to their origin if rightly cultivated.[100] It should be noted that the ascent is by the route of frugality, temperance and fortitude. To this we must return. Man's part in life is to be the "spectator and interpreter" of "God"[101] as he is the "son of God";[102] to attach himself to God;[103] to be his soldier, obey his signals, wait his call to {62} retreat; or (in the language of the Olympian festival) to "join with him in the spectacle and the festival for a short time" (_sympompeúsonta autô kaì syneortasonta pròs oligon_), to watch the pomp and the panegyris, and then go away like a grateful and modest man;[104] to look up to God and say "use me henceforth for what thou will. I am of thy mind; I am thine."[105] "If we had understanding, what else ought we to do, but together and severally, hymn God, and bless him (_euphemeîn_) and tell of his benefits? Ought we not, in digging or ploughing or eating, to sing this hymn to God? 'Great is God who has given us such tools with which to till the earth; great is God who has given us hands, the power of swallowing, stomachs, the power to grow unconsciously, and to breathe while we sleep.' ... What else can I do, a lame old man, but hymn God? If I were a nightingale, I would do the part of a nightingale ... but I am a rational creature, and I ought to hymn God; this is my proper work; I do it; nor will I quit my post so long as it is given me; and you I call upon to join in this same song."[106] Herakles in all his toils had nothing dearer to him than God, and "for that reason he was believed to be the son of God and he was."[107] "Clear away from your thoughts sadness, fear, desire, envy, avarice, intemperance, etc. But it is not possible to eject all these things, otherwise than by looking away to God alone (_pròs mónon tòn theòn apobléponta_) by fixing your affections on him only, by being dedicated to his commands."[108] This is "a peace not of Cæsar's proclamation (for whence could he proclaim it?) but of God's--through reason."[109] [Sidenote: Humanity] The man, who is thus in harmony with the Spermaticos, Logos, who has "put his 'I' and 'mine'"[110] in the things of the will, has no quarrel with anything external. He takes a part in the affairs of men without aggression, greed or meanness. He submits to what is laid upon him. His peace none can take away, and none can make him angry. There is a fine passage in Seneca's ninety-fifth letter, following his account of right worship already quoted, in which he proceeds to deduce from this the right attitude to men. A sentence or two {63} must suffice. "How little it is not to injure him, whom you ought to help! Great praise forsooth, that man should be kind to man! Are we to bid a man to lend a hand to the shipwrecked, point the way to the wanderer, share bread with the hungry? ... This fabric which you see, wherein are divine and human, is one. We are members of a great body. Nature has made us of one blood, has implanted in us mutual love, has made us for society (sociabiles). She is the author of justice and equity.... Let that verse be in your heart and on your lip. _Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto_"[111] "Unhappy man! will you ever love? (_ecquando amabis_)" he says to the irritable.[112] A little before, he said, "Man, a sacred thing to man, is slain for sport and merriment; naked and unarmed he is led forth; and the mere death of a man is spectacle enough."[113] This was the Stoic's condemnation of the gladiatorial shows. Nor was it only by words that Stoicism worked for humanity, for it was Stoic lawyers who softened and broadened and humanized Roman law.[114] Yet Stoicism in Seneca and Epictetus had reached its zenith. From now onward it declined. Marcus Aurelius, in some ways the most attractive of all Stoics, was virtually the last. With the second century Stoicism ceased to be an effective force in occupying and inspiring the whole mind of men, though it is evident that it still influenced thinkers. Men studied the Stoics and made fresh copies of their books, as they did for a thousand years; they borrowed and adapted; but they were not Stoics. Stoicism had passed away as a system first and then as a religion; and for this we have to find some reason or reasons. It may well be true that the environment of the Stoics was not fit for so high and pure a philosophy. The broad gulf between the common Roman life and Stoic teaching is evident enough. The intellectual force of the Roman world moreover was ebbing, and Stoicism required more strength of mind and character than was easily to be found. That a religion or a philosophy {64} fails to hold its own is not a sure sign that it is unfit or untrue; it may only be premature, and it may be held that at another stage of the world's history Stoicism or some similar scheme of thought,--or, better perhaps, some central idea round which a system and a life develop--may yet command the assent of better men in a better age. At the same time, it is clear that when Stoicism re-emerges,--if it does,--it will be another thing. Already we have seen in Wordsworth, and (so far as I understand him) in Hegel, a great informing conception which seems to have clear affinity with the Spermaticos Logos of the Stoics. The passage from the "Lines written above Tintern Abbey" (quoted in the previous chapter) may be supplemented by many from the "Prelude" and other poems to illustrate at once the likeness and the difference between the forms the thought has taken. It is, however, a certain condemnation of a philosophic school when we have to admit that, whatever its apprehension of truth, it failed to capture its own generation, either because of some error of presentment, or of some fundamental misconception. When we find, moreover, that there is not only a refusal of Stoicism but a reaction from it, conscious or unconscious, we are forced to inquire into the cause. [Sidenote: The individual will] We shall perhaps be right in saying, to begin with, that the doctrine of the Generative Reason, the Spermaticos Logos, is not carried far enough. The immense practical need, which the Stoic felt, of fortifying himself against the world, is not unintelligible, but it led him into error. He employed his doctrine of the Spermaticos Logos to give grandeur and sufficiency to the individual, and then, for practical purposes, cut him off from the world. He manned and provisioned the fortress, and then shut it off from supplies and from relief. It was a necessary thing to assert the value and dignity of the mere individual man against the despotisms, but to isolate the man from mankind and from the world of nature was a fatal mistake. Of course, the Stoic did not do this in theory, for he insisted on the polity of gods and men, the "one city,"[115] and the duty of the "citizen of the universe" (_kósmios_)--a man is not an independent object; like the foot in the body he is essentially {65} a "part."[116] In practice, too, Stoics were human. Seneca tells us to show clemency but not to feel pity, but we may be sure that the human heart in him was far from observing the distinction--he "talked more boldly than he lived," he says--he was "among those whom grief conquered,"[117] and, though he goes on to show why he failed in this way, he is endeared to us by his failure to be his own ideal Stoic. Yet it remains that the chapters, with which his book on Clemency ends, are a Stoic protest against pity, and they can be re-inforced by a good deal in Epictetus. If your friend is unhappy, "remember that his unhappiness is his own fault, for God has made all men to be happy, to be free from perturbations."[118] Your friend has the remedy in his own hands; let him "purify his dogmata."[119] Epictetus would try to heal a friend's sorrow "but not by every means, for that would be to fight against God (_theomacheîn_)," and would involve daily and nightly punishment to himself[120]--and "no one is nearer me than myself."[121] In the _Manual_ the same thought is accentuated. "Say to yourself 'It is the opinion about this thing that afflicts the man.' So far as words go, do not hesitate to show sympathy, and even, if it so happen, to lament with him. Take care, though, that you do not lament internally also (_mè kaì ésôthen stenáxês_)."[122] We have seen what he has to say of a lost child. In spite of all his fine words, the Stoic really knows of nothing between the individual and the cosmos, for his practical teaching deadens, if it does not kill, friendship and family love. Everything with the Stoic turns on the individual. _tà epí soi_, "the things in your own power," is the refrain of Epictetus' teaching. All is thrown upon the individual will, upon "the universal" working in the individual, according to Stoic theory, "upon me" the plain man would say. If the gods, as Seneca says, lend a hand to such as climb, the climber has to make his own way by temperance and fortitude. The "holy spirit within us" is after all hardly to be distinguished from conscience, intellect and will.[123] God, says Epictetus, ordains "if you wish good, get it from yourself."[124] Once the will (_proaíresis_) is right, {66} all is achieved.[125] "You must exercise the will (_thelêsai_)--and the thing is done, it is set right; as on the other hand, only fall a nodding and the thing is lost. For from within (_ésôthen_) comes ruin, and from within comes help."[126] "What do you want with prayers?" asks Seneca, "make yourself happy."[127] The old Stoic paradox about the "folly" of mankind, and the worthlessness of the efforts of all save the sage, was by now chiefly remembered by their enemies.[128] All this is due to the Stoic glorification of reason, as the embodiment in man of the Spermaticos Logos. Though Nous with the Stoics is not the pure dry light of reason, they tended in practice to distinguish reason from the emotions or passions (_páthê_), in which they saw chiefly "perturbations," and they held up the ideal of freedom from them in consequence (_apátheia_).[129] To be godlike, a man had to suppress his affections just as he suppressed his own sensations of pain or hunger. Every human instinct of paternal or conjugal love, of friendship, of sympathy, of pity, was thus brought to the test of a Reason, which had two catch-words by which to try them--the "Universe" and "the things in your own power"--and the sentence was swift and summary enough. They did not realize that for most men--and probably it is truest of the best men--Life moves onward with all its tender and gracious instincts, while Analysis limps behind. The experiment of testing affection and instinct by reason has often been tried, and it succeeds only where the reason is willing to be a constitutional monarch, so to say, instead of the despot responsible only to the vague concept of the Universe, whom the Stoics wished to enthrone. They talked of living according to Nature, but they were a great deal too quick in deciding what was Nature. If the centuries have taught us anything, it is to give Nature more time, more study and more respect than even yet we do. There are words {67} at the beginning of the thirteenth book of the "Prelude" wiser and truer than anything the Stoics had to say of her with their "excessive zeal" and their "quick turns of intellect." Carried away by their theories (none, we must remember as we criticize them, without some ground in experience and observation), the Stoics made solitude in the heart and called it peace. The price was too high; mankind would not pay it, and sought a religion elsewhere that had a place for a man's children. [Sidenote: Sin and salvation] Again, in their contempt for the passions the Stoics underestimated their strength. How strong the passions are, no man can guess for another, even if he can be sure how strong his own are. Perhaps the Stoics could subordinate their passions to their reason;--ancient critics kept sharp eyes on them and said they were not always successful.[130] But there is no question that for the mass of men, the Stoic account of reason is absurd. "I see another law in my members," said a contemporary of Seneca's, "warring against the law of my mind and bringing me into captivity." Other men felt the same and sought deliverance in the sacraments of all the religions. That Salvation was not from within, was the testimony of every man who underwent the _taurobolium_. So far as such things can be, it is established by the witness of every religious mind that, whether the feeling is just or not the feeling is invincible that the will is inadequate and that religion begins only when the Stoic's ideal of saving oneself by one's own resolve and effort is finally abandoned. Whether this will permanently be true is another question, probably for us unprofitable. The ancient world, at any rate, and in general the modern world, have pronounced against Stoic Psychology--it was too quick, too superficial. The Stoics did not allow for the sense of sin.[131] They recognized the presence of evil in the world; they felt that "it has its seat within us, in our inward part";[132] and they remark the effect of evil in the blunting of the faculties--let the guilty, says Persius, "see virtue, and pine that they have lost her forever."[133] While Seneca finds himself "growing better and becoming changed," he still feels there may be much more needing amendment.[134] He often {68} expresses dissatisfaction with himself.[135] But the deeper realization of weakness and failure did not come to the Stoics, and what help their teaching of strenuous endeavour could have brought to men stricken with the consciousness of broken willpower, it is hard to see. "Filthy Natta," according to Persius, was "benumbed by vice" (_stupet hic vitio_).[136] "When a man is hardened like a stone (_apolithôthê_), how shall we be able to deal with him by argument?" asks Epictetus, arguing against the Academics, who "opposed evident truths"--what are we to do with necrosis of the soul?[137] But the Stoics really gave more thought to fancies of the sage's equality with God and occasional superiority--so confident were they in the powers of the individual human mind. Plutarch, indeed, forces home upon them as a deduction from their doctrine of "the common nature" of gods and men the consequence that sin is not contrary to the Logos of Zeus--and yet they say God punishes sin.[138] Yet even the individual, much as they strove to exalt his capabilities, was in the end cheapened in his own eyes.[139] As men have deepened their self-consciousness, they have yielded to an instinctive craving for the immortality of the soul.[140] Whether savages feel this or not, it is needless to argue. No religion apart from Buddhism has permanently held men which had no hopes of immortality; and how far the corruptions of Buddhism have modified its rigour for common people, it is not easy to say. In one form or another, in spite of a terrible want of evidence, men have clung to eternal life. The Stoics themselves used this consensus of opinion as evidence for the truth of the belief.[141] "It pleased me," writes Seneca, "to inquire of the eternity of souls (_de æternitate animarum_)--nay! to believe in it. I surrendered myself to that great hope."[142] {69} "How natural it is!" he says, "the human mind is a great and generous thing; it will have no bounds set to it unless they are shared by God."[143] "When the day shall come, which shall part this mixture of divine and human, here, where I found it, I will leave my body, myself I will give back to the gods. Even now I am not without them." He finds in our birth into this world an analogy of the soul passing into another world, and in language of beauty and sympathy he pictures the "birthday of the eternal," the revelation of nature's secrets, a world of light and more light. "This thought suffers nothing sordid to dwell in the mind, nothing mean, nothing cruel. It tells us that the gods see all, bids us win their approval, prepare for them, and set eternity before us."[144] Beautiful words that wake emotion yet! [Sidenote: Immortality] But is it clear that it is eternity after all? In the _Consolation_ which Seneca wrote for Marcia, after speaking of the future life of her son, he passed at last to the Stoic doctrine of the first conflagration, and described the destruction of the present scheme of things that it may begin anew. "Then we also, happy souls who have been assigned to eternity (_felices animæ et æterna sortitæ_), when God shall see fit to reconstruct the universe, when all things pass (_labentibus_), we too, a little element in a great catastrophe, shall be resolved into our ancient elements. Happy is your son, Marcia, who already knows this."[145] Elsewhere he is still less certain. "Why am I wasted for desire of him, who is either happy or non-existent? (_qui aut beatus aut nullus est_)."[146] That in later years, in his letters to Lucilius, Seneca should lean to belief in immortality, is natural enough. Epictetus' language, with some fluctuations, leans in the other direction: "When God does not supply what is necessary, he is sounding the signal for retreat--he has opened the door and says to you, Come! But whither? To nothing terrible, but whence you came, to the dear and kin [both neuters], the elements. What in you was fire, shall go to fire, earth to earth, spirit to spirit [perhaps, breath _hóson pneumatíon eis pneumátion_], water to water; {70} no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Cocytus, nor Pyriphlegethon; but all things full of gods and dæmons. When a man has such things to think on, and sees sun and moon and stars, and enjoys earth and sea, he is not solitary or even helpless."[147] "This is death, a greater change, not from what now is into what is not, but into what now is not. Then shall I no longer be? You will be, but something else, of which now the cosmos has no need. For you began to be (_egénou_), not when you wished, but when the cosmos had need."[148] On the whole the Stoic is in his way right, for the desire for immortality goes with the instincts he rejected--it is nothing without the affections and human love.[149] But once more logic failed, and the obscure grave witnesses to man's instinctive rejection of Stoicism, with its simple inscription _taurobolio in æternum renatus_. [Sidenote: The question of the gods] Lastly we come to the gods themselves, and here a double question meets us. Neither on the plurality nor the personality of the divine does Stoicism give a certain note. In the passages already quoted it will have been noticed how interchangeably "God," "the gods" and "Zeus" have been used. It is even a question whether "God" is not an identity with fate, providence, Nature and the Universe.[150] Seneca, as we have seen, dismisses the theory of dæmons or _genii_ rather abruptly--"that is what some think." Epictetus definitely accepts them, so far as anything here is definite, and with them, or in them, the ancestral gods. Seneca, as we have seen, is contemptuous of popular ritual and superstition. Epictetus inculcates that "as to piety about the gods, the chief thing is to have right opinions about them," but, he concludes, "to make libations and to sacrifice according to the custom of our fathers, purely and not meanly, nor carelessly, nor scantily, nor above our ability, is a thing which belongs to all to do."[151] "Why do you," he asks, "act the part of a Jew, when you are a Greek?"[152] He also accepts the {71} fact of divination.[153] Indeed, aside perhaps from conspicuous extravagances, the popular religion suffices. Without enthusiasm and without clear belief, the Stoic may take part in the ordinary round of the cults. If he did not believe himself, he pointed out a way to the reflective polytheist by which he could reconcile his traditional faith with philosophy--the many gods were like ourselves manifestations of the Spermaticos Logos; and he could accept tolerantly the ordinary theory of dæmons, for Chrysippus even raised the question whether such things as the disasters that befall good men are due to negligence on the part of Providence, or to evil dæmons in charge of some things.[154] While for himself the Stoic had the strength of mind to shake off superstition, the common people, and even the weaker brethren of the Stoic school, remained saddled with polytheism and all its terrors and follies. Of this compromise Seneca is guiltless.[155] It was difficult to cut the connexion with Greek tradition--how difficult, we see in Plutarch's case. The Stoics, however, fell between two stools, for they had not enough feeling for the past to satisfy the pious and patriotic, nor the resolution to be done with it. After all, more help was to be had from Lucretius than from Epictetus in ridding the mind of the paralysis of polytheism. But the same instinct that made men demand immortality for themselves, a feeling, dim but strong, of the value of personality and of love, compelled them to seek personality in the divine. Here the Stoic had to halt, for after all it is a thing beyond the power of reason to demonstrate, and he could not here allege, as he liked, that the facts stare one in the face. So, with other thinkers, impressed at once by the want of evidence, and impelled by the demand for some available terms, he wavered between a clear statement of his own uncertainty, and the use of popular names. "Zeus" had long before been adopted by Cleanthes in his famous hymn, but this was an element of weakness; for the wall-paintings in every great house gave another account of Zeus, which belied every attribute with which the Stoics credited him. The apologists and the Stoics {72} explained the legends by the use of allegory, but, as Plato says, children cannot distinguish between what is and what is not allegory--nor did the common people. The finer religious tempers demanded something firmer and more real than allegory. They wanted God or Gods, immortal and eternal; and at best the Stoic gods were to "melt like wax or tin" in their final conflagration, while Zeus too, into whom they were to be resolved, would thereby undergo change, and therefore himself also prove perishable.[156] "I put myself in the hands of a Stoic," writes Justin Martyr, "and I stayed a long time with him, but when I got no further in the matter of God--for he did not know himself and he used to say this knowledge was not necessary--I left him."[157] Other men did not, like Justin, pursue their philosophic studies, and when they found that, while the Stoic's sense of truth would not let him ascribe personality to God, all round there were definite and authoritative voices which left the matter in no doubt, they made a quick choice. What authority means to a man in such a difficulty, we know only too well. The Stoics in some measure felt their weakness here. When they tell us to follow God, to obey God, to look to God, to live as God's sons, and leave us not altogether clear what they mean by God, their teaching is not very helpful, for it is hard to follow or look to a vaguely grasped conception. They realized that some more definite example was needed. "We ought to choose some good man," writes Seneca, "and always have him before our eyes that we may live as if he watched us, and do everything as if he saw."[158] The idea came from Epicurus. "Do everything, said he, as if Epicurus saw. It is without doubt a good thing to have set a guard over oneself, to whom you may look, whom you may feel present in your thoughts."[159] "Wherever I am, I am consorting with the best men. To them, in whatever spot, in whatever age they were, I send my mind."[160] He recommends Cato, Lælius, Socrates, Zeno. Epictetus has the same advice. What would Socrates do? is the canon he recommends.[161] "Though you are not yet a Socrates, you {73} ought to live as one who wishes to be a Socrates."[162] "Go away to Socrates and see him ... think what a victory he felt he won over himself."[163] Comte in a later day gave somewhat similar advice. It seems to show that we cannot do well without some sort of personality in which to rest ourselves. [Sidenote: Plutarch's criticism] When once this central uncertainty in Stoicism appeared, all the fine and true words the Stoics spoke of Providence lost their meaning for ordinary men who thought quickly. The religious teachers of the day laid hold of the old paradoxes of the school and with them demolished the Stoic Providence. "Chrysippus," says Plutarch, "neither professes himself, nor any one of his acquaintances and teachers, to be good (_spoudaîon_). What then do they think of others, but precisely what they say--that all men are insane, fools, unholy, impious, transgressors, that they reach the very acme of misery and of all wretchedness? And then they say that it is by Providence that our concerns are ordered--and we so wretched! If the Gods were to change their minds and wish to hurt us, to do us evil, to overthrow and utterly crush us, they could not put us in a worse condition; for Chrysippus demonstrates that life can admit no greater degree either of misery or unhappiness."[164] Of course, this attack is unfair, but it shows how men felt. They demanded to know how they stood with the gods--were the gods many or one? were they persons or natural laws[165] or even natural objects? did they care for mankind? for the individual man? This demand was edged by exactly the same experience of life which made Stoicism so needful and so welcome to its followers. The pressure of the empire and the terrors of living drove some to philosophy and many more to the gods--and for these certainty was imperative and the Stoics could not give it. It is easy, but not so profitable as it seems, to find faults in the religion of other men. Their generation rejected the Stoics, but they may not have been right. If the Stoics were too hasty in making reason into a despot to rule over the {74} emotions, their contemporaries were no less hasty in deciding, on the evidence of emotions and desires, that there were gods, and these the gods of their fathers, because they wished for inward peace and could find it nowhere else. The Stoics were at least more honest with themselves, and though their school passed away, their memory remained and kept the respect of men who differed from them, but realized that they had stood for truth. Chapter II Footnotes: [1] _Hist._ i, 2. [2] Tac. _Ann._ iv, 33, _sic converso statu neque alia re Romana quam si unus imperitet_. [3] Hdt. iii, 80. Cf. Tac. _A._ vi, 48, 4, _vi dominationis convulsus et mutatus_. [4] Suetonius, _Gaius_, 29. [5] Sen. _de ira_, iii, 15, 3. [6] Lecky, _European Morals_, i, 275; Epictetus, _D._ iii, 15. [7] Seneca, _Ep._ 90, 36-43. [8] Tacitus, _Germany_, cc. 18-20. [9] Tac. _A._ i, 72. Suetonius (_Tib._ 59) quotes specimens. [10] See Boissier, _Tacite_, 188 f.; _l'opposition sous les Cesars_, 208-215. [11] Persius, v, 73, _libertate opus est_. [12] Horace, _Sat._ ii, 2, 79. [13] See Edward Caird, _Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philosophers_, vol. ii, lectures xvii to xx, and Zeller, _Eclectics_, pp. 235-245. Seneca, _B.V._ 20, 3. [14] Epictetus, _D._ ii, 8, _su apóspasma eî tou theoû_. [15] Lucan, ix, 564-586, contains a short summary of Stoicism, supposed to be spoken by Cato. [16] Epictetus, _D._ i, 9 (some lines omitted). [17] _phantasíai_, impressions left on the mind by things or events. [18] Epictetus, _D._ i, 9. [19] Diogenes Laertius, vii, 1, 53; see Caird, _op. cit._ vol. ii, p. 124. [20] See Lecky, _European Morals_, i, 128, 129. [21] _Ep._ 108, 22, _philosophiam oderat_. [22] With these passages compare the fine account which Persius gives (_Sat._ v) of his early studies with the Stoic Cornutus. [23] Plutarch, _de esu carnium_, ii, 5. [24] Plutarch, _de esu carnium_, i, 6, on clogging the soul by eating flesh. Clem. Alex. _Pæd._ ii, 16, says St Matthew lived on seeds, nuts and vegetables, and without meat. [25] Plutarch, _de esu carnium_, ii, 1. [26] Sen. _Ep._ 108, 3, 13-23. [27] This is a quality that Quintilian notes in his style for praise or blame. Others (Gellius, _N.A._ xii, 2) found in him _levis et quasi dicax argutia_. [28] _Ep._ 78, 2, 3, _patris me indulgentissimi senectus retinuit_. [29] _Ep._ 58, 5. [30] _Ep._ 95, 65 [31] His nephew Lucan, Quintilian severely says, was "perhaps a better model for orators than for poets." [32] _Ep._ 49, 2. Virgil made one speech. [33] _ad Polybium_, 13, 2, 3. [34] Juvenal, x, 16, _magnos Seneca prædivitis hortos_. [35] _Ann._ xiii, 12, 2. [36] Tac. _Ann._ xiii, 15-17. [37] Tac. _Ann._ xiv, 51. [38] Tac. _Ann._ xiii, 42. [39] _B.V._ 20, 3. [40] _B.V._ 23, 1. [41] Tac. _Ann._ xiv, 52-56. [42] _de tranqu. animi_, 10, 6. [43] Tac. _Ann._ xiv, 65; xv, 45-65. [44] B. W. Henderson, _Nero_, pp. 280-3. [45] Tac. _Ann._ xv, 65; Juvenal, viii, 212. [46] Tac. _Ann._ xv, 45, 6. [47] This is emphasized by Zeller, _Eclectics_, 240, and by Dill, _Roman Society from Nero to Marcus_, 324, 326. [48] _ae Clem._ i, 6. [49] [Transcriber's note: this footnote missing from book] [50] _Ep._ 61, 1. [51] Lucian, _Nigrinus_, 19, says there is no better school for virtue, no truer test of moral strength, than life in the city of Rome. [52] Gellius, _N.A._ ii, 18, 10. [53] Gell. _N.A._ xv, 11, 5. [54] Manual, J. I have constantly used Long's translation, but often altered it. It is a fine piece of work, well worth the English reader's study. [55] _D._ iii, 26. Compare and contrast Tertullian, _de Idol_, 12, _fides famem nan timet. Scit enim famem non minus sibi contemnendam propter Deum quam omne mortis genus_. The practical point is the same, perhaps; the motive, how different! [56] _D._ iii, 24; iv, 1; _M._ 11, 26. [57] _D._ ii, 24. He maintains, too, against Epicurus the naturalness of love for children; once born, we cannot help loving them, _D._ i, 23. [58] _D._ iv, 1. [59] _D._ iv, 5, _thélei tà allótrie mè eînai allótria_. [60] _D._ i, 18. This does not stop his condemning the adulterer, _D._ ii, 4 (man, he said, is formed for fidelity), 10. Seneca on outward goods, _ad Marciam_, 10. [61] _M._ 40. [62] Fragment, 53. [63] _D._ i, id. [64] _D._ iii, 12, classing the _korasidíon_ with wine and cake. [65] _M._ 33. [66] _D._ iv, 11. [67] Gell. _N.A._ i, 2, 6; xvii, 19, 1. [68] Lucian, _adv. Indoct._ 13. [69] _D._ iii, 9. [70] _M._ 46. [71] _D._ iii, 22, _kakórygka_. [72] _D._ iii, 22. Lucian says Epictetus urged Demonax to take a wife and leave some one to represent him in posterity. "Very well, Epictetus," said Demonax, "give me one of your own daughters" (_v. Demon._ 55). [73] Epict. _D._ iii, 24. _strateía tís estin ho bios hekástou, kaì aute makrà kai toikile. tereîn se deî tò stratiôtou prosneuma kaì toû strategoû prássein hekasta, ei oîon._. [74] Epict. _D._ iii, 23. [75] Sen. _Ep._ 112, 3. [76] _de ira_, iii, 36, 1-4. [77] Sen. _de tranqu. animi_, 1. [78] Epict. _D._ iii, 10. I have here slightly altered Mr Long's rendering. [79] _D._ iv, 6. [80] Cf. Persius, iii, 66-72, causas cognoscite rerum, quid sumus aut quidnam victuri gignimur ... quem te deus esse iussit et humana qua parte locatus es in re. [81] D. ii, 11. See Davidson, Stoic Creed, pp. 69, 81, on innate ideas. Plutarch, _de coh. ira_, 15, on Zeno's doctrine, _tò spérma súmmigma kaì kèrasma tôn tés phuchês dynaméon hyparchein apespasménon_. [82] The qualification may be illustrated from Cicero's Stoic, _de Nat. Deor_, ii, 66, 167, _Magna di curant parva neglegunt_. [83] _Ep._ 95, 47-50. Cf. _Ep._ 41; _de Prov._ i, 5. A very close parallel, with a strong Stoic tinge, in Minucius Felix, 32, 2, 3, ending _Sic apud nos religiosior est ille qui iustior_. [84] _Nat. Quæst._ ii, 45. Cf. Tertullian, _Apol._ 21, on Zeno's testimony to the Logos, as creator, fate, God, _animus Iovis_ and _necessitas omnium rerum_. [85] Cf. Sen. _Ep._ 41, 1. Prope est a te deus, tecum est, intus est. Ita dico, Lucili, sacer intra nos spiritus sedet malorum bonorumque nostrorum observator et custos. [86] Epict. D. i, 14. See Clem. Alex. Strom, vii, 37, for an interesting account of how _phthánei he theía dynamis, katháper phôs diidein tèn phychen_. [87] _Ep._ 110, 1, pædagogam dari deum. [88] _D._ iii, 24, [89] _D._ ii, 14. [90] _de providentia_, 2, 6-9. [91] _de Prov._ 4, 1. [92] _de Prov._ 5, 7. See Justin Martyr's criticism of Stoic fatalism, _Apol._ ii, 7. It involves, he says, either God's identity with the world of change, or his implication in all vice, or else that virtue and vice are nothing--consequences which are alike contrary to every sane _eeenoia_, to _logos_ and to _noûs_. [93] _de Prov._ 5, 8. [94] Plutarch, _adv. Stoicos_, 33, on this Stoic paradox of the equality of God and the sage. [95] _de Prov._ 6, 5-7. This Stoic justification of suicide was repudiated alike by Christians and Neo-Platonists. [96] _D._ i, 1. [97] _D._ i, 12. See also _D._ ii, 16 "We say 'Lord God! how shall I not be anxious?' Fool, have you not hands, did not God make them for you? Sit down now and pray that your nose may not run." [98] Cf. Cicero's Stoic, _N.D._ ii, 66, 167, _Nemo igitur vir magnus sine aliquo afflatu divino unquam fuit_. [99] Ep. 41, 1, 2. (The line is from Virgil, _Aen._ viii, 352.) The rest of the letter develops the idea of divine dependence. _Sic animus magnus ac sacer et in hoc demissus at propius quidem divina nossemus, conversatur quidem nobiscum sed hæret origini suæ, etc_. [100] Ep. 73, 15, 16. [101] Epictetus, _D._ i, 6. [102] _D._ i, 9. [103] _D._ iv, 1. [104] _D._ iv, 1. [105] _D._ ii, 16 end, with a variant between _sós eimi_ and _ísos eimi_, the former of which, Long says, is certain. [106] _D._ i, 16. Contrast the passage of Clement quoted on p. 286. [107] _D._ ii, 16. [108] _D._ ii, 16. [109] _D._ iii, 13. [110] _D._ ii, 22. [111] _Ep._ 95, 51-53. [112] _de ira_, iii, 28, 1. [113] _Ep._ 95, 33, _homo sacra res homini_. [114] See Lecky, _European Morals_, i, 294 ff.: Maine, _Ancient Law_, p. 54 f. [115] See, by the way, Plutarch's banter on this "polity"--the stars its tribesmen, the sun, doubtless, councillor, and Hesperus _prytanis_ or _astynomus_, _adv. Sto._ 34. [116] Epict. _D._ ii, 5; M. Aurelius, viii, 34. [117] _Ep._ 63, 14. [118] _D._ iii, 24. [119] _D._ iv, 1. [120] _ib._ [121] _D._ iv, 6. [122] _M._ 16. [123] Cf. Theophilus (the apologist of about 160 A.D.), ii, 4, who, though not always to be trusted as to the Stoics, remarks this identification of God and conscience. [124] _D._ i, 29. [125] Cf. _D._ i, 1; iii, 19; iv, 4; iv, 12, and very many other passages. [126] _D._ iv, 9, end. [127] _Ep._ 31, 5. [128] Plutarch, _Progress in Virtue_, c. 2, 76 A, on the absurdity of there being no difference between Plato and Meletus. Cf. also _de repugn. Stoic._ 11, 1037 D. [129] "Unconditional eradication," says Zeller, _Eclectics_, p. 226. "I do not hold with those who hymn the savage and hard Apathy (_tén agrion kaì skleràn_)," wrote Plutarch. _Cons, ad Apoll._ 3, 102 C. See Clem. Alex. _Str._ ii, 110, on _páthê_; as produced by the agency of spirits, and note his talk of Christian Apathy. _Str._ vi, 71-76. [130] Justin Martyr (_Apol._ ii, 8) praises Stoic morality and speaks of Stoics who suffered for it. [131] Cf. Epict. _D._ iii, 25. [132] Sen. _Ep._ 50, 4. [133] Persius, iii, 38. [134] _Ep._ 6, 1. [135] e.g. _Ep._ 57, 3, he is not even _homo tolerabilis_. On the bondage of the soul within the body, see _Ep._ 65, 21-23. [136] Cf. Seneca, Ep. 53, 7, 8--quo quis peius habet minus sentit. "The worse one is, the less he notices it." [137] _D._ i, 5. [138] Plut. _de repugn. Stoic._ 34, 1050 C. Cf. _Tert. de exh. castit._ 2. [139] Cf. Plutarch, _non suaviter_, 1104 F. _kataphronoûntes eautôn ôs ephêmérôn kthe_--of the Epicureans. [140] Cf. Plutarch, non suaviter, 1104 C. _tês aidiótetus elpìs kaì ho póthos tou eînai mántôn epótôn prespytatos ôn kaì melstos_. Cf. _ib._ 1093 A. [141] Sen. _Ep._ 117, 6. [142] _Ep._ 102, 2. [143] Ep. 102, 21; the following passages are from the same letter. Note the Stoic significance of _naturale_. [144] Compare _Cons. ad Marc._ 25, 1, _integer ille, etc._ [145] The last words of the "Consolation." Plutarch on resolution into _pûr noeròn_, _non suaviter_, 1107 B. [146] _ad Polyb._ 9, 3. [147] _D._ iii, 13. Plutarch (_non suaviter_, 1106 E) says Cocytus, etc., are not the chief terror but _hê toû mè ontos apeilé_. [148] _D._ iii, 24. [149] See Plutarch on this, _non suaviter_, 1105 E. [150] Seneca, _N.Q._ ii, 45. [151] Manual, 31. Plutarch, _de repugn. Stoic._ 6, 1034 B, C, remarks on Stoic inconsistency in accepting popular religious usages. [152] _D._ ii, 9. In _D._ v, 7, he refers to "Galilaeans," so that it is quite possible he has Christians in view here. [153] _M._ 32; _D._ iii, 22. [154] Plut. _de repugn. Stoic._ 37, 1051 C. [155] Tertullian, _Apol._ 12, _idem estis qui Senecam aliquem pluribus et amarioribus de vestra superstitione perorantem reprehendistis_. [156] See Plutarch, _de comm. not. adv. Stoicos_, c. 31, and _de def. orac._ 420 A, c. 19; Justin M. _Apol._ ii, 7. [157] Dial. _c. Tryphone_, 2. [158] Sen. _Ep._ 11, 8. [159] _Ep._ 25, 5. [160] _Ep._ 62, 2, cf. 104, 21. [161] _M._ 33, _tì nan epoíesen en toútô Sôkrates hè Zénôn_. [162] _M._ 50. [163] _D._ ii, 18. The tone of Tertullian, _e.g._ in _de Anima_, 1, on the Phædo, suggests that Socrates may have been over-preached. What too (_ib._ 6) of barbarians and their souls, who have no "prison of Socrates," etc? [164] Plut. _de Stoic. repugnantiis_, 31, 1048 E. Cf. _de comm. not._ 33. [165] Plutarch, _Amat._ 13, 757 C. _horâs dépou tòn upolambánonta búthon hemâs atheótetos, an eis pathe kaì dynameis kaì aretàs diagraphômen ekaston tôn theôn_. {75} CHAPTER III PLUTARCH Stoicism as a system did not capture the ancient world, and even upon individuals it did not retain an undivided hold. To pronounce with its admirers to-day that it failed because the world was not worthy of it, would be a judgment, neither quite false nor altogether true, but at best not very illuminative. Men are said to be slow in taking in new thoughts, and yet it is equally true that somewhere in nearly every man there is something that responds to ideas, and even to theories; but if these on longer acquaintance fail to harmonize with the deeper instincts within him, they alarm and annoy, and the response comes in the form of re-action. In modern times, we have seen the mind of a great people surrendered for a while to theorists and idealists. The thinking part of the French nation was carried away by the inspiration of Rousseau into all sorts of experiments at putting into hasty operation the principles and ideas they had more or less learnt from the master. Even theories extemporized on the moment, it was hoped, might be made the foundations of a new and ideal social fabric. The absurdities of the old religion yielded place to Reason--embodied symbolically for the hour in the person of Mme Momoro--afterwards, more vaguely, in Robespierre's Supreme Being, who really came from Rousseau. And then--"avec ton Être Suprème tu commences à m'embêter," said Billaud to Robespierre himself. Within a generation Chateaubriand, de Maistre, Bonald, and de la Mennais were busy refounding the Christian faith. "The rites of Christianity," wrote Chateaubriand, "are in the highest degree moral, if for no other reason than that they have been practised by our fathers, that our mothers have watched over our cradles as Christian women, that the Christian religion has chanted its psalms over our parents' coffins and invoked peace upon them in their graves." {76} Alongside of this let us set a sentence or two of Plutarch. "Our father then, addressing Pemptides by name, said, 'You seem to me, Pemptides, to be handling a very big matter and a risky one--or rather, you are discussing what should not be discussed at all (_tà akínêta kineîn_), when you question the opinion we hold about the gods, and ask reason and demonstration for everything. For the ancient and ancestral faith is enough (_arkeî gàr hê pátrios kaì palaià pistis_), and no clearer proof could be found than itself-- Not though man's wisdom scale the heights of thought-- but it is a common home and an established foundation for all piety; and if in one point its stable and traditional character (_tò bébainon autês kaì nenomismenon_) be shaken and disturbed, it will be undermined and no one will trust it.... If you demand proof about each of the ancient gods, laying hands on everything sacred and bringing your sophistry to play on every altar, you will leave nothing free from quibble and cross-examination (_oudèn asykophánteton oud abasániston_).... Others will say that Aphrodite is desire and Hermes reason, the Muses crafts and Athene thought. Do you see, then, the abyss of atheism that lies at our feet, if we resolve each of the gods into a passion or a force or a virtue?'"[1] Such an utterance is unmistakeable--it means a conservative re-action, and in another place we find its justification in religious emotion. "Nothing gives us more joy than what we see and do ourselves in divine service, when we carry the emblems, or join in the sacred dance, or stand by at the sacrifice or initiation.... It is when the soul most believes and perceives that the god is present, that she most puts from her pain and fear and anxiety, and gives herself up to joy, yes, even as far as intoxication and laughter and merriment.... In sacred processions and sacrifices not only the old man and the old woman, nor the poor and lowly, but The thick-legged drudge that sways her at the mill, and household slaves and hirelings are uplifted by joy and triumph. Rich men and kings have always their own banquets and feasts--but the feasts in the temples and at initiations, when men seem to touch the divine most nearly in their thought, {77} with honour and worship, have a pleasure and a charm far more exceeding. And in this no man shares who has renounced belief in Providence. For it is not abundance of wine, nor the roasting of meat, that gives the joy in the festivals, but also a good hope, and a belief that the god is present and gracious, and accepts what is being done with a friendly mind."[2] [Sidenote: Continuity of religion] One of Chateaubriand's critics says that his plea could be advanced on behalf of any religion; and Plutarch had already made it on behalf of his own. He looks past the Stoics, and he finds in memory and association arguments that outweigh anything they can say. The Spermaticos Logos was a mere Être Suprème--a sublime conception perhaps, but it had no appeal to emotion, it waked no memories, it touched no chord of personal association. We live so largely by instinct, memory and association, that anything that threatens them seems to strike at our life, So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. Some such thought is native to every heart, and the man who does not cling to his own past seems wanting in something essentially human. The gods were part of the past of the ancient world, and if Reason took them away, what was left? There was so much, too, that Reason could not grasp; so much to be learnt in ritual and in mystery that to the merely thinking mind had no meaning,--that must be received. Reason was invoked so lightly, and applied so carelessly and harshly, that it could take no account of the tender things of the heart. Reason destroyed but did not create, questioned without answering, and left life without sanction or communion. It was too often a mere affair of cleverness. It had its use and place, no doubt, in correcting extravagances of belief, but it was by no means the sole authority in man's life, and its function was essentially to be the handmaid of religion. "We must take {78} Reason from philosophy to be our mystagogue and then in holy reverence consider each several word and act of worship."[3] Plutarch is our representative man in this revival of religion, and some survey of his life and environment will enable us to enter more fully into his thought, and through him to understand better the beginnings of a great religious movement, of which students too often have lost sight. For centuries the great men of Greek letters were natives of every region of the eastern Mediterranean except Greece, and Plutarch stands alone in later literature a Hellen of the motherland--Greek by blood, birth, home and instinct, proud of his race and his land, of their history, their art and their literature. When we speak of the influence of the past, it is well to remember to how great a past this man looked back, and from what a present. Long years of faction and war, as he himself says, had depopulated Greece, and the whole land could hardly furnish now the three thousand hoplites that four centuries before Megara alone had sent to Platæa. In regions where oracles of note had been, they were no more; their existence would but have emphasized the solitude--what good would an oracle be at Tegyra, or about Ptoum, where in a day's journey you might perhaps come on a solitary shepherd?[4] It was not only that wars and faction fights had wasted the life of the Greek people, but with the opening of the far East by Alexander, and the development of the West under Roman rule, Commerce had shifted its centres, and the Greeks had left their old homes for new regions. Still keen on money, philosophy and art, they thronged Alexandria, Antioch and Rome, and a thousand other cities. The Petrie papyri have revealed a new feature of this emigration, for the wills of the settlers often mention the names of their wives, and these were Greek women and not Egyptian, as the names of their fathers and homes prove.[5] Julius Cæsar had restored Corinth a century after Mummius destroyed it, and Athens was still as she had been and was to be for centuries, the resort of every one who loved philosophy and literature.[6] These were the two {79} cities of Greece; the rest were reminders of what had been. In one of these forsaken places Plutarch was born, and there he was content to live and die, a citizen and a magistrate of Chæronea in Boeotia. [Sidenote: His family circle] His family was an old one, long associated with Chæronea. From childhood his life was rooted in the past by the most natural and delightful of all connexions. His great-grandfather, Nicarchus, used to tell how his fellow-citizens were commandeered to carry wheat on their own backs down to Anticyra for Antony's fleet--and were quickened up with the whip as they went; and "then when they had taken one consignment so, and the second was already done up into loads and ready, the news came that Antony was defeated, and that saved the city; for at once Antony's agents and soldiers fled, and they divided the grain among themselves."[7] The grandfather, Lamprias, lived long and saw the grandson a grown man. He appears often in Plutarch's _Table Talk_--a bright old man and a lively talker--like incense, he said, he was best when warmed up.[8] He thought poorly of the Jews for not eating pork--a most righteous dish, he said.[9] He had tales of his own about Antony, picked up long ago from one Philotas, who had been a medical student in Alexandria and a friend of one of the royal cooks, and eventually medical attendant to a son of Antony's by Fulvia.[10] Plutarch's father was a quiet, sensible man, who maintained the practice of sacrificing,[11] kept good horses,[12] knew his Homer, and had something of his son's curious interest in odd problems. It is perhaps an accident that Plutarch never mentions his name, but, though he often speaks of him, it is always of "my father" or "our father"--the lifelong and instinctive habit. There were also two brothers. The witty and amiable Lamprias loved laughter and was an expert in dancing--a useful man to put things right when the dance went with more spirit than music.[13] Of Timon we hear less, but Plutarch sets Timon's goodness of heart among the very best gifts Fortune has sent him.[14] He emphasizes the bond that brothers have in the family sacrifices, {80} ancestral rites, the common home and the common grave.[15] That Plutarch always had friends, men of kindly nature and intelligence, and some of them eminent, is not surprising. Other human relationships, to be mentioned hereafter, completed his circle. He was born, and grew up, and lived, in a network of love and sympathy, the record of which is in all his books. Plutarch was born about the year 50 A.D., and, when Nero went on tour through Greece in 66 A.D., he was a student at Athens under Ammonius.[16] He recalls that among his fellow-students was a descendant of Themistocles, who bore his ancestor's name and still enjoyed the honours granted to him and his posterity at Magnesia.[17] Ammonius, whom he honoured and quoted throughout life, was a Platonist[18] much interested in Mathematics.[19] He was a serious and kindly teacher with a wide range of interests, not all speculative. Plutarch records a discussion of dancing by "the good Ammonius."[20] He was thrice "General" at Athens,[21] and had at any rate once the experience of an excited mob shouting for him in the street, while he supped with his friends indoors. Plutarch had many interests in Athens, in its literature, its philosophy and its ancient history--in its relics, too, for he speaks of memorials of Phocion and Demosthenes still extant. But he lingers especially over the wonders of Pericles and Phidias, "still fresh and new and untouched by time, as if a spirit of eternal youth, a soul that was ageless, were in the work of the artist."[22] Athens was a conservative place, on the whole, and a great resort for strangers. The Athenian love of talk is noticed by Luke with a touch of satire, and Dio Chrysostom admitted that the Athenians fell short of the glory of their city and their ancestors.[23] Yet men loved Athens.[24] Aulus Gellius in memory of his years there, called his book of collections _Attic Nights_, and here and there he speaks of student life--"It was from Ægina to Piræus that some of us who were fellow-students, Greeks and Romans, were crossing in the same ship. {81} It was night. The sea was calm. It was summertime and the sky was clear and still. So we were sitting on the poop, all of us together, with our eyes upon the shining stars," and fell to talking about their names.[25] [Sidenote: His travels] When his student days were over, Plutarch saw something of the world. He alludes to a visit to Alexandria,[26] but, though he was interested in Egyptian religion, as we shall see, he does not speak of travels in the country. He must have known European Greece well, but he had little knowledge, it seems, of Asia Minor and little interest in it. He went once on official business for his city to the pro-consul of Illyricum--and had a useful lesson from his father who told him to say "We" in his report, though his appointed colleague had failed to go with him.[27] He twice went to Italy in the reigns of Vespasian and Domitian, and he seems to have stayed for some time in Rome, making friends in high places and giving lectures. Of the great Latin writers of his day he mentions none, nor is he mentioned by them. But he tells with pride how once Arulenus Rusticus had a letter from Domitian brought him by a soldier in the middle of one of these lectures and kept it unopened till the end.[28] The lectures were given in Greek. He confesses to his friend Sossius Senecio that, owing to the pressure of political business and the number of people who came about him for philosophy, when he was in Rome, it was late indeed in life that he attempted to learn Latin; and when he read Latin, it was the general sense of a passage that helped him to the meaning of the words. The niceties of the language he could not attempt, he says, though it would have been a graceful and pleasant thing for one of more leisure and fewer years.[29] That this confession is a true one is shown by the scanty use he makes of Roman books in his biographies, by his want of acquaintance with Latin literature, poetry and philosophy, and by blunders in detail noted by his critics. _Sine patris_ is a poor attempt at Latin grammar for a man of his learning, and in his life of Lucullus he has turned the streets of Rome into villages through inattention to the various meanings of _vicus_.[30] {82} But, as he says, he was a citizen of a small town, and he did not wish to make it smaller,[31] and he went back to Chæronea and obscurity. A city he held to be an organism like a living being,[32] and he never cared for a man on whom the claims of his city sat loosely--as they did on the Stoics.[33] The world was full of Greek philosophers and rhetoricians, lecturing and declaiming, to their great profit and glory, but Plutarch was content to stay at home, to be magistrate and priest. If men laughed to see him inspecting the measurement of tiles and the carrying of cement and stones--"it is not for myself, I say, that I am doing this but for my native-place."[34] This was when he was Telearch--an office once held by Epameinondas, as he liked to remember. Pliny's letters show that this official inspection of municipal building operations by honest and capable men was terribly needed. But Plutarch rose to higher dignities, and as Archon Eponymos he had to preside over feasts and sacrifices.[35] He was also a Boeotarch. The Roman Empire did not leave much political activity even to the free cities, but Plutarch loyally accepted the new era as from God, and found in it many blessings of peace and quiet, and some opportunities still of serving his city. He held a priesthood at Delphi, with some charge over the oracle and a stewardship at the Pythian games. He loved Delphi, and its shrine and antiquities,[36] and made the temple the scene of some of his best dialogues. "The kind Apollo (_ho phílos_)," he says, "seems to heal the questions of life, and to resolve them, by the rules he gives to those who ask; but the questions of thought he himself suggests to the philosophic temperament, waking in the soul an appetite that will lead it to truth."[37] He does not seem to have gained much public renown, but he did not seek it. The fame in his day was for the men of rhetoric, and he was a man of letters. If he gave his time to municipal duties, he must have spent the greater part of his days in reading and writing. He says that a biographer needs a great many books and that as a rule many of them will not be readily accessible--to have the abundance he requires, he ought really to be in some "famous city where learning is loved and {83} men are many"; though, he is careful to say, a man may be happy and upright in a town that is "inglorious and humble."[38] He must have read very widely, and he probably made good use of his stay in Rome. In philosophy and literature it is quite probable that he used hand-books of extracts, though this must not imply that he did not go to the original works of the greater writers. But his main interest lay in memoirs and travels. He had an instinct for all that was characteristic, or curious, or out-of-the-way; and all sorts of casual references show how such things attached themselves to his memory. Discursive in his reading, as most men of letters seem to be, with a quick eye for the animated scene, the striking figure, the strange occurrence, he read, one feels, for enjoyment--he would add, no doubt, for his own moral profit; indeed he says that he began his Biographies for the advantage of others and found them to be much to his own.[39] He was of course an inveterate moralist; but unlike others of the class, he never forgets the things that have given him pleasure. They crowd his pages in genial reminiscence and apt allusion. There is always the quiet and leisurely air of one who has seen and has enjoyed, and sees and enjoys again as he writes. It is this that has made his Biographies live. They may at times exasperate the modern historian, for he is not very systematic--delightful writers rarely are. He rambles as he likes and avowedly passes the great things by and treasures the little and characteristic. "I am not writing histories but lives," he says, "and it is not necessarily in the famous action that a man's excellence or failure is revealed. But some little thing--a word or a jest--may often show character better than a battle with its ten thousand slain."[40] But, after all, it is the characteristic rather than the character that interests him. He is not among the greatest who have drawn men, for he lacks the mind and patience to go far below the surface to find the key to the whole nature. When he has shown us one side of the hero, he will present another and a very different one, and leave us to reconcile them if we can. The contradictions remain contradictions, and he wanders pleasantly on. The Lives of Pericles and Themistocles, for instance, are little more than mere collectanea from sources widely discrepant, and often quite worthless. Of the mind of Pericles he had little {84} conception; he gathered up and pleasantly told what he had read in books. He had too little of the critical instinct and took things too easily to weigh what he quoted. Above all, despite his "political" energy and enthusiasm, it was impossible, for a Greek of his day to have the political insight that only comes from life in a living state. How could the Telearch of Chæronea under the Roman Empire understand Pericles? Archbishop Trench contrasts his enthusiasm about the gift of liberty to Greece by Flamininus with the reflection of Wordsworth that it is a thing which is not to be given By all the blended powers of Earth and Heaven. Plutarch really did not know what liberty is; Wordsworth on the other hand had taken part in the French Revolution, and watched with keen and sympathetic eyes the march of events throughout a most living epoch. It is worth noting that indirectly Plutarch contributed to the disasters of that epoch, for his _Lycurgus_ had enormous influence with Rousseau and his followers who took it for history. Here was a man who made laws and constitutions in his own head and imposed them upon his fellow-countrymen. So Plutarch wrote and believed, and so read and believed thinking Frenchmen of the eighteenth century, like himself subjects of a despotism and without political experience. Besides Biographies he wrote moral treatises--some based on lectures, others on conversation, others again little better than note-books--pleasant and readable books, if the reader will forgive a certain want of humour, and a tendency to ramble, and will surrender his mind to the long and leisurely sentences, for Plutarch is not to be hurried. Everything he wrote had some moral or religious aim. He was a believer, in days of doubt and perplexity. The Epicurean was heard at Delphi. Even in the second century, when the great, religious revival was in full swing, Lucian wrote and found readers. Men brought their difficulties to Plutarch and he went to meet them--ever glad to do something for the ancestral faith. Nor was he less ready to discuss--or record discussions of--questions much less serious. Was the hen or the egg first? Does a varied diet or a single dish help the digestion more? Why is fresh water better than salt for {85} washing clothes? Which of Aphrodite's hands did Diomed wound? It is always the same man, genial, garrulous, moral and sensible. There are no theatricalities in his style--he is not a rhetorician even on paper.[41] He discards the tricks of the school, adoxography, epigram and, as a rule, paradox. His simplicity is his charm. He is really interested in his subject whatever it is; and he believes in its power of interesting other men, too much to think it worth while to trick it out with extraneous prettinesses. Yet after he has discussed his theme, with excursions into its literary antecedents and its moral suggestions, we are not perhaps much nearer an explanation of the fact in question,[42] nor always quite sure that it is a fact. Everything interests him, but he is in no hurry to get at the bottom of anything; just as in the _Lives_ he is occupied with everything except the depths of his hero's personality. It remains that in his various works he has given us an unexampled pageant of antiquity over a wide reach of time and many lands, and always bright with the colour of life--the work of a lover of men. "I can hardly do without Plutarch," wrote Montaigne; "he is so universal and so full, that upon all occasions, and what extravagant subject soever you take in hand, he will still intrude himself into your business, and holds out to you a liberal and not to be exhausted hand of riches and embellishments." What Shakespeare thought of him is written in three great plays.[43] [Sidenote: His wife and children] But so far nothing has been said of Plutarch's own home. The lot of the wife of a great preacher or moralist is not commonly envied; and the tracts which Plutarch wrote upon historic women and their virtues, and on the duties of married life, on diet and on the education of the young, suggest that Timoxena must have lived in an atmosphere of high moral elevation, with a wise saw and an ancient instance for every occurrence of the day. But it is clear that he loved her, and his affection for their four little boys must have been as plain to her as to his readers--and his joy when, after long waiting, at last a little girl was born. "You had longed for a daughter {86} after four sons," he writes to her, "and I was glad when she came and I could give her your name." The little Timoxena lived for two years, and the letter of consolation which Plutarch wrote her mother tells the story of her short life. "She had by nature wonderful good temper and gentleness. So responsive to affection, so generous was she that it was a pleasure to see her tenderness. For she used to bid her nurse give the breast to other children and not to them only, but even to toys and other things in which she took delight. She was so loving that she wished everything that gave her pleasure to share in the best of what she had. I do not see, my dear wife, why things such as these, which gave us so much happiness while she lived, should give us pain and trouble now when we think of them."[44] He reminds her of the mysteries of Dionysus of which they were both initiates. In language that recalls Wordsworth's great Ode on the Intimations of Immortality, he suggests that old age dulls our impressions of the soul's former life, and that their little one is gone from them, before she had time to fall in love with life on earth. "And the truth about this is to be seen in the ancient use and wont of our fathers," who did not observe the ordinary sad rites of burial for little children, "as if they felt it not right in the case of those who have passed to a better and diviner lot and place.... And since to disbelieve them is harder than to believe, let us comply with the laws in outward things, and let what is within be yet more stainless, pure and holy."[45] Two of the sons had previously died--the eldest Soclaros, and the fourth, "our beautiful Chæron"--the name is that of the traditional founder of Chæronea. The other two, Autobulus and Plutarch grew up. Some of these names appear in the _Table Talk_, while others of his works were written at the suggestion of his sons. [Sidenote: His slaves] From the family we pass to the slaves, and here, as we should expect, Plutarch is an advocate of gentleness. In the tract _On Restraining Anger_ a high and humane character is drawn in Fundanus, who had successfully mastered a naturally passionate temper. It has been thought that Plutarch was drawing {87} his own portrait over his friend's name. A naïve tendency to idealise his own virtues he certainly shares with other moralists. Fundanus urges that, while all the passions need care and practice if they are to be overcome, anger is the failure to which we are most liable in the case of our slaves. Our authority over them sets us in a slippery place; temper here has nothing to check it, for here we are irresponsible and that is a position of danger. A man's wife and his friends are too apt to call gentleness to the slaves mere easy-going slackness (_atonían kaì rhathumían_). "I used to be provoked by such criticism myself against my slaves. I was told they were going to pieces for want of correction. Later on I realized that, first of all, it is better to let them grow worse through my forbearance than by bitterness and anger to pervert oneself for the reformation of others. And, further, I saw that many of them, through not being punished, began to be ashamed of being bad, and that forgiveness was more apt than punishment to be the beginning of a change in them--and indeed that they would serve some men more readily for a silent nod than they would others for blows and brandings. So I persuaded myself that reasoning does better than temper."[46] It will be remarked that Fundanus, or his recording friend, does not here take the Stoic position that the slave is as much a son of God as the master,[47] nor does he spare the slave for the slave's sake but to overcome his own temper. So much for theory; but men's conduct does not always square with their theories, and in life we see men guilty of kind-heartedness and large-mindedness not at all to be reconciled with the theories which they profess, when they remember them. It is curious that one of the few stories of Plutarch that come from outside sources should concern this very tract and the punishment of a slave. Gellius heard it from the philosopher Taurus after one of his classes. Plutarch, Taurus said, had a worthless slave and ordered him a flogging. The man loudly protested he had done no wrong, and at last, under the stimulus of the lash, taunted his master with inconsistency--what about the fine book on controlling Anger? he was angry enough now. {88} "Then Plutarch, slowly and gently" asked what signs of anger he showed in voice or colour or word? "My eyes, I think, are not fierce; nor my face flushed; I am not shouting aloud; there is no foam on my lip, no red in my cheek; I am saying nothing to be ashamed of; nothing to regret; I am not excited nor gesticulating. All these, perhaps you are unaware, are the signs of anger."[48] Then turning to the man who was flogging the slave, he said, "In the meantime, while I and he are debating, _you_ go on with your business."[49] The story is generally accepted, and it is certainly characteristic. The philosopher, feeling his pulse, as it were, to make sure that he is not angry, while his slave is being lashed, is an interesting and suggestive picture, which it is well to remember. How long Plutarch lived we do not know. He refers to events of the year 104 or 105, and in his _Solon_ he speaks of Athens and Plato each having an unfinished masterpiece, so that he cannot have known of the intention of the Emperor Hadrian to finish the temple of Zeus Olympics.[50] All that this need imply is that the _Solon_ was written before 125 A.D. As to his death, it is certainly interesting when we recall how full of dreams and portents his Biographies are, to learn from Artemidorus' great work on the Interpretation of Dreams (written some forty years later) that Plutarch, when ill, dreamed that he was ascending to heaven, supported by Hermes. Next day he was told that this meant great happiness. "Shortly after he died, and this was what his dream and the interpretation meant. For ascent to heaven means destruction to a sick man, and the great happiness is a sign of death."[51] Plutarch might well have accepted this himself. Such was Plutarch's life--the life of a quiet and simple-minded Greek gentleman, spent amid scenes where the past predominated over the present,--_nullum sine nomine saxum_, where Antiquity claimed him for her own by every right that it has ever had upon man. The land of his fathers, the literature, the art, the philosophy, the faith, and the reproduction of the {89} good old life in the pleasant household[52]--everything conspired to make him what he was. We now come to his significance in the story of the conflict of religions in the Roman Empire. [Sidenote: Plutarch not a philosopher] A good deal has been written about Plutarch's philosophy. His works are full of references to philosophy and philosophers, and he leaves us in no doubt as to his counting himself a disciple of Plato; his commentaries on Platonic doctrines give him a place in the long series of Plato's expositors. But no one would expect a writer of the first century to be a man of one allegiance, and Plutarch modifies the teaching of Plato with elements from elsewhere. It has then been debated whether he should, or should not, be called an Eclectic, but not very profitably. The essential thing to note is that he is not properly a philosopher at all, much as the statement would have astonished him.[53] His real interest is elsewhere; and while he, like the Greeks of his day, read and talked Philosophy interminably, as men in later ages have read and talked Theology, it was not with the philosophic spirit. Philosophy is not the mistress--rather, he avows, the servant of something else; and that means that it is not Philosophy. His test of philosophic thought and doctrine was availability for the moral and religious life--a test which may or may not be sound, as it is applied. But Plutarch was an avowed moralist, didactic in every fibre; and everything he wrote betrays the essential failure of the practical man and the moralist--impatience, the short view. From his experience of human life in its manifold relations of love and friendship, he came to the conclusion that "the ancient faith of our fathers suffices." It is also plain that he was afraid of life without religion. So far as a man of his training would--a man familiar with the history of philosophy, but without patience or depth enough to be clear in his own mind, he associated truth with his religion; at all events it was "sufficient," for this he had found in his course through the world. Definite upon this one central point, he approached philosophy, but not with the true philosopher's purpose of examining his experience, in accordance with the Platonic {90} suggestion[54]; rather, with the more practical aim of profiting by every serviceable thought or maxim which he could find. And he certainly profited. If he started with preconceptions, which he intended to keep, he enlarged and purified them--in a sense, we may say, he adorned and enriched them. For whereever he found a moving or suggestive idea, a high thought, he adopted it and found it a place in his mind, though without inquiring too closely whether it had any right to be there. In the end, it is very questionable whether the sum of his ideas will hold together at all, if we go beyond the quick test of a rather unexamined experience. We have already seen how he protested against too curious examination. "There is no philosophy possible," wrote John Stuart Mill, "where fear of consequences is a stronger principle than love of truth." But to such criticisms a reply is sometimes suggested, which is best made in the well-known words of Pascal--"the heart has its reasons which the reason does not know."[55] The experience which led Plutarch to his conclusion was real and sound. There is an evidential value in a good father, in wife and children--even in a telearchy with its tiles and cement--which is apt to be under-estimated. For with such elements in life are linked passions and emotions, which are deeply bound up with human nature, and rule us as instincts--blind reasons of the heart. Like all other things they require study and criticism if they are not to mislead, and those who most follow them are sometimes the worst judges of their real significance. On the other hand the danger of emotion, instinct and intuition as guides to truth is emphasized enough,--it was emphasized by the Stoics; and a contribution is made to human progress, when the value of these guides to truth is re-asserted, even to the extent of obvious exaggeration, by some one, who, like Plutarch, has had a life rich in various human experience. It remains however, in Plutarch's case as in all such cases, the fundamental question, whether the supposed testimony of instinct and intuition is confirmed. If it is not confirmed, it may be taken to have been misunderstood. Keeping the whole life of this man in view, and realizing its soundness, its sweetness and its worth, we must see what {91} he made of the spiritual environment of man's life in general--laying stress on what in his system, or his attempt at a system, is most significant, and postponing criticism. It should be said once for all that a general statement of Plutarch's views cannot be quite faithful, for he was a man of many and wandering thoughts, and also something of an Academic; and whatever he affirmed was with qualifications, which in a short summary must be understood rather than repeated. [Sidenote: The knowledge of God] Our knowledge of God and of things divine comes to us, according to Plutarch, from various sources. There is the consensus of mankind. "Of all customs first and greatest is belief in gods. Lycurgus, Numa, Ion and Deucalion, alike sanctified men, by prayers and oaths and divinations and oracles bringing them into touch with the divine in their hopes and fears. You might find communities without walls, without letters, without kings, without houses, without money, with no need of coinage, without acquaintance with theatres and gymnasia; but a community without holy rite, without a god, that uses not prayer nor oath, nor divination, nor sacrifice to win good or avert evil--no man ever saw nor will see.... This is what holds all society together and is the foundation and buttress of all law."[56] This evidence from the consensus of mankind is brought to a higher point in the body of myth inherited from the past, and in custom and law--and is so far confirmed by reason. But we can go further and appeal to the highest and best minds of antiquity, who in their own highest moments of inspiration confirmed the common view. "In the matter of belief in gods, and in general, our guides and teachers have been the poets and the lawgivers, and, thirdly, the philosophers--all alike laying down that there are gods, though differing among themselves as to the number of the gods and their order, their nature and function. Those of the philosophers are free from pain and death; toil they know not, and are clean escaped the roaring surge of {92} Acheron."[57] "It is likely that the word of ancient poets and philosophers is true," he says.[58] Plutarch was a lover of poetry and of literature, and he attributed to them a value as evidence to truth, which is little intelligible to men who have not the same passion.[59] Still the appeal to the poets in this connexion was very commonly made. But men are not only dependent on the tradition of their fathers and the inspiration of poets and philosophers, much as they should, and do, love and honour these. The gods make themselves felt in many ways. There was abundant evidence of this in many established cases of theolepsy, enthusiasm (_éntheos_) and possession. Again there were the oracles, in which it was clear that gods communicated with men and revealed truths not otherwise to be gained--a clear demonstration of the spiritual. Men were "in anguish and fear lest Delphi should lose its glory of three thousand years," but Delphi has not failed; for "the language of the Pythian priestess, like the right line of the Mathematicians--the shortest between two points, makes neither declension nor winding, has neither double meaning nor ambiguity, but goes straight to the truth. Though hard to believe and much tested, she has never up to now been convicted of error,--on the contrary she has filled the shrine with offerings and gifts from barbarians and Greeks, and adorned it with the beautiful buildings of the Amphictyons."[60] The revival of Delphi in Plutarch's day, "in so short a time," was not man's doing--but "the God came here and inspired the oracle with his divinity." And Delphi was not the only oracle. The Stoics perhaps had pointed the way here with their teaching on divination, but as it stands the argument (such as it is) is said to be Plutarch's own.[61] Lastly in this connexion, the mysteries offered evidence, but here he is reticent. "As to the mysteries, in which we may receive the greatest manifestations and illuminations of the truth {93} concerning dæmons--like Herodotus, I say, 'Be it unspoken.'"[62] [Sidenote: Absolute being] Philosophy, poetry, tradition, oracles and mysteries[63] bring Plutarch to belief in gods. "There are not Greek gods and barbarian, southern or northern; but just as sun, moon, sky, earth and sea are common to all men and have many names, so likewise it is one Reason that makes all these things a cosmos; it is one Providence that cares for them, with ancillary powers appointed to all things; while in different people, different honours and names are given to them as customs vary. Some use hallowed symbols that are faint, others symbols more clear, as they guide their thought to the divine."[64] This one ultimate Reason is described by Plutarch in terms borrowed from all the great teachers who had spoken to the Greeks of God. The Demiurge, the One and Absolute, the World-Soul and the rest all contribute features.[65] "We," he says, "have really no share in Being, but every mortal nature, set between becoming and perishing, offers but a show and a seeming of itself, dim and insecure"; and he quotes the famous saying of Heraclitus that it is impossible to descend into the same river twice, and develops the idea of change in the individual. "No one remains, nor is he one, but we become many as matter now gathers and now slips away about one phantasm and a common form (or impress).... Sense through ignorance of Being is deceived into thinking that the appearance is. What then indeed is Being? The eternal, free from becoming, free from perishing, for which no time brings change.... It is even impious to say 'Was' or 'Will be' of Being; for these are the varyings and passings and changings of that which by nature cannot abide in Being. But God _is_, we must say, and that _not_ in time, but in the æon that knows no motion, time or variation, where is neither former {94} nor latter, future nor past, older nor younger; but God is one, and with one Now he has filled Always, and is alone therein the one that Is."[66] The symbol E at Delphi affords him a text here. It is one of "the kind Apollo's" riddles to stimulate thought. Plutarch read it as Epsilon and translates it "Thou Art," and from this as from the very name of Apollo he draws a lesson as to the nature of real Being. The name _A-poll-ô_ means of itself the "Not-Many," and the symbol E is the soul's address to God--God is, and God is one. Not every one understands the nature of the divine; men confuse God with his manifestations. "Those who suppose Apollo and the sun to be one and the same, we should welcome and love for their pious speech, because they attach the idea (_epínoia_) of God to that thing which they honour most of all they know and crave for," but we should point them higher, "bid them go upward and see the truth of their dream, the real Being (_tèn ousían_)." They may still honour the image--the visible sun. But that a god should do the work of the sun, that there should be changes and progressions in a god, that he should project fire from himself and extend himself into land, sea, winds and animals, and into all the strange experiences of animals and plants (as the Stoics taught)--it is not holy even to hear such things mentioned. No, God is not like Homer's child playing on the sand, making and unmaking; all this belongs to another god, or rather dæmon, set over nature with its becomings and perishings.[67] To confuse gods and dæmons is to make disorder of everything. It is here that the real interest of Plutarch's theology begins; for, as Christian apologists were quick to point out, all the philosophers were in the last resort monotheists. But the ultimate One God is by common consent far from all direct contact with this or any other universe of becoming and perishing. For it was questioned how many universes (_kósmoi_) there might be[68]--some conjecturing there would be one hundred and eighty-three--and if there were more than one, the Stoics asked what became of Fate and Destiny, and would there not be many "Zeuses or Zênes"? Why should there be? asked {95} Plutarch; why not in each universe a guide and ruler with mind and reason, such as he who in our universe is called lord and father of all? What hinders that they should all be subjects of the Fate and Destiny that Zeus controls; that he should appoint to each several one of them his own realm, and the seeds and reasons of everything achieved in it; that he should survey them, and they be responsible to him? That in the whole scheme of things there should be ten universes, or fifty, or a hundred, all governed by one Reason, all subordinate to one rule, is not impossible. The Ultimate God rules through deputies.[69] [Sidenote: The deputies of the supreme] These deputies are Plutarch's chief concern in theology. The Stoics and he were at one about the Supreme and Ultimate God, waiving the matter of personality, which he asserted and which they left open. But when the Stoics turned the deputy gods into natural forces, which we might call laws of nature, or, still worse, into natural objects like wine and grain,[70] Plutarch grew angry and denounced such teaching as atheism. "We must not as it were turn them into queen-bees who can never go out, nor keep them shut up in the prison of matter, or rather packed up, as they (the Stoics) do, when they turn the gods into conditions of the atmosphere and mingled forces of water {96} and fire, and thus beget them with the universe and again burn them up with it; they do not leave the gods at liberty and free to move, as if they were charioteers or steersmen; no! like images they are nailed down, even fused to their bases, when they are thus shut up into the material, yes, and riveted to it, by being made partakers with it in destruction and resolution and change."[71] This is one of many assertions of the existence of ancillary gods, who are not metaphors, nor natural laws, but personal rulers of provinces, which may very well be each a universe, free and independent. "The true Zeus" has a far wider survey than "the Homeric Zeus" who looked away from Troy to Thrace and the Danube, nor does he contemplate a vacant infinite without, nor yet (as some say) himself and nothing else. To judge from the motions of the heavens, the divine really enjoys variety, and is glad to survey movement, the actions of gods and men, the periods of the stars.[72] [Sidenote: Dæmons] Thus under the Supreme is a hierarchy of heavenly powers or gods, and again between them and men is another order of beings, the dæmons.[73] These, unlike the gods, are of mixed nature, for while the gods are emanations or Logoi of the Supreme, the dæmons have something of the perishable. "Plato and Pythagoras and Xenocrates and Chrysippus, following the ancient theologians, say that dæmons are stronger than men and far excel us in their natural endowment; but the divine element in them is not unmixed nor undiluted, but partakes of the soul's nature and the body's sense-perception, and is susceptive of pleasure and pain, while the passions which attend these mutations affect them, some of them more and others less. For there are among dæmons, as among men, differences of virtue and wickedness."[74] "It can be proved on the testimony of wise and ancient witnesses that there are natures, as it were on the frontiers of gods and men, that admit mortal passions and inevitable changes, whom we may rightly, after the custom of {97} our fathers, consider to be dæmons, and so calling them, worship them."[75] If the atmosphere were abolished between the earth and the moon (for beyond air and moon it was generally supposed that the gods lived[76]), the void would destroy the unity of the universe; and in precisely the same way "those who do not leave us the race of dæmons, destroy all intercourse and contact between gods and men, by abolishing what Plato called the interpretive and ancillary nature, or else they compel us to make confusion and disorder of everything, by bringing God in among mortal passions and mortal affairs, fetching him down for our needs, as they say the witches in Thessaly do with the moon."[77] And "he, who involves God in human needs, does not spare his majesty, nor does he maintain the dignity and greatness of God's excellence."[78] The Stoic teaching that men are "parts of God" makes God responsible for every human act of wickedness and sin--the common weakness of every pantheistic system.[79] Thus the dæmons serve two purposes in religious philosophy. They safeguard the Absolute and the higher gods from contact with matter, and they relieve the Author of Good from responsibility for evil. At the same time they supply the means of that relation to the divine which is essential for man's higher life--"passing on the prayers and supplications of men thitherward, and thence bringing oracles and gifts of blessing."[80] "They say well, who say that when Plato discovered the element underlying qualities that are begotten--what nowadays they call matter and nature--he set philosophers free from many great difficulties; but to me they seem to solve more difficulties and greater ones, who set the race of dæmons between gods and {98} men and discovered that in some such way it made a community of us and brought us together, whether the theory belongs to the Magians who follow Zoroaster, or is Thracian and comes from Orpheus, or is Egyptian, or Phrygian."[81] Homer, he adds, still uses the terms "gods" and "dæmons" alike; "it was Hesiod who first clearly and distinctly set forth the four classes of beings endowed with reason, gods, dæmons, heroes and finally men." The dæmons, then, are the agents of Providence, of the One Reason, which orders the universe; they are the ministers of the divine care for man. And here perhaps their mediation is helped by the fact that the border lines between themselves and the gods above on the one hand, and men below on the other, are not fixed and final. Some dæmons, such as Isis, Osiris, Herakles and Dionysos, have by their virtue risen to be gods,[82] while their own numbers have been recruited from the souls of good men.[83] "Souls which are delivered from becoming (_geneseôs_) and thenceforth have rest from the body, as being utterly set free, are the dæmons that care for men, as Hesiod says";[84] and, just as old athletes enjoy watching and encouraging young ones, "so the dæmons, who through worth of soul are done with the conflicts of life," do not despise what they have left behind, but are kindly minded to such as strive for the same goal,--especially when they see them close upon their hope, struggling and all but touching it. As in the case of a shipwreck those on shore will run out into the waves to lend a hand to the sailors they can reach (though if they are out on the sea, to watch in silence is all that can be done), so the dæmons help us "while the affairs of life break over us (_baptixoménous hypò tôn pragmatôn_) and we take one body after another as it were carriages." Above all they help us if we strive of our own virtue to be saved and reach the haven.[85] But this is not all, for in his letter written to console Apollonios Plutarch carries us further. There was, he says, a {99} man who lost his only son--he was afraid, by poison. It perhaps adds confidence to the story that Plutarch gives his name and home; he was Elysios of Terina in Southern Italy. The precision is characteristic. Elysios accordingly went to a _psychomanteion_, a shrine where the souls of the dead might be consulted.[86] He duly sacrificed and went to sleep in the temple. He saw in a dream his own father with a youth strikingly like the dead son, and he was told that this was "the son's dæmon,"[87] and that the death had been natural, and right for the lad and for his parents. Elsewhere Plutarch quotes the lines of Menander-- By each man standeth, from his natal hour, A dæmon, his kind mystagogue through life--[88] but he prefers the view of Empedocles that there are two such beings in attendance on each of us.[89] The classical instance of a guardian spirit was the "daimonion" of Socrates, on which both Plutarch and Apuleius wrote books.[90] Plutarch discusses many theories that had been given of it, but hardly convinces the reader that he really knew what Socrates meant. In a later generation it was held that if proper means were taken the guardian spirit would come visibly before a man's eyes. So Apuleius held, and Porphyry records that when an Egyptian priest called on the dæmon of Plotinus to manifest himself in the temple of Isis (the only "pure" spot the Egyptian {100} could find in Rome), there came not a dæmon but a god; so great a being was Plotinus.[91] Plutarch discusses the question of such bodily appearances in connexion with the legend of Numa and Egeria. He can believe that God would not disdain the society of a specially good and holy man, but as for the idea that god or dæmon would have anything to do with a human body--"that would indeed require some persuasion." "Yet the Egyptians plausibly say that it is not impossible for the spirit of a god to have intercourse with a woman and beget some beginnings of life," though Plutarch finds a difficulty in such a union of unequals.[92] Plutarch has comparatively little to say of visible appearances of tutelary or other dæmons. To what lengths of credulity men went in this direction will be shown in a later chapter. Yet a guardian who does not communicate in some way with the person he guards, and a series of dæmonic and divine powers content to be inert and silent, would be futile; and in fact there was, Plutarch held, abundance of communication between men and the powers above them. It was indeed one of the main factors of his religion that man's life is intimately related to the divine. Plutarch, of course, could know nothing of the language in use to-day, but it is clear that he was familiar with some or all of the phænomena, which in our times have received a vocabulary of their own, for the moment very impressive. Psychopathic, auto-suggestion, telepathy, the subliminal self--the words may tell us something; whether what they tell us is verifiable, remains to be seen. Plutarch's account of the facts, for the description of which this language has been invented, seems even more fantastic to a modern reader, but it must be remembered that he and his contemporaries were led to it at once by observation of psychical phænomena, still to be observed, and by philosophic speculation on the transcendence of God. As a body of theories, the ancient system holds together as well as most systems in the abstract. It was not in theory that it broke down. Plutarch as usual presents it with reservations. {101} [Sidenote: The mantic art] The dæmons are not slow to speak; it is we who are slow to hear. "In truth we men recognize one another's thoughts, as it were feeling after them in the dark by means of the voice. But the thoughts of the dæmons are luminous and shine for those who can see; and they need no words or names, such as men use among themselves as symbols to see images and pictures of what is thought, while, as for the things actually thought, those they only know who have some peculiar and dæmonic light. The words of the dæmons are borne through all things, but they sound only for those who have the untroubled nature and the still soul--those, in fact, whom we call holy and happy (_daimoníous_)."[93] Most people think the dæmon only comes to men when they are asleep, but this is due to their want of harmony. "The divine communicates immediately (_di autoû_) with few and but rarely; to most men it gives signs, from which rises the so-called Mantic art"[94]--prophecy or soothsaying. All souls have the "mantic" faculty--the capacity for receiving impressions from dæmons--though not in an equal degree. A dæmon after all is, from one point of view, merely a disembodied soul, and it may meet a soul incorporated in a body; and thus, soul meeting soul, there are produced "impressions of the future,"[95] for a voice is not needed to convey thought. But if a disembodied soul can foresee the future, why should not a soul in a body also be able? In point of fact, the soul has this power, but it is dulled by the body. Memory is a parallel gift. Some souls only shake off the influence of the body in dreams, some at the approach of death.[96] The mantic element is receptive of impressions and of anticipations by means of feelings, and without reasoning process (_asyllogistôs_) it touches the future when it can get clear of the present. The state, in which this occurs, is called "enthusiasm," god-possession--and into this the body will sometimes fall of itself, and sometimes it is cast into it by some vapour or exhalation sent up by the earth. This vapour or whatever it is (_tò mantikòn theûma kaì pneûma_) pervades the body, and produces {102} in the soul a disposition, or combination (_krâsin_), unfamiliar and strange, hard to describe, but from what is said it may be divined. "Probably by heat and diffusion it opens pores [or channels] whereby impressions of the future may be received."[97] Such a vapour was found to issue from the ground at Delphi--the accidental discovery of a shepherd, Coretas by name, who spoke "words with God in them" (_phônàs enthousiódeis_) under its influence; and it was not till his words proved true that attention was paid to the place and the vapour. There is the same sort of relation between the soul and the mantic vapour as between the eye and light. But does not this vapour theory do away with the other theory that divination is mediated to us by the gods through the dæmons? Plutarch cites Plato's objection to Anaxagoras who was "entangled in natural causes" and lost sight of better causes and principles beyond them. There are double causes for everything. The ancients said that all things come from Zeus; those who came later, natural philosophers (_physidoì_), on the contrary "wandered away from the fair and divine principle," and made everything depend on bodies, impacts, changes and combinations (_krâsis_); and both miss something of the truth. "We do not make Mantic either godless or void of reason, when we give it the soul of man as its material, and the enthusiastic spirit and exhalation as its tool or plectron. For, first, the earth that produces these exhalations--and the sun, who gives the earth the power of combination (_krâsis_) and change, is by the tradition of our fathers a god; and then we leave dæmons installed as lords and warders and guards of this combination (_krâseôs_), now loosening and now tightening (as if it were a harmony), taking away excessive ecstasy and confusion, and gently and painlessly blending the motive power for those who use it. So we shall not seem guilty of anything unreasonable or impossible."[98] {103} Plutarch gives an interesting account of a potion, which will produce the same sort of effect. The Egyptians compound it in a very mystical way of sixteen drugs, nearly all of which are fragrant, while the very number sixteen as the square of a square has remarkable properties or suggestions. The mixture is called Kyphi, and when inhaled it calms the mind and reduces anxiety, and "that part of us which receives impressions (_phantastikòn_) and is susceptive of dreams, it rubs down and cleans as if it were a mirror."[99] The gods, he says, are our first and chiefest friends.[100] Not every one indeed so thinks--"for see what Jews and Syrians think of the gods!"[101] But Plutarch insists that there is no joy in life apart from them. Epicureans may try to deliver us from the wrath of the gods, but they do away with their kindness at the same moment; and Plutarch holds it better that there should even be some morbid element (_pháthos_) of reverence and fear in our belief than that, in our desire to avoid this, we should leave ourselves neither hope, nor kindness, nor courage in prosperity, nor any recourse to the divine when we are in trouble.[102] Superstition is a rheum that gathers in the eye of faith, which we do well to remove, but not at the cost of knocking the eye out or blinding it.[103] In any case, its inconvenience is outweighed "ten thousand times" by the glad and joyous hopefulness that counts all blessing as coming from the gods. And he cites in proof of this that joy in temple-service, to which reference has already been made. Those who abolish Providence need no further punishment than to live without it.[104] {104} But the pleasures of faith are not only those of imagination or emotion. For while the gods give us all blessings, there is none better for man to receive or more awful for God to bestow than truth. Other things God gives to men, mind and thought he shares with them, for these are his attributes, and "I think that of God's own eternal life the happiness lies in his knowledge being equal to all that comes; for without knowledge and thought, immortality would be time and not life."[105] The very name of Isis is etymologically connected with knowing (_eidénai_); and the goal of her sacred rites is "knowledge of the first and sovereign and intelligible, whom the goddess bids us seek and find in her."[106] Her philosophy is "hidden for the most part in myths, and in true tales (_lógois_) that give dim visions and revelations of truth."[107] Her temple at Sais bears the inscription: "I am all that has been and is and shall be, and my veil no mortal yet has lifted."[108] She is the goddess of "Ten Thousand Names."[109] Plutarch connects with his belief in the gods "the great hypothesis" of immortality. "It is one argument that at one and the same time establishes the providence of God and the continuance of the human soul, and you cannot do away with the one and leave the other."[110] If we had nothing divine in us, nothing like God, if we faded like the leaves (as Homer said), God would hardly give us so much thought, nor would he, like women with their gardens of Adonis, tend and culture "souls of a day," growing in the flesh which will admit no "strong root of life." The dialogue, in which this is said, is supposed to have taken place in Delphi, so Plutarch turns to Apollo. "Do you think that, if Apollo knew that the souls of the dying perished at once, blowing away like mist or smoke from their bodies, he would ordain so many propitiations for the dead, and ask such great gifts and honours for the departed--that he would cheat and humbug believers? For my part, I will never let go the continuance of the soul, unless some Herakles shall come and take away the Pythia's tripod and abolish and destroy the oracle. For as long as so many oracles of this kind are given even in our day, it is not holy to condemn the soul to {105} death."[111] And Plutarch fortifies his conviction with stories of oracles, and of men who had converse with dæmons, with apocalypses and revelations, among which are two notable Descents into Hades,[112] and a curious account of dæmons in the British Isles.[113] The theory of dæmons lent itself to the explanation of the origin of evil, but speculation in this direction seems not to have appealed to Plutarch. He uses bad dæmons to explain the less pleasant phases of paganism, as we shall see, but the question of evil he scarcely touches. In his book on Isis and Osiris he discusses Typhon as the evil element in nature, and refers with interest to the views of "the Magian Zoroaster who, they say, lived about five hundred years before the Trojan War." Zoroaster held that there were two divine beings, the better being a god, Horomazes (Ormuzd), the other a dæmon Areimanios (Ahriman), the one most like to light of all sensible things, the other to darkness and ignorance, "and between them is Mithras, for which reason the Persians call Mithras the Mediator." But the hour of Mithras was not yet come, and in all his writings Plutarch hardly alludes to him more than half a dozen times.[114] It should be noted that, whatever his interest in Eastern dualism with its Western parallels, Plutarch does not abandon his belief in the One Ultimate Good God. This then in bare outline is a scheme of Plutarch's religion, though, as already noted, the scheme is not of his own making, but is put together from incidental utterances, all liable to qualification. It is not the religion of a philosopher; and the qualifications, which look like concessions to philosophic hesitation, mean less than they suggest. They are entrenchments thrown up against philosophy. He is an educated Greek who has read the philosophers, but he is at heart an apologist--a defender of myth, ritual, mystery and polytheism. He has {106} compromised where Plato challenged. His front (to carry out the military metaphor) extends over a very long line--a line in places very weakly supported, and the dæmons form its centre. It is the dæmons who link men to the gods, and through them to the Supreme, making the universe a unity; who keep the gods immune from contact with matter and from the suggestion of evil; and what is more, they enable Plutarch to defend the myths of Greek and Egyptian tradition from the attack of philosopher and unbeliever. And this defence of myth was probably more to him than the unity of the universe. Every kind of myth was finding a home in the eventual Greek religion, many of them obscene, bestial and cruel--revolting to the purity and the tenderness developing more and more in the better minds of Greece. They could not well be detached from the religion, so they had to be defended. There are, for example, many elements in the myth of Isis and Osiris that are disgusting. Plutarch recommends us first of all, by means of the preconceptions supplied by Greek philosophy upon the nature of God, to rule out what is objectionable as unworthy of God, but not to do this too harshly. Myth after all is a sort of rainbow to the sun of reason,[115] and should be received "in a holy and philosophic spirit."[116] We must not suppose that this or the other story "happened so and was actually done." Many things told of Isis and Osiris, if they were supposed to have truly befallen "the blessed and incorruptible nature" of the gods, would be "lawless and barbarous fancy" which, as Æschylus says-- You must spit out and purify your mouth.[117] But, all the same, myth must be handled tenderly and not in too rationalistic a spirit--for that might be opening the doors to "the atheist people." Euhemerus, by recklessly turning all the gods into generals and admirals and kings of ancient days, has covered the whole world with atheism,[118] and the Stoics, as we have seen, are not much better, who turn the gods into their own gifts. No, we may handle myth far too freely--"ah! yet {107} consider it again!" There are so many possibilities of acceptance. And "in the rites of Isis there is nothing unreasonable, nothing fictitious, nor anything introduced by superstition, but some things have an ethical value, others a historical or physical suggestion."[119] [Sidenote: Evil dæmons] In the second place, if nothing can be done for the myth or the rite--if it is really an extreme case--Plutarch falls back upon the dæmons. There are differences among them as there are among men, and the elements of passion and unreason are strong in some of them; and traces of these are to be found in rites and initiations and myths here and there. Rituals in which there is the eating of raw flesh, or the rending asunder of animals, fasting or beating of the breast, or again the narration of obscene legends, are to be attributed to no god but to evil dæmons. How many such rituals survived, Plutarch does not say and perhaps he did not know; but the Christian apologists were less reticent, and Clement of Alexandria and Firmicus Maternus and the rest have abundant evidence about them. Some of these rites, Plutarch says, must have been practised to avert the attention of the dæmons. "The human sacrifices that used to be performed," could not have been welcome to the gods, nor would kings and generals have been willing to sacrifice their own children unless they had been appeasing the anger of ugly, ill-tempered, and vengeful spirits, who would bring pestilence and war upon a people till they obtained what they sought. "Moreover as for all they say and sing in myth and hymn, of rapes and wanderings of the gods, of their hiding, of their exile and of their servitude, these are not the experiences of gods but of dæmons." It is not right to say that Apollo fought a dragon for the Delphic shrine.[120] But some such tales were to be found in the finest literature of the Greeks, and they were there told of the gods.[121] In reply to this, one of Plutarch's characters quotes the narrative of a hermit by the Red Sea.[122] This holy man conversed with men once a year, and the rest of the time he consorted with {108} wandering nymphs and dæmons--"the most beautiful man I ever saw, and quite free from all disease." He lived on a bitter fruit which he ate once a month. This sage declared that the legends told of Dionysus and the rites performed in his honour at Delphi really pertained to a dæmon. "If we call some dæmons by the names that belong to gods,--no wonder," said this stranger, "for a dæmon is constantly called after the god, to whom he is assigned, and from whom he has his honour and his power"--just as men are called Athenæus or Dionysius--and many of them have no sort of title to the gods' names they bear.[123] [Sidenote: Superstition] With Philosophy so ready to be our mystagogue and to lead us into the true knowledge of divine goodness, and with so helpful a theory to explain away all that is offensive in traditional religion, faith ought to be as easy as it is happy and wholesome. But there is another danger beside Atheism--its exact opposite, superstition; and here--apart from philosophical questions--lay the practical difficulty of Plutarch's religion. He accepted almost every cult and mythology which the ancient world had handed down; Polytheism knows no false gods. But to guide one's course aright, between the true myth and the depraved, to distinguish between the true and good god and the pseudonymous dæmon, was no easy task. The strange mass of Egyptian misunderstandings was a testimony to this--some in their ignorance thought the gods underwent the actual experience of the grain they gave men to sow, just as untaught Greeks identified the gods with their images; and some Egyptians worshipped the animals sacred to the gods; and so religion was brought into contempt, while "the weak and harmless" fell into unbounded superstition, and the shrewder and bolder into "beastly and atheistic reflections."[124] And yet on second thoughts Plutarch has a kindly apology for animal-worship.[125] Plutarch himself wrote a tract on superstition in which some have found a note of rhetoric or special pleading, for he decidedly gives the atheist the superiority over the superstitious, {109} a view which Amyot, his great translator, called dangerous, for "it is certain that Superstition comes nearer the mean of true Religion than does Atheism."[126] Perhaps it did in the sixteenth century, but in Plutarch's day superstition was the real enemy to be crushed. Nearly every superstitious practice he cites appears in other writers. Superstition, the worst of all terrors, like all other terrors kills action. It makes no truce with sleep, the refuge from other fears and pains. It invents all kinds of strange practices, immersions in mud, baptisms,[127] prostrations, shameful postures, outlandish worships. He who fears "the gods of his fathers and his race, saviours, friends and givers of good"--whom will he not fear? Superstition adds to the dread of death "the thought of eternal woes." The atheist lays his misfortunes down to accident and looks for remedies. The superstitious makes all into judgments, "the strokes of God," and will have no remedies lest he should seem "to fight against God" (_theomacheîn_). "Leave me, Sir, to my punishment!" he cries, "me the impious, the accursed, hated of Gods and dæmons"--so he sits in rags and rolls in the mud, confessing his sins and iniquities, how he ate or drank or walked when the dæmonion forbade. "Wretched man!" he says to himself, "Providence ordains thy suffering; it is God's decree." The atheist thinks there are no gods; the superstitious wishes there were none. It is they who have invented the sacrifices of children that prevailed at Carthage[128] and other things of the kind. If Typhons and Giants were to drive out the gods and become our rulers, what worse could they ask? A hint from the _Conjugal Precepts_ may be added here, as it suggests a difficulty in practice. "The wife ought not to have men friends of her own but to share her husband's; and the gods are our first and best friends. So those gods whom the the husband acknowledges, the wife ought to worship and own, and those alone, and keep the great door shut on superfluous devotions and foreign superstitions. No god really enjoys the {110} stolen rites of a woman in secret."[129] This is a counsel of peace, but if "ugly, ill-tempered and vengeful spirits" seem to the mother to threaten her children, who will decide what are superfluous devotions? The religion of Plutarch is a different thing from his morality. For his ethics rest on an experience much more easy to analyse, and like every elderly and genial person he has much that he can say of the kindly duties of life. Every reader will own the beauty and the high tone of much of his teaching, though some will feel that its centre is the individual, and that it is pleasant rather than compulsive and inevitable. After all nearly every religion has, somewhere or other, what are called "good ethics," but the vital question is, "What else?" In the last resort is ecstasy, independently of morality, the main thing? Are words and acts holy as religious symbols which in a society are obviously vicious? What propellent power lies behind the morals? And where are truth and experience? [Sidenote: Apology or truth?] What then is to be said of Plutarch's religion? Here his experience was not so readily intelligible, and every inherited and acquired instinct within him conspired to make him cling to tradition and authority as opposed to independent judgment. His philosophy was not Plato's, in spite of much that he borrowed from Plato, for its motive was not the love of truth. The stress he lays upon the pleasure of believing shows that his ultimate canon is emotion. He does not really wish to find truth on its own account, though he honestly would like its support. He wishes to believe, and believe he will--_sit pro ratione voluntas_. "There is something of the woman in Plutarch," says Mr Lecky. Like men of this temperament in every age, he surrenders to emotion, and emotion declines into sentimentalism. He cannot firmly say that anything, with which religious feeling has ever been associated, has ceased to be useful and has become false. He may talk bravely of shutting the great door against Superstition, but Superstition has many entrances--indeed, was indoors already. We have only to look at his treatise on Isis and Osiris to see the effects of compromise in religion. He will never take a firm stand; there are always possibilities, explanations, parallels, suggestions, symbolisms, by which he can escape from facing {111} definitely the demand for a decisive reformation of religion. As a result, in spite of the radiant mist of amiability, which he diffuses over these Egyptian gods, till the old myths seem capable of every conceivable interpretation, and everything a symbol of everything else, and all is beautiful and holy--the foolish and indecent old stories remain a definite and integral part of the religion, the animals are still objects of worship and the image of Osiris stands in its original naked obscenity.[130] And the Egyptian is not the only religion, for, as Tertullian points out, the old rites are still practised every where!" with unabated horrors, symbol or no symbol.[131] Plutarch emphasizes the goodness and friendliness of the gods, but he leaves the evil dæmons in all their activity. Strange and awful sacrifices of the past he deprecates, but he shows no reason why they should not continue. God, he says, is hardly to be conceived by man's mind as in a dream; and he thanks heaven for its peculiar grace that the oracles are reviving in his day; he believes in necromancy, theolepsy and nearly every other grotesque means of intercourse with gods and dæmons. He calls himself a Platonist; he is proud of the great literature of Greece; but nearly all that we associate in religious thought with such names as Xenophanes, Euripides and Plato, he gently waves aside on the authority of Apollo. It raises the dignity of Seneca when we set beside him this delightful man of letters, so full of charm, so warm with the love of all that is beautiful, so closely knit to the tender emotions of ancestral piety--and so unspeakably inferior in essential truthfulness. The ancient world rejected Seneca, as we have seen, and chose Plutarch. If Plutarch was not the founder of Neo-Platonism, he was one of its precursors and he showed the path. Down that path ancient religion swung with deepening emotion into that strange medley of thought and mystery, piety, magic and absurdity, which is called the New Platonism and has nothing to do with Plato. Here and there some fine spirit emerged into clearer air, and in some moment of ecstasy {112} achieved "by a leap" some fleeting glimpse of Absolute Being, if there is such a thing. But the mass of men remained below in a denser atmosphere, prisoners of ignorance and of fancy--in an atmosphere not merely dark but tainted, full of spiritual and intellectual death. Chapter III Footnotes: [1] _Amatorius_, 13, 756 A, D; 757 B. The quotation is from Euripides, _Bacchæ_, 203. [2] _Non suaviter_, 21, 1101 E-1102 A. [3] _de Iside_, 68, 378 A. [4] _de def. orac._ 8, 414 A. [5] Mahaffy, _Silver Age of Greek World_, p. 45. [6] Horace is the best known of Athenian students. The delightful letters of Synesius show the hold Athens still retained upon a very changed world in 400 A.D. [7] Life of Antony, 68. [8] _Symp._ i, 5, 1. [9] _Symp._ iv, 4, 4. [10] _v. Ant._ 28. [11] _Symp._ iii, 7, 1. [12] _Symp._ ii, 8, 1. [13] _Symp._ viii, 6, 5, _hubristès òn kaì philogelôs physei_. _Symp._ ix, 15, 1. [14] _de fraterno amore_, 16, 487 E. Volkmann, _Plutarch_, i, 24, suggests he was the Timon whose wife Pliny defended on one occasion, _Epp._ i, 5, 5. [15] _de frat. am._ 7, 481 D. [16] _de E._ 1, 385 B. [17] _v. Them._ 32, end. [18] Zeller, _Eclectics_, 334. [19] _de E._ 17, 391 E. Imagine the joys of a Euclid, says Plutarch, in _non suaviter_, 11, 1093 E. [20] _Symp._ ix, 15. [21] _Symp._ viii, 3, I. [22] _Pericles_ 13. [23] Dio Chr. _Rhodiaca, Or._ 31, 117. [24] Cf. the _Nigrinus_. [25] Gellius, N.A. ii, 21, 1, _vos opici_, says Gellius to his friends--Philistines. [26] _Symp._ v, 5, 1. [27] _Polit. præc._ 20, 816 D. [28] _de curiositate_, 15. [29] _Demosthenes_, 2. [30] See Volkmann, i, 35, 36; _Rom. Qu._ 103; _Lucullus_, 37, end. [31] _Demosthenes_, 2. [32] _de sera_, 15, 559 A. [33] _de Stoic. rep._ 2, 1033 B, C. [34] _Pol. Præc._ 15, 811 C. [35] _Symp._ ii, 10, 1; vi, 8, 1. [36] Reference to Polemo's hand-book to them, _Symp._ v, 2, 675 B. [37] _de E._ 384 F. [38] _Demosthenes_, 2; and 1. [39] _Timoleon_, pref. [40] _Alexander_, 1. [41] _de tranqu. animi_, i, 464 F, _ouk akroáseôs héneka therôménês kalligraphían_--a profession often made, but in Plutarch's case true enough as a rule. [42] See, _e.g._, variety of possible explanations of the E at Delphi, in tract upon it. [43] Stapfer, _Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity_ (tr.), p. 299. "It may be safely said he followed Plutarch far more closely than he did even the old English chroniclers." [44] _Cons. ad Ux._ 2-3, 608 C, D. [45] _Cons. ad Ux._ 11, 612 A, B. Cf. _non suaviter_, 26, 1104 C, on the loss of a child or a parent. [46] _de coh. ira._ 11, 459 C; cf. _Progress in Virtue_, 80 B, 81 C, on _epieíkeia_ and _praotês_ as signs of moral progress. [47] Cf. Sen. _Ep._ 47; Clem. Alex. _Pæd._ iii, 92. [48] A curious parallel to this in Tert. _de Patientia_, 15, where Tertullian draws the portrait of Patience--perhaps from life, as Dean Robinson suggests--after Perpetua the martyr. [49] Gellius, _N.A._ i, 26. [50] _Solon_, 32. [51] Artemidorus, _Oneirocritica_, iv, 72. On this author see chapter vii. [52] See _non suaviter_, 17, 1098 D, on the unspeakably rich joy of such a life of friendly relations with gods and men. [53] _Progress in Virtue_, 4, 77 C, Love of Philosophy compared to a lover's passion, to "hunger and thirst." [54] Plato, _Apology_, 38 A, _ho dè anexétastos bíos ou biôtos anthrópô_. [55] _Pensées_, Art. xxiv, 5. [56] _Adv. Coloten_ (foe Epicurean), 31, 1125 D, E. For this argument from consensus, see Seneca, _Ep._ 117, 6, _Multum dare solemus præsumptioni omnium hominum et apud nos veritatis argumentum est aliquid omnibus videri: tanquam deos esse inter alia hoc colligimus, quod omnibus insita de dis opinio est, nee ulla gens usquam est adeo extra leges moresque projecta ut non aliquos deos credat_. This consensus rests (with the Stoics) on the common preconceptions of the mind, which are natural. For ridicule of the doctrine of consensus, see Lucian, Zeus Tragædus, 42. [57] _Amatorius_, 18, 763 C. Cf. view of Celsus _ap._ Orig. _c. Cels._ vii, 41. [58] _Consol. ad Apoll._ 34, 120 B. [59] _Quomodo Poetas_, 1, 15 E, F, poetry a preliminary study to philosophy, _prophilosophêtéon toîs poiémasin_. [60] _de Pyth. orac._ 29, 408 F. Cf. the pagan's speech in Minucius Felix, 7, 6, _pleni et mixti deo vates futura præcerpunt ... etiam per guietem deos videmus_.... [61] So Volkmann, _Plutarch_, ii, 290 n. Cf. a passage of Celsus, Orig. _c. Cels._ viii, 45. [62] _de def. or._ 14, 417 C, _empháseis_ and _diapháseis_. [63] Tertullian sums up the pagan line of argument and adds a telling criticism in his book _adversus Nationes_, ii, 1: _adversus hæc igitur nobis negotium est, adversus institutiones maiorum, auctoritates receptorum, leges dominantium, argumentationes prudentium, adversus vetustatem consuetudinem necessitatem, adversus exempla prodigia miracula, quæ omnia adulterinam istam divinitatem corroboraverint.... Maior in huiusmodi penes vos auctoritas litterarum quam rerum est_. [64] _de Iside_, 67, 377 F-378 A [65] Oakesmith, _Religion of Plutarch_, p. 88--a book which I have found of great use. [66] _de E._ 18-20. Cf. Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 84. The true To-day of God is eternity. Also Tert. _ad Natt._ ii, 6, on the axiom of no change in God. [67] _de E._ 21. [68] Cf. Plato, _Timæus_, 55 D. [69] Plutarch, _de. def. orac._ 29, 425 F-426 A. Celsus has the same view; (Origen, _c. Cels._ v, 25; vii, 68): the world's regions are severally allotted to _epoptai_ under Providence; so that local usages may well be maintained in such form as pleases them; to alter these would be impious, while to worship the dæmons is to honour God, who is not jealous of them. Cf. Plutarch, _de fortuna Romanorum_, 11, 324 B, _ho Rômaiôn mégas daímôn ... tê pólei synebésas kaì synauxetheis, kthe_--the tract is a poor and rhetorical one, and the phrase may be merely a synonym for "luck." See also Celsus (Orig. _c. Cels._ viii, 58) on the Egyptian attribution of the human body to thirty-six "dæmons or gods of æther," so that by prayer to the right one disease in any part of the body may be cured; Celsus gives some of their names. The Christians assumed a somewhat similar scheme with a rather different development. Athenagoras, an apologist of the second century, gives the following account in his _Presbeia_, 24-27. A system of angels under Providence existed, some good and some bad, enjoying free-will as men also do; "the ruler of matter and of the forms in it" lusted after virgins and succumbed to flesh, and neglected the administration entrusted to him; others fell with him; they cannot regain heaven but meantime occupy the air; their children by mortal women were giants and the souls of these are the dæmons; the ruler of matter directs all things against God; with matter are connected the soul's worse impulses. See also Clem. Alex. _Strom._ vi, 157, on angelic governance of individual nations and cities; and Lactantius, _Instit._ ii, 8, 14, whose account fairly resembles that of Athenagoras. Tertullian, however, suggests (_Apol._ 11) that the Creator had no need of ancillary gods to complete his work. [70] For a summary of Stoic teaching here, see Cicero, _N.D._ ii, 60-70. [71] _de def. orac._ 29, 426 B. Cf. _de Iside_, 66, 377 D, E. "You might as well give the name of steersman to sails, ropes or anchor." [72] _de def. orac._ 30, 246 D, E. [73] This triple government of the Universe is worked out in _de fato_ (a tract whose authorship is questioned), but from one passage and another of Plutarch's undoubted works it can be established, though every statement has a little fringe of uncertainties. [74] _de Iside_, 25, 360 E. [75] _de def. orac._ 12, 416 C. [76] Cf. Athenagoras, _Presb._ 24 (quoted in note 1 on p. 95); and Apuleius, _de deo Socr._ 6, 132, cited on p. 232. [77] _de def. orac._ 13, 416 F. [78] _de def. orac._ 9, 414 F. [79] See _de comm. not. adv. Stoicos_, 33, and _de Stoicorum repugn._ 33, 34--three very interesting chapters. Clement of Alexandria has the same tone in criticizing this idea--_ouk oid hópôs anexethí tis epaiôn toútou theòn egnôkòs apidôn eis tòn bìon tòn hymeteron en hósois phyrómetha kakoîs. eín gar àn oútôs, hò med eipeîn thémis, merikôs hamartanôn ho those, kthe_. _Strom._ ii, 74. [80] _de Iside_, 26, 361 C. Cf. Plato, _Sympos._ 202 E, 203 A (referred to above), for the functions of _tò daimónion_, which is _métaxu theoû te kaì thnetou ... hermeneûon kaì diamorthmeûon theoîs tà par anthrôpon kaì anthrópois tà parà theôn kthè ... theòs de anthrópô ou mignutai ... oû toi dè daímones polloì kaì pantodapoí eisin, eîs dè toutôn estì kaì ho Éros_. [81] _de def. orac._ 10, 414 F-415 A. [82] _de Iside_, 27, 361 E; _de def. orac._ 10, 415 C; cf. Tert. _ad Natt._ ii, 2. [83] _Romulus_, 28; _de def. orac._ 10, 415 B. [84] Hesiod, _Works and Days_, 121. "But," asks Tatian (c. 16), "why should they get _drastikôteras dynameôs_ after death?" See the reply given by Plutarch, _de def. orac._ 39, 431 E. Compare also views of Apuleius (_de deo Socr._ 15) cited on p. 233. [85] _de genio Socratis_, 24, 593 D-F. He is thinking of the series of rebirths. [86] On such places and on necromancy in general see Tertullian, _de anima_, 57, who puts it down to illusion of the evil one--_nec magnum illi exteriores oculos circumscribere cui interiorem mentis aciem excæcare perfacile est_. [87] Cf. p. 15 on the _genius_ and the _fravashi_. [88] _de tranqu. animi_, 15, 474 B. [89] Cf. the story of the appearance to Brutus of his evil genius--_ho sós_, _ô broute_, _daímôn kakós_, Brutus, 36. Basilides the Gnostic (the father of Isidore) is credited with describing Man as a sort of Wooden Horse with a whole army of different spirits in him (Clem. Alex. _Strom_, ii, 113). Plutarch makes a similar jibe at the Stoic account of arts, virtues, vices, etc., as corporeal or even animate and rational beings--making a man "a Paradise, or a cattle-pen, or a Wooden Horse," _de commun. notit. adv. Stoicos_, 45, 1084 B. There was a tendency in contemporary psychology to attribute all feelings, etc., to dæmonic influence; cf. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ ii, 110, who suggests that all _páthe_ are imprints (as of a seal) made on the soul by the spiritual powers against which we have to wrestle. Cf. Tert. _de Anima_, 41, the evil of soul in part due to evil spirit. [90] Clement says (_Strom._ vi, 53) that Isidore the Gnostic "in the first book of the expositions of Parchor the Prophet" dealt with the dæmon of Socrates and quoted Aristotle's authority for such tutelary spirits. For the book of Apuleius, see ch. vii. [91] Porphyry, _v. Plotini_, 10. Cf. Origen, _c. Cels._ vii, 35, for Celsus' views on the visibility of dæmons, _e.g._ in the cave of Trophonius. [92] _Life of Numa_, 4--a most interesting chapter, when it is remembered what other works were being written contemporaneously. [93] _de genio Socr._ 20, 588 D, 589 D. [94] _de gen. Socr._ 24, 593 D. [95] _de def. orac._ 38, 431 C, _phantasías toû mellontos_. [96] Cf. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ vi, 46, on preaching of Christ in Hades, where souls, rid of the flesh, see more clearly. [97] _de dif. orac._ 40, 432 C-E, _thermóteti gàr kaì diachysei pórous tinàs anoígein phantastikoùs toû méllontos eikós estin_. For these _póroi_ cf. Clem. Alex. _Strom_, vii, 36, with J. B. Mayor's note. [98] _de def. orac._ 46-48, 435 A-437 A (referring to Phædo, 97 D). The curious mixture of metaphors, the double suggestion of _krâsis_, the parallel from music, and the ambiguity of _tò enthousiastikòn_ (characteristic of the confusion of spiritual and material then prevalent) make a curious sentence in English. On the relation of dæmons to oracles, see also _de facie in orbe lunæ_, 30, 944 D; also Tertullian, _de Anima_, 46, who gives a lucid account of dæmons as the explanation of oracles, and _Apol._ 22--dæmons inhabiting the atmosphere have early knowledge of the weather, and by their incredible speed can pass miraculously quickly from one end of the earth to the other, and so bring information--strange, he adds (c. 25), that Cybele took a week to inform her priest of the death of Marcus Aurelius--_o somniculosa diplomata_! ("sleepy post"). [99] _de Iside_, 80, 383 E. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ i, 135, says Greek prophets of old were "stirred up by dæmons, or disordered by waters, fragrances or some quality of the air," but the Hebrews spoke "by the power and mind of God." [100] _Præc. Conj._ 19. Cf. Plato, _Laws_, 906 A, _symmachoi dè hemîn theoí te áma kaì daímones, hemeîs d' aû ktêma theôn kaì daimónôn_. [101] _de repugn. Stoic._ 38, 1051 E. [102] _non suaviter_, 20, 1101 B. [103] _non suaviter_ 21, 1101 C. Clem. Alex. _Pæd._ ii, 1, says it is "peculiar to man to cleanse the eye of the soul." [104] _non suaviter_, 22, 1102 F. [105] _de Iside_, 1, 351 D. [106] _de Iside_, 2, 352 A. [107] _de Iside_, 9, 354 C, _empháseis kaì diapháseis_. [108] _de Iside_, 9, 354 C. [109] _de Iside_, 53, 372 E, _Myriónumos_. [110] _de ser. num. vind._ 18, 560 F. [111] _de ser. num. vind._ 17, 560 B-D. Justin, _Apology_, 1, 18, appeals to the belief in the continuance of the soul, which pagans derive from necromancy, dreams, oracles and persons "dæmoniolept." [112] In _de sera numinum vindicta_ and _de genio Socratis_. Cf. also the account of the souls of the dead given in _de facie in orbe lunæ_, c. 28 ff. [113] _de def. orac._ 18, 419 E. Another curious tale of these remote islands is in Clem. Alex. _Strom._ vi, 33. [114] Cumont, _Mysteries of Mithra_ (tr.), p. 35. Mithraism began to spread under the Flavians, but (p. 33) "remained for ever excluded from the Hellenic world." [115] _de Iside_, 20, 358 F. [116] _de Iside_, 11, 355 C. [117] _de Iside_, 20, 358 E. Cf. the language of Clement in dealing with expressions in the Bible that seem to imply an anthropomorphic conception of God. See p. 291. [118] _de Iside_, 23, 360 A. [119] _de Iside_, 8, 353 E. [120] _de def. orac._ 14, 15, 417 B-F. Cf. Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 42, _apanthropoi kai misánthrôpoi daímones_ enjoying _anthrôpoktonías_. [121] So Tertullian urges, _ad Natt._ ii, 7. [122] This man, or somebody very like him, appears as a Christian hermit in Sulpicius Severus, _Dial._ i, 17; only there he is reported to consort with angels. [123] _de def. orac._ 21, 421 A-E. Cf. Tert. _de Spect._ 10. The names of the dead and their images are nothing, but we know _qui sub istis nominibus institute simulacris operentur et gaudeant et divinitatem mentiantur, nequam spiritus scilicet, dæmones_. He holds the gods to have been men, long deceased, but agrees in believing in dæmonic operations in shrines, etc. [124] _de Iside_, 70, 71, 379 B-E. [125] _de Iside_, 76, 382 A. [126] See discussion in Oakesmith, _Religion of Plutarch_, p. 185. Gréard, _de la Morale de Plutarque_, p. 269, ranks it with the best works that have come down to us from Antiquity. [127] Tertullian on pagan baptisms--Isis and Mithras, _de Baptismo_, 5; _de Præscr. Hær._ 40. [128] Cf. Tert. _Apol._ 9, on these sacrifices, in Africa, and elsewhere, and see p. 26. [129] _Conjug. Præc._ 19. [130] Cf. _de Iside_, 55, 373 C; 18, 358 B; the image of Osiris, 36, 365 B. Origen (_c. Cels._ v, 39) remarks that Celsus is quite pleased with those who worship crocodiles "in the ancestral way." [131] If the legend is mere fable, he asks, _cur rapitur sacerdos Cereris, si non tale Ceres passet est? cur Saturno alieni liberi immolantur ... cur Idæae masculus amputatur_? _ad Natt._ ii, 8. {113} CHAPTER IV JESUS OF NAZARETH When we hear any other speaker, even a very good one, he produces absolutely no effect upon us, or not much, whereas the mere fragments of you and your words, even at second-hand, and however imperfectly repeated, amaze and possess the souls of every man, woman and child who comes within hearing of them.--Plato, _Symposium_, 215 D (Jowett). _Dominus noster Christus veritatem se non consuetudinem cognominavit_.--Tertullian, _de virg. vel._ 1. Towards the end of the first century of our era, there began to appear a number of little books, written in the ordinary Greek of every-day life, the language which the common people used in conversation and correspondence. It was not the literary dialect, which men of letters affected--a mannered and elaborate style modelled on the literature of ancient Greece and no longer a living speech. The books were not intended for a lettered public, but for plain people who wanted a plain story, which they knew already, set down in a handy and readable form. The writers did their work very faithfully--some of them showing a surprising loyalty to the story which they had received. Like other writers they were limited by considerations of space and so forth, and this involved a certain freedom of choice in selecting, omitting, abridging and piecing together the material they gathered. Four only of the books survive intact; of others there are scanty fragments; and scholars have divined at least one independent work embodied in two that remain. So far as books can, three of them represent very fairly the ideas of an earlier generation, as it was intended they should, and tell their common story, with the variations natural to individual writers, but with a general harmony that is the pledge of its truth. [Sidenote: The Gospels] At an early date, these books began to be called Gospels[1] and by the time they had circulated for a generation they were {114} very widely known and read among the community for which they were written. Apart from a strong instinct which would allow no conscious change to be made in the lineaments of the central figure of the story, there was nothing to safeguard the little books from the fate of all popular works of their day. Celsus, at the end of the second century, maintained that a good deal of the story was originally invention; and he added that the "believers" had made as free as drunk men with it and had written the gospel over again--three times, four times, many times--and had altered it to meet the needs of controversy.[2] Origen replied that Marcion's followers and two other schools had done so, but he knew of no others. It may to-day be taken as established that the four gospels, as we know them, stand substantially as near the autograph of their authors as most ancient books which were at all widely read, though here and there it is probable, or even certain, that changes on a slight scale have been made in the wording to accommodate the text to the development of Christian ideas.[3] This is at first sight a serious qualification, but it is not so important as it seems. By comparison of the first three gospels with one another, with the aid of the history of their transmission in the original Greek and in many versions and quotations, it is not very difficult to see where the hand of a later day has touched the page and to break through to something in all probability very near the original story. This is the greatest problem of literary and historical criticism to-day. All sorts of objections have been raised against the credibility of the gospels from the time of Celsus--they were raised even earlier; for Celsus quotes them from previous controversialists--and they are raised still. We are sometimes told that we cannot be absolutely certain of the authenticity of any single saying of Jesus, or perhaps of any recorded episode in his life. A hypertrophied conscience might admit this to be true in the case of any word or deed of Jesus that might be quoted, and yet maintain that we have not lost much. For, it is a commonplace of historians that an anecdote, even if false in itself, may contain historical truth; it {115} may be evidence, that is, to the character of the person of whom it is told; for a false anecdote depends, even more than a true story, upon keeping the colour of its subject. It may be added that, as a rule, false anecdotes are apt to be more highly coloured than true stories, just as a piece of colour printing is generally a good deal brighter than nature. The reader, who, by familiarity with books, and with the ways of their writers, has developed any degree of literary instinct, will not be inclined to pronounce the colours in the first three gospels at least to be anything but natural and true. However, even if one were to concede that all the recorded sayings and doings of Jesus are fabrications (a wildly absurd hypothesis), there remains a common element in them, a unity of tone and character, which points to a well-known and clearly marked personality behind them, whose actual existence is further implied by the Christian movement. In other words, whether true or false in detail, the statements of the gospels, if we know how to use them aright, establish for us the historicity of Jesus, and leave no sort of doubt as to his personality and the impression he made upon those who came into contact with him. We may not perhaps be able to reconstruct the life of Jesus as we should wish--it will not be a biography, and it will have no dates and hardly any procession of events. We shall be able to date his birth and death, roughly in the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius, more exactly fixing in each case a period of five years or so within which it must have happened. Of epochs and crises in his life we can say little, for we do not know enough of John the Baptist and his work to be able to make clear his relations with Jesus, nor can we speak with much certainty of the development of the idea of Messiahship in the mind of Jesus himself. But we can with care recapture something of the experience of Jesus; we can roughly outline his outward life and environment. What is of more consequence, we can realize that, whatever the particular facts of his own career which opened the door for him, he entered into the general experience of men and knew human life deeply and intimately. And, after all, in this case as in others, it is not the facts of the life that matter, but the central fact that this man did know life as it is before he made judgment upon {116} it. It is this alone that makes his judgment--or any other man's--of consequence to us. It is not his individual life, full of endless significance as that is, but his realization thereby of man's life and his attitude toward it that is the real gift of the great man--his thought, his character, himself in fact. And here our difficulty vanishes, for no one, who has cared to study the gospels with any degree of intelligent sympathy, has failed to realize the personality there revealed and to come in some way or other under its influence. So far in dealing with the religious life of the ancient world, we have had to do with ideas and traditions--with a well thought-out scheme of philosophy and with an ancient and impressive series of mysteries and cults. The new force that now came into play is something quite different. The centre in the new religion is not an idea, nor a ritual act, but a personality. As its opponents were quick to point out,--and they still find a curious pleasure in rediscovering it--there was little new in Christian teaching. Men had been monotheists before, they had worshipped, they had loved their neighbours, they had displayed the virtues of Christians--what was there peculiar in Christianity? Plato, says Celsus, had taught long ago everything of the least value in the Christian scheme of things. The Talmud, according to the modern Jew, contains a parallel to everything that Jesus said--("and how much else!" adds Wellhausen). What was new in the new religion, in this "third race" of men? The Christians had their answer ready. In clear speech, and in aphasia, they indicated their founder. He was new. If we are to understand the movement, we must in some degree realize him--in himself and in his influence upon men. In every endeavour made by any man to reconstruct another's personality, there will always be a subjective and imaginative element. Biography is always a work of the imagination. The method has its dangers, but without imagination the thing is not to be done at all. A great man impresses men in a myriad of different ways--he is as various and as bewilderingly suggestive as Nature herself--and no two men will record quite the same experience of him. Where the imagination has to penetrate an extraordinary variety of impressions, to seize, not a series of forces each severally making {117} its own impression, but a single personality of many elements and yet a unity, men may well differ in the pictures they make. Even the same man will at different times be differently impressed and not always be uniformly able to grasp and order his impressions. Hence it is that biographies and portraits are so full of surprises and disappointments, while even the writer or the painter will not always accept his own interpretation--he outgrows it and detests it. And if it is possible to spend a life in the realization of the simplest human nature, what is to be said of an attempt to make a final picture of Jesus of Nazareth? Still the effort must be made to apprehend what he was to those with whom he lived, for from that comes the whole Christian movement. [Sidenote: Celsus on "coarseness" of Jesus] Celsus denounced Jesus in language that amazes us; but when he was confronted with the teaching of Jesus, the moral worth of which a mind so candid could not deny, he admitted its value, but he attributed it to the fact that Jesus plagiarized largely from Greek philosophy and above all from Plato. He did not grasp, Celsus adds, how good what he stole really was, and he spoiled it by his vulgarity of phrase. In particular, Celsus denounced the saying "Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." The idea came from the _Crito_, where Socrates compels Crito to own that we must do evil to no one--not even by way of requital. The passage is a fine one, and Celsus quoted it in triumph and asked if there were not something coarse and clownish in the style of Jesus.[4] Celsus forgot for the moment that the same sort of criticism had been made upon Socrates. "'You had better be done,' said Critias, 'with those shoemakers of yours, and the carpenters and coppersmiths. They must be pretty well down at the heel by now--considering the way you have talked them round.' 'Yes,' said Charicles, 'and the cowherds too.'"[5] But six centuries had made another man of Socrates. His ideas, interpreted by Plato and others, had altered the whole thinking of the Greek world; his Silenus-face had grown beautiful by {118} association; the physiognomy of his mind and speech was no longer so striking; he was a familiar figure, and his words and phrases were current coin, accepted without question. But to Celsus Jesus was no such figure; he had not the traditions and preconceptions which have in turn obscured for us the features of Jesus; there was nothing in Jesus either hallowed or familiar, and one glance revealed a physiognomy. That he did not like it is of less importance. [Sidenote: The words of Jesus] Taking the saying in question, we find, as Celsus did, absurdity upon the face of it, and, as he also did, something else at the heart of it--a contrast between surface and inner value broad as the gulf between the common sense which men gather from experience and the morality which Jesus read beneath human nature. Among the words of Jesus there are many such sayings, and it is clear that he himself saw and designed the contrasts which we feel as we read them. This sense of contrast is one of the ground-factors of humour generally, perhaps the one indispensable factor; it is always present in the highest humour. If we then take the words of Jesus, as they struck those who first heard them--or as they struck Celsus--we cannot help remarking at once a strong individual character in them, one element in which is humour,--always one of the most personal and individual of all marks of physiognomy. Humour, in its highest form, is the sign of a mind at peace with itself, for which the contrasts and contradictions of life have ceased to jar, though they have not ceased to be,--which accepts them as necessary and not without meaning, indeed as adding charm to life, when they are viewed from above. It is the faculty which lets a man see what Plato called "the whole tragedy and comedy of life"[6]--the one in the other. Is it not humour that saw the Pharisee earnestly rinsing, rubbing and polishing the _outside_ of his cup, forgetful of the fact that he drank from the inside? that saw the simple-minded taking their baskets to gather the grape-harvest from bramble-bushes? That pleaded with a nation, already gaining a name for being sordid, _not_ to cast pearls before swine, and to forsake caring for the morrow, because such care was the mark of the Gentile world--the distinguishing sign between Gentile and Jew? {119} That told the men he knew so well--men bred in a rough world--to "turn the other cheek,"--to yield the cloak to him who took the coat, not in irony, but with the brotherly feeling that "his necessity is greater than mine"--to go when "commandeered" not the required mile, making an enemy by sourness of face, but to go two--"two additional," the Syriac version says--and so soften the man and make him a friend?[7] What stamps the language of Jesus invariably is its delicate ease, implying a sensibility to every real aspect of the matter in hand--a sense of mastery and peace. Men marvelled at the _charm_ of his words--Luke using the Greek _charis_ to express it.[8] The homely parable may be in other hands coarse enough, but the parables of Jesus have a quality about them after all these years that leaves one certain he smiled as he spoke them. There is something of the same kind to be felt in Cowper's letters, but in the stronger nature the gift is of more significance. At the cost of a little study of human character, and close reading of the Synoptists, and some careful imagination, it is possible to see him as he spoke,--the flash of the eye, the smile on the lip, the gesture of the hand, all the natural expression of himself and his thought that a man unconsciously gives in speaking, when he has forgotten himself in his matter and his hearer--his physiognomy, in fact. We realize very soon his complete mastery of the various aspects of what he says. That he realizes every implication of his words is less likely, for there is a spontaneity about them--they are "out of the abundance of his heart"; the form is not studied; they are for the man and the moment. But they imply the speaker and his whole relation to God and man--they cannot help implying this, and that is their charm. Living words, flashed out on the spur of the moment from the depths of him, they _are_ the man. It was not idly that the early church used to say "Remember the words of the Lord Jesus." On any showing, it is of importance to learn the mind of one whose speech is so full of life, and it is happily possible to do this from even the small collections we possess of his recorded sayings. {120} Quite apart from the human interest which always clings about the childhood of a significant man, the early years of Jesus have a value of their own, for it was to them that he always returned when he wished to speak his deepest thought on the relations of God and man. In the life and love of the home he found the truest picture of the divine life. This we shall have to consider more fully at a later point. Very little is said by the evangelists of the childhood and youth at Nazareth, but in the parables we have Jesus' own reminiscences, and the scenes and settings of the stories he tells fit in easily and pleasantly with the framework of the historical and geographical facts of his life at Nazareth. The town lies in a basin among hills, from the rim of which can be seen the historic plain of Esdraelon toward the South, Eastward the Jordan valley and the hills of Gilead, and to the West the sea. "It is a map of Old Testament history."[9] On great roads North and South of the town's girdle of hills passed to and fro, on the journey between Egypt and Mesopotamia, the many-coloured traffic of the East--moving no faster than the camel cared to go, swinging disdainfully on, with contempt on its curled lip for mankind, its work and itself. Traders, pilgrims and princes--the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them--all within reach and in no great hurry, a panorama of life for a thoughtful and imaginative boy. The history of his nation lay on the face of the land at his feet, and it was in the North that the Zealots throve. Was it by accident that Joseph the carpenter gave all his five sons names that stood for something in Hebrew history? Jesus himself says very little, if anything, of the past of his people, and he does not, like some of the Psalmists, turn to the story of Israel for the proof of his thoughts upon God. But it may be more than a coincidence that his countrymen were impressed with his knowledge of the national literature; and traces of other than canonical books have been found in his teaching. It implies a home of piety, where God was in all their thoughts. [Sidenote: His early life] The early disappearance of the elder Joseph has been explained by his death, which seems probable. The widow was {121} left with five sons and some daughters.[10] The eldest son was, according to the story, more than twelve years old, and he had probably to share the household burden. The days were over when he played with the children in the market at weddings and at funerals, and while he never forgot the games and kept something of the child's mind throughout, he had to learn what it was to be weary and heavy-laden. His parables include pictures of home-life--one of a little house, where the master in bed can argue with an importunate friend outside the door, who has come on a very homely errand.[11] In a group of stories, parables of the mother, we see the woman sweeping the house till she finds a lost drachma, the recovery of which is joyful enough to be told to neighbours. We see her hiding leaven in three measures of meal, while the eldest son sat by and watched it work. He never forgot the sight of the heaving, panting mass, the bubbles swelling and bursting, and all the commotion the proof of something alive and at work below; and he made it into a parable of the Kingdom of God--associated in the minds of the weary with broken bubbles, and in the mind of Jesus with the profoundest and most living of realities. It was perhaps Mary, too, who explained to him why an old garment will not tolerate a new patch. Whatever is the historical value of the fourth Gospel, it lays stress on the close relation between Jesus and his mother. One of the Aramaic words, which the church cherished from the first as the _ipsissima verba_ of Jesus, was _Abba_. It was what Mary had taught him as a baby to call Joseph. The fact that in manhood he gave to God the name that in his childhood he had given to Joseph, surely throws some light upon the homelife. To this word we shall return. Jesus had always a peculiar tenderness for children. "Suffer little children to come unto me," is one of his most familiar sayings, though in quoting it we are apt to forget that "come" is in Greek a verb carrying volition with it, and that Mark uses another noticeable word, and tells us that Jesus put his arms round the child.[12] Little children, we may be sure, came to him of their own accord and were at ease with him; {122} and it has been suggested that the saying goes back to the Nazareth days, and that the little children came about their brother in the workshop there. Mr Burkitt has recently remarked[13] that we may read far and wide in Christian Literature before we find any such feeling for children as we know so well in the words of Jesus; and in Classical Literature we may look as far. To Jesus the child is not unimportant--to injure a child was an unspeakable thing. Indeed, if the Kingdom of God meant anything, it was that we must be children again--God's little children, to whom their Father is the background of everything. The Christian phrase about being born again may be Jesus' own, but if so, it has lost for us something of what he intended by it, which survives in more authentic sayings. We have to recover, he said, what we lost when we outgrew the child; we must have the simplicity and frankness of children--their instinctive way of believing all things and hoping all things. All things are new to the child; it is only for grown-up people that God has to "_make_ all things new." Paul has not much to say about children, but he has this thought--"if any man be in Christ, it is a new creation, all things are made new." Probably the child's habit of taking nothing for granted--except the love that is all about it--is what Jesus missed most in grown men. Every idealist and every poet is a child from beginning to end--and something of this sort is the mark of the school of Jesus. [Sidenote: Jesus and nature] The outdoor life of Jesus lies recorded in his parables. Weinel has said that Paul was a man of a city--Paul said so himself. But Jesus is at home in the open air. The sights and sounds of the farm are in his words--the lost sheep, the fallen ox, the worried flock, the hen clucking to her chickens. This last gave a picture in which his thought instinctively clothed itself in one of his hours of deepest emotion. It is perhaps a mark of his race and land that to "feed swine" is with him a symbol of a lost life, and that the dog is an unclean animal--as it very generally is elsewhere. He speaks of ploughing, clearly knowing how it should be done; and like other teachers, he uses the analogies of sowing and harvest. The grain growing secretly, and the harvest, over-ripe and spilling its wheat, were to him pictures of human life. {123} Wild nature, too, he knew and loved. The wild lily, which the women used to burn in their ovens never thinking of its beauty, was to him something finer than King Solomon, and he probably had seen Herodian princes on the Galilean roads. (It is a curious thing that he has more than one allusion to royal draperies.) He bade men study the flowers (_katamanthánein_). It is perhaps worth remark that flower-poetry came into Greek literature from regions familiar to us in the life of Jesus; Meleager was a Gadarene. The Psalmist long ago had said of the birds that they had their meat from God; but Jesus brought them into the human family--"Your Heavenly Father feedeth them." Even his knowledge of weather signs is recorded. Not all flowers keep in literature the scent and colour of life; they are a little apt to become "natural objects." But if they are to retain their charm in print, something is wanted that is not very common--the open heart and the open eye, to which birds and flowers are willing to tell their secret. There are other things which point to the fact that Jesus had this endowment,--and not least his being able to find in the flower a link so strong and so beautiful between God and man. Here as elsewhere he was in touch with his environment, for he loved Nature as Nature, and was true to it. His parables are not like Æsop's Fables. His lost sheep has no arguments; his lily is not a Solomon, though it is better dressed; and his sparrows are neither moralists nor theologians--but sparrows, which might be sold at two for a farthing, and in the meantime are chirping and nesting. And all this life of Nature spoke to him of the character of God, of God's delight in beauty and God's love. God is for him the ever-present thought in it all--real too, to others, whenever he speaks of him. An amiable feeling for Nature is often to be found in sentimental characters. But sentimentalism is essentially self-deception; and the Gospels make it clear that of all human sins and weaknesses none seems to have stirred the anger of Jesus as did self-deception. When the Pharisees in the synagogue watched to see whether Jesus would heal on the Sabbath, he "looked round about upon them all with anger," says Mark. This gaze of Jesus is often mentioned in the Gospels--almost unconsciously--but Luke and Matthew drop the last two words in quoting this passage, and do so at the cost {124} of a most characteristic touch. Matthew elsewhere, in accordance with his habit of grouping his matter by subject, gathers together a collection of the utterances of Jesus upon the Pharisees, with the recurring refrain "Scribes and Pharisees, actors." The Mediterranean world was full of Greek actors; we hear of them even among the Parthians in 53 B.C., and in Mesopotamia for centuries; and as there had long been Greek cities in Palestine, and a strong movement for generations toward Greek ways of life, the actor cannot have been an unfamiliar figure. To call the Pharisees "actors" was a new and strong thing to say, but Jesus said such things. Of the grosser classes of sinners he was tolerant to a point that amazed his contemporaries and gave great occasion of criticism to such enemies as Celsus and Julian. He had apparently no anger for the woman taken in adultery; and he was the "friend of publicans and sinners"--even eating with them. [Sidenote: His sense of the real] The explanation lies partly in Jesus' instinct for reality and truth. Sensualist and money-lover were at least occupied with a sort of reality; pleasure and money in their way are real, and the pursuit of them brings a man, sooner or later, into contact with realities genuine enough. Whatever illusions publican and harlot might have, the world saw to it that they did not keep them long. The danger for such people was that they might be disillusioned overmuch. But the Pharisee lied with himself. If at times he traded on his righteousness to over-reach others, his chief victim was himself, as Jesus saw, and as Paul found. Paul, brought up in their school to practise righteousness, gave the whole thing up as a pretence and a lie--he would no longer have anything to do with "his own righteousness." But he was an exception; Pharisees in general believed in their own righteousness; and, by tampering with their sense of the proportions of things, they lost all feeling for reality, and with it all consciousness of the value and dignity of man and the very possibility of any conception of God. Jesus had been bred in another atmosphere, in a school of realities. When he said "Blessed are ye poor, for yours is the Kingdom of heaven," his words were the record of experience--the paradox was the story of his life. He had known poverty and hand-labour; he had been "exposed to feel what wretches feel." Whatever criticism may make of the story of his feeding {125} multitudes, it remains that he was markedly sensitive to the idea of hunger--over and over he urged the feeding of the poor, the maimed and the blind; he suggested the payment of a day's wage for an hour's work, where a day's food was needed and only an hour's work could be had; he even reminded a too happy father that his little girl would be the better of food. No thinker of his day, or for long before and after, was so deeply conscious of the appeal of sheer misery, and this is one of the things on which his followers have never lost the mind of Jesus. Poverty was perhaps even for himself a key to the door into the Kingdom of God. At any rate, he always emphasizes the advantage of disadvantages, for they at least make a man in earnest with himself. There is a revelation of the seriousness of his whole mind and nature in his reply to the follower who would go away and return. "No man, having put his hand to the plough and looking back, is _fit_ for the Kingdom of God." This every one knows who has tried to drive a furrow, and all men of action know only too well that the man, whom Jesus so describes, is fit for no kind of Kingdom. It is only the sentimentalism of the church that supposes the flabby-minded to be at home in the Kingdom of God. Jesus did not. The same kind of energy is in the parables. The unjust steward was a knave, but he was in earnest; and so was the questionably honest man who found treasure in a field. The merchant let everything go for the one pearl of great price. Mary chose "the one thing needful." We may be sure that in one shop in Nazareth benches were made to stand on four feet and doors to open and shut. The parables from nature, as we have seen, are true to the facts of nature. They too stand on four feet. The church laid hold of a characteristic word, when it adopted for all time Jesus' _Amen_--"in truth." Jesus was always explicit with his followers--they should know from the first that their goal was the cross, and that meantime they would have no place where to lay their heads. They were to begin with hard realities, and to consort with him on the basis of the real. The world in the age of Jesus was living a good deal upon its past, looking to old books and old cults, as we see in Plutarch and many others. The Jews no less lived upon their great books. Even Philo was fettered to the Old Testament, {126} except when he could dissolve his fetters by allegory, and even then he believed himself loyal to the higher meaning of the text. But nothing of the kind is to be seen in Jesus. His knowledge of Psalmist and Prophet excited wonder; but in all his quotations of the Old Testament that have reached us, there is no trace of servitude to the letter and no hint of allegory. He does not quote Scripture as his followers did. Here too he spoke as having authority. If sometimes he quoted words for their own sake, it was always as an _argumentum ad hominem_. But his own way was to grasp the writer's mind--a very difficult thing in his day, and little done--and to go straight to the root of the matter, regardless of authority and tradition. Like draws to like, and an intensely real man at once grasped his kinship with other intensely real men; and he found in the prophets, not reeds shaken with the wind, courtiers of king or of people, but men in touch with reality, with their eyes open for God, friends and fore-runners, whose experience illumined his own. This type of manhood needed no explanation for him. The other sort perplexed him--"Why can you not judge for yourselves?" how was it that men could see and yet not see? From his inner sympathy with the prophetic mind, came his freedom in dealing with the prophets. He read and understood, and decided for himself. No sincere man would ever wish his word to be final for another. Jesus was conscious of his own right to think and to see and to judge, and for him, as for the modern temper, the final thing was not opinion, nor scripture, nor authority, but reality and experience. There lay the road to God. Hence it is that Jesus is so tranquil,--he does "not strive nor cry"--for the man who has experienced in himself the power of the real has no doubts about it being able to maintain itself in a world, where at heart men want nothing else. [Sidenote: The temptations of Jesus] When so clear an eye for reality is turned upon the great questions of man's life and of man's relations with God, it is apt here too to reach the centre. From the first, men lingered over the thought that Jesus had gone to the bottom of human experience and found in this fact his power to help them. He was made like to his brethren; he was touched with the feeling of our infirmities; he was "able to sympathize" (_dynámenon sympathêsai_) for he was "tempted in all respects like us." In {127} the Gospel, as it is handed down to us, the temptation of Christ is summed up in three episodes set at the beginning of the story and told in a symbolic form, which may or may not have been given to them by Jesus himself. Then "the devil left him"--Luke adding significantly "till a time." The interpretation is not very clear. Strong men do not discuss their own feelings very much, but it is possible now and then to divine some experience from an involuntary tone, or the unconscious sensitiveness with which certain things are mentioned; or, more rarely, emotion may open the lips for a moment of self-revelation, in which a word lays bare a lifetime's struggle. It will add to the significance of his general attitude toward God and man's life, if we can catch any glimpse of the inner mind of Jesus. We have records of his being exhausted and seeking quiet. Biographers of that day concealed such things in their heroes, but the Gospels freely reveal what contemporary critics counted weaknesses in Jesus. He weeps, he hungers, he is worn out. He has to be alone--on the mountain by night, in a desert-place before dawn. Such exhaustion is never merely physical or merely spiritual; the two things are one. Men crowded upon Jesus, till he had not leisure to eat; he came into touch with a ceaseless stream of human personalities; and those who have been through any such experience will understand what it cost him. To communicate an idea or to share a feeling is exhausting work, and we read further of deeds of healing, which, Jesus himself said, took "virtue" (_dynamin_) out of him, and he had to withdraw. When the Syro-Phoenician woman called for his aid, it was a question with him whether he should spend on a foreigner the "virtue" that could with difficulty meet the claims of Israel, for he was not conscious of the "omnipotence" which has been lightly attributed to him. It was the woman's brilliant answer about the little dogs eating the children's crumbs that gained her request. The turn of speech showed a vein of humour, and he consented "for this saying."[14] If human experience goes for anything in such a case, contact with a spirit so delicate and sympathetic gave him something of the {128} strength he spent. The incident throws light upon the "fluxes and refluxes of feeling" within him, and the effect upon him of a spirit with something of his own tenderness and humour. For the moment, though, his sense of having reached his limits should be noticed. The church has never forgotten the agony in the garden, but that episode has lost some of its significance because it has not been recognized to be one link in a chain of experience, which we must try to reconstruct. It has been assumed that Jesus never expected to influence the Pharisees and scribes; but this is to misinterpret the common temper of idealists, and to miss the pain of Jesus' words when he found his hopes of the Pharisees to be vain. Gradually, from their pressure upon his spirit, he grew conscious of the outcome--they would not be content with logomachies; the end might be death. Few of us have any experience to tell us at what cost to the spirit such a discovery is made. The common people he read easily enough and recognized their levity. And now, in exile, as Mr Burkitt has lately suggested,[15] he began to concentrate himself upon the twelve. It was not till Peter, by a sudden flash of insight, grasped his Messiahship--a character, which Jesus had realized already, though we do not know by what process, and had for reasons of his own concealed,--it was not till then that Jesus disclosed his belief that he would be killed at last. From that moment we may date the falling away of Judas, and what this man's constant presence must have meant to Jesus, ordinary experience may suggest. Shrewd, clever and disappointed, he must have been a chill upon his Master at all hours. His influence upon the rest of the group must have been consciously and increasingly antipathetic. Night by night Jesus could read in the faces which of them had been with Judas during the day. The sour triumph of Judas when the Son of man was told to go on to another village after a day's journey, and the uncomfortable air of one or more of the others, all entered into Jesus' experience; and night by night he had to undo Judas' work. He "learnt by what he suffered" from the man's tone and look that there would be desertion, perhaps betrayal. The daily suffering involved in trying to recapture the man, in going to seek the lost sheep in the wilderness of bitterness, may be {129} imagined. Side by side, King, Pharisee and disciple are against him, and the tension, heightened by the uncertainty as to the how, when and where of the issue must have been great. Luke's graphic word says his face was "set" for Jerusalem--it would be, he knew, a focus for the growing forces of hatred. Day by day the strain increased. Finally Jesus spoke. The where and how of the betrayal he could not determine; the when he could. At the supper, he looked at Judas and then he spoke.[16] "What thou doest, do quickly." The man's face as he hurried out said "Yes" to the unspoken question--and for the moment it brought relief. This is the background of the garden-scene. What the agony meant spiritually, we can hardly divine. The physical cost is attested by the memory of his face which haunted the disciples. The profuse sweat that goes with acute mental strain is a familiar phenomenon, and its traces were upon him--visible in the torchlight. Last of all, upon the cross, Nature reclaimed her due from him. Jesus had drawn, as men say, upon the body, and in such cases Nature repays herself from the spirit. The worn-out frame dragged the spirit with it, and he died with the cry--"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Turning back, we find in Luke[17] that Jesus said to his disciples "Ye are they that have continued with me in my temptations." Dr John Brown[18] used to speak of Jesus having "a disposition for private friendships." A mind with the genius for friendliness is not only active but passive. We constantly find in history instances of men with such a gift failing in great crises because of it--they yield to the friendly word; it means so much to them. Thus when Peter, a friend of old standing and of far greater value since his confession at Philippi, spoke and reinforced the impressions made on Jesus' mind by his prevision of failure and death, the temptation was of a terrible kind. The sudden rejoinder, in which Jesus identifies the man he loved with Satan, shows what had happened. But, if friendship carried with it temptation, yet when physical exhaustion brought spiritual exhaustion in its train, the love and tenderness {130} of his friends upheld him. But, more still, their belief in him and in his ideas, their need of him, drove the tempter away. He could not disappoint them. The faces that softened to him,--all that came to his mind as he thought of his friends name by name--gave him hope and comfort, though the body might do its worst. It was perhaps in part this experience of the friendship of simple and commonplace men that differentiated the teaching of Jesus from the best the world had yet had. No other teacher dreamed that common men could possess a tenth part of the moral grandeur and spiritual power, which Jesus elicited from them--chiefly by believing in them. Here, to any one who will study the period, the sheer originality of Jesus is bewildering. This belief in men Jesus gave to his followers and they have never lost it. [Sidenote: Man's relations with God] It was in the new life and happiness in God that he was bringing to the common people that Jesus saw his firmest credentials. He laid stress indeed upon the expulsion of devils and the cure of disease--matters explained to-day by "suggestion." But the culmination was "the good news for the poor." "Gospel" and "Evangelical" have in time become technical terms, and have no longer the pulse of sheer happiness which Jesus felt in them, and which the early church likewise experienced. "Be of good cheer!" is the familiar English rendering of one of the words of Jesus, often on his lips--"Courage!" he said. One text of Luke represents him as saying it even on the cross, when he spoke to the penitent thief. Summing up what we have so far reached, we may remark the broad contrast between the attitude of Jesus to human life and the views of the world around him. A simple home with an atmosphere of love and truth and intelligence, where life was not lost sight of in its refinements, where ordinary needs and common duties were the daily facts, where God was a constant and friendly presence--this was his early environment. Later on it was the carpenter's bench, the fisherman's boat, wind on the mountain and storm on the lake, leaven in the meal and wheat in the field. Everywhere his life is rooted in the normal and the natural, and everywhere he finds God filling the meanest detail of man's life with glory and revelation. Philosophers were anxious to keep God clear of contact with matter; Marcus Aurelius found "decay in the substance {131} of all things--nothing but water, dust, bones, stench."[19] Jesus saw life in all things--God clothing the grass and watching over little birds. To-day the old antithesis of God and matter is gone, and it comes as a relief to find that Jesus anticipated its disappearance. The religious in his day looked for God in trance and ritual, in the abnormal and unusual, but for him, as for every man who has ever helped mankind, the ordinary and the commonplace were enough. The Kingdom of God is among you, or even within you--in the common people, of whom all the other teachers despaired. We come now to the central question of man's relation with God, never before so vital a matter to serious people in the Mediterranean world. Jew and Greek and Egyptian were all full of it, and men's talk ran much upon it. Men were anxious to be right with God, and sought earnestly in the ways of their fathers for the means of communion with God and the attainment of some kind of safety in their position with regard to him. Jew and Greek alike talked of heaven and hell and of the ways to them. They talked of righteousness and holiness--"holy" is one of the great words of the period--and they sought these things in ritual and abstinence. Modern Jews resent the suggestion that the thousand and one regulations as to ceremonial purity, and the casuistries, as many or more, spun out of the law and the traditions, ranked with the great commandments of neighbourly love and the worship of the One God. No doubt they are right, but it is noticeable that in practice the common type of mind is more impressed with minutiæ than with principles. The Southern European to-day will do murder on little provocation, but to eat meat in Lent is sin. But, without attributing such conspicuous sins as theft and adultery and murder to the Pharisees, it is clear that in establishing their own righteousness they laid excessive stress on the details of the law, on Sabbath-keeping (a constant topic with the Christian apologists), on tithes, and temple ritual, on the washing of pots and plates--still rigorously maintained by the modern Jew--and all this was supposed to constitute holiness. Jesus with the clear incisive word of genius dismissed it all as "acting." The Pharisee was essentially an actor--playing to himself the most contemptible little comedies of holiness. {132} Listen, cries Jesus, and he tells the tale of the man fallen among thieves and left for dead, and how priest and Levite passed by on the other side, fearing the pollution of a corpse, and how they left mercy, God's own work--"I will have mercy and not sacrifice" was one of his quotations from Hosea,--to be done by one unclean and damned--the Samaritan. Whited sepulchres! he cries, pretty to look at, but full of what? of death, corruption and foulness. "How _can_ you escape from the judgment of hell?" he asked them, and no one records what they answered or could answer. [Sidenote: Jesus the liberator] It is clear, however, that, outside Palestine, the Jews in the great world were moving to a more purely moral conception of religion--their environment made mere Pharisaism impossible, and Greek criticism compelled them to think more or less in the terms of the fundamental. The debt of the Jew to the Gentile is not very generously acknowledged. None the less, the distinctive badge of all his tribe was and remained what the Greeks called fussiness (_tò psophodeés_).[20] The Sabbath, circumcision, the blood and butter taboos remained--as they still remain in the most liberal of "Liberal Judaisms"--tribe marks with no religious value, but maintained by patriotism. And side by side with this lived and lives that hatred of the Gentile, which is attributed to Christian persecution, but which Juvenal saw and noted before the Christian had ceased to be persecuted by the Jew. The extravagant nonsense found in Jewish speculation as to how many Gentile souls were equivalent in God's sight to that of one Jew is symptomatic. To this day it is confessedly the weakness of Judaism that it offers no impulse and knows no enthusiasm for self-sacrificing love where the interests of the tribe are not concerned.[21] The great work of Jesus in this matter was the final and decisive cleavage with antiquity. Greek rationalism had long since laughed at the puerilities of the Greek cults; but rationalism and laughter are' unequally matched against Religion, and it triumphed over them, and, as we see in Plutarch {133} and the Neo-Platonists, it imposed its puerilities--yes, and its obscenities--upon Philosophy and made her in sober truth "procuress to the lords of hell." It was a new thing when Religion, in the name of truth and for the love of God, abolished the connexion with a trivial past. Jesus cut away at once every vestige of the primitive and every savage survival--all natural growths perhaps, and helpful too to primitive man and to the savage, but confusing to men on a higher plane,--either mere play-acting or the "damnation of hell." Pagan cults he summed up as much speaking. Once for all he set Religion free from all taboos and rituals. Paul, once, on the spur of the moment, called Jesus the "Yes" of all the promises of God--a most suggestive name for the vindicator and exponent of God's realities. It is such a man as this who liberates mankind, cutting us clear of make-believes and negations and taboos, and living in the open-air, whether it is cloud or sun. That Jesus shocked his contemporaries with the abrupt nakedness of his religious ideas is not surprising. The church made decent haste to cover a good many of them up, but not very successfully. A mind like that of Jesus propagates itself, and reappears with startling vitality, as history in many a strange page can reveal. We must now consider what was the thought of Jesus upon God and how he conceived of the relation between God and man. He approached the matter originally from the standpoint of Judaism, and no attempt to prove the influence of Greek philosophy is likely to succeed. The result of Greek speculation upon God--where it did not end in pure pantheism--was that of God nothing whatever could be predicated--not even being, but that he was to be expressed by the negation of every idea that could be formed of him. To this men had been led by their preconception of absolute being, and so strong was the influence of contemporary philosophy that Christian thinkers adopted the same conclusion, managing what clumsy combinations they could of it and of the doctrine of incarnation. Clement of Alexandria is a marked example of this method. To the philosophic mind God remains a difficult problem, but to the religious temper things are very different. To it God is the one great reality never very far away, and is conceived not as an abstraction, nor as a force, but as a personality. {134} It has been and is the strength and redemption of Judaism, that God is the God of Israel--"Oh God, thou art my God!" How intuition is to be reconciled with philosophy has been the problem of Christian thinkers in every age, but it may be remarked that the varying term is philosophy. To the intuition of Jesus Christians have held fast--though Greeks and others have called it "folly"; and in the meantime a good many philosophies have had their day. The central thought of Jesus is the Fatherhood of God. For this, as for much else, parallels have been found in the words of Hebrew thinkers, ancient and contemporary, and we may readily concede that it was not original with Jesus to call God Father. The name was given to God by the prophets, but it was also given to him by the Stoics--and by Homer; so that to speak of God's Fatherhood might mean anything between the two extremes of everything and nothing. Christian theology, for instance, starting with the idea of the Fatherhood of God, has not hesitated to speak in the same breath of his "vindicating his majesty"--a phrase which there is no record or suggestion that Jesus ever used. There may be fathers who vindicate their majesty, as there are many other kinds, but until we realize the connotation of the word for men who speak of God as Father, it is idle to speak of it being a thought common to them. The name may be in the Old Testament and in Homer, but the meaning which Jesus gave to it is his own. Jesus never uses the name Father without an air of gladness. Men are anxious as to what they shall eat, and what they shall drink, and wherewithal they shall be clothed--"your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things." Children ask father and mother for bread--will they receive a stone? The women had hid the leaven in the three measures of meal long before the children began to feel hungry. And as to clothes--God has clothed the flower far better than Solomon ever clothed himself, "and shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" The picture is one of the strong and tender parent, smiling at the child's anxiety with no notion of his own majesty or of anything but love. So incredibly simple is the relation between God and man--simple, unconstrained, heedless and tender as the talk round a table in Nazareth. Jesus is greater than the men who have elaborated {135} his ideas, and majesty is the foible of little minds. The great man, if he thinks of his dignity, lets it take care of itself; he is more interested in love and truth, and he forgets to think of what is due to himself. Aristotle said that his "magnificent man" would never run; but, says Jesus, when the prodigal son was yet a great way off, "his father saw him, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." This contrast measures the distance between the thought of Jesus and some Christian theologies. It is worth noting that in the two parables, in which a father directly addresses his son, it is with the tender word _téknon_, which is more like a pet name. It adds to the meaning of the parable of the prodigal, when the father calls the elder brother by the little name that has come down from childhood. It was a word which Jesus himself used in speaking to his friends.[22] The heavenly Father does not cease to be a father because his children are ungracious and bad. He sends rain and sun--and all they mean--to evil and to good. The whole New Testament is tuned to the thought of Jesus--"the philanthropy of God our saviour."[23] Plato had long before defined the object of human life as "becoming like to God." Jesus finds the means to this likeness to God in the simplest of every day's opportunities. "Love your enemies and do good, and ye shall be sons of the Highest, for he is good and pitiful." "Blessed are the peace-makers," he said, "for they shall be called children of God." This is sometimes limited to the reconciliation of quarrels, but the worst of quarrels is the rift in a man's own soul, the "division of his spiritual substance against itself" which is the essence of all tragedy. There are some whose least word, or whose momentary presence, can somehow make peace wherever they go, and leave men stronger for the rest they have found in another's soul. This, according to Jesus, is the family likeness by which God's children are recognized in all sorts of company. To have the faculty of communicating peace of mind--and it is more often than not done unconsciously, as most great things are--is no light or accidental gift. Jesus lays a good deal more stress upon unconscious instinct than most moralists do. Once only he is reported to have spoken of the Last Judgment, which was a favourite theme {136} with the eschatologists of his period, Jewish, pagan, and Christian. He borrowed the whole framework of the scene, but he changed, and doubly changed, the significance of it. For he discarded the national or political criterion which the Jew preferred, and he did not have recourse to the rather individualistic moral test which Greek thinkers proposed, in imitation of Plato; still less did it occur to him to suggest a _Credo_. With him the ultimate standard was one of sheer kindness and good-heartedness--"inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren." But it is still more interesting to note how this standard is applied. Every one at the Last Judgment accepts it, just as every one accepts the propositions of moralists in general. But the real cleavage between the classes of men does not depend on morality, as the chilly suggestion of the mere word reminds us. Men judge other men not by their morality, professed or practised, so much as by their unconscious selves--by instinct, impulse and so forth, the things that really give a clue to the innermost man. The most noticeable point then in Jesus' picture of the Last Judgment is that, when "sheep" and "goats" are separated, neither party at once understands the reasons of the decision. These are conscious of duties done; the others have no very clear idea about it. Elsewhere Jesus suggests that, when men have done all required of them, they may still have the feeling that they are unprofitable servants; and it is precisely the peace-makers and the pure in heart who do not realize how near they come to God. The priest and the Levite in the parable were conscious of their purity, but Jesus gives no hint that they saw God. The Samaritan lived in another atmosphere, but it was natural to him and he breathed it unconsciously. The cultivation of likeness to God by Greek philosophers and their pupils was very different. Plutarch has left a tract, kindly and sensible, on "How a man may recognize his own progress in virtue," but there is no native Christian product of the kind. [Sidenote: The Kingdom of God] From what Jesus directly says of God, and from what he says of God's children, we may conclude that he classes God with the strong and sunny natures; with the people of bright eyes who see through things and into things, who have the feeling for reality, and love every aspect of the real. God has that sense which is peculiar to the creative mind--the keen joy {137} in beauty, that loves star and bird and child. God has the father's instinct, a full understanding of human nature, and a heart open for the prodigal son, the publican and the woman with seven devils. "In his will is our peace," wrote the great Christian poet of the middle ages. "Doing the will we find rest," said a humble and forgotten Christian of the second century.[24] They both learnt the thought from Jesus, who set it in the prayer beginning with _Abba_ which he taught his disciples, and who prayed it himself in the garden with the same _Abba_ in his heart. "In the Lord's prayer," said Tertullian, "there is an epitome of the whole Gospel."[25] At this point two questions rise, which are of some historical importance, and bear upon Jesus' view of God. It is clear, first of all, that the expression "the Kingdom of God" was much upon the lips of Jesus, at least in the earlier part of his ministry. It was not of his own coining, and scholars have differed as to what he really meant. Such controversy always rises about the terms in which a great mind expresses itself. The great thinker, even the statesman, has to use the best language he can find to convey his ideas, and if the ideas are new, the difficulty of expression is sometimes very great. The words imply one thing to the listener, and another to the speaker who is really trying (as Diogenes put it) to "re-mint the currency," and how far he succeeds depends mostly upon his personality. To-day "the Kingdom," or more accurately "the Kingship of God," is in some quarters interpreted rather vigorously in the sense which the ordinary Jew gave to the phrase in the age of Jesus; but it is more than usually unsound criticism to take the words of such a man as meaning merely what they would in the common talk of unreflective persons, who use words as counters and nothing else. There was a vulgar interpretation of the "Kingship of God," and there was a higher one, current among the better spirits; and it is only reasonable to interpret this phrase, or any other, in the light of the total mind of the man who uses it. It is clear then that, when Jesus used "the Kingship of God," he must have subordinated it to his general idea of God; and what {138} that was, we have seen. To-day the phrase is returning into religious speech to signify the permeation of society by the mind of Christ, which cannot be far from what it meant to the earliest disciples. It is significant that the author of the fourth gospel virtually dropped the phrase altogether, that Paul preferred other expressions as a rule, and that it was merged and lost in the idea of the church. Closely bound up with the "Kingdom of God" is the name Messiah, with a similarly wide range of meanings. The question has also been raised as to how far Jesus identified himself with the Messiah. It might be more pertinent to ask with which Messiah. On the whole, the importance of the matter can be gauged by the fate of the word. It was translated into Greek, and very soon Christos, or Chrestos, was a proper name and hardly a title at all except in apologetics, where alone the conception retained some importance. The Divine Son and the Divine Logos--terms which Jesus did not use--superseded the old Hebrew title, at any rate in the Gentile world, and this could hardly have occurred if the idea had been of fundamental moment in Jesus' mind and speech. If he used the name, as seems probable, it too must have been subordinated to his master-thought of God's fatherhood. It would then imply at most a close relation to the purposes of God, and a mission to men, the stewardship of thoughts that would put mankind on a new footing with God. The idea of his being a mediator in the Pauline sense is foreign to the gospels, and the later conception of a purchase of mankind from the devil, or from the justice of God, by the blood of a victim is still more alien to Jesus' mind. [Sidenote: The cross] These are some of the features of the founder of the new religion as revealed in the Gospels--features that permanently compel attention, but after all it was not the consideration of these that conquered the world. Of far more account in winning the world was the death of this man upon the cross. It was the cross that gave certainty to all that Jesus had taught about God. The church sturdily and indignantly repudiated any suggestion, however philosophic, that in any way seemed likely to lessen the significance of the cross. That he should taste the ultimate bitterness of death undisguised, that he should refuse the palliative wine and myrrh (an action symbolic of his {139} whole attitude to everything and to death itself), that with open eyes he should set his face for Jerusalem, and with all the sensitiveness of a character, so susceptive of impression and so rich in imagination, he should expose himself to our experience--to the foretaste of death, to the horror of the unknown, and to the supreme fear--the dread of the extinction of personality; and that he should actually undergo all he foresaw, as the last cry upon the cross testified--all this let the world into the real meaning of his central thought upon God. It was the pledge of his truth, and thus made possible our reconciliation with God. If we may take an illustration from English literature, Shakespeare's _Julius Cæsar_ may suggest something here. It has been noticed how small a part Cæsar plays in the drama--how little he speaks; what weakness he shows--epilepsy, deafness, arrogance, vacillation; and how soon he disappears. Would not the play have been better named _Brutus_? Yet Shakespeare knew what he was doing; for the whole play is Julius Cæsar, from the outbreak of Cassius at the beginning-- Why! man he doth bestride the narrow world Like a colossus, to the bitter cry of Brutus at the end-- O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet! Cæsar determines everything in the story. Every character in it is a mirror in which we see some figure of him, and the life of every man there is made or unmade by his mind toward Cæsar. Cæsar is the one great determining factor in the story; living and dead, he is the centre and explanation of it all. What was written in the Gospels of the life and death of Jesus, might by now be ancient history, if the Gospels had told the whole story. But they did not tell the whole story; and they neither were, nor are, the source of the Christian movement, great as their influence is and has been. The Jesus who has impressed himself upon mankind is not a character, however strong and beautiful, that is to be read about in a book. Before the Gospels were written, men spoke of the "Spirit of Jesus" as an active force amongst them. We may criticize their phrase and their psychology as we like, but they were speaking of something they knew, something they had seen {140} and felt, and it is that "something" which changed the course of history. Jesus lives for us in the pages of the Gospels, but we are not his followers on that account, nor were the Christians of the first century. They, like ourselves, followed him under the irresistible attraction of his character repeating itself in the lives of men and women whom they knew. The Son of God, they said, revealed himself in men, and it was true. Of his immediate followers we know almost nothing, but it was they who passed him on to the next generation, consciously in their preaching, which was not always very good; and unconsciously in their lives, which he had transformed, and which had gained from him something of the power of his own life. The church was a nexus of quickened and redeemed personalities,--men and women in whom Christ lived. So Paul wrote of it. A century later another nameless Christian spoke of Christ being "new born every day over again in the hearts of believers," and it would be hard to correct the statement. If we are to give a true account of such men as Alexander and Cæsar, we consider them in the light of the centuries through which their ideas lived and worked. In the same way, the life, the mind and the personality of Jesus will not be understood till we have realized by some intimate experience something of the worth and beauty of the countless souls that in every century have found and still find in him the Alpha and Omega of their being. For the Gospels are not four but "ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands," and the last word of every one of them is "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Chapter IV Footnotes: [1] Justin, _Apology_, i, 66. [2] Quoted by Origen, _contra Celsum_, ii, 26, 27. [3] Cf. Mr F. C. Conybeare's article on the remodelling of the baptismal formula in Matthew xxviii after the Council of Nicæa, _Hibbert Journal_, Oct. 1902. [4] Origen, _c. Cels._ vii, 58, _agroikóteron_. [5] Xen. _Mem_, i, 2, 37. Cf. Plato, _Symp._ 221 E. Gorgias, 491 A. See Forbes, _Socrates_, 128; Adam, _Religious Teachers of Greece_, i, 338. [6] Plato, _Philebus_, 50 B. [7] On "playfulness" in the words of Jesus, see Burkitt, the _Gospel History_, p. 142. See also _Life of Abp Temple_, ii. 681 (letter to his son 18 Dec. 1896), on the "beam in the eye" and the "eye of the needle"--"that faint touch of fun which all Oriental teachers delight in." [8] Luke iv, 22, _ethaúmazon epì toîs lógois tês charitos_. [9] George Adam Smith, _Historical Geography of the Holy Land, ad loc._ [10] Matthew xiii, 56 says _pâsai_, and Mark uses a plural. [11] Luke xi, 5. [12] Mark ix, 36, _enagkalisámenos_. [13] _Gospel History_, p. 285. [14] I believe that the allusion to dogs has been thrown back into Jesus' words from the woman's reply, and that she was the first to mention them. Note Mark's emphatic phrase _dià toûton tòn lógon_; vii, 29. [15] _Gospel History_, p. 93 f. (with map). [16] The steady gaze and the pause are mentioned by the Gospels, in more than one place, as preceding utterance. There are of course great variations in the accounts of the last supper. [17] xxii, 28. [18] The author of _Rab and his Friends_. [19] ix, 36. [20] Cf. _ad Diognetum_, cited on p. 177. [21] I quote this from a friend to whom a Jew said as much; of course every general statement requires modification. Still the predominantly tribal character of Judaism implies contempt for the spiritual life of the Gentile Christian and pagan. If the knowledge of God was or is of value to the Jew, he has made little effort to share it. [22] _e.g._ Mark x, 24. [23] Titus iii, 4. [24] _Second Clement_ (so-called), 6, 7. [25] Tert. _de Or._ 1 (end). Cf. also c. 4, on the prayer in the Garden; and _de fuga_, 8. {141} CHAPTER V THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS Two things stand out, when we study the character of the early church--its great complexity and variety, and its unity in the personality of Jesus of Nazareth. In spite of the general levelling which Greek culture and Roman government had made all over the Mediterranean world, the age-long influences of race and climate and cult were still at work. Everywhere there was a varnish of Greek literature; everywhere a tendency to uniformity in government, very carefully managed with great tenderness for local susceptibilities, but none the less a fixed object of the Emperors; everywhere cult was blended with cult with the lavish hospitality of polytheism; and yet, apart from denationalized men of letters, artists and dilettanti, the old types remained and reproduced themselves. And when men looked at the Christian community, it was as various as the Empire--"Thou wast slain," runs the hymn in the Apocalypse, "and thou hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred and tongue and people and nation." There soon appeared that desire for uniformity which animated the secular government, and which appears to be an ineradicable instinct of the human mind. Yet for the first two centuries--the period under our discussion--the movement toward uniformity had not grown strong enough to overcome the race-marks and the place-marks. There are great areas over which in Christian life and thought the same general characteristics are to be seen, which were manifested in other ways before the Christian era. There is the great West of Italy, Gaul and Africa, Latin in outlook, but with strong local variations. There is the region of Asia Minor and Greece,--where the church is Hellenistic in every sense of the word, very Greek upon the surface and less Greek underneath, again with marked contrasts due to geography and race-distribution. Again there is the Christian South--Alexandria, with its Christian community, Greek and {142} Jewish, and a little known hinterland, where Christian thought spread, we do not know how. There was Palestine with a group of Jewish Christians, very clearly differentiated. And Eastward there rose a Syrian Christendom, which as late as the fourth century kept a character of its own.[1] Into all these great divisions of the world came men eager to tell "good news"--generally quite commonplace and unimportant people with a "treasure in earthen vessels." Their message they put in various ways, with the aphasia of ill-educated men, who have something to tell that is far too big for any words at their command. It was made out at last that they meant a new relation to God in virtue of Jesus Christ. From a philosophic point of view they talked "foolishness," and they lapsed now and then, under the pressure of what was within them, into inarticulate and unintelligible talk, from which they might emerge into utterance quite beyond their ordinary range. Such symptoms were familiar enough, but these people were not like the usual exponents of "theolepsy" and "enthusiasm." They were astonishingly upright, pure and honest; they were serious; and they had in themselves inexplicable reserves of moral force and a happiness far beyond anything that the world knew. They were men transfigured, as they owned. Some would confess to wasted and evil lives, but something had happened,[2] which they connected with Jesus or a holy spirit, but everything in the long run turned upon Jesus. Clearer heads came about them, and then, as they put it, the holy spirit fell upon them also. These men of education and ideas were "converted," and began at once to analyse their experience, using naturally the language with which they were familiar. It was these men who gave the tone to the groups of believers in their various regions, and that tone varied with the colour of thought in which the more reflective converts had grown up. A great deal, of course, was common to all regions of the world,--the new story and the new experience, an unphilosophized group of facts, which now, under the stimulus of man's unconquerable habit of speculation, began to be interpreted {143} and to be related in all sorts of ways to the general experience of men. No wonder there was diversity. It took centuries to achieve a uniform account of the Christian faith. The unity of the early church lay in the reconciliation with God, in the holy spirit, and Jesus Christ,--a unity soon felt and treasured. "There is one body and one spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in you all."[3] The whole body of Christians was conscious of its unity, of its distinctness and its separation. It was a "peculiar people"[4]--God's own; a "third race," as the heathen said.[5] [Sidenote: The recruits] To go further into detail we may consider the recruits and their experience, their explanations of this experience, and the new life in the world. The recruits came, as the Christians very soon saw, from every race of mankind, and they brought with them much that was of value in national preconceptions and characteristics. The presence of Jew, Greek, Roman, Syrian and Phrygian, made it impossible for the church to be anything but universal; and if at times her methods of reconciling somewhat incompatible contributions were unscientific, still in practice she achieved the task and gained accordingly. Where the Empire failed in imposing unity by decree, the church produced it instinctively. It was on Jewish ground that Christianity began, and it was from its native soil and air that it drew, transmuting as it drew them, its passionate faith in One God, its high moral standard and its lofty hopes of a Messianic age to come. For no other race of the Mediterranean world was the moral law based on the "categoric imperative." Nowhere else was that law written in the inward parts, in the very hearts of the people,[6] and nowhere was it observed so loyally. The absurdity and scrupulosity which the Greek ridiculed in the Jew, were the outcome of his devotion to the law of the Lord; and, when once the law was reinterpreted and taken to a higher plane by Jesus, the {144} old passion turned naturally to the new morality. It was the Jew who brought to the common Christian stock the conception of Sin, and the significance of this is immense in the history of the religion. It differentiated Christianity from all the religious and philosophical systems of the ancient world. 'Tis the faith that launched point-blank her dart At the head of a lie--taught Original Sin, The Corruption of Man's Heart. Seneca and the Stoics played with the fancy of man's being equal, or in some points superior, to God--a folly impossible for a Jewish mind. It was the Jews who gave the world the "oracles of God" in the Old Testament, who invested Christianity for the moment with the dignity of an ancient history and endowed it for all time with a unique inheritance of religious experience. Nor is it only the Old Testament that the church owes to the Jew; for the Gospels are also his gift--anchors in the actual that have saved Christianity from all kinds of intellectual, spiritual and ecclesiastical perils. And, further, at the difficult moment of transition, when Christian ideas passed from the Jewish to the Gentile world, there were Jews of the Hellenistic type ready to mediate the change. They of all men stood most clearly at the universal point of view; they knew the grandeur and the weakness of the law; they understood at once the Jewish and the Greek mind. It is hard to exaggerate what Christianity owes to men of this school--to Paul and to "John," and to a host of others, Christian Jews of the Dispersion, students of Philo, and followers of Jesus. On Jewish soil the new faith died; it was transplantation alone that made Christianity possible; for it was the true outcome of the teaching of Jesus, that the new faith should be universal. The chief contribution of the Greek was his demand for this very thing--that Christianity must be universal. He made no secret of his contempt for Judaism, and he was emphatic in insisting on a larger outlook than the Jewish. No man could seem more naturally unlikely to welcome the thoughts of Jesus than the "little Greek" (_Graæculus_) of the Roman world; yet he was won; and then by making it impossible for Christianity to remain an amalgam of the ideas of Jesus and of Jewish law, {145} the Greek really secured the triumph of Jesus. He eliminated the tribal and the temporary in the Gospel as it came from purely Jewish teachers, and, with all his irregularities of conduct and his flightiness of thought, he nevertheless set Jesus before the world as the central figure of all history and of all existence.[7] Even the faults of the Greek have indirectly served the church; for the Gospels gained their place in men's minds and hearts, because they were the real refuge from the vagaries of Greek speculation, and offered the ultimate means of verifying every hypothesis. The historic Jesus is never of such consequence to us as when the great intellects tell us that the true and only heaven is Nephelococcygia. For Aristophanes was right--it was the real Paradise of the Greek mind. What relief the plain matter-of-fact Gospel must have brought men in a world, where nothing throve like these cities of the clouds, would be inconceivable, if we did not know its value still. While we recognize the real contribution of the Greek Christians, it is good to see what Christianity meant to men who were not Greeks. [Sidenote: Tatian] There was one Christian of some note in the second century, whose attitude toward everything Greek is original and interesting. Tatian was "born in the land of the Assyrians."[8] He travelled widely in the Græco-Roman world,[9] and studied rhetoric like a Greek; he gave attention to the great collections of Greek art in Rome--monuments of shame, he called them. He was admitted to the mysteries, but he became shocked at the cruelty and licentiousness tolerated and encouraged by paganism. While in this mind, seeking for the truth, "it befel that I lit upon some barbarian writings, older than the dogmata of the Greeks, divine in their contrast with Greek error; and it befel too that I was convinced by them, because, their style was simple, because there was an absence of artifice in the speakers, because the structure of the whole was intelligible, and also because of the fore-knowledge of future {146} events, the excellence of the precepts and the subordination of the whole universe to One Ruler (_tò tôn hólôn monarchikón_). My soul was taught of God, and I understood that while Greek literature (_tà mèn_) leads to condemnation, this ends our slavery in the world and rescues us from rulers manifold and ten thousand tyrants."[10] He now repudiated the Greeks and all their works, the grammarians who "set the letters of the alphabet to quarrel among themselves,"[11] the philosophers with their long hair and long nails and vanity,[12] the actors, poets and legislators; and "saying good-bye to Roman pride and Attic pedantry (_psychrología_) I laid hold of our barbarian philosophy."[13] He made the first harmony of the Gospels--an early witness to the power of their sheer simplicity in a world of literary affectations. Another famous Syrian of the century was Ignatius of Antioch, whose story is collected from seven letters he wrote, in haste and excitement, as he travelled to Rome to be thrown to the beasts in the arena--his guards in the meantime being as fierce as any leopards. The burden of them all is that Jesus Christ _truly_ suffered on the cross. Men around him spoke of a phantom crucified by the deluded soldiers amid the deluded Jews.--No! cries Ignatius, over and over, he _truly_ suffered, he _truly_ rose, ate and drank, and was no dæmon without a body (_daimónion asómaton_)--none of it is _seeming_, it is all truly, truly, truly.[14] He has been called hysterical, and his position might make any nervous man hysterical--death before him, his Lord's reality denied, and only time for one word--_Truly_. Before we pass him by, let us take a quieter saying of his to illustrate the deepest thought of himself and his age--"He that hath the word of Jesus truly can hear his silence also."[15] The Roman came to the Church as he came to a new province. He gravely surveyed the situation, considered the existing arrangements, accepted them, drew up as it were a _lex provinciæ_ to secure their proper administration, and thereafter interpreted it in accordance with the usual principles of Roman {147} law, and, like the procurator in Achæa, left the Greeks to discuss any abstract propositions they pleased. Tertullian and Cyprian were lawyers, and gave Latin Christendom the language, in which in later days the relations of man with his Divine Sovereign were worked out by the great Latin Fathers. [Sidenote: Freedom from dæmons] The confession of Tatian, above cited, emphasizes as one of the great features of the barbarian literature--its "monarchic" teaching--"it sets man free from ten thousand tyrants"--and this may be our starting-point in considering the new experience. To be rid of the whole dæmon-world, to have left the dæmons behind and their "hatred of men,"[16] their astrology,[17] their immorality and cruelty, their sacrifices, and the terror of "possession" and theolepsy and enchantment,[18] was happiness in itself. "We are above fate," said Tatian, "and, instead of dæmons that deceive, we have learnt one master who deceiveth not."[19] "Christ," wrote an unknown Christian of a beautiful spirit--"Christ wished to save the perishing, and such mercy has he shown us that we the living do not serve dead gods, but through him we know the Father of truth."[20] "Orpheus sang to beguile men, but my Singer has come to end the tyranny of dæmons," said Clement.[21] The perils of "meats offered to idols" impressed some, who feared that by eating of them they would come under dæmoniac influence. With what relief they must have read Paul's free speech on the subject--"the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof"--"for us there is one God, the Father, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and we through him."[22] "Even the very name of Jesus is terrible to the dæmons"[23]--the "name that is above every name." In no other name was there salvation from dæmons, for philosophy had made terms with them. No one can read the Christian Apologists without remarking the stress which they lay upon the _knowledge_ of God, which the new faith made the free and glad possession of the humblest. {148} "They say of us that we babble nonsense among females, half-grown people, girls and old people. No! all our women are chaste and at their distaffs our maidens sing of things divine," said Tatian, and rejoined with observations on famous Greek women, Lais, Sappho and others. Justin, always kindlier, speaks of Socrates who urged men to seek God, yet owned that "it would be a hard task to find the father and maker of this All, and when one had found him, it would not be safe to declare him to all,"[24] but, he goes on, "our Christ did this by his power. No man ever believed Socrates so much as to die for his teaching. But Christ, who was known to Socrates in part, (for he was and is the Word that is in everything...)--on Christ, I say, not only philosophers and scholars (_philólogoi_) believed, but artisans, men quite without learning (_idiôtai_), and despised glory and fear and death." "There is not a Christian workman but finds out God and manifests him," said Tertullian.[25] This knowledge of God was not merely a desirable thing in theory, for it is clear that it was very earnestly sought. To Justin's quest for God, allusion has been made--"I hoped I should have the vision of God at once (_katóphesthai_)" he says. "Who among men had any knowledge of what God was, before he came?"[26] "This," wrote the fourth evangelist, "is eternal life--that they may know thee, the one true God and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." [Sidenote: The holy spirit] But it is one thing to be a monotheist, and another to be a child of "Abba Father," and this is one of the notes of the early Christian. It is impossible to over-emphasize the significance of Christian happiness amid the strain and doubt of the early Empire. Zeno and Isis each had something to say, but who had such a message of forgiveness and reconciliation and of the love of God? "God is within you," said Seneca; but he knew nothing of such an experience as the Christian summed up as the "grace of God," "grace sufficient" and "grace {149} abounding." It is hard to think of these familiar phrases being new and strange--the coining of Paul to express what no man had said before--and this at the moment when Seneca was writing his "moral letters" to Lucilius. Verbal coincidences may be found between Paul and Seneca, but they are essentially verbal. The Stoic Spermaticos Logos was a cold and uninspiring dogma compared with "Abba Father" and the Spirit of Jesus--it was not the same thing at all. The one doctrine made man self-sufficient--in the other, "our sufficiency (_hikanótes_) is of God." It was the law of nature, contrasted with the father of the prodigal son--"our kind and tender-hearted father" as Clement of Rome calls him [27]--the personal God, whose "problem is ever to save the flock of men; that is why the good God has sent the good shepherd."[28] The more lettered of Christian writers like to quote Plato's saying that man was born to be at home with God (_oikeíôs échein pròs theòn_) and that he was "a heavenly plant." Falsehood, they say, and error obscured all this, but now "that ancient natural fellowship with heaven" has "leapt forth from the darkness and beams upon us."[29] "God," says Clement, "out of his great love for men, cleaves to man, and as when a little bird has fallen out of the nest, the mother-bird hovers over it, and if perchance some creeping beast open its mouth upon the little thing, Wheeling o'er his head, with screams the dam Bewails her darling brood; so God the Father seeks his image, and heals the fall, and chases away the beast, and picks up the little one again."[30] God has "anointed and sealed" his child and given him a pledge of the new relation--the holy spirit. This is distinctly said by St Paul,[31] and the variety of the phenomena, to which he refers, is a little curious. Several things are covered by the phrase, and are classed as manifestations with a common origin. There are many allusions to "speaking with tongues"; Paul, however, clearly shows that we are not to understand a miraculous gift in using actual languages, reduced to grammar and {150} spoken by men, as the author of the _Acts_ suggests with a possible reminiscence of a Jewish legend of the law-giving from Sinai. The "glossolaly" was inarticulate and unintelligible; it was a feature of Greek "mantic," an accompaniment of over-strained emotion, and even to be produced by material agencies, as Plutarch lets us see. Paul himself is emphatic upon its real irrelevance to the Christian's main concern, and he deprecates the attention paid to it. Other "spiritual" manifestations were visions and prophecies. With these Dr William James has dealt in his _Varieties of Religious Experience_, showing that in them, as in "conversion," there is nothing distinctively Christian. The content of the vision and the outcome of the conversion are the determining factors. Where men believe that an ordinary human being can be temporarily transformed by the presence within him of a spirit, the very belief produces its own evidence. If the tenet of the holy spirit rested on nothing else, it would have filled a smaller place in Christian thought. [Sidenote: Jesus the saviour] But when Paul speaks of the holy spirit whereby the Christians are sealed, calling it now the spirit of God and now the spirit of Jesus, he is referring to a profounder experience. Explain conversion as we may, the word represents a real thing. Men were changed, and were conscious of it. Old desires passed away and a new life began, in which passion took a new direction, finding its centre of warmth and light, not in morality, not in religion, but in God as revealed in Jesus Christ. "To me to live is Christ," cried Paul, giving words to the experience of countless others. Life had a new centre; and duty, pain and death were turned to gladness. The early Christian was conscious of a new spirit within him. It was by this spirit that they could cry "Abba, Father"; it was the spirit that guided them into all truth; it was the spirit that united them to God,[32] that set them free from the law of sin and death, that meant life and peace and joy and holiness. Paul trusted everything to what we might call the Christian instinct and what he called the holy spirit, and he was justified. No force in the world has done so much as this nameless thing that has controlled and guided and illumined--whatever we call it. Any one who has breathed the quiet air of a gathering of men and women consciously surrendered to the influence of Jesus Christ, with all its {151} sobering effect, its consecration, its power and gladness, will know what Paul and his friends meant. It is hardly to be known otherwise. In our documents the spirit is closely associated with the gathering of the community in prayer. Freedom from dæmons, forgiveness and reconciliation with God, gladness and moral strength and peace in the holy spirit--of such things the early Christians speak, and they associate them all invariably with one name, the living centre of all. "Jesus the beloved" is a phrase that lights up one of the dullest of early Christian pages.[33] "No! you do not so much as listen to anyone, if he speaks of anything but Jesus Christ in truth," says Ignatius.[34] "What can we give him in return? He gave us light ... he saved us when we were perishing ... We were lame in understanding, and worshipped stone and wood, the works of men. Our whole life was nothing but death.... He pitied us, he had compassion, he saved us, for he saw we had no hope of salvation except from him; he called us when we were not, and from not being he willed us to be."[35] "The blood of Jesus, shed for our salvation, has brought to all the world the grace of repentance."[36] "Ye see what is the pattern that has been given us; what should we do who by him have come under the yoke of his grace?"[37] "Let us be earnest to be imitators of the Lord."[38] These are a few words from Christians whose writings are not in the canon. Jesus is pre-eminently and always the Saviour; the author of the new life; the revealer of God; the bringer of immortality. It made an immense impression upon the ancient world to see the transformation of those whom it despised,--women, artisans, slaves and even slave-girls. Socrates with the hemlock cup and the brave Thrasea were figures that men loved and honoured. But here were all sorts of common people doing the same thing as Socrates and Thrasea, cheerfully facing torture and death "for the name's sake"--and it was a name of contempt, too. "Christ's people"--_Christianoi_--was a bantering improvisation by the people of Antioch, who were notorious in antiquity for impudent wit:[39] it was a happy shot {152} and touched the very centre of the target. "The name" and "his name," are constantly recurring phrases. But it was not only that men would die for the name--men will die for anything that touches their imagination or their sympathy--but they lived for it and showed themselves to be indeed a "new creation." "Our Jesus"[40] was the author of a new life, and a very different one from that of Hellenistic cities. That Christianity retained its own character in the face of the most desperate efforts of its friends to turn it into a philosophy congenial to the philosophies of the day, was the result of the strong hold it had taken upon innumerable simple people, who had found in it the power of God in the transformation of their own characters and instincts, and who clung to Jesus Christ--to the great objective facts of his incarnation and his death upon the cross--as the firm foundations laid in the rock against which the floods of theory might beat in vain. For now we have to consider another side of early Christian activity--the explanation of the new experience. The early Christian community found "the unexamined life" as impossible as Plato had, and they framed all sorts of theories to account for the change in themselves. Of most immediate interest are the accounts which they give of the holy spirit and of Jesus. Here we must remember that in all definition we try to express the less known through the more known, and that the early Christians necessarily used the best language available to them, and tried to communicate a new series of experiences by means of the terms and preconceptions of the thinking world of their day--terms and preconceptions long since obsolete. Much in the early centuries of our era is unintelligible until we form some notion of the current belief in spiritual beings, evidence of which is found in abundance in the literature of the day, pagan and Christian. A growing consensus among philosophers made God more and more remote, and emphasized the necessity for intermediaries. We have seen how Plutarch pronounced for the delegation of rule over the universe and its functions to ministering spirits. The Jews had a parallel belief in angels, and had come to think of God's spirit and God's intelligence as somehow detachable from his being. In abstract {153} thought this may be possible just as we think of an angle without reference to matter. The great weakness in the speculation of the early Empire was this habit of supposing that men can be as certain of their deductions as of their premisses; and God's Logos, being conceivable, passed into common religious thought as a separate and proven existence. [Sidenote: The holy spirit] At the same time there was abundant evidence of devil-possession as there is in China to-day. Modern medicine distinguishes four classes of cases which the ancients (and their modern followers) group under this one head:--Insanity, Epilepsy, Hysteria major and the mystical state. To men who had no knowledge of modern medicine and its distinctions, the evidence of the "possessed" was enough, and it was apt to be quite clear and emphatic as it is in such cases to-day. The man said he "had a devil"--or even a "legion of devils." The priestess at the oracle said that a god was within her (_éntheos_). In both cases the ocular evidence was enough to convince the onlookers of the truth of the explanation, for the persons concerned were clearly changed and were not themselves.[41] Plato played with the idea that poetry even might be, as poets said, a matter of inspiration. The poet could not be merely himself when he wrote or sang words of such transforming power. The Jews gave a similar account of prophecy--the Spirit of the Lord descended upon men, as we read in the Old Testament. The Spirit, says Athenagoras to the Greeks, used the Hebrew prophets, as a flute-player does a flute, while they were in ecstasy (_kat ékstasin_)[42]--the holy spirit, he adds, is an effluence (_apórroia_) of God.[43] The Christians, finding ecstasy, prophecy, trance, and glossolaly among their own members, and having before them the parallel of Greek priestesses and Hebrew prophets, and making moreover the same _very_ slight distinction as their pagan {154} neighbours between matter and spirit, and, finally, possessing all the readiness of unscientific people in propounding theories,--they assumed an "effluence" from God, a spirit which entered into a man, just as in ordinary life evil demons did, but here it was a holy spirit. This they connected with God after the manner familiar to Jewish thinkers, and following the same lead, began to equate it with God, as a separate being. It is not at first always quite clear whether it is the spirit of God or of Jesus--or even a manifestation of the risen Jesus.[44] When we pass to the early explanations of Jesus, we come into a region peculiarly difficult. A later age obscured the divergences of early theory. Some opinions the church decisively rejected--Christians would have nothing to do with a Jesus who was an emanation from an absolute and inconceivable Being, a Jesus who in that case would be virtually indistinguishable from Asclepios the kindly-natured divine healer. Nor would they tolerate the notion of a phantom-Jesus crucified in show, while the divine Christ was far away--like Helen in Euripides' play.[45] "Spare," says Tertullian, "the one hope of all the world."[46] They would not have a "daimonion without a body." But two theories, one of older Jewish, and the other of more recent Alexandrian origin, the church accepted and blended, though they do not necessarily belong to each other. [Sidenote: Paul] The one theory is especially Paul's--sacred to all who lean with him to the Hebrew view of things, to all who, like him, are touched with the sense of sin and feel the need of another's righteousness, to all who have come under the spell of the one great writer of the first century. A Jew, a native of a Hellenistic city--and "no mean one"[47]--a citizen of the Roman Empire, a man of wide outlooks, with a gift for experience, he passed from {155} Pharisaism to Christ. The mediating idea was righteousness. He knew his own guilt before God, and found that by going about to establish his own righteousness he was achieving nothing. At the same time a suffering Messiah was a contradiction in terms, unspeakably repulsive to a Jew. We can see this much in the tremendous efforts of the Apologists to overcome Jewish aversion by producing Old Testament prophecies that Christ was to suffer. _Pathetós_ (subject to suffering) was a word that waked rage and contempt in every one, who held to contemporary views of God, or even had dabbled in Stoic or similar conceptions of human greatness. But it seems that the serenity and good conscience of Christian martyrs impressed their persecutor, who was not happy in his own conscience; and at last the thought came--along familiar lines--that Christ's sufferings might be for the benefit of others. And then he saw Jesus on the road to Damascus. What exactly happened is a matter of discussion, but Paul was satisfied--he was "a man in Christ." Much might be said in criticism of Paul's Christology--if it were not for Paul and his followers. They have done too much and been too much for it to be possible to dissect their great conception in cold blood. Paul's theories are truer than another man's experiences--they pulse with life, they have (in Luther's phrase) hands and feet to carry a man away. The man is so large and so strong, so simple and true, so various in his knowledge of the world, so tender in his feeling for men--"all things to all men"--such a master of language, so sympathetic and so open--he is irresistible. The quick movement of his thought, his sudden flashes of anger and of tenderness, his apostrophes, his ejaculations--one feels that pen and paper never got such a man written down before or since. Every sentence comes charged with the whole man--half a dozen Greek words, and not always the best Greek--and the Christian world for ever will sum up its deepest experience in "God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me and I unto the world." Close examination reveals a good deal of Judaism surviving in Paul,--a curious way of playing with the text of Scripture, {156} odd reminiscences of old methods, and deeper infiltrations of a Jewish thought which is not that of Jesus. Yet it does not affect our feeling for him--he stands too close to us as a man, too much over us as the teacher of Augustine, Calvin and Luther--a man, whom it took more genius to explain than the church had for fifteen centuries, and yet the man to whom the church owes its universal reach and unity, its theology and the best of the language in which it has expressed its love for his master. [Sidenote: Explanation of Jesus] Paul went back to the Jewish conception of a Messiah, modified, in the real spirit of Jesus, by the thought of suffering. But when we put side by side the Messiah of Jesus and the Messiah of Paul, we become conscious of a difference. The latter is a mediator between God and man, making atonement, transferring righteousness by a sort of legal fiction, and implying a conception of God's fatherhood far below that taught by Jesus. At the same time Paul has other thoughts of a profounder and more permanent value. It is hard, for instance, to imagine that any change, which time and thought may bring, can alter a word in his statement that "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself"--here there is no local or temporal element even in the wording. It may be noted that Paul has his own names for Jesus, for while he uses "Messiah" (in Greek) and "Son of God," he is the first to speak of "the Lord" and "the Saviour." Paul held the door open for the other great theory of the early church, when he emphasized the pre-existence of the heavenly Christ and made him the beginning, the centre and the end of all history. The Logos, as we have seen, was not an original idea of the Christian world. It was long familiar to Greek philosophy, and Philo and the Stoics base much of their thought upon it. It must have come into the church from a Greek or Hellenistic source, perhaps as a translation of Paul's "heavenly Christ." As it stands, it is a peculiarly bold annexation from Philosophy. No Stoic would have denied that the Spermaticos Logos was in Jesus, but the bold identification of the Logos with Jesus must have been "foolishness to the Greek." Still in contemporary thought there was much to dispose men to believe in such an incarnation of the Logos in a human being, though there is no suggestion that a spiritual being of any at all commensurate {157} greatness was ever so incarnated before. But the thought appealed to the Christian mind, when once the shock to Greek susceptibilities was overcome. Once accepted, it "solved all questions in the earth and out of it." It permitted the congenial idea of Greek theology to remain--the transcendence of God being saved by this personification of his Thought. It was a final blow to all theories that made Jesus an emanation, a phantom or a demi-god, and it kept his historic personality well in the centre of thought, though leaving it now comparatively much less significance. Surveying the two accounts, Jewish and Greek, we cannot help remarking that they belong to other ages of thought than our own. Columbus, Copernicus and Darwin were neither philosophers nor theologians, but they have changed the perspectives of philosophy and theology, and we think to-day with a totally different series of preconceptions from those of Jew and Greek of the first century. The Greek himself never thought much of the "chosen race," and it was only when he realized that Jesus was not a tribal hero, that he accepted him. To the Greek the Messiah was as strange a thought as to ourselves. To us the Logos is as strange as the Messiah was to the Greek. We have really at present no terms in which to express what we feel to be the permanent significance of Jesus, and the old expressions may repel us until we realize, first, that they are not of the original essence of the Gospel, and second, that they represent the best language which Greek and Jew could find for a conviction which we share--that Jesus of Nazareth does stand in the centre of human history, that he has brought God and man into a new relation, that he is the personal concern of everyone of us, and that there is more in him than we have yet accounted for. Into the question of the organization adopted by the early Christians and the development of the idea of the church, it is not essential to our present purpose to inquire. Opinion varies as to how far we should seek the origin of the church in the teaching and work of Jesus. If his mind has been at all rightly represented in this book, it seems to follow that he was not responsible either for the name or the idea of the church. Minds of the class to which his belongs have as a rule little or no interest in organizations and arrangements, and nothing can {158} be more alien to the tone and spirit of his thinking than the ecclesiastical idea as represented by Cyprian and Ignatius. That out of the group of followers who lived with Jesus, a society should grow, is natural; and societies instinctively organize themselves. The Jew offered the pattern of a theocracy, and the Roman of a hierarchy of officials, but it took two centuries to produce the church of Cyprian. The series of running fights with Greek speculation in the second century contributed to the natural and acquired instincts for order and system,--particularly in a world where such instincts had little opportunity of exercise in municipal, and less in political, life. The name was, as Harnack says, a masterly stroke--the "ecclesia of God" suggested to the Greek the noble and free life of a self-governing organism such as the ancient world had known, but raised to a higher plane and transfigured from a Periclean Athens to a Heavenly Jerusalem. Fine conceptions and high ideals clung about the idea of the church in the best minds,[48] but in practice it meant the transformation of the gospel into a code, the repression of liberty of thought, and the final extinction of prophecy. For the view that every one of these results was desirable, reason might be shown in the vagaries of life and speculation which the age knew, but it was obviously a departure from the ideas of Jesus. [Sidenote: The new life] The rise of the church was accompanied by the rise of mysteries. There is a growing consensus of opinion among independent scholars that Jesus instituted no sacraments, yet Paul found the rudiments of them among the Christians and believed he had the warrant of Jesus for the heightening which he gave to them. Ignatius speaks of the Ephesians "breaking one bread, which is the medicine of immortality (_phárkmakon athanasías_) and the antidote that we should not die"--the former phrase reappearing in Clement of Alexandria.[49] That such ideas should emerge in the Christian community is natural enough, when we consider its environment--a world without natural science, steeped in belief in every kind of magic and enchantment, and full of public and private religious societies, every one of which had its mysteries and miracles and its blood-bond with its peculiar deity. It was from such a world {159} and such societies that most of the converts came and brought with them the thoughts and instincts of countless generations, who had never conceived of a religion without rites and mysteries. Baptism similarly took on a miraculous colour--men were baptized for the dead in Paul's time--and before long it bore the names familiarly given by the world to all such rituals of admission--enlightenment (_phôtismós_) and initiation; and with the names came many added symbolic practices in its administration. The Christians readily recognized the parallel between their rites and those of the heathen, but no one seems to have perceived the real connexion between them. Quite naïvely they suggest the exact opposite--it was the dæmons, who foresaw what the Christian rites (_hierá_) would be, and forestalled them with all sorts of pagan parodies.[50] But, after all, the force of the Christian movement lay neither in church, nor in sacrament, but in men. "How did Christianity rise and spread among men?" asks Carlyle, "was it by institutions, and establishments, and well arranged systems of mechanism? No! ... It arose in the mystic deeps of man's soul; and was spread by the 'preaching of the word,' by simple, altogether natural and individual efforts; and flew, like hallowed fire, from heart to heart, till all were purified and illuminated by it. Here was no Mechanism; man's highest attainment was accomplished Dynamically, not Mechanically."[51] Nothing could be more just. The Gospel set fire to men's hearts, and they needed to do nothing but live to spread their faith. The ancient evidence is abundant for this. The Christian had an "insatiable passion for doing good"[52]--not as yet a technical term--and he "did good" in the simplest kind of ways. "Even those things which you do after the flesh are spiritual," says Ignatius himself, "for you do all things in Jesus Christ."[53] "Christians," says a writer whose name is lost, "are not distinguishable from the rest of mankind in land or speech or customs. They inhabit no special cities of their own, nor do they use any different form of speech, nor do they cultivate any out-of-the-way life.... But while they live in Greek and barbarian cities as their lot may be {160} cast, and follow local customs in dress and food and life generally, ... yet they live in their own countries as sojourners only; they take part in everything as citizens and submit to everything as strangers. Every strange land is native to them, and every native land is strange. They marry and have children like everyone else--but they do not expose their children. They have meals in common, but not wives. They are in the flesh, but they do not live after the flesh. They continue on earth, but their citizenship is in heaven. They obey the laws ordained, and by their private lives they overcome the laws.... In a word, what the soul is in the body, that is what Christians are in the world."[54] "As a rule," wrote Galen, "men need to be educated in parables. Just as in our day we see those who are called Christians[55] have gained their faith from parables. Yet they sometimes act exactly as true philosophers would. That they despise death is a fact we all have before our eyes; and by some impulse of modesty they abstain from sexual intercourse--some among them, men and women, have done so all their lives. And some, in ruling and controlling themselves, and in their keen passion for virtue, have gone so far that real philosophers could not excel them."[56] So wrote a great heathen, and Celsus admits as much himself. In life at least, if not in theory, the Christians daily kept to the teaching of their Master. "Which is ampler?" asks Tertullian, "to say, Thou shalt not kill; or to teach, Be not even angry? Which is more perfect, to forbid adultery or to bid refrain from a single lustful look?"[57] There was as yet no flight from the world, though Christians had no illusions about it or about the devil who played so large a part in its affairs. They lived in an age that saw Antinous deified.[58] They stood for marriage and family life, while all around "holy" men felt there was an unclean and dæmonic element in marriage.[59] One Christian writer even speaks of women being {161} saved by child-bearing.[60] Social conditions they accepted--even slavery among them--but they brought a new spirit into all; love and the sense of brotherhood could transform every thing. Slavery continued, but the word "slave" is not found in Christian catacombs.[61] Above all, they were filled with their Master's own desire to save men. "I am debtor," wrote Paul, "both to Greeks and to barbarians, wise and unwise."[62] If modern criticism is right in detaching the "missionary commission" (in Matthew) from the words of Jesus, the fact remains that the early Christians were "going into all the world" and "preaching the gospel to every creature" for half a century before the words were written. Why? "He that has the word of Jesus truly can hear his silence," said Ignatius; and if Jesus did not speak these words, men heard his silence to the same effect. Celsus, like Julian long after him, was shocked at the kind of people to whom the gospel was preached.[63] The Christian came to the helpless and hopeless, whom men despised, and of whom men despaired, with a message of the love and tenderness of God, and he brought it home by a new type of love and tenderness of his own. Kindness to friends the world knew; gentleness, too, for the sake of philosophic calm; clemency and other more or less self-contained virtues. The "third race" had other ideas--in all their virtues there was the note of "going out of oneself," the unconsciousness which Jesus loved--an instinctive habit of negating self (_aparnésasthai heautón_), which does not mean medieval asceticism, nor the dingy modern virtue of self-denial. There was no sentimentalism in it; it was the spirit of Jesus spiritualizing and transforming and extending the natural instinct of brotherliness by making it theocentric. Christians for a century or two never thought of _ataraxia_ or apathy, and, though Clement of Alexandria plays with them, he tries to give them a new turn. Fortunately the Gospels were more read than the _Stromateis_ and "Christian apathy" never succeeded. The heathen recognized sympathy as a Christian characteristic--"How these {162} Christians love each other!" they said. Lucian bears the same testimony to the mutual care and helpfulness of Christians. "You see," wrote Lucian, "these poor creatures have persuaded themselves that they are immortal for all time and will live for ever, which explains why they despise death and voluntarily give themselves up, as a general rule; and then their original law-giver persuaded them that they are all brothers, from the moment that they cross over and deny the gods of Greece and worship their sophist who was gibbeted, and live after his laws. All this they accept, with the result that they despise all worldly goods alike and count them common property." In a later century Julian, perhaps following Maximin Daza, whom he copied in trying to organize heathenism into a new catholic church, urged benevolence on his fellow-pagans, if they wished to compete with the Christians. It was the only thing, he felt, that could revive paganism, and his appeal met with no response. "Infinite love in ordinary intercourse" is the Christian life, and it must come from within or nowhere. No organization can produce it, and, however much we may have to discount Christian charity in some directions as sometimes mechanical, the new spirit of brotherhood in the world presupposed a great change in the hearts of men. It was not Stoic cosmopolitanism. The Christian was not "the citizen of the world" nor "the Friend of Man"; he was a plain person who gave himself up for other people, cared for the sick and the worthless, had a word of friendship and hope for the sinful and despised, would not go and see men killed in the amphitheatre, and--most curious of all--was careful to have indigent brothers taught trades by which they could help themselves. A lazy Christian was no Christian, he was a "trader in Christ."[64] If the Christians' citizenship was in heaven, he had a social message for this world in the meantime. [Sidenote: Woman] Every great religious movement coincides with a new discovery of truth of some kind, and such discoveries induce a new temper. Men inquire more freely and speak more freely the truth they feel. Mistakes are made and a movement begins {163} for "quenching the spirit." But the gains that have been made by the liberated spirits are not lost. Thus the early Christian rose quickly to a sense of the value of woman. Dr Verrall pronounces that "the radical disease, of which, more than of anything else, ancient civilization perished "was" an imperfect ideal of woman."[65] In the early church woman did a good many things, which in later days the authorities preferred not to mention. Thekla's name is prominent in early story, and the prophetesses of Phrygia, Prisca and Maximilla, have a place in Church History. They were not popular; but the church was committed to the Gospel of Luke and the ministry of women to the Lord. And whatever the Christian priesthood did or said, Jesus and his followers had set woman on a level with man. "There is neither male nor female." The same freedom of spirit is attested by the way in which pagan prophets and their dupes classed Christians with Epicureans[66]--they saw and understood too much. The Christians were the only people (apart from the Jews) who openly denounced the folly of worshipping and deifying Emperors. Even Ignatius, who is most famous for his belief in authority, breaks into independence when men try to make the Gospel dependent on the Old Testament--"for me the documents (_tà archeia_) are Jesus Christ; my unassailable documents are his cross, and his death and resurrection, and the faith that is through him; in which things I hope with your prayers to be saved."[67] "Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty," as Paul said. God and immortality were associated in Christian thought. Christians, said a writer using the name of Peter, are to be "partakers of the divine nature." "If the soul," says Tatian, "enters into union with the divine spirit, it is no longer helpless, but ascends to regions whither the spirit guides it; for the dwelling-place of the spirit is above, but the origin of the soul is from beneath."[68] "God sent forth to us the Saviour and Prince of immortality, by whom he also made manifest to us the truth and the heavenly life."[69] The Christian's life is "hid with Christ in God," and Christ's resurrection is to the {164} early church the pledge of immortality--"we shall be ever with the Lord." For the transmigration of souls and "eternal re-dying," life was substituted.[70] "We have believed," said Tatian, "that there will be a resurrection of our bodies, after the consummation of all things--not, as the Stoics dogmatize, that in periodic cycles the same things for ever come into being and pass out of it for no good whatever,--but once for all," and this for judgment. The judge is not Minos nor Rhadamanthus, but "God the maker is the arbiter."[71] "They shall see him (Jesus) then on that day," wrote the so-called Barnabas, "wearing the long scarlet robe upon his flesh, and they will say 'Is this not he whom we crucified, whom we spat upon, and rejected?'"[72] Persecution tempted the thought of what "that day" would mean for the persecutor. But it was a real concern of the Christian himself. "I myself, utterly sinful, not yet escaped from temptation, but still in the midst of the devil's engines,--I do my diligence to follow after righteousness that I may prevail so far as at least to come near it, fearing the judgment that is to come."[73] Immortality and righteousness--the two thoughts go together, and both depend upon Jesus Christ. He is emphatically called "our Hope"--a favourite phrase with Ignatius.[74] [Sidenote: Martyrdom and happiness] Some strong hope was needed--some "anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast."[75] Death lay in wait for the Christian at every turn, never certain, always probable. The dæmons whom he had renounced took their revenge in exciting his neighbours against him.[76] The whim of a mob[77] or the cruelty of a governor[78] might bring him face to face with death in no man knew what horrible form. One writer spoke of "the burning that came for trial,"[79] and the phrase was not exclusively a metaphor. {165} "Away with the atheists--where is Polycarp?" was a sudden shout at Smyrna--the mob already excited with sight of "the right noble Germanicus fighting the wild beasts in a signal way." The old man was sought and found--with the words "God's will be done" upon his lips. He was pressed to curse Christ. "Eighty-six years I have been his slave," he said, "and he has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King who saved me?"[80] The suddenness of these attacks, and the cruelty, were enough to unnerve anyone who was not "built upon the foundation." Nero's treatment of the Christians waked distaste in Rome itself. But it was the martyrdoms that made the church. Stephen's death captured Paul. "I delighted in Plato's teachings," says Justin, "and I heard Christians abused, but I saw they were fearless in the face of death and all the other things men count fearful."[81] Tertullian and others with him emphasize that "the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church." It was the death of Jesus over again--the last word that carried conviction with it. With "the sentence of death in themselves" the early Christians faced the world, and astonished it by more than their "stubbornness." They were the most essentially happy people of the day--Jesus was their hope, their sufficiency was of God, their names were written in heaven, they were full of love for all men--they had "become little children," as Jesus put it, glad and natural. Jesus had brought them into a new world of possibilities. A conduct that ancient moralists dared not ask, the character of Jesus suggested, and the love of Jesus made actual. "I can do all things," said Paul, "in him that strengtheneth me." They looked to assured victory over evil and they achieved it. "This is the victory that _has_ overcome the world--our faith." Very soon a new note is heard in their words. Stoicism was never "essentially musical"; Epictetus announces a hymn to Zeus,[82] but he never starts the tune. Over and over again there is a sound of singing in Paul--as in the eighth chapter of the _Romans_, and the thirteenth of _First Corinthians_,[83] and it repeats itself. "Children of joy" is Barnabas' name for his friends.[84] {166} "Doing the will of Christ we shall find rest," wrote the unknown author of "Second Clement."[85] "Praising we plough; and singing we sail," wrote the greater Clement.[86] "Candidates for angelhood, even here we learn the strain hereafter to be raised to God, the function of our future glory," said Tertullian.[87] "Clothe thyself in gladness, that always has grace with God and is welcome to him--and revel in it. For every glad man does what is good, and thinks what is good.... The holy spirit is a glad spirit ... yes, they shall all live to God, who put away sadness from themselves and clothe themselves in all gladness." So said the angel to Hermas,[88] and he was right. The holy spirit was a glad spirit, and gladness--joy in the holy spirit--was the secret of Christian morality. Nothing could well be more gay and happy than Clement's _Protrepticus_. Augustine was attracted to the church because he saw it _non dissolute hilaris_. Such happiness in men is never without a personal centre, and the church made no secret that this centre was "Jesus Christ, whom you have not seen, but you love him; whom yet you see not, but you believe in him and rejoice with joy unspeakable and glorified."[89] Chapter V Footnotes: [1] See Burkitt's _Early Eastern Christianity_. [2] See Justin, _Apology_, i, 14, a vivid passage on the change of character that has been wrought in men by the Gospel. Cf. Tert. _ad Scap._ 2, _nec aliunde noscibiles quam de emendatione vitiorum pristinorum_. [3] Ephesians iv, 4. [4] 1 Peter ii, 7. [5] Tertullian, _ad Nationes_, i, 8, _Plane, tertium genus dicimur ... verum recogitate ne quos tertium genus dicitis principem locum obtineant, siquidem non ulla gens non Christiana_. [6] Cf. Jeremiah xxxi, 31--a favourite passage with Christian apologists. [7] Professor Percy Gardner (_Growth of Christianity_, p. 49) illustrates this by comparison of earlier and later stages in Christian Art. On some early Christian sarcophagi Jesus is represented with markedly Jewish features; soon however he is idealized into a type of the highest humanity. [8] Tatian, 42. [9] _Id._ 35. [10] Tatian, 29. Cf. the account Theophilus gives of the influence upon him of the study of the prophets, i, 14. [11] 26. [12] 25. [13] 35. [14] Ignatius, _Magn._ 11; _Trall_, 9, 10; _Smyrn._ 1, 2, 3, 12. [15] Ignatius, _Eph._ 15, _logon Iésoî kekteménos alethôs dynatai kaì tês hesychías autoû akoúeis_. [16] Tatian, 16, 17. Cf. Plutarch (cited on p. 107) on malignant dæmons. See Tertullian, _Apol._ 22; Justin, _Apol._ ii. 5; Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 3, 41, on the works of dæmons. [17] Tatian, 7, 8. [18] See Tertullian, _de Idol._ 9, on the surprising case of a Christian who wished to pursue his calling of astrologer--a claim Tertullian naturally will not allow. [19] Tatian, 9. [20] The so-called second letter of Clement of Rome, c. 3. [21] Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 3. [22] 1 Cor. vi, etc. [23] Justin, _Dial. c. Tryph._ 30. [24] Tatian, 33; Justin, _Apol._ ii, 10. It may be noted that Justin quotes the famous passage in the Timæus (28 C) not quite correctly. Such passages "familiar in his mouth as household words" are very rarely given with verbal accuracy. Tertullian, _Apol._ 46, and Clement, _Strom._ v, 78, 92, also quote this passage. [25] _Apol._ 46. Compare Theophilus, i, 2; "If you say 'Show me your God,' I would say to you, 'Show me your man and I will show you my God,' or show me the eyes of your soul seeing, and the ears of your heart hearing." [26] _ad Diogn._ 8, 1. [27] Clem. R. 29, 1, _tòn epieikê kaì eúsplagchnon patéra hêmôn_. [28] Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 116. [29] Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 25, _émphytos archaía koinônia_. [30] Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 91, citing _Iliad_, 2, 315 (Cowper). [31] 2 Cor. i, 22; v, 5. [32] Cf. Tatian, 15. [33] Barnabas, 4, 8. [34] Ign. _Eph._ 6, 2. [35] II. Clem. 1, 3-7 (abridged a little). [36] Clem. R. 7, 4. [37] Clem. R. 16, 17. [38] Ign. _Eph._ 10, 3. [39] Cf. Socr. _e.h._ iii, 17, 4, the Antiochenes mocked the Emperor Julian, _eurípistoi gàr oi ánthrôpoi eis húbreis_. [40] II. Clem. 14, 2. [41] See Tertullian, _Apol._ 22. [42] Athenagoras, _Presbeia_, 9. [43] See a very interesting chapter in Philo's _de migr. Abr._ 7 (441 M), where he gives a very frequent experience of his own (_muriákis pathòn_) as a writer. Sometimes, though he "saw clearly" what to say, he found his mind "barren and sterile" and went away with nothing done, with "the womb of his soul closed." At other times he "came empty and suddenly became full, as thoughts were imperceptibly sowed and snowed upon him from above, so that, as if under Divine possession (_katochês enthéou_), he became frenzied (_korubantiân_) and utterly knew not the place, nor those present, nor himself, nor what was said or written." See Tert. _de Anima_, 11, on the spirits of God and of the devil that may come upon the soul. [44] It may be remarked, in passing, that the contemporary worship of the Emperor is to be explained by the same theory of the possibility of an indwelling daimonion. It was helped out by the practice, which had never so far died out in the East and in Egypt, of regarding the King and his children as gods incarnate. See J. G. Frazer, _Early History of Kingship_. [45] Tertullian, _adv._ Marc, iii, 8, _nihil solidam ab inani, nihil plenum a vacuo perfici licuit ... imaginarius operator, imaginariæ operæ_. [46] Tertullian, _de carne Christi_, 5. [47] His Tarsiot feeling is perhaps shown by his preference that women should be veiled. Dio Chrysostom (_Or._ 33, 48) mentions that in Tarsus there is much conservatism shown in the very close veiling of the women's faces. [48] Tert. _Apol._ 39, _Corpus sumus de conscientia religionis et disciplinæ unitate et spei foedere_. [49] Ign. _Eph._ 20; Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 106. [50] Justin, _Apol._ i, 66, the use of bread and cup in the mysteries of Mithras; Tertullian, _de Bapt._ 5, on baptism in the rites of Isis and Mithras, the mysteries of Eleusis, etc. [51] Carlyle, _Signs of the Times_, (Centenary edition of Essays, ii, p. 70.) [52] Clem. R. 2, 2, _akórestos póthos eis agathopoíian_. [53] Ign. _Eph._ 8, 2. [54] Auctor _ad Diognetum_, 5-6. [55] He apologizes for the use of the name, as educated people did in his day, when it was awkward or impossible to avoid using it. It was a vulgarism. [56] Galen, extant in Arabic in _hist. anteislam_. _Abulfedæ_ (ed. Fleischer, p. 109), quoted by Harnack, _Expansion of Christianity_, i, p. 266. [57] Tertullian, _Apol._ 45; cf. Justin, _Apol._ i, 15. [58] Cf. Justin, _Apol._ i, 29. [59] The feeling referred to is associated with the primitive sense of the mystery of procreation and conception surviving, it is said, among the Arunta of Australia, and very widely in the case of twins; see Rendel Harris, _Cult of the Dioscuri_. [60] Tim. 2, 15. Cf. Tert. _adv. Marc._ iv, 17, _nihil impudentius si ille nos sibi filio faciet qui nobis filios facere non permisit aufercndo conubium_. [61] de Rossi, cited by Harnack, _Expansion_, i, 208 n. [62] Romans 1, 14. [63] See p. 241; and cf. Justin, _Apol._ i, 15. [64] _Didache_, 12. _ei dè ouk échei téchnên, katà tèn synesin humôn pronoésate, pôs mè argòs meth hymôn zésetai christianos. ei dè ou thelei oútô poieîn, christémporós estin prosechete apò tôn toioûton_. See Tert. _Apol._ 39, on provision for the needy and the orphan, the shipwrecked, and those in jails and mines. [65] Euripides the Rationalist, p. 111 n. [66] Lucian, _Alexander_, 38, Alexander said: "If any atheist, or Christian, or Epicurean comes as a spy upon our rites let him flee!" He said _éxô christianoús_, and the people responded _exo Epikoureíous_. [67] Ignatius, _Philad._ 8. [68] Tatian, 13. [69] II. Clem. 20, 5. [70] See Tertullian, _de Testim. Animæ_, 4, the Christian opinion much nobler than the Pythagorean. [71] Tatian, 6. Cf. Justin, _Apol._ i, 8; and Tertullian, _de Spectaculis_, 30, quoted on p. 305. [72] Barnabas, 7, 9. Cf. Rev. i, 7. Behold he Cometh with the clouds and every eye shall see him--and they that pierced him. Cf. Tertullian, _de Spect._ 30, once more. [73] II. Clem. 18, 2. [74] Ignatius, _Eph._ 21; _Magn._ 11; _Trall._ int. 2, 2; _Philad._ 11. [75] _Hebrews_ 6, 19. [76] Justin, Apol. i, 5, the dæmons procured the death of Socrates, _kaì homoiôs eph hymôn tò autò energoûoi_: 10, they spread false reports against Christians; _Apol._ ii, 12; Minucius Felix, 27, 8. [77] The mob, with stones and torches, Tert. _Apol._ 37; even the dead Christian was dragged from the grave, _de asylo quodam mortis_, and torn to pieces. [78] Stories of governors in Tert. _ad Scap._ 3, 4, 5; one provoked by his wife becoming a Christian. [79] I. Peter 4, 12. [80] _Martyrium Polycarpi_, 3, 7-11. [81] Justin, _Apol._ ii, 12. [82] _D._ i, 16, the hymn he proposes is quoted on p. 62. It hardly sings itself, and he does not return to it. The verbal parallel of the passage with that in Clement, _Strom._ vii, 35, heightens the contrast of tone. [83] See Norden, _Kunstprosa_, ii, 509. [84] Barnabas, 7, 1. [85] II. Clem. 6, 7. [86] _Strom._ vii, 35. [87] _de orat._ 3. [88] Hermas, _M._ 10, 31,--the word is _ilaròs_; which Clement (_l.c._) also uses, conjoining it with _semnós_. Cf. Synesius, _Ep._ 57, p. 1389, Migne, who says that when he was depressed about becoming a bishop (410 A.D.), old men told him _hos ilarón esti tò pneûma tò hágion kaì ilarúnei toùs metóchous autoû_. [89] 1 Peter, 1, 8. {167} CHAPTER VI THE CONFLICT OF CHRISTIAN AND JEW It is a much discussed question as to how far Jesus realized the profound gulf between his own religious position and that of his contemporaries. Probably, since tradition meant more to them, they were quicker to see declension from orthodox Judaism than a mind more open and experimental; and when they contrived his death, it was with a clear sense of acting in defence of God's Law and God's Covenant with Israel. From their own point of view they were right, for the triumph of the ideas of Jesus was the abolition of tribal religions and their supersession by a new mind or spirit with nothing local or racial about it. The death of Jesus meant to the little community, which he left behind him, a final cleavage with the system of their fathers, under which they had been born, and with which was associated every religious idea they had known before their great intimacy began. It was a moment of boundless import in the history of mankind. Slowly and reluctantly they moved out into the great unknown,--pilgrim fathers, unconscious of the great issues they carried, but obedient to an impulse, the truth of which history has long since established. Once again it was their opponents who were the quickest to realize what was involved, for affection blinded their own eyes. The career of Paul raised the whole question between Judaism and Christianity. He was the first to speak decisively of going to the Gentiles. The author of the _Acts_ cites precedents for his action; and, as no great movement in man's affairs comes unheralded, it is easy to believe that even before Paul "the word" reached Gentile ears. None the less the leader in the movement was Paul; and whatever we may imagine might have been the history of Christianity without him, it remains that he declared, decisively and for all time, the church's independence of the synagogue. It is {168} not unlikely that, even before his conversion, he had grasped the fact that church and synagogue were not to be reconciled, and that, when "it pleased God to reveal his Son in him," he knew at once that he was in "a new creation" and that he was to be a prophet of a new dispensation. [Sidenote: The Jewish heritage] There is no doubt that the hostile Jews very quickly realised Paul's significance, but the Christians were not so quick. Paul was a newcomer and very much the ablest man among them--they were "not many wise, not many learned," and Paul, though he does not mention it, was both. He was moreover proposing to take them into regions far beyond their range; he had not personally known "the Lord" and they had; and there was no clear word of Jesus on the Gentile question. There was a conference. What took place, Paul tries in the Galatians to tell; but he is far too quick a thinker to be a master of mere narrative; the question of Christian freedom was too hot in his heart to leave him free for reminiscence, and the matter is not very clear. The author of the Acts was not at the council, and, whatever his authorities may have been, there is a constant suggestion in his writing that he has a purpose in view--a purpose of peace between parties. Whether they liked the result or not, the Christian community seem loyally to have submitted themselves to "the Spirit of Jesus." "It seemed good to the holy spirit and to us" tells the story of their deliberations, whether they put the phrase at the top of a resolution or did not. Paul came to the personal followers of Jesus with a new and strange conception of the religion of their Master. They laid it alongside of their memories of their Master, and they heard him say "Go ye into all the world"; and they went. The natural outcome of this forward step at once became evident. Paul did not go among the Gentiles to "preach circumcision," and there quickly came into being, throughout Asia Minor and in the Balkan provinces, many groups of Christians of a new type--Gentile in mind and tradition, and in Christian life no less Gentile. They remained uncircumcised, they did not observe the Sabbath nor any other distinctive usage of Judaism--they were a new people, a "third race." Their very existence put Judaism on the defensive; for, if their position was justified, it was hard to see {169} what right Judaism had to be. It was not yet quite clear what exactly the new religion was, nor into what it might develope; but if, as the Gentile Christians and their Apostle claimed, they stood in a new relation to God, a higher and a more tender than the greatest and best spirits in Israel had known, and this without the seal of God's covenant with Israel and independently of his law, then it was evident that the unique privileges of Israel were void, and that, as Paul put it, "there is neither Jew nor Greek." That part of the Jewish race, and it was the larger part, which did not accept the new religion, was in no mind to admit either Paul's premisses or his conclusions. They stood for God's covenant with Israel. Nor did they stand alone, for it took time to convince even Christian Jews that the old dispensation had yielded to a new one, and that the day of Moses was past. To the one class the rise of the Christian community was a menace, to the other a problem. The one left no means untried to check it. By argument, by appeals to the past, by working on his superstitions, they sought to make the Christian convert into a Jew; and, when they failed, they had other methods in reserve. Themselves everywhere despised and hated, as they are still, for their ability and their foreign air, they stirred up their heathen neighbours against the new race. Again and again, in the _Acts_ and in later documents, we read of the Jews being the authors of pagan persecution.[1] The "unbelieving Jew" was a spiritual and a social danger to the Christian in every city of the East. The converted Jew was, in his way, almost as great a difficulty within the community. It is not hard to understand the feeling of the Jews within or without the Church. Other races had their ancient histories, and the Jew had his--a history long and peculiar. From the day of Abraham, the friend of God, the chosen race had been the special care of Jehovah. Jehovah had watched over them; he had saved them from their enemies; he had visited them for their iniquities; he had sent them prophets; he had given them his law. In a long series of beautiful images, which move us yet, Jehovah had spoken, through holy men of old, of his love for Israel. To Israel belonged the oracles of God {170} and his promises. For here again the national consciousness of Israel differed from that of every other race. It was something that in the past God had spoken to no human family except the seed of Abraham; it was more that to them, and to them alone, he had assured the future. Deeply as Israel felt the trials of the present, the Roman would yet follow the Persian and the Greek, and the day of Israel would dawn. The Messiah was to come and restore all things. "He shall destroy the ungodly nations with the word of his mouth, so that at his rebuke the nations may flee before him, and he shall convict the sinners in the thoughts of their hearts. "And he shall gather together a holy people whom he shall lead in righteousness; and shall judge the tribes of his people that hath been sanctified by the Lord his God. "And he shall not suffer iniquity to lodge in their midst, and none that knoweth wickedness shall dwell with them.... "And he shall possess the nations of the heathen to serve him beneath his yoke; and he shall glorify the Lord in a place to be seen of the whole earth; "And he shall purge Jerusalem and make it holy, even as it was in the days of old. "So that the nations may come from the ends of the earth to see his glory, bringing as gifts her sons that had fainted, "And may see the glory of the Lord, wherewith God hath glorified her." So runs one of the _Psalms of Solomon_ written between 70 and 40 B.C.[2] Parallel passages might be multiplied, but one may suffice, written perhaps in the lifetime of Jesus. "Then thou, O Israel, wilt be happy, and thou wilt mount upon the neck of the eagle, and [the days of thy mourning] will be ended, "And God will exalt thee, and he will cause thee to approach to the heaven of the stars, and he will establish thy habitation among them, "And thou wilt look from on high, and wilt see thine {171} enemies in Ge[henna], and thou wilt recognize them and rejoice, and wilt give thanks and confess thy Creator."[3] No people in the Mediterranean world had such a past behind them, and none a future so sure and so glorious before them--none indeed seems to have had any great hope of the future at all; their Golden Ages were all in the past, or far away in mythical islands of the Eastern seas or beyond the Rhine. And if the Christian doctrine was true, that great past was as dead as Babylon, and the Messianic Kingdom was a mockery--Israel was "feeding on the east wind," and the nation was not Jehovah's chosen. At one stroke Israel was abolished, and every national memory and every national instinct, rooted in a past of suffering and revelation, and watered with tears in a present of pain, were to wither like the gardens of Adonis. No man with a human heart but must face the alternative of surrendering national for Christian ideals, or hating and exterminating the enemy of his race. So much for the nation, and what Christianity meant for it, but much beside was at stake. There was the seal of circumcision, the hereditary token of God's covenant with Abraham, a sacrament passed on from father to son and associated with generations of faith and piety. Week by week the Sabbath came with its transforming memories--the "Princess Sabbath," for Heine was not the first to feel the magic that at sunset on Friday restores the Jew to the "halls of his royal father, the tents of Jacob." Every one of their religious usages spoke irresistibly of childhood. "When your children shall say unto you 'What mean ye by this service,' ye shall say...," so ran the old law, binding every Jew to his father by the dearest and strongest of all bonds. To become a Christian was thus to be alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, to renounce a father's faith and his home. If the pagan had to suffer for his conversion, the Jew's heritage was nobler and holier, and the harder to forego. Even the friendly Jew pleads, "Cannot a man be saved who trusts in Christ and also keeps the law--keeps it so far as he {172} can under the conditions of the dispersion,--the Sabbath, circumcision, the months, and certain washings?"[4] [Sidenote: The Jewish attack on Jesus] But this was not all. Israel had stood for monotheism and that not the monotheism of Greek philosophy, a dogma of the schools consistent with the cults of Egypt and Phrygia, with hierodules and a deified Antinous. The whole nation had been consecrated to the worship of One God, a personal God, who had, at least where Israel was concerned, no hint of philosophic Apathy. The Jew was now asked by the Christian to admit a second God--a God beside the Creator (_állos theòs parà tòn poiêtèn tôn hólôn_[5])--and such a God! The Jews knew all about Jesus of Nazareth--it was absurd to try to pass him off even as the Messiah. "Sir," said Trypho, "these scriptures compel us to expect one glorious and great, who receives from 'the Ancient of Days' the 'eternal Kingdom' as 'Son of Man'; but this man of yours--your so-called Christ--was unhonoured and inglorious, so that he actually fell under the extreme curse that is in the law of God; for he was crucified."[6] The whole thing was a paradox, incapable of proof.[7] "It is an incredible thing, and almost impossible that you are trying to prove--that God endured to be begotten and to become a man."[8] The Jews had a propaganda of their own about Jesus. They sent emissaries from Palestine to supply their countrymen and pagans with the truth.[9] Celsus imagines a Jew disputing with a Christian,--a more life-like Jew, according to Harnack, than Christian apologists draw,--and the arguments he uses came from Jewish sources. Jesus was born, they said, in a village, the bastard child of a peasant woman, a poor person who worked with her hands, divorced by her husband (who was a carpenter) for adultery.[10] The father was a soldier called Panthera. As to the Christian story, what could have attracted the attention of God to her? Was she pretty? The carpenter at all events hated her and cast her out.[11] {173} ("I do not think I need trouble about this argument," is all Origen says.) Who saw the dove, or heard the voice from heaven, at the baptism? Jesus suffered death in Palestine for the guilt he had committed (_plemmelésanta_). He convinced no one while he lived; even his disciples betrayed him--a thing even brigands would not have done by their chief--so far was he from improving them, and so little ground is there for saying that he foretold to them what he should surfer. He even complained of thirst on the cross. As for the resurrection, that rests on the evidence of a mad woman (_pároistros_)--or some other such person among the same set of deceivers, dreaming, or deluded, or "wishing to startle the rest with the miracle, and by a lie of that kind to give other impostors a lead." Does the resurrection of Jesus at all differ from those of Pythagoras or Zamolxis or Orpheus or Herakles--"or do you think that the tales of other men both are and seem myths, but that the catastrophe of your play is a well-managed and plausible piece of invention--the cry upon the gibbet, when he died, and the earthquake and the darkness?"[12] The Christians systematically edited and altered the Gospels to meet the needs of the moment;[13] but Jesus did not fulfil the prophecies of the Messiah--"the prophets say he shall be great, a dynast, lord of all the earth and all its nations and armies."[14] There are ten thousand other men to whom the prophecies are more applicable than to Jesus,[15] and as many who in frenzy claim to "come from God."[16] In short the whole story of the Christians rests on no evidence that will stand investigation. Even men who would refrain from the hot-tempered method of controversy, which these quotations reflect, might well feel the contrast between the historic Jesus and the expected Messiah--between the proved failure of the cross and the world-empire of a purified and glorious Israel. And when it was suggested further that Jesus was God, an effluence coming from God, as light is lit by light--even if this were true, it would seem that the Jew was asked to give up the worship of the One God, which he had learnt of his fathers, and to turn to a being not unlike the pagan gods around him in every land, who also, their apologists said, came from the {174} Supreme, and were his emanations and ministers and might therefore be worshipped. Thus everything that was distinctive of their race and their religion--the past of Israel, the Messiah and the glorious future, the beautiful symbols of family religion, and the One God Himself--all was to be surrendered by the man who became a Christian. We realize the extraordinary and compelling force of the new religion, when we remember that, in spite of all to hold them back, there were those who made the surrender and "suffered the loss of all things to win Christ and be found in him." Paul however rested, as he said, on revelation, and ordinary men, who were not conscious of any such distinction, who mistrusted themselves and their emotions, and who rested most naturally upon the cumulative religious experience of their race, might well ask whether after all they were right in breaking with a sacred past--whether, apart from subjective grounds, there were any clear warrant from outside to enable them to go forward. The Jew had of course oracles of God given by inspiration (_theópneustos_[17]), written by "holy men of God, moved by the holy spirit." These were his warrant. Here circumcision, the Sabbath, the Passover, and all his religious life was definitely and minutely prescribed in what was almost, like the original two tables, the autograph of the One God. The law had its own history bound up with that of the race, and the experience and associations of every new generation made it more deeply awful and mysterious. Had the Christian any law? had he any oracles, apart from the unintelligible glossolalies of men possessed (_enthousiôntes_)? When Justin spoke of the gifts of the Spirit, Trypho interjected, "I should like you to know that you are talking nonsense."[18] [Sidenote: The problem] Not unnaturally then did men say to Ignatius (as we have seen), "If I do not find it in the ancient documents, I do not believe it in the gospel." And when Ignatius rejoined, "It is written"; "That is the problem," said they.[19] It was their problem, though it was not his. For him Judaism is "a leaven old and sour," and "to use the name of Jesus Christ and yet observe Jewish customs is absurd (_átopon_)" or really "to confess we have not received grace."[20] His documents were {175} Jesus Christ, his cross and death and resurrection, and faith through him. "That is the problem"--can it be shown from the infallible Hebrew Scriptures that the crucified Jesus is the Messiah of prophecy, that he is a "God beside the Creator," that Sabbath and Circumcision are to be superseded, that Israel's covenant is temporary, and that the larger outlook of the Christian is after all the eternal dispensation of which the Jewish was a copy made for a time? If this could be shown, it might in some measure stop the mouths of hostile Jews, and calm the uneasy consciences of Jews and proselytes who had become Christians. And it might serve another and a distinct purpose. It was one of the difficulties of the Christian that his religion was a new thing in the world. Around him were men who gloried in ancient literatures and historic cults. All the support that men can derive from tradition and authority, or even from the mere fact of having a past behind them, was wanting to the new faith, as its opponents pointed out. If, by establishing his contention against the Jew, the Christian could achieve another end, and could demonstrate to the Greek that he too had a history and a literature, that his religion was no mere accident of a day, but was rooted in the past, that it had been foretold by God himself, and was part of the divine scheme for the destiny of mankind, then, resting on the sure ground of Providence made plain, he could call upon the Greek in his turn to forsake his errors and superstitions for the first of all religions, which should also be the last--the faith of Jesus Christ. The one method thus served two ends. Justin addressed an _Apology_ to Antoninus Pius, and one-half of his book is occupied with the demonstration that every major characteristic of Christianity had been prophesied and was a fulfilment. The thirty chapters show what weight the sheer miracle of this had with the apologist, though, if the Emperor actually read the _Apology_, it was probably his first contact with Jewish scripture. Some difference of treatment was necessary, according as the method was directed to Jew or Gentile. For the Jew it was axiomatic that Scripture was the word of God, and, if he did not grant the Christian's postulate of allegory, he was withholding from an opponent what had been allowed to Philo. {176} The Greek would probably allow the allegory, and the first task in his case was to show by chronological reckoning that the greater prophets, and above all Moses, antedated the bloom of Greek literature, and then to draw the inference that it was from Hebrew sources that the best thoughts of Hellas had been derived. Here the notorious interest of early Greek thinkers in Egypt helped to establish the necessary, though rather remote, connexion. When once the priority of the Hebrew prophets had been proved, and, by means of allegory, a coincidence (age by age more striking) had been established between prophecy and event, the demonstration was complete. There could be only one interpretation of such facts. A number of these refutations of the Jew survive from early times. Justin's _Dialogue with Trypho_ is the most famous, as it deserves to be. It opens in a pleasant Platonic style with a chance meeting one morning in a colonnade at Ephesus.[21] Trypho accosts the philosopher Justin--"When I see a man in your garb, I gladly approach him, and that is why I spoke to you, hoping to hear something profitable from you." When Trypho says he is a Jew, Justin asks in what he expects to be more helped by philosophy than by his own prophets and law-giver. Is not all the philosophers' talk about God? Trypho asks. Justin then tells him of his own wanderings in philosophy,--how he went from school to school, and at last was directed by an old man to read the Jewish prophets, and how "a fire was kindled in my soul, and a passion seized me for the prophets and those men who are Christ's friends; and so, discussing their words with myself, I found this philosophy alone to be safe and helpful. And that is how and why I am a philosopher."[22] Trypho smiled, but, while approving Justin's ardour in seeking after God, he added that he would have done better to philosophize with Plato or one of the others, practising endurance, continence and temperance, than "to be deceived by lies and to follow men who are worthless." Then the battle begins, and it is waged in a courteous and kindly spirit, as befits philosophers, till after two days they part with prayers and goodwill for each other--Trypho unconvinced. Other writers have less {177} skill, and the features of dialogue are sadly whittled away. Others again abandon all pretence of discussion and frankly group their matter as a scheme of proof-texts. In what follows, Justin shall be our chief authority. We may start with the first point that Trypho raises. "If you will listen to me (for I count you a friend already), first of all be circumcised, and then keep, in the traditional way, the Sabbath and the feasts and new moons of God, and, in a word, do all that is written in the law, and then perhaps God will have mercy upon you. As for Christ, if indeed he has been born and already exists, he is unknown--nay! he does not even know himself yet, nor has he any power, till Elijah come and anoint him and make him manifest to all men. You people have accepted an empty tale, and are imagining a Christ for yourselves, and for the sake of him you are perishing quite aimlessly."[23] Salvation, according to the Jew, was inconceivable outside the pale of Judaism. "Except ye be circumcised, ye cannot be saved," men had said in Paul's time. Paul's repudiation of this assertion is to be read in his Epistle to the _Galatians_--in his whole life and mind. But genius such as Paul's was not to be found in the early church, and men looked outside of themselves for arguments to prove what he had seen and known of his own experience and insight. [Sidenote: The letter to Diognetus] Some apologists merely laughed at the Jew. Thus the brilliant and winsome writer known only by his _Epistle to Diognetus_ has a short and ready way of dealing with Jewish usages, which is not conciliatory. "In the next place I think you wish to hear why Christians do not worship in the same way as the Jews. Now the Jews do well in abstaining from the mode of service I have described [paganism], in that they claim to reverence One God of the universe and count Him their master; but, in offering this worship to Him in the same way as those I have mentioned, they go far astray. For the Greeks offer those things to senseless and deaf images and so give an exhibition of folly, while the Jews--considering they are presenting them to God as if He had need of them--ought in all reason to count it foolery and not piety. For He that made the heaven and the earth and all {178} that is in them, and gives freely to every one of us what we need, could not Himself need any of the things which He Himself actually gives to those who imagine they are giving them to Him.... "But again of their nervousness (_psophodeés_) about meats, and their superstition about the Sabbath, and the quackery (_aladoneía_) of circumcision, and the pretence (_eiróneia_) of fasts and new moons--ridiculous and worthless as it all is, I do not suppose you wish me to tell you. For to accept some of the things which God has made for man's need as well created, and to reject others as useless and superfluous, is it not rebellion (_athémiston_)? To lie against God as if He forbade us to do good on the Sabbath day, is not that impiety? To brag that the mutilation of the flesh is a proof of election--as if God specially loved them for it--ridiculous! And that they should keep a look-out on the stars and the moon and so observe months and days and distinguish the ordinances of God and the changes of the seasons, as their impulses prompt them to make some into feasts and some into times of mourning--who would count this a mark of piety towards God and not much rather of folly? "That Christians are right to keep aloof from the general silliness and deceit of the Jews, their fussiness and quackery, I think you are well enough instructed. The mystery of their own piety towards God you must not expect to be able to learn from man."[24] This was to deal with the distinctive usages of Judaism on general principles and from a standpoint outside it. It would doubtless be convincing enough to men who did not need to be convinced, but of little weight with those to whom the Scriptures meant everything. Accordingly the Apologists went to the Scriptures and arrayed their evidence with spirit and system. We may begin, as the writer to Diognetus begins, with sacrifices. Here the Apologists could appeal to the Prophets, who had spoken of sacrifice in no sparing terms. Tertullian's fifth chapter in his book _Against the Jews_ presents the evidence shortly and clearly. I will give the passages cited in a tabular form:-- {179} _Malachi_ 1, 10: I will not receive sacrifice from your hands, since from the rising sun to the setting my name is glorified among the Gentiles, saith the Lord Almighty, and in every place they offer pure sacrifices to my name. _Psalm_ 96, 7: Offer to God glory and honour, offer to God the sacrifices of his name; away with victims (tollite) and enter into his court. _Psalm_ 51, 17: A heart contrite and humbled is a sacrifice for God. _Psalm_ 50, 14: Sacrifice to God the sacrifice of praise and render thy vows to the Most High. _Isaiah_ 1, 11: Wherefore to me the multitude of your sacrifices? .... Whole burnt offerings and your sacrifices and the fat of goats and the blood of bulls I will not ... Who has sought these from your hands? Justin has other passages as decisive. Does not God say by Amos (5, 21) "I hate, I loathe your feasts, and I will not smell [your offerings] in your assemblies. When ye offer me your whole burnt offerings and your sacrifices, I will not receive them," and so forth, in a long passage quoted at length. And again _Jeremiah_ 7, 21-22: Gather your flesh and your sacrifices and eat, for neither concerning sacrifices nor drink offerings did I command your fathers in the day that I took them by the hand to lead them out of Egypt.[25] Next as to circumcision and the Sabbath. "You need a second circumcision," says Justin, "and yet you glory in the flesh; the new law bids you keep a perpetual Sabbath, while you idle for one day and suppose you are pious in so doing; you do not understand why it was enjoined upon you. And, if you eat unleavened bread, you say you have fulfilled the will of God."[26] Even by Moses, who gave the law, God cried "You shall circumcise the hardness of your hearts and stiffen your necks no more";[27] and Jeremiah long afterwards said the same more than once.[28] On the Sabbath question, Tertullian and the others distinguished two Sabbaths, an eternal and a temporal,[29] citing:-- {180} _Isaiah_ 1, 14: My soul hates your sabbaths. _Ezekiel_ 22, 8: Ye have profaned my sabbath. The Jew is referred back to the righteous men of early days--Was Adam circumcised, or did he keep the Sabbath? or Abel, or Noah, or Enoch, or Melchizedek? Did Abraham keep the Sabbath, or any of the patriarchs down to Moses?[30] "But," rejoins the Jew, "was not Abraham circumcised? Would not the son of Moses have been strangled, had not his mother circumcised him?"[31] [Sidenote: Old law or new covenant] To this the Christian had several replies. Circumcision was merely given for a sign, as is shown by the fact that a woman cannot receive it, "for God has made women as well able as men to do what is just and right." There is no righteousness in being of one sex rather than of the other.[32] Circumcision then was imposed upon the Jews "to mark you off from the rest of the nations and from us, that you alone might suffer what now you are suffering, and so deservedly suffering--that your lands should be desolate and your cities burnt with fire, that strangers should eat your fruits before your faces, and none of you set his foot in Jerusalem. For in nothing are you known from other men apart from the circumcision of your flesh. None of you, I suppose, will venture to say that God did not foresee what should come to pass. And it is all deserved; for you slew the Righteous one and his prophets before him; and now you reject and dishonour--so far as you can--those who set their hopes on him and on the Almighty God, maker of all things, who sent him; and in your synagogues you curse those who believe on Christ."[33] The Sabbath was given to remind the Jews of God; and restrictions were laid on certain foods because of the Jewish proclivity to forsake the knowledge of God.[34] In general, all these commands were called for by the sins of Israel,[35] they were signs of judgment. On the other hand the so-called Barnabas maintains that the Jews never had understood their law at all. Fasts, feasts {181} and sacrifices were prescribed, not literally, but in a spiritual sense which the Jews had missed. The taboos on meats were not prohibitions of the flesh of weasels, hares and hyænas and so forth, but were allegoric warnings against fleshly lusts, to which ancient zoologists and modern Arabs have supposed these animals to be prone.[36] Circumcision was meant, as the prophets showed, to be that of the heart; evil dæmons had misled the Jews into practising it upon the flesh.[37] The whole Jewish dispensation was a riddle, and of no value, unless it is understood as signifying Christianity. This line of attack was open to the criticism that it robbed the religious history of Israel of all value whatever, and the stronger Apologists do not take it. They will allow the Jews to have been so far right in observing their law, but they insist that it had a higher sense also, which had been overlooked except by the great prophets. The law was a series of types and shadows, precious till the substance came, which the shadows foretold. That they were mere shadows is shown by the fact that Enoch walked with God and Abraham was the friend of God. For this could not have been, if the Jewish contention were true that without Sabbath and circumcision man cannot please God. Otherwise, either the God of Enoch was not the God of Moses--which was absurd; or else God had changed his mind as to right and wrong--which was equally absurd.[38] No, the legislation of Moses was for a people and for a time; it was not for mankind and eternity. It was a prophecy of a new legislator, who should repeal the carnal code and enact one that should be spiritual, final and eternal.[39] Here, following the writer to the Hebrews, the Apologists quote a great passage of Jeremiah, with the advantage (not always possible) of using it in the true sense in which it was written. "Behold! the days come, saith the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah; not that which I made with their fathers in the day when I took them by the hand to lead them out of Egypt; which my covenant they brake, although I was an {182} husband unto them, saith the Lord. But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel: After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts and write it in their hearts, and I will be their God and they shall be my people."[40] With the law, the privilege of Israel passes away and the day of the Gentiles comes. It was foretold that Israel would not accept Christ--"their ears they have closed";[41] "they have not known nor understood";[42] "who is blind but my servants?"[43] "all these words shall be unto you as words of a book that is sealed."[44] "By Isaiah the prophet, God, knowing beforehand what you would do, cursed you thus";[45] and Justin cites Isaiah 3, 9-15, and 5, 18-25. Leah is the type of the synagogue and of the Jewish people and Rachel of "our church"; the eyes of Leah were weak, and so are the eyes of your soul--very weak.[46] No less was it prophesied that the Gentiles should believe on Christ--"in thee shall all tribes of the earth be blest"; "Behold! I have manifested him as a witness to the nations, a prince and a ruler to the races. Races which knew thee not shall call upon thee and peoples who were ignorant of thee shall take refuge with thee."[47] "By David He said 'A people I knew not has served me, and hearkened to me with the hearing of the ear.' Let us, the Gentiles gathered together, glorify God," says Justin, "because he has visited us ... for he is well pleased with the Gentiles, and receives our sacrifices with more pleasure than yours. What have I to do with circumcision, who have the testimony of God? What need of that baptism to me, baptized with the holy spirit? These things, I think, will persuade even the slow of understanding. For these are not arguments devised by me, nor tricked out by human skill,--nay! this was the theme of David's lyre, this the glad news Isaiah brought, that Zechariah proclaimed and Moses wrote. Do you recognize them, Trypho? They are in your books--no! not yours, but ours--for we believe them--and you, when you {183} read, do not understand the mind that is in them."[48] And with that Justin passes on to discuss whether Jesus is the Messiah. Such a passage raises the question as to how far he is reporting an actual conversation. In his 80th chapter he says to Trypho that he will make a book (_syntaxis_) of their conversation--of the whole of it--to the best of his ability, faithfully recording all that he concedes to Trypho. Probably he takes Plato's liberty to develop what was said--unless indeed the dialogue is from beginning to end merely a literary form imposed upon a thesis. In that case, it must be owned that Justin manages to give a considerable suggestion of life to Trypho's words. [Sidenote: Jesus the Messiah] But, even if the law be temporary, and the Sabbath spiritual, if Israel is to be rejected and the Gentiles chosen, we are still far from being assured on the warrant of the Old Testament that Jesus is the Messiah, who shall accomplish this great change. Why he rather than any of the "ten thousand others" who might much more plausibly be called the Messiah?[49] To prove the Messiahship of Jesus, a great system of Old Testament citations was developed, the origins of which are lost to us. Paul certainly applied Scripture to Jesus in a free way of his own, though he is not more fanciful in quotation than his contemporaries. But he never sought to base the Christian faith on a scheme of texts. Lactantius, writing about 300 A.D., implies that Jesus is the author of the system. "He abode forty days with them and interpreted the Scriptures, which up to that time had been obscure and involved."[50] Something of the kind is suggested by Luke (24, 27). But it is obvious that the whole method is quite alien to the mind and style of Jesus, in spite of quotations in the vein of the apologists which the evangelists here and there have attributed to him. We may discover two great canons in the operations of the Apologists. In the first place, they seek to show that all things prophesied of the Messiah were fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth; and, secondly, that everything which befel Jesus was prophesied of the Messiah. These canons need only to be stated to show the sheer impossibility of the enterprise to {184} anyone who attaches meaning to words. But in the early centuries of our era there was little disposition with Jew or Greek to do this where those books were concerned, whose age and beauty gave them a peculiar hold upon the mind. In each case the preconception had grown up, as about the myths of Isis, for example, that such books were in some way sacred and inspired. The theory gave men an external authority, but it presented some difficulties; for, both in Homer and in _Genesis_ as in the Egyptian myths, there were stories repugnant to every idea of the divine nature which a philosophic mind could entertain. They were explained away by the allegoric method. Plutarch shows how the grossest features of the Isis legend have subtle and spiritual meanings and were never meant to be taken literally--that the myths are _logoi_ in fact; and Philo vindicates the Old Testament in the same way.[51] The whole procedure was haphazard and unscientific; it closely resembled the principles used by Artemidorus for the interpretation of dreams--a painful analogy. But, in the absence of any kind of historic sense, it was perhaps the only way in which the continuity of religious thought could then be maintained. It is not surprising in view of the prevalence of allegory that the Christians used it--they could hardly do anything else. Thus with the fatal aid of allegory, the double thesis of the Apologists became easier and easier to maintain. The most accessible illustration of this line of apology is to be found in the second chapter of _Matthew_. We may set out in parallel columns the events in the life of Jesus and the prophecies which they fulfil. (a) The Virgin-Birth. _Isaiah_ 7, 14: Behold a virgin shall conceive. (b) Bethlehem. _Micah_ 5,2: And thou, Bethlehem, etc. (c) The Flight into Egypt. _Hosea_ 11, 1: Out of Egypt have I called my son. (d) The Murder of the children. _Jerem._ 31, 15: Rachel weeping. (e) Nazareth. _Judges_ 13, 5: A Nazarene. {185} It is hardly unfair to say that the man who cited these passages in these connexions had no idea whatever of their original meaning, even where he quotes them correctly. Here is a fuller scheme taken from the _Apology_ which Justin addressed to the Emperor Antoninus Pius. (The numbers on the left refer to the chapter in the first _Apology_.) 32. Jesus Christ foretold by _Gen._ 49, 10 f: (the blessing Judah). of Moses. _Numbers_ 24, 17: There shall dawn a star, etc. Jesus Christ foretold by _Isaiah_ 11, i: the rod of Jesse, Isaiah. etc. 33. Jesus Christ to be born _Is._ 7, 14: (the sign to of a virgin. Ahaz). 34. Jesus Christ to be born at _Micah_ 5, 2: Thou, Bethlehem, Bethlehem. etc. 35. The triumphal entry into _Zech._ 9, 9: Thy king cometh Jerusalem. riding on an ass, etc. The Crucifixion: the Cross. _Is._ 9,6: The government upon his shoulders. _Is._ 65, 2: I have stretched out my hands, etc. The Crucifixion: the _Is._ 58, 2: They ask me for mockery. judgment, etc. The Crucifixion: the nails _Psalm_ 22, 16, 18: They and the casting of lots. pierced my feet and my hands; they cast lots upon my raiment. 38. The Crucifixion: the _Is._ 50, 6-8: I gave my back scourging. to the lashes and my cheeks to blows, etc. The Crucifixion: the _Ps._ 22, 7: they wagged the mocking. head, saying, etc. The Crucifixion: the _Ps._ 3, 5: I slept and slumbered resurrection. and I rose up (_anéstên_) because the Lord laid hold of me. {186} 39. The sending of the twelve _Is._ 2, 3 f.: Out of Sion shall Apostles. go forth the law. 40. The proclamation of the _Ps._ 19, 2-5: Day unto day, Gospel. etc. Christ, Pilate, the Jews _Psalms_ 1 and 2: cited _in and Herod. extenso_. 41. Christ to reign after the 1 _Chron._ 16, 23, 25-31: (a Crucifixion. psalm). Cf. _Ps._ 96, i, 2, 4-11, with ending: "The Lord hath reigned from the tree." 45. The Ascension. _Ps._ 110, 1-3: Sit thou at my right hand, etc. 47. The desolation of Jerusalem. _Is._ 64, 10-12: Sion has become desert, etc. _Is._ 1, 7, and _Jer._ 50, 3: Their land is desert. 48. The miracles of Christ. _Is._ 35, 5, 6: The lame shall leap ... the dead shall rise and walk, etc. Christ's death. _Is._ 57, 1 f.: Behold, how the Just Man has perished, etc. 49. The Gentiles to find Christ _Is._ 65, 1-3: I was visible to but not the Jews. them that asked not for me ... I spread out my hands to a disobedient people. 50. Christ's humiliation and _Is._ 53, 12: For that they gave the glorious second his soul to death ... he advent. shall be exalted. _Is._ 52, 13-53, 8: ... he was wounded, etc. 51. His sufferings, origin, _Is._ 53, 8-12. reign and ascension. His second coming. "Jeremiah" = _Daniel_ 7, 13, as it were a son of man cometh upon the clouds and his angels with him. {187} 52. The final resurrection. _Ezek._ 37, 7-8: Bone shall be joined to bone. _Is._ 45, 23: Every knee shall bow to the Lord. _Is._ 66, 24: The worm shall not sleep nor the fire be quenched. Also a composite quotation with phrases mingled from Isaiah and Zechariah, attributed to the latter. 53. More Gentiles than Jews _Is._ 54, 1: Rejoice, O barren, will believe. etc. "Isaiah" = _Jerem._ 9, 26: Israel uncircumcised in heart. 60. The Cross foretold in the _Num._ 21, 8: If ye look at this brazen serpent. type(_typô_) I believe ye shall be saved in it (_en autô_). 61. Baptism. _Is._ 1, 16: Wash you ... I will whiten as wool. [Sidenote: The God beside the Creator] What in the _Apology_ is a bare outline, is developed at great length and with amazing ingenuity in the dialogue with Trypho. We may begin with the question of a "God beside the Creator." When Moses wrote in _Genesis_ (1, 26) "And God said, 'Let us make man in our image after our likeness,'" and again (3, 22) "And the Lord God said, 'Behold the man is become as one of us,'"[52] why did he use the plural, unless there is a God beside God? Again, when Sodom is destroyed why does the holy text say "The Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrha sulphur and fire from the Lord from heaven"?[53] And again in the _Psalms_ (110) what is meant by "The Lord said unto my Lord"?[54] and by "Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever ... therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows?"[55] The Old Testament abounds in theophanies, which are {188} brought up in turn. Justin cites the three men who appeared to Abraham--"they were angels," says Trypho, and a long argument follows to show from the passage that one of them is not to be explained as an angel,[56] nor of course as the Creator of all things. Trypho owns this. Justin pauses at his suggestion to discuss the meal which Abraham had served, but is soon caught up with the words: "Now, come, show us that this God who appeared to Abraham and is the servant of God, the Maker of all, was born of a virgin, and became, as you said, a man of like passions with all men." But Justin has more evidence to unfold before he reaches that stage. Without following the discussion as it sways from point to point, we may take the passage in which he recapitulates this line of argument. "I think I have said enough, so that, when my God says 'God went up from Abraham,' or 'The Lord spoke to Moses,' or 'The Lord descended to see the tower which the sons of men had built,' or 'The Lord shut the ark of Noah from without,' you will not suppose the unbegotten God Himself went down or went up. For the ineffable Father and Lord of all neither comes anywhere, nor 'walks' [as in the garden of Eden], nor sleeps, nor rises, but abides in his own region wherever it is, seeing keenly and hearing keenly, but not with eyes or ears, but by power unspeakable; and he surveys all things and knows all things, and none of us escapes his notice; nor does he move, nor can space contain him, no, nor the whole universe, him, who was before the universe was made."[57] [Sidenote: The virgin-birth] Who then was it who walked in the garden, who wrestled with Jacob, who appeared in arms to Joshua, who spoke with Moses and with Abraham, who shut Noah into the ark, who was the fourth figure in the fiery furnace? Scripture gives us a key. Can the Jew say, who it is whom Ezekiel calls the "angel of great counsel;" and the "man"; whom Daniel describes "as the Son of man"; whom Isaiah called "child," and David "Christ" and "God adored"; whom Moses called "Joseph" and "Jacob" and "the star"; whom Zechariah called "the daystar"; whom {189} Isaiah again called the "sufferer" (_pathêtós_), "Jacob" and "Israel"; whom others have named "the Rod," "the Flower," "the Chief Corner-stone" and "the Son of God"?[58] The answer is more clearly given by Solomon in the eighth chapter of _Proverbs_--it is the Divine Wisdom, to whom all these names apply. When it is said "Let _us_ make man," it is to be understood that the Ineffable communicated his design to his Wisdom, his Logos or Son, and the Son made man. The Son rained upon Sodom the fire and brimstone from the Father. It was the Son who appeared to men in all the many passages cited--the Son, Christ the Lord, God and Son of God--inseparable and unseverable from the Father, His Wisdom and His Word and His Might (_dynamis_).[59] But, while all this might be accepted by a Jew, it still seemed to Trypho that it was "paradoxical, and foolish, too," to say that Christ could be God before all the ages, and then tolerate to be born a man, and yet "not a man of men." The offence of the Cross also remained. The Apologist began by explaining the mysteries of the two comings of Christ, first in humiliation, and afterwards in glory, as Jacob prophesied in his last words.[60] For the First Coming Tertullian quotes Isaiah--"he is led as a sheep to the slaughter"; and the _Psalms_--"made a little lower than the angels," "a worm and not a man"; while the Second Coming is to be read of in Daniel and the forty-fifth _Psalm_, and in the more awful passage of Zechariah "and then they shall know him whom they pierced."[61] The paschal lamb is a type of the First Coming--especially as it was to be roasted whole and trussed like a cross; and the two goats of _Leviticus_ (16) are types of the two Comings.[62] "And now," says Justin, "I took up the argument again to show that he was born of a virgin, and that it had been prophesied by Isaiah that he should be born of a virgin; and I again recited the prophecy itself. This is it: 'And the Lord said moreover unto Ahaz, saying: 'Ask for thyself a sign from the Lord thy God in the depth or in the height. And Ahaz {190} said: I will not ask nor tempt the Lord. And Isaiah said: Hear ye then, O house of David! Is it a little thing with you to strive with men? and how will ye strive with the Lord? Therefore shall the Lord himself give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel. Butter and honey shall he eat. Before he shall either have knowledge or choose evil, he shall choose good; because, before the child knows evil or good, he refuses evil to choose good. Because, before the child knows to call father or mother, he shall take the power of Damascus and the spoils of Samaria before the King of the Assyrians. And the land shall be taken, which thou shalt bear hardly from before the face of two kings. But God will bring upon thee, and upon thy people, and upon the house of thy father, days which have never come, from the day when Ephraim removed from Judah the King of the Assyrians.' And I added, 'That, in the family of Abraham according to the flesh, none has ever yet been born of a virgin, or spoken of as so born, except our Christ, is manifest to all.'" It may be noted that the passage is not only misquoted, but is a combination of clauses from two distinct chapters.[63] The explanation is perhaps that Justin found it so in a manual of proof-texts and did not consult the original. Similar misquotations in other authors have suggested the same explanation. "Trypho rejoined: 'The scripture has not: Behold the virgin shall conceive and bear a son; but: Behold the young woman shall conceive and bear a son: and the rest as you said. The whole prophecy was spoken of Hezekiah and was fulfilled of him. In the myths of the Greeks it is said that Perseus was born of Danae, when she was a virgin--after their so-called Zeus had come upon her in the form of gold. You ought to be ashamed to tell the same story as they do. You would do better to say this Jesus was born a man of men, and--if you show from the Scriptures that he is the Christ--say that it was by his lawful and perfect life that he was counted worthy of being chosen as Christ. Don't talk miracles of that kind, or you will be proved to talk folly beyond even that of the Greeks."'[64] Trypho has the Hebrew text behind him, which says {191} nothing about a virgin, though the Septuagint has the word. The sign given to Ahaz has a close parallel in a prophecy of Muhammad. Before he became known, an old man foretold that a great prophet should come, and on being challenged for a sign he pointed to a boy lying in rugs by the camp-fire--"That boy should _see_ the prophet"; and he did. Isaiah's sign is much the same; a young woman shall conceive and have a son, and before that son is two or three years old, Damascus and Syria will fall before the King of Assyria. But Justin and the Apologists are not to be diverted. As for Danae, the Devil (_diábolos_) has there anticipated the fulfilment of God's prophecy, as in many other instances, _e.g._:--Dionysus rode an ass, he rose from the dead and ascended to heaven; Herakles is a parody of the verse in _Psalm_ xix--the strong man rejoicing to run a race, a Messianic text; Æsculapius raised the dead; and the cave of Mithras is Daniel's "stone cut without hands from the great mountains." "I do not believe your teachers; they will not admit that the seventy elders of Ptolemy, King of Egypt, translated well, but they try to translate for themselves. And I should like you to know that they have cut many passages out of the versions made by Ptolemy's elders which prove expressly that this man, who was crucified, was prophesied of as God and man, crucified and slain. I know that all your race deny this; so, in discussions of this kind I do not quote those passages, but I have recourse to such as come from what you still acknowledge."[65] The objection to the rendering "young woman" is that it completely nullifies the sign given to Ahaz, for children are born of young women every day--"what would really be a sign and would give confidence to mankind,--to wit, that the firstborn of all creations should take flesh and really be born a child of a virgin womb--that was what he proclaimed beforehand by the prophetic spirit."[66] The whole story is parable. It would be absurd to suppose that an infant could be a warrior and reduce great states. The spoils are really the gifts of the Magi, as is indicated by passages in Zechariah ("he shall gather all the strength of the peoples round about, gold and silver," 14, 14) and the seventy second _Psalm_ ("Kings of the Arabs and of Saba shall bring {192} gifts to him; and to him shall be given gold from the East"). Samaria again is a common synonym with the prophets for idolatry. Damascus means the revolt of the Magi from the evil dæmon who misdirected their arts to evil. The King of Assyria stands, says Justin, for King Herod, and so says Tertullian, writing against Marcion, though in the tract _Against the Jews_ (if it is Tertullian's) he says the devil is intended.[67] The usual passages from Micah and Jeremiah are cited to add Bethlehem and the Murder of the infants to the prophetic story. "At this Trypho, with some hint of annoyance, but overawed by the Scriptures, as his face showed, said to me: 'God's words are holy, but your expositions [or translations] are artificial--or blasphemous, I should say.'"[68] To complete the proof, it is shown that the very name of Jesus was foretold. When Moses changed the name of his successor from _Auses_ to _Jesus_, it was a prophecy, as Scripture shows. "The Lord said unto Moses: Say to this people, Behold I send my angel before thy face that he may guard thee in the way, that he may lead thee into the land that I have prepared for thee. Give heed unto him ... for he will not let thee go, for my name is in him."[69] This is confirmed by Zechariah's account of the High Priest Joshua. Furthermore, the chronology of the book of Daniel, when carefully worked out, proves to have contained the prediction of the precise date at which Christ should come, and at that precise date Christ came. Barnabas discovers another prophecy of Jesus in an unlikely place. "Learn, children of love," he says," that Abraham, who first gave circumcision, looked forward in spirit unto Jesus, when he circumcised, for he received dogmata in three letters. For it saith: And Abraham circumcised of his house men 18 and 300. What then was the knowledge given unto him? Mark that it says 18 first, and then after a pause 300. 18 [IH in Greek notation] there thou hast Jesus. And because the cross in T [= 300 in Greek notation] was to have grace, it {193} saith 300 as well. It shows Jesus in the two letters, and in the one the cross."[70] We now reach the prophecies of the cross, and, as the method is plain, a few references may suffice, taken this time from Tertullian (_c._ 10):-- _Genesis_ 22, 6: Isaac carrying the wood for the sacrifice of himself. _Genesis_ 37, 28: Joseph sold by his brethren. _Deuteronomy_ 33,17: Moses' blessing of Joseph. (The unicorn's horns, with some arrangement, form a cross: cf. _Psalm_ 22). _Exodus_ 17, 11: Moses with his arms spread wide. _Numbers_ 21, 9: The brazen serpent. _Psalm_ 96, 10: The Lord hath reigned _from the tree, e ligno_ (though the Jews have cut out the last words). _Isaiah_ 9, 6: The government upon his shoulder. _Jeremiah_ 11, 19: Let us cast wood (_lignum_) into his bread. _Isaiah_ 53, 8, 9: For the transgression of my people is he stricken ... and his sepulture is taken from the midst (_i.e._ the resurrection). _Amos_ 8, 9: I will cause the sun to go down at noon. For a long time before Justin was done with his exposition, Trypho was silent--the better part, perhaps, in all controversy. At last, writes Justin, "I finished. Trypho said nothing for a while, and then he said, 'You see, we came to the controversy unprepared. Still, I own, I am greatly pleased to have met you, and I think my friends have the same feeling. For we have found more than we expected,--or anyone could have expected. If we could do it at more length, we might be better profited by looking into the passages themselves. But, since you are on the point of sailing and expect to embark every day now,--be sure you think of us as friends, if you go.'"[71] So, with kindly feelings, Trypho went away unconvinced. And there were others, as clear of mind, who were as little convinced,--Marcion, for instance, and Celsus. "The more reasonable among Jews and Christians," says Celsus, "try to allegorize them [the Scriptures], but they are beyond being {194} allegorized and are nothing but sheer mythology of the silliest type. The supposed allegories that have been made are more disgraceful than the myths and more absurd, in their endeavour to string together what never can in any way be harmonized--it is folly positively wonderful for its utter want of perception."[72] The modern reader may not be so ready as Origen was to suggest that Celsus probably had Philo in mind.[73] [Sidenote: Results] It is clear that, in the endeavour to give Christianity a historical background and a prophetic warrant, the Apologists lost all perspective.[74] The compelling personality of Jesus receded behind the vague figure of the Christ of prophecy; and, in their pre-occupation with what they themselves called "types and shadows," men stepped out of the sunlight into the shade and hardly noticed the change. Yet there is still among the best of them the note of love of Jesus--"do not speak evil of the crucified," pleads Justin, "nor mock at his stripes, whereby all may be healed, as _we_ have been healed."[75] And after all it was an instinct for the truth and universal significance of Jesus that carried them away. He must be eternal; and they, like the men of their day, thought much of the beginning and the end of creation, and perhaps found it easier than we do,--certainly more natural,--to frame schemes under which the Eternal Mind might manifest itself. Eschatology, purpose, foreknowledge, pervade their religious thought, and they speak with a confidence which the centuries since the Renaissance have made more and more impossible for us, who find it hard enough to be sure of the fact without adventuring ourselves in the possibilities that lie around it. None the less the centre of interest was the same for them as for us--what _is_ the significance of Jesus of Nazareth? For them the facts of his life and of his mind had often less value than the fancy that they fulfilled prophecy; Celsus said outright that the Christians altered them, and there is some evidence that, in the accommodation of prophecy and history, {195} the latter was sometimes over-developed. For us, the danger is the opposite; we risk losing sight of the eternal significance in our need of seeing clearly the historic lineaments. In the conflict of religions, Christianity had first to face Judaism, and, though the encounter left its record upon the conquering faith, it secured its freedom from the yoke of the past. It gained background and the broadening of the historic imagination. It made the prophets and psalmists of Israel a permanent and integral part of Christian literature--and in all these ways it became more fit to be the faith of mankind, as it deepened its hold upon the universal religious experience. Yet it did so at the cost of a false method which has hampered it for centuries, and of a departure (for too long a time) from the simplicity and candour of the mind of Jesus. In seeking to recover that mind to-day we commit ourselves to the belief that it is sufficient, and that, when we have rid ourselves of all that in the course of ages has obscured the great personality, in proportion as we regain his point of view, we shall find once more (in the words of a far distant age) that his spirit will guide us into all truth. Chapter VI Footnotes: [1] Justin, _Trypho_, c. 17; Tert. _adv. Jud._ 13. [2] _Psalm. Solom._ xvii, 27-35. Ed. Ryle and James. [3] _Assumption of Moses_, x, 8-10, tr. R. H. Charles. "Gehenna" is a restoration which seems probable, the Latin _in terram_ representing what was left of the word in Greek. See Dr Charles' note. [4] Justin, _Trypho_, 46, 47. The question is still asked; I have heard it asked. [5] Justin, _Trypho_, 50. [6] Justin, _Trypho_, 32; the quotations are from Daniel. [7] Justin, _Trypho_, 48. [8] Justin, _Trypho_, 68. [9] Justin, _Trypho_, 17, 108. [10] Cf. Tert. _de Spect._ 30, _fabri aut quæstuariæ filius_. [11] Origen, _c. Cels._ i, 28, 32, 39. The beauty of the woman is an element in the stories of Greek demi-gods. [12] _c. Cels._ ii, 55. [13] ii, 27. [14] ii, 29. [15] ii, 28. [16] i, 50. [17] 2 Tim. 8, 15. [18] _Trypho_, 39. [19] Ign. _Philad._ 8, 2. [20] Ign. _Magn._ 10, 3; 8, 1. [21] So says Eusebius, _E.H._ iv, 18. Justin does not name the city. [22] _Trypho_, 8. [23] Justin, _Trypho_, 8. [24] _ad Diogn._ 3, 4. [25] _Trypho_, 22. [26] _Ibid._ 12. [27] _Deut._ 10, 16, 17; _Trypho_, 16. [28] _Jerem._ 4, 4; 9, 25; _Trypho_, 28. [29] Tert. _adv. Jud._ 4. [30] Justin, _Trypho_, 19; Tert. _adv. Jud._ 2; Cyprian, _Testim._ 1, 8. Tertullian had to face a similar criticism of Christian life--was Abraham _baptized_? _de Bapt._ 13. [31] Tert. _adv. Jud._ 3. [32] _Trypho_, 23; Cyprian, _Testim._ 1, 8. [33] _Trypho_, 16 (slightly compressed). [34] _Trypho_, 19, 20; cf. Tert. _adv. Jud. _ [35] _Trypho_, 22. [36] Barnabas, 10; cf. Pliny, _N.H._ 8, 218, on the hare; and Plutarch, _de Iside et Osiride_, 353 F, 363 F, 376 E, 381 A (weasel), for similar zoology and symbolism. Clem. Alex. _Str._ ii, 67; v, 51; refers to this teaching of Barnabas (cf. _ib._ ii, 105). [37] Barnabas, 9. [38] _Trypho_, 23. [39] _Ibid._ 11. [40] _Jerem._ 31, 31; _Trypho_, 11; Tert. _adv. Jud._ 3. [41] _Is._ 6, 10; _Trypho_, 12; Cyprian, _Testim._ i, 3. [42] _Ps._ 82, 5; _Trypho_, 124; Cyprian, _Testim._ i, 3. [43] _Is._ 42, 19; _Trypho_, 123, where the plural is used. [44] _Is._ 29, 11; Cyprian, _Testim._ i, 4. [45] _Trypho_, 133. [46] _Trypho_, 134. [47] Cyprian, _Testim._ i, 21; Justin, _Trypho_, 12; Tert. _adv. Marc._ iii, 20. [48] _Trypho_, 29. [49] _c. Cels._ ii, 28, [50] Lactantius, _de mort. persec._ 2. [51] Tertullian lays down the canon (_adv. Marc._ iii, 5) _pleraque figurate portenduntur per ænigmata et allegorias et parabolas, aliter intelligenda quam scripta sunt_; but (_de resurr. carnis_, 20) _non omnia imagines sed et veritates, nec omnia umbræ sed et corpora, e.g._ the Virgin-birth is not foretold in figure. [52] _Trypho_, 62, 129; Barnabas, 5, 5; Tert. _adv. Prax._ 12. [53] _Trypho_, 56. [54] _Ibid._ 56. [55] _Ibid._ 56. [56] _Trypho_, 56, 57. [57] Trypho, 127. Tert. _adv. Marc._ ii, 27. Quæcunque exigitis deodigna, habebuntur in patre invisibili incongressibilique et placido et, ut ita dixerim, philosophorum deo. Quæcunque autem ut indigna reprehenditis, deputabuntur in filio, etc. Cf. on the distinction Tert. _adv. Prax._ 14 ff. Cf. the language of Celsus on God "descending," see p. 248. [58] _Trypho_, 126. Other titles are quoted by Justin, _Trypho_, 61. [59] _Trypho_, 128. Cf. Tertullian, _adv. Marc._ ii, 27, _Ille est qui descendit, ille qui interrogat, ille qui postulat, ille qui jurat; adv. Prax._ 15, _Filius itaque est qui...._ [60] _Gen._ 49, 8-12; _Trypho_, 52, 53; _Apol._ i, 32; Cyprian, _Testim._ i, 21. [61] Tert. _adv. Jud._ 14. [62] _Trypho_, 40; Tert. _adv. Jud._ 14; Barnabas, 7. [63] _Trypho_, 66. Isaiah vii and viii. [64] _Trypho_, 67. [65] _Trypho_, 71. [66] _Trypho_, 84. Cf. Tert. _adv. Jud._ 9 = _adv. Marc._ iii, 13. [67] _Trypho_, 77: Tert. _adv. Jud._ 9 = _adv. Marc._ iii, 13; both referring to _Psalm_ 71. [68] _Trypho_, 79. [69] _Trypho_, 75; _Exodus_ 23, 20. [70] Barnabas, 9, 8 (the subject of 'saith' may in each case be 'he'). Clement of Alexandria cites this and adds a mystic and mathematical account of this suggestive figure 318. _Strom._ vi. 84. [71] _Trypho_, 142. [72] Celsus _ap._ Orig. _c. Cels._ iv, 50, 51. [73] Especially when he finds Celsus referring to the dialogue of Jason and Papiscus as "more worthy of pity and hatred than of laughter"; _c. Cels._ iv, 52. [74] Porphyry (cited by Euseb. _E.H._ vi, 19), says they made riddles of what was perfectly plain in Moses, their expositions would not hang together, and they cheated their own critical faculty, _tò kritikòn tês psychês katagoeteúsantes_. [75] _Trypho_, 137. {196} CHAPTER VII "GODS OR ATOMS?" In the first two centuries of our era a great change came over the ancient world. A despised and traditional religion, under the stimulus of new cults coming from the East, revived and re-asserted its power over the minds of men. Philosophy, grown practical in its old age, forsook its youthful enthusiasm for the quest of truth, and turned aside to the regulation of conduct, by means of maxims now instead of inspiration, and finally, as we have seen, to apology for the ancient faith of the fathers. Its business now was to reconcile its own monotheistic dogma with popular polytheistic practice. It was perhaps this very reconciliation that threw open the door for the glowing monotheism of the disciples of Jesus; but, whatever the cause, Christianity quickly spread over the whole Roman Empire. We are apt to wonder to-day at the great political and national developments that have altered the whole aspect of Europe since the French Revolution, and to reflect rather idly on their rapidity. Yet the past has its own stories of rapid change, and not the least striking of them is the disappearance of that world of thought which we call Classical. By 180 A.D. nearly every distinctive mark of classical antiquity is gone--the old political ideas, the old philosophies, the old literatures, and much else with them. Old forms and names remain--there are still consuls and archons, poets and philosophers, but the atmosphere is another, and the names have a new meaning, if they have any at all. But the mere survival of the names hid for many the fact that they were living in a new era. [Sidenote: Marcus Aurelius] In the reign of Marcus Aurelius, however, the signs of change became more evident, and men grew conscious that some transformation of the world was in progress. A great plague, the scanty records of which only allow us to speak in {197} vague terms of an immense reduction in population[1]--barbarism active upon the frontier of an Empire not so well able as it had fancied to defend itself--superstitions, Egyptian and Jewish, diverting men from the ordinary ways of civic duty--such were some of the symptoms that men marked. Under the weight of absurdity, quietism and individualism, the state seemed to be sinking, and all that freedom of mind which was the distinctive boast of Hellenism was rapidly being lost. It happens that, while the historical literature of the period has largely perished, a number of authors survive, who from their various points of view deal with what is our most immediate subject--the conflict of religions. Faith, doubt, irritation and fatalism are all represented. The most conspicuous men of letters of the age are undoubtedly the Emperor Marcus Aurelius himself and his two brilliant contemporaries, Lucian of Samosata, and Apuleius of Madaura.[2] Celsus, a man of mind as powerful as any of the three, survives in fragments, but fragments ample enough to permit of re-construction. Among the Christians too there was increased literary activity, but Tertullian and Clement will suffice for our purpose. Though not in his day regarded as a man of letters, it is yet in virtue of his writing that Marcus Aurelius survives. His journal, with the title that tells its nature--"To Himself," is to-day perhaps the most popular book of antiquity with those whose first concern is not literature. It is translated again and again, and it is studied. The peculiar mind of the solitary Emperor has made him, as Mr F. W. H. Myers put it, "the saint and exemplar of Agnosticism." Meditative, tender and candid, yet hesitant and so far ineffectual, he is sensitive to so much that is positive and to so much that is negative, that the diary, in which his character is most intimately revealed, gives him a place of his own in the hearts of men perplext in the extreme. He is a man who neither believes, nor disbelieves,--"either gods or atoms"[3] seems to be the necessary antithesis, and there is so much to be said both for {198} and against each of the alternatives that decision is impossible. He is attracted by the conception of Providence, but he hesitates to commit himself. There are arguments--at least of the kind that rest on probability--in favour of immortality, but they are insufficient to determine the matter. In his public capacity he became famous for the number and magnificence of his sacrifices to the gods of the state; he owns in his journal his debt to the gods for warnings given in dreams, but he suspects at times that they may not exist. Meanwhile he persecutes the Christians for their disloyalty to the state. Their stubborn convictions were so markedly in contrast with his own wavering mind that he could not understand them--perhaps their motive was bravado, he thought; they were too theatrical altogether; their pose recalled the tragedies composed by the pupils of the rhetoricians--large language with nothing behind it.[4] In the absence of any possibility of intellectual certainty, Marcus fell back upon conduct. Here his want of originality and of spiritual force was less felt, for conduct has tolerably well-established rules of neighbourliness, purity, good temper, public duty and the like. His Stoic guides, too, might in this region help him to follow with more confidence the voice of his own pure and delicate conscience--the conscience of a saint and a quietist rather than that of a man of action. Yet even in the realm of conduct he is on the whole ineffectual. Pure, truthful, kind, and brave he is, but he does not believe enough to be great. He is called to be a statesman and an administrator; he does not expect much outcome from all his energies, and he preaches to himself the necessity of patience with his prospective failure to achieve anything beyond the infinitesimal. "Ever the same are the cycles of the universe, up and down, for ever and for ever. Either the intelligence of the Whole puts itself in motion for each separate effect--in which case accept the result it gives; or else it did so once for all, and everything is sequence, one thing in another ... [The text is doubtful for a line] ... In a word, either God, and all goes well; or all at random--live not thou at random. "A moment, and earth will cover us all; then it too in its turn will change; and what it changes to, will change again {199} and again for ever; and again change after change to infinity. The waves of change and transformation--if a man think of them and of their speed, he will despise everything mortal. "The universal cause is like a winter torrent; it carries all before it. How cheap then these poor statesmen, these who carry philosophy into practical affairs, as they fancy--poor diminutive creatures. Drivellers. Man, what then? Do what now Nature demands. Start, if it be given thee, and look not round to see if any will know. Hope not for Plato's Republic;[5] but be content if the smallest thing advance; to compass that one issue count no little feat. "Who shall change one of their dogmata [the regular word of Epictetus]? And without a change of dogmata, what is there but the slavery of men groaning and pretending to obey? Go now, and talk of Alexander, and Philip and Demetrius of Phalerum; whether they saw the will of Nature and schooled themselves, is their affair; if they played the tragic actor, no one has condemned me to copy them. Simplicity and modesty are the work of philosophy; do not lead me astray into vanity. "Look down from above on the countless swarms of men, their countless initiations, and their varied voyage in storm and calm, their changing combinations, as they come into being, meet, and pass out of being. Think too of the life lived by others of old, of the life that shall be lived by others after thee, of the life now lived among the barbarian nations; and, of how many have never heard thy name, and how many will at once forget it, and how many may praise thee now perhaps but will very soon blame thee; and how neither memory is of any account, nor glory, nor anything else at all.... "The rottenness of the material substance of every individual thing--water, dust, bones, stench.... And this breathing element is another of the same, changing from this to that.... "Either the gods have no power, or they have power. If they have not, why pray? If they have, why not pray for deliverance from the fear, or the desire, or the pain, which the thing causes, rather than for the withholding or the giving of the particular thing? For certainly, if they can co-operate with men, it is for these purposes they can co-operate. But perhaps {200} thou wilt say, The gods have put all these in my own power. Then is it not better to use what is in thine own power and be free, than to be set on what is not in thy power--a slave and contemptible? And who told thee that the gods do not help us even to what is in our own power?"[6] This handful of short passages all from the same place, with a few omitted, may be taken as representing very fairly the mind of Marcus Aurelius. The world was his to rule, and he felt it a duty to remember how slight a thing it was. This was not the temper of Alexander or of Cæsar,--of men who make mankind, and who, by their belief in men and in the power of their own ideas to lift men to higher planes of life, actually do secure that advance is made,--and that advance not the smallest. Yet he speaks of Alexander as a "tragic actor."[7] For a statesman, the attitude of Marcus is little short of betrayal. He worked, he ruled, he endowed, he fought--he was pure, he was conscientious, he was unselfish--but he did not believe, and he was ineffectual. The Germans it might have been beyond any man's power to repel at that day, but even at home Marcus was ineffectual. His wife and his son were by-words. He had almost a morbid horror of defilement from men and women of coarse minds,--a craving too for peace and sympathy; he shrank into himself, condoned, ignored. Among his benefactors he does not mention Hadrian, who really gave him the Empire--and it is easy to see why. In everything the two are a contrast. Hadrian's personal vices and his greatness as a ruler, as a man handling men and moving among ideas[8]--these were impossible for Marcus. Nor was the personal religion of this pure and candid spirit a possible one for mankind. "A genuine eternal Gospel," wrote Renan of this diary of Marcus, "the book of the _Thoughts_ will never grow old, for it affirms no dogma. The Gospel has grown old in certain parts; Science no longer allows us to admit the naïve conception of the supernatural which is its base.... Yet Science might destroy God and the soul, and the book of the _Thoughts_ would remain young in its life and truth." {201} Renan is right; when Science, or anything else, "destroys God and the soul," there is no Gospel but that of Marcus; and yet for men it is impossible; and it is not young--it is senile. Duty without enthusiasm, hope or belief--belief in man, of course, for "God and the soul" are by hypothesis "destroyed"--duty, that is, without object, reason or result, it is a magnificent fancy, and yet one recurs to the criticism that Marcus passed upon the Christians. Is there not a hint of the school about this? Is it not possible that the simpler instincts of men,--instincts with a history as ludicrous as Anthropologists sometimes sketch for us,--may after all come nearer the truth of things than semi-Stoic reflexion? At all events the instincts have ruled the world so far with the co-operation of Reason, and are as yet little inclined to yield their rights to their colleague. They have never done so without disaster. The world did not accept Marcus as a teacher. Men readily recognized his high character, but for a thousand years and more nobody dreamed of taking him as a guide--nobody, that is, outside the schools. For the world it was faith or unbelief, and the two contemporaries already mentioned represent the two poles to which the thoughts of men gravitated, who were not yet ready for a cleavage with the past. [Sidenote: Lucian] "I am a Syrian from the Euphrates,"[9] wrote Lucian of himself; and elsewhere he has a playful protest against a historian of his day, magnificently ignorant of Eastern geography, who "has taken up my native Samosata, and shifted it, citadel, walls and all, into Mesopotamia," and by this new feat of colonization has apparently turned him into a Parthian or Mesopotamian.[10] Samosata lay actually in Commagene, and there Lucian spent his boyhood talking Syriac, his native language.[11] He was born about 125 A.D. His family were poor, and as soon as he left school, the question of a trade was at once raised, for even a boy's earnings would be welcome. At school he had had a trick of scraping the wax from his tablets and making little figures of animals and men, so his father handed him over to his mother's brother, who was one of a family of statuaries. But a blunder and a breakage resulted in his uncle thrashing him, and he ran home to his mother. It was his first and last day in the sculptor's shop, and he went to {202} bed with tears upon his face. In later life he told the story of a dream which he had that night--a long and somewhat literary dream modelled on Prodicus' fable of the _Choice of Herakles_. He dreamed that two women appeared to him, one dusty and workmanlike, the other neat, charming and noble. They were Sculpture and Culture, and he chose the latter. He tells the dream, he says, that the young may be helped by his example to pursue the best and devote themselves to Culture, regardless of immediate poverty.[12] He was launched somehow on the career of his choice and became a rhetorician. It may be noted however that an instinctive interest in art remained with him, and he is reckoned one of the best art-critics of antiquity. Rhetoric, he says, "made a Greek of him," went with him from city to city in Greece and Ionia, "sailed the Ionian sea with him and attended him even as far as Gaul, scattering plenty in his path."[13] For, as he explains elsewhere, he was among the teachers who could command high fees, and he made a good income in Gaul.[14] But, about the age of forty, he resolved "to let the gentlemen of the jury rest in peace--tyrants enough having been arraigned and princes enough eulogized."[15] From now onward he wrote dialogues--he had at last found his proper work. [Sidenote: Lucian's Dialogues] Dialogue in former days had been the vehicle of speculation--"had trodden those aerial plains on high above the clouds, where the great Zeus in heaven is borne along on winged car." But it was to do so no more, and in an amusing piece Lucian represents Dialogue personified as bringing a suit against him for outrage. Had Lucian debased Dialogue, by reducing him to the common level of humanity and making him associate with such persons as Aristophanes and Menippus, one a light-hearted mocker at things sacred, the other a barking, snarling dog of a Cynic,--thus turning Dialogue into a literary Centaur, neither fit to walk nor able to soar? Or was Dialogue really a musty, fusty, superannuated creature, and greatly improved now for having a bath and being taught to smile and to go genially in the company of Comedy? Between the attack and the defence, the case is fairly stated.[16] Lucian created a new {203} mode in writing--or perhaps he revived it, for it is not very clear how much he owes to his favourite Menippus, the Gadarene Cynic and satirist of four centuries before. Menippus however has perished and Lucian remains and is read; for, whatever else is to be said of him, he is readable. He has not lost all the traces of the years during which he consorted with Rhetoric; at times he amplifies and exaggerates, and will strain for more point and piquancy than a taste more sure would approve. Yet he has the instinct to avoid travesty, and his style is in general natural and simple, despite occasional literary reminiscences. His characters talk,--as men may talk of their affairs, when they are not conscious of being overheard,--with a naïve frankness not always very wise, with a freedom and common sense, and sometimes with a folly, that together reveal the speaker. They rarely declaim, and they certainly never reach any high level of thought or feeling. The talk is slight and easy--it flickers about from one idea to another, and gives a strong impression of being real. If it is gods who are talking, they become surprisingly human--and even _bourgeois_, they are so very much at home among themselves. Lucian's skill is amazing. He will take some episode from Homer and change no single detail, and yet, as we listen to the off-hand talk of the gods as they recount the occurrence, we are startled at the effect--the irony is everywhere and nowhere; the surprises are irresistible. Zeus, for instance, turns out to have more literary interests than we suppose; he will quote Homer and make a Demosthenic oration to the gods, though alas! his memory fails him in the middle of a sentence;[17] he laments that his altars are as cold as Plato's _Laws_ or the syllogisms of Chrysippus. He is the frankest gentleman of heaven, and so infinitely obliging! In short, for sheer cleverness Lucian has no rival but Aristophanes in extant Greek literature. His originality, his wit, his humour (not at all equal, it may be said, to his wit), his gifts of invention and fancy, his light touch, and his genius for lively narrative, mark him out distinctively in an age when literature was all rhetoric, length and reminiscence. But as we read him, we become sensible of defects as extraordinary as his gifts. For all his Attic style, he belongs to his age. He {204} may renounce Rhetoric, but no man can easily escape from his past. The education had intensified the cardinal faults of his character, impatience, superficiality, a great lack of sympathy for the more tender attachments and the more profound interests of men--essential unbelief in human grandeur. An expatriated adventurer, living for twenty years on his eloquence, with the merest smattering of philosophy and no interest whatever in nature and natural science or mathematics, with little feeling and no poetry,--it was hardly to be expected that he should understand the depths of the human soul, lynx-eyed as he is for the surface of things. He had a very frank admiration for his own character, and he drew himself over and over again under various names. Lykinos, for example, is hardly a disguise at all. "Free-Speech, son of True-man, son of Examiner," he calls himself in one of his mock trials, "hater of shams, hater of impostors, hater of liars, hater of the pompous, hater of every such variety of hateful men--and there are plenty of them"; conversely, he loves the opposites, when he meets them, which, he owns, is not very often.[18] [Sidenote: Lucian and philosophy] With such a profession, it is not surprising that a man of more wit than sympathy, found abundance of material in the follies of his age. Men were taking themselves desperately seriously,--preaching interminable Philosophy, saving their souls, and communing with gods and dæmons in the most exasperating ways. Shams, impostures, and liars--so Lucian summed them up, and he did not conceal his opinion. Granted that the age had aspects quite beyond his comprehension, he gives a very vivid picture of it from the outside. This is what men were doing and saying around him--but why? Why, but from vanity and folly? Gods, philosophers, and all who take human life seriously, are deluged with one stream of badinage, always clever but not always in good taste. He has no purpose, religious or philosophic. If he attacks the gods, it is not as a Sceptic--the Sceptics are ridiculed as much as any one else in the _Sale of Lives_--men who know nothing, doubt of their own experience, and avow the end of their knowledge to be ignorance.[19] If he is what we nowadays loosely call sceptical, it is not on philosophic grounds. We should hardly expect him in his satirical pamphlets really to {205} grapple with the question of Philosophy, but he seems not to understand in the least why there should be Philosophy at all. He is master of no single system, though he has the catch-words of them all at his finger-ends. His most serious dialogue on Philosophy is the _Hermotimus_. "Lykinos" meets Hermotimus on his way to a lecture--a man of sixty who for many years has attended the Stoics. Into their argument we need not go, but one or two points may be noted. Hermotimus is a disciple, simple and persevering, who owns that he has not reached the goal of Happiness and hardly expects to reach it, but he presses bravely on, full of faith in his teachers. Under the adroit questions of Lykinos, he is forced to admit that he had chosen the Stoics rather than any other school by sheer intuition--or because of general notions acquired more or less unconsciously--like a man buying wine, he knew a good thing when he tasted it, and looked no further. Yes, says Lykinos, take the first step and the rest is easy--Philosophy depends on a first assumption--take the Briareus of the poets with three heads and six hands, and then work him out,--six eyes, six ears, three voices talking at once, thirty fingers--you cannot quarrel with the details as they come; once grant the beginning, and the rest comes flooding in, irresistible, hardly now susceptible of doubt. So in Philosophy, your passion, like the longing of a lover, blinded you to the first assumptions, and the structure followed.[20] "Do not think that I speak against the Stoics, through any special dislike of the school; my arguments hold against all the schools."[21] The end is that Hermotimus abandons all Philosophy for ever--not a very dramatic or probable end, as Plato and Justin Martyr could have told Lucian. The other point to notice is the picture of Virtue under the image of a Celestial City, and here one cannot help wondering whether the irony has any element of personal reminiscence. Virtue Lykinos pictures as a City, whose citizens are happy, wise and good, little short of gods, as the Stoics say. All there is peace, unity, liberty, equality. The citizens are all aliens and foreigners, not a native among them--barbarians, slaves, misformed, dwarfs, poor; for wealth and birth and beauty are not reckoned there. "In good truth, we {206} should devote all our efforts to this, and let all else go. We should take no heed of our native-land, nor of the clinging and weeping of children or parents, if one has any, but call on them to take the same journey, and then, if they will not or cannot go with us, shake them off, and march straight for the city of all bliss, leaving one's coat in their hands, if they won't let go,--for there is no fear of your being shut out there, even if you come without a coat." Fifteen years ago an old man had urged Lykinos to go there with him. "If the city had been near at hand and plain for all to see, long ago, you may be sure, with never a doubt I would have gone there, and had my franchise long since. But as you tell us, it lieth far away"----and there are so many professed guides and so many roads, that there is no telling whether one is travelling to Babylon or to Corinth.[22] "So for the future you had better reconcile yourself to living like an ordinary man, without fantastic and vain hopes."[23] Lucian never ceases to banter the philosophers. When he visits the Islands of the Blest, he remarks that, while Diogenes and the Epicureans are there, Plato prefers his own Republic and Laws, the Stoics are away climbing their steep hill of Virtue, and the Academics, though wishful to come, are still suspending their judgment, uncertain whether there really is such an island at all and not sure that Rhadamanthus himself is qualified to give judgment.[24] Diogenes in the shades, Pan in his grotto, Zeus in heaven, and the common man in the streets, are unanimous that they have had too much Philosophy altogether. The philosophers have indeed embarked on an impossible quest, for they will never find Truth. Once Lucian represents Truth in person, and his portrait is characteristic. She is pointed out to him--a female figure, dim and indistinct of complexion; "I do not see which one you mean," he says, and the answer is, "Don't you see the unadorned one there, the naked one, ever eluding the sight and slipping away?"[25] [Sidenote: Lucian's _Lover of Lies_] But still more absurd than Philosophy was the growth of belief in the supernatural. Lucian's _Lover of Lies_ is a most illuminating book. Here are gathered specimens of the various {207} types of contemporary superstition--one would suspect the author of the wildest parody, if it were not that point by point we may find parallels in the other writers of the day. Tychiades (who is very like Lucian himself) tells how he has been visiting Eucrates and has dropped into a nest of absurdities. Eucrates is sixty and wears the solemn beard of a student of philosophy. He has a ring made of iron from gibbets and is prepared to believe everything incredible. His house is full of professed philosophers, Aristotelian, Stoic, and Platonic, advising him how to cure the pain in his legs, by wrapping round them a lion's skin with the tooth of a field mouse folded within it.[26] Tychiades asks if they really believe that a charm hung on outside can cure the mischief within, and they laugh at his ignorance. The Platonist tells a number of stories to prove the reasonableness of the treatment,--how a vine-dresser of his father's had died of snake-bite and been recovered by a Chaldæan, and how the same Chaldæan charmed (like the Pied Piper) all the snakes off their farm. The Stoic narrates how he once saw a Hyperborean flying and walking on water--"with those brogues on his feet that his countrymen habitually wear"--a man whose more ordinary feats were raising spirits, calling the dead from their graves, and fetching down the moon. Ion, the Platonist, confirms all this with an account of another miracle-worker--"everybody knows the Syrian of Palestine" who drives dæmons out of men; "he would stand by the patient lying on the ground and ask whence they have come into the body; and, though the sick person does not speak, the dæmon answers in Greek, or in some barbarian tongue, or whatever his own dialect may be, and explains how he entered into the man and whence he came. Then the Syrian would solemnly adjure him, or threaten him if he were obstinate, and so drive him out. I can only say I saw one, of a black smoky hue, in the act of coming out."[27] The Syrian's treatment was expensive, it appears. Celsus, as we shall see later on, has some evidence on this matter. The nationality of the magicians quoted in the book may be remarked--they are Libyan, Syrian, Arab, Chaldæan, Egyptian, and "Hyperborean." Other tales of magical statues, a wife's apparition, an {208} uneasy ghost,[28] a charm for bringing an absent lover, and the familiar one of the man who learns the spell of three syllables to make a pestle fetch water, but unhappily not that which will make it stop, and who finds on cutting it in two that there are now two inanimate water-carriers and a double deluge--these we may pass over. We may note that this water-fetching spell came originally from a sacred scribe of Memphis, learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, who lived underground in the temple for three and twenty years and was taught his magic there by Isis herself.[29] Interviews with dæmons are so common that instances are not given.[30] More significant are the stories of the other world, for here we come again, from a different point of approach, into a region familiar to the reader of Plutarch. Eucrates himself, out in the woods, heard a noise of barking dogs; an earthquake followed and a voice of thunder, and then came a woman more than six hundred feet high, bearing sword and torch, and followed by dogs "taller than Indian elephants, black in colour." Her feet were snakes--here we may observe that Pausanias the traveller pauses to dismiss "the silly story that giants have serpents instead of feet," for a coffin more than eleven ells long was found near Antioch and "the whole body was that of a man."[31] So the snake-feet are not a mere fancy of Lucian's. The woman then tapped the earth with one of these feet of hers, and disappeared into the chasm she made. Eucrates, peeping over the edge, "saw everything in Hades, the river of fire and the lake, Cerberus and the dead"--what is more, he recognized some of the dead. "Did you see Socrates and Plato?" asks Ion. Socrates he thought he saw, "but Plato I did not recognize; I suppose one is bound to stick to the exact truth in talking to one's friends." Pyrrhias the slave confirms the story as an eye-witness.[32] Another follows with a story of his trance in illness, and how he saw the world below, Fates, Furies, and all, and was brought before Pluto, who {209} dismissed him with some irritation, as not amenable yet to his Court, and called for the smith Demylos; he came back to life and announced that Demylos would shortly die, and Demylos did die. "Where is the wonder?" says another--the physician, "I know a man raised from the dead twenty days after his burial, for I attended him both before his death and after his resurrection."[33] In all this, it is clear that there is a strong element of mockery. Mockery was Lucian's object, but he probably kept in all these stories a great deal nearer to what his neighbours would believe than we may imagine. Ælian, for example, has a story of a pious cock, which made a point of walking gratefully in the processions that took place in honour of Æsculapius; and he does not tell it in the spirit of the author of the _Jackdaw of Rheims_. [Sidenote: Lucian and the gods] As one of the main preoccupations of his age was with the gods, Lucian of course could not leave them alone. His usual method is to accept them as being exactly what tradition made them, and then to set them in new and impossible situations. The philosopher Menippus takes "the right wing of an eagle and the left of a vulture," and, after some careful practice, flies up to heaven to interview Zeus. He has been so terribly distracted by the arguments of the schools, that he wants to see for himself--"I dared not disbelieve men of such thundering voices and such imposing beards." Zeus most amiably allows him to stand by and watch him at work, hearing prayers as they come up through tubes, and granting or rejecting them, then settling some auguries, and finally arranging the weather--"rain in Scythia, snow in Greece, a storm in the Adriatic, and about a thousand bushels of hail in Cappadocia."[34] Zeus asks; rather nervously what men are saying about him nowadays--mankind is so fond of novelty. "There was a time," he says, "when I was everything to them-- Each street, each market-place was full of Zeus-- and I could hardly see for the smoke of sacrifice"; but other gods, Asklepios, Bendis, Anubis and others, have set up shrines and the altars of Zeus are cold--cold as Chrysippus.[35] Altogether the dialogue is a masterpiece of humour and irony. In another piece, we find Zeus and the other gods in {210} assembly listening to an argument going on at Athens. An Epicurean, Damis, and a singularly feeble Stoic are debating whether gods exist, and whether they exercise any providence for men. Poseidon recommends the prompt use of a thunderbolt "to let them see," but Zeus reminds him that it is Destiny that really controls the thunderbolts--and, besides, "it would look as if we were frightened." So the argument goes on, and all the familiar proofs from divine judgments, regularity of sun and season, from Homer and the poets, from the consensus of mankind and oracles, are produced and refuted there and then, while the gods listen, till it becomes doubtful whether they do exist. The Stoic breaks down and runs away. "What are we to do?" asks Zeus. Hermes quotes a comic poet in Hamlet's vein--"there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"--and what does it matter, if a few men are persuaded by Damis? we still have the majority--"most of the Greeks and all the barbarians."[36] In _Zeus Cross-examined_ the process is carried further. Cyniscus questions Zeus, who is only too good-natured and falls into all the questioner's traps. He admits Destiny to be supreme, and gets entangled in a terrible net of problems about fore-knowledge, the value of sacrifice and of divination, divine wrath, sin and so forth, till he cries "You leave us nothing!--you seem to me to despise me, for sitting here and listening to you with a thunderbolt on my arm." "Hit me with it," says Cyniscus, "if it is so destined,--I shall have no quarrel with you for it, but with Clotho." At last Zeus rises and goes away and will answer no more. But perhaps, reflects Cyniscus, he has said enough, and it was "not destined for me to hear any more."[37] The reader feels that Zeus has said more than enough. From the old gods of Greece, we naturally turn to the newcomers. When Zeus summoned the gods to discuss the question of atheism at Athens, a good many more came than understood Greek, and it was they who had the best seats as they were made of solid gold--Bendis, Anubis, Attis and Mithras for example. Elsewhere Momus (who is a divine Lucian) complains to Zeus about them--"that Mithras with his Persian robe and tiara, who can't talk Greek, nor even understand when one drinks {211} to him"--what is he doing in heaven? And then the dog-faced Egyptian in linen--who is he to bark at the gods? "Of course,", says Zeus, "Egyptian religion--yes! but all the same there are hidden meanings, and the uninitiated must not laugh at them." Still Zeus is provoked into issuing a decree--on second thoughts, he would not put it to the vote of the divine assembly, for he felt sure he would be outvoted. The decree enacts that, whereas heaven is crowded with polyglot aliens, till there is a great rise in the price of nectar, and the old and true gods are being crowded out of their supremacy, a committee of seven gods shall be appointed to sit on claims; further, that each god shall attend to his own function, Athene shall not heal nor Asklepios give oracles, etc.; that philosophers shall talk no more nonsense; and that the statues of deified men shall be replaced by those of Zeus, Hera, etc., the said men to be buried in the usual way.[38] [Sidenote: Lucian's _Alexander_] More than one reference has been made to new gods and new oracles. Lucian in his _Alexander_ gives a merciless account of how such shrines were started. He came into personal contact--indeed into conflict--with Alexander, the founder of the oracle of Abonoteichos, and his story is full of detail. The man was a quack of the vulgarest type, and, yet by means of a tame snake and some other simple contrivances, he imposed himself upon the faith of a community. His renown spread far and wide. By recognizing other oracles he secured their support. Men came to him even from Rome. Through one of these devotees, he actually sent an oracle to Marcus Aurelius among the Marcomanni and Quadi, bidding him throw two lions with spices into the Danube, and there should be a great victory. This was done, Lucian says; the lions swam ashore on the farther side, and the victory fell to the Germans.[39] Lucian himself trapped the prophet with some cunningly devised inquiries, which quite baffled god, prophet, snake and all. He also tried to detach an eminent adherent. Alexander realized what was going on, and Lucian got a guard of two soldiers from the governor of Cappadocia. Under their protection he went to see the prophet who had sent for him. The prophet, as he usually did with his followers, offered him {212} his hand to kiss, and Lucian records with satisfaction that he bit the proffered hand and nearly lamed it. Thanks to his guard, he came away uninjured. Alexander, however, after this tried still more to compass his death, which is not surprising.[40] There is other evidence than Lucian's, though it is not unnaturally slight, for the existence of this remarkable impostor. [Sidenote: Lucian and Peregrinus] Lucian has one or two incidental references to Christians.[41] Alexander warned them, in company with the Epicureans, to keep away from his shrine. But we hear more of them in connexion with Proteus Peregrinus. Lucian is not greatly interested in them; he ridicules them as fools for being taken in by the impostor; for Peregrinus, he tells us, duped them with the greatest success. He became a prophet among them, a thiasarch, a ruler of the synagogue, everything in fact; he interpreted their books for them, and indeed wrote them a lot more; and they counted him a god and a lawgiver. "You know," Lucian explains, "they still worship that great man of theirs, who was put on a gibbet in Palestine, because he added this new mystery (_teletèn_) to human life." In his mocking way he gives some interesting evidence on the attention and care bestowed by Christians on those of their members who were thrown into prison. He details what was done by the foolish community for "their new Socrates" when Peregrinus was a prisoner. When he was released, Peregrinus started wandering again, living on Christian charity, till "he got into trouble with them, too,--he was caught eating forbidden meats."[42] Lucian differs from Voltaire in having less purpose and no definite principles. He had no design to overthrow religion in favour of something else; it is merely that the absurdity of it provoked him, and he enjoyed saying aloud, and with all the vigour of reckless wit, that religious belief was silly. If the effect was scepticism, it was a scepticism founded, not on {213} philosophy, but on the off-hand judgment of what is called common-sense. Hidden meanings and mysteries were to him nonsense. How little he was qualified to understand mysticism and religious enthusiasm, can be seen in his account of the self-immolation of Peregrinus on his pyre at the Olympian games[43]--perhaps the most insufficient thing he ever wrote, full of value as it is. Peregrinus was a wanderer among the religions of the age. Gellius--who often heard him at Athens, calls him a man _gravis atque constans_, and says he spoke much that was useful and honest. He quotes in his way a paragraph of a discourse on sin, which does not lack moral elevation.[44] To Lucian the man was a quack, an advertiser, a mountebank, who burnt himself to death merely to attract notice. Lucian says he witnessed the affair, and tells gaily how, among other jests, he imposed a pretty miracle of his own invention upon the credulous. He had taken no pains to understand the man--nor did he to understand either the religious temper in general, or the philosophic, or anything else. His habit of handling things easily and lightly did not help him to see what could not be taken in at a glance. What then does Lucian make of human life? On this he says a great deal. His most characteristic invention perhaps is the visit that Charon pays to the upper world to see what it really is that the dead regret so much. It is indeed, as M. Croiset points out, a fine stroke of irony to take the opinion of a minister of Death upon Life. Charon has left his ferry boat and comes up to light. Hermes meets him and they pile up some mountains--Pelion on Ossa, and Parnassus on top, from the two summits of which they survey mankind--a charm from Homer removing Charon's difficulty of vision. He sees many famous people, such as Milo, Polycrates and Cyrus; and he overhears Croesus and Solon discussing happiness, while Hermes foretells their fates. He sees a varied scene, life full of confusion, cities like swarms of bees, where each has a sting and stings his neighbour, and some, like wasps, harass and plunder the rest; over them, like a cloud, hang hopes and fears {214} and follies, pleasures and passions and hatreds. He sees the Fates spinning slender threads, soon cut, from which men hang with never a thought of how quickly death ends their dreams; and he compares them to bubbles, big and little inevitably broken. He would like to shout to them "to live with Death ever before their eyes"--why be so earnest about what they can never take away?--but Hermes tells him it would be useless. He is amazed at the absurdity of their burial rites, and he astonishes Hermes by quoting Homer on the subject. Last of all he witnesses a battle and cries out at the folly of it. "Such," he concludes, "is the life of miserable men--and not a word about Charon."[45] In the same way and in the same spirit Menippus visits the Lower World, where he sees Minos judging the dead. Minos too seems to have been interested in literature, for he reduced the sentence upon Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, on the very proper ground of his generosity to authors. But the general picture has less humour. "We entered the Acherusian plain, and there we found the demi-gods, and the heroines, and the general throng of the dead in nations and tribes, some ancient and mouldering, 'strengthless heads' as Homer says, others fresh and holding together--Egyptians these in the main, so thoroughly good is their embalming. But to know one from another was no easy task; all become so much alike when the bones are bared; yet with pains and long scrutiny we began to recognize them. They lay pell-mell in undistinguishable heaps, with none of their earthly beauties left. With so many skeletons piled together, all as like as could be, eyes glaring ghastly and vacant, teeth gleaming bare, I knew not to tell Thersites from Nireus the fair.... For none of their ancient marks remained, and their bones were alike, uncertain, unlabelled, undistinguishable. When I saw all this, the life of man came before me under the likeness of a great pageant, arranged and marshalled by Chance," who assigns the parts and reassigns them as she pleases; and then the pageant ends, every one disrobes and all are alike. "Such is human life, as it seemed to me while I gazed."[46] Over and over again with every accent of irony the one moral is enforced--sometimes with sheer brutality as in the tract on _Mourning_. {215} Menippus asked Teiresias in the shades what was the best life. "He was a blind little old man, and pale, and had a weak voice." He said: "The life of ordinary people is best, and, wiser; cease from the folly of metaphysics, of inquiry into origins and purposes; spit upon those clever syllogisms and count all these things idle talk; and pursue one end alone, how you may well arrange the present and go on your way with a laugh for most things and no enthusiasms."[47] In fact, "the unexamined life" is the only one, as many a weary thinker has felt--if it were but possible. [Sidenote: Criticism of Lucian] Goethe's criticism on Heine may perhaps be applied to Lucian--"We cannot deny that he has many brilliant qualities, but he is wanting in love ... and thus he will never produce the effect which he ought."[48] Various views have been held of Lucian's contribution to the religious movement of the age; it has even been suggested that his Dialogues advanced the cause of Christianity. But when one reflects upon the tender hearts to be found in the literature of the century, it is difficult to think that Lucian can have had any effect on the mass of serious people, unless to quicken in them by repulsion the desire for something less terrible than a godless world of mockery and death, and the impulse to seek it in the ancestral faith of their fathers. He did not love men enough to understand their inmost mind. The instincts that drove men back upon the old religion were among the deepest in human nature, and of their strength Lucian had no idea. His admirers to-day speak of him as one whose question was always "Is it true?" We have seen that it was a question lightly asked and quickly answered. It is evident enough that his mockery of religion has some warrant in the follies and superstitions of his day. But such criticism as his, based upon knowledge incomplete and sympathy imperfect, is of little value. If a man's judgment upon religion is not to be external, he must have felt the need of a religion,--he must have had at some time the consciousness of imperative cravings and instincts which only a religion can satisfy. Such cravings are open to criticism, but men can neither be laughed out of them, nor indeed reasoned out of them; and however absurd a religion may seem, and however defective it may be, if it is {216} still the only available satisfaction of the deepest needs of which men are conscious, it will hold its own, despite mockery and despite philosophy--as we shall see in the course of the chapter, though two more critics of religion remain to be noticed. [Sidenote: Sextus Empiricus] Lucian was not the only man who sought to bring the age back to sound and untroubled thinking. There was a physician, Sextus--known from the school of medicine to which he belonged as Sextus Empiricus--who wrote a number of books about the end of the second century or the beginning of the third in defence of Scepticism. A medical work of his, and a treatise on the Soul are lost, but his _Pyrrhonean Sketches_ and his books _Against the Dogmatists_ remain--written in a Greek which suggests that he was himself a Greek and not a foreigner using the language. Physicists, mathematicians, grammarians, moralists, astrologers, come under his survey, and the particular attention which he gives to the Stoics is a material fact in fixing his date, for after about 200 A.D. they cease to be of importance. His own point of view a short extract from his sketches will exhibit fully enough for our present purpose. "The aim of the Sceptic is ataraxia [freedom from mental perturbation or excitement] in matters which depend on opinion, and in things which are inevitable restraint of the feelings (_metriopátheian_). For he began to philosophise in order to judge his impressions (_phantasías_) and to discover which of them are true and which false, so as to be free from perturbation. But he came to a point where the arguments were at once diametrically opposite and of equal weight; and then, as he could not decide, he suspended judgment (_epéschen_), and as soon as he had done so, there followed as if by accident this very freedom from perturbation in the region of opinion. For if a man opines anything to be good or bad in its essential nature, he is always in perturbation. When he has not the things that appear to him to be good, he considers himself tortured by the things evil by nature, and he pursues the good (as he supposes them to be); but, as soon as he has them, he falls into even more perturbations, through being uplifted out of all reason and measure, and from fear of change he does everything not to lose the things that seem to him to be good. But the man, who makes no definitions as to what is good or bad by {217} nature, neither avoids nor pursues anything with eagerness, and is therefore unperturbed. What is related of Apelles the painter has in fact befallen the Sceptic. The story goes that he was painting a horse and wished to represent the foam of its mouth in his picture; but he was so unsuccessful that he gave it up, and took the sponge, on which he used to wipe the colours from his brush, and threw it at the picture. The sponge hit the picture and produced a likeness of the horse's foam. The Sceptics then hoped to gain ataraxia by forming some decision on the lack of correspondence between things as they appear to the eye and to the mind; they were unable to do it, and so suspended judgment (_epéschen_); and then as if by accident the ataraxia followed---just as a shadow follows a body. We do not say that the Sceptic is untroubled in every way, but we own he is troubled by things that are quite inevitable. For we admit that the Sceptic is cold sometimes, and thirsty, and so forth. But even in these matters the uneducated are caught in two ways at once, viz.: by the actual feelings and (not less) by supposing these conditions to be bad by nature. The Sceptic does away with the opinion that any one of these things is evil in its nature, and so he gets off more lightly even in these circumstances."[49] A view of this kind was hardly likely to appeal to the temper of the age, and the influence of Scepticism was practically none. Still it is interesting to find so vigorous and clear an exponent of the system flourishing in a period given over to the beliefs that Lucian parodied and Apuleius accepted. Sextus, it may be added, is the sole representative of ancient Scepticism whose works have come down to us in any complete form. One very obscure person of this period remains to be noticed, who in his small sphere gave his views to mankind in a way of his own. In 1884 two French scholars, MM. Holleaux and Paris were exploring the ruins of Oinoanda, a Greek city in Lycia, and they came upon a number of inscribed stones, most of them built in a wall. What was unusual was that these were neither fragments of municipal decrees nor of private monuments, but all formed part of one great inscription which dealt apparently with some philosophic subject. In June 1895 two Austrian {218} scholars, MM. Heberdey and Kalinka, re-collated the inscription and found some further fragments, and now the story is tolerably clear, and a curious one it is.[50] It appears that the fragments originally belonged to an inscription carved on the side of a colonnade, and they fall into three series according to their place on the wall--one above another. The middle series consists of columns of fourteen lines, the letters 1-½ to 2 centimetres high, fifteen or sixteen in a line,--each column forming a page, as it were; and it extends over some twenty-one or two yards. The lowest series is in the same style. On top is a series of columns added later (as the inscription shows) and cut in letters of 2-½-3 centimetres, generally ten lines to the column--the larger size to compensate for the greater height above the ground, for it was all meant to be read. The inscription begins:-- "Diogenes to kinsmen, household and friends, this is my charge. Being so ill that it is critical whether I yet live or live no longer--for an affection of the heart is carrying me off--if I survive, I will gladly accept the life yet given to me; if I do not survive, _DO_..." [Sidenote: Diogenes of Oinoanda] There ends a column, and a line or two has been lost at the top of what seems to be the next, after which come the words "a kindly feeling for strangers also who may be staying here," and the incomplete statement which begins "knowing assuredly, that by knowledge of the matters relating to Nature and feelings, which I have set forth in the spaces below...." It is evident that Diogenes had something to say which he considered it a duty to make known. This proves to have been the Epicurean theory of life; and here he had carved up for all to read a simple exposition of the philosophy of his choice. The uppermost row contains his account of his purpose and something upon old age--very fragmentary. There follow a letter of Epicurus to his mother, and another letter from some one unidentified to one Menneas, and then a series of apophthegms and sentences. Thus fragment 27 is a column of ten lines to this effect: "Nothing is so contributive to good spirits, as not to do many things, nor take in hand tiresome matters, nor force oneself in any way beyond one's own strength, for all these things perturb nature." Another column proclaims: "Acute {219} pains cannot be long; for either they quickly destroy life and are themselves destroyed with it, or they receive some abatement of their acuteness." These platitudes are, as we may guess, an afterthought. The middle row, the first to be inscribed, deals with the Epicurean theory of atoms--not by apophthegm or aphorism, but with something of the fulness and technicality of a treatise. "Herakleitos of Ephesus, then, said fire was the element; Thales of Miletus water; Diogenes of Apollonia and Anaximenes air; Empedocles of Agrigentum both fire and air and water and earth; Anaxagoras of Clazomenæ the homoeomeries of each thing in particular; those of the Stoa matter and God. But Democritus of Abdera said atomic natures--and he did well; but since he made some mistakes about them, these will be set right in our opinions. So now we will accuse the persons mentioned, not from any feeling of illwill against them, but wishing the truth to be saved (_sôthênai_)." So he takes them in turn and argues at leisure. The large fragment 45 discusses astronomy in its four columns--in particular, the sun and its apparent distance and its nature. Fr. 48 (four columns) goes on to treat of civilization,--of the development of dress from leaves to skins and woven garments, without the intervention "of any other god or of Athena either." Need and time did all. Hermes did not invent language. In fr. 50, we read that Protagoras "said he did not know if there are gods. That is the same thing as saying he knew there are not." Fr. 51 deals with death--"thou hast even persuaded me to laugh at it. For I am not a whit afraid because of the Tityos-es and Tantalus-es, whom some people paint in Hades, nor do I dread decay, reflecting that the [something] of the body ... [three broken lines] ... nor anything else." At the end of the row another letter begins (fr. 56) "[Diogen]es to Anti[pater] greeting." He writes from Rhodes, he says, just before winter begins, to friends in Athens and elsewhere, whom he would like to see. Though away from his country, he knows he can do more for it in this way than by taking part in political life. He wishes to show that "that which is convenient to Nature, viz. Ataraxia is the same for all." He is now "at the sunset of life," and all but departing; so, since most men, as in a pestilence, are diseased with false opinion, which is very infectious, he wishes {220} "to help those that shall be after us; for they too are ours, even if they are not yet born"; and strangers too. "I wished to make use of this colonnade and to set forth in public the medicine of salvation" (_tà tês sôtêrías protheînai pharmaka_, fr. 58). The idle fears that oppressed him, he has shaken off; as to pains--empty ones he has abolished utterly, and the rest are reduced to the smallest compass. He bewails the life of men, wasted as it is, and weeps for it; and he has "counted it a good man's part" to help men as far as he can. That is why he has thought of this inscription which may enable men to obtain "joy with good spirits" (_tê_[_s met' euthu_]_mías charâ_[_s_]), rather than of a theatre or a bath or anything else of the kind, such as rich men would often build for their fellow-citizens (fr. 59). The discussion which follows in the third series of columns need not here detain us. Diogenes appeals for its consideration--that it may not merely be glanced at in passing (fr. 61, col. 3); but it will suffice us at present to note his statement that his object is "that life may become pleasant to us" (fr. 63, col. 1), and his protest--"I will swear, both now and always, crying aloud to all, Greeks and barbarians, that pleasure is the objective of the best mode of life, while the virtues, which these people now unseasonably meddle with (for they shift them from the region of the contributive to that of the objective) are by no means an objective, but contributive to the objective" (fr. 67, col. 2, 3). Lastly we may notice his reference to the improvement made in the theory of Democritus by the discovery of Epicurus of the swerve inherent in the atoms (fr. 81). Altogether the inscription is as singular a monument of antiquity as we are likely to find. What the fellow-citizens of Diogenes thought of it, we do not know. Perhaps they might have preferred the bath or other commonplace gift of the ordinary rich man. It is a pity that Lucian did not see the colonnade. Side by side with Lucian, Sextus and Diogenes it is interesting to consider their contemporaries who were not of their opinion. Perhaps, while the stone-masons were day by day carving up the long inscription at Oinoanda, others of their trade were {221} busy across the Ægæan with one of another character. At any rate, the inscription which M. Julius Apellas set up in the temple of Asklepios in Epidauros, belongs to this period. Like Diogenes, he is not afraid of detail. [Sidenote: Marcus Julius Apellas] "In the priesthood of Poplius Ælius Antiochus. "I, Marcus Julius Apellas of Idrias and Mylasa, was sent for by the God, for I was a chronic invalid and suffered from dyspepsia. In the course of my journey the God told me in Ægina not to be so irritable. When I reached the Temple, he directed me to keep my head covered for two days; and for these two days it rained. I was to eat bread and cheese, parsley with lettuce, to wash myself without help, to practise running, to drink citron-lemonade, to rub my body on the sides of the bath in the bath-room, to take walks in the upper portico, to use the trapeze, to rub myself over with sand, to go with bare feet in the bath-room, to pour wine into the hot water before I got in, to wash myself without help, and to give an Attic drachma to the bath-attendant, to offer in public sacrifices to Asklepios, Epione and the Eleusinian goddesses, and to take milk with honey. When for one day I had drunk milk alone, the god said to put honey in the milk to make it digestible. "When I called upon the god to cure me more quickly, I thought it was as if I had anointed my whole body with mustard and salt, and had come out of the sacred hall and gone in the direction of the bath-house, while a small child was going before holding a smoking censer. The priest said to me: 'Now you are cured, but you must pay up the fees for your treatment.' I acted according to the vision, and when I rubbed myself with salt and moistened mustard, I felt the pain still, but when I had bathed, I suffered no longer. These events took place in the first nine days after I had come to the Temple. The god also touched my right hand and my breast. "The following day as I was offering sacrifice, a flame leapt up and caught my hand, so as to cause blisters. Yet after a little my hand was healed. "As I prolonged my stay in the Temple, the god told me to use dill along with olive-oil for my head-aches. Formerly I had not suffered from head-aches, but my studies had brought {222} on congestion. After I used the olive-oil, I was cured of head-aches. For swollen glands the god told me to use a cold gargle, when I consulted him about it, and he ordered the same treatment for inflamed tonsils. "He bade me inscribe this treatment, and I left the Temple in good health and full of gratitude to the god."[51] [Sidenote: Pausanias] Pausanias speaks of "the buildings erected in our time by Antoninus a man of the Conscript Senate"--a Roman Senator in fact,[52]--in honour of Asklepios at Epidauros, a bath, three temples, a colonnade, and "a house where a man may die, and a woman lie in, without sin," for these actions were not "holy" within the sanctuary precincts, and had had to be done in the open air hitherto. A more conspicuous patient of Asklepios is Ælius Aristides, the rhetorician. This brilliant and hypochondriacal person spent years in watching his symptoms and consulting the god about them. Early in his illness the god instructed him to record its details, and he obeyed with zest, though in after years he was not always able to record the minuter points with complete clearness. He was bidden to make speeches, to rub himself over with mud, to plunge into icy water, to ride, and, once, to be bled to the amount of 120 litres. As the human body does not contain anything like that amount of blood, and as the temple servants knew of no one ever having been "cut" to that extent--"at least except Ischyron, and his was one of the most remarkable cases," the god was not taken literally.[53] The regular plan was to sleep in the Temple, as already mentioned, and the god came. "The impression was that one could touch him, and perceive that he came in person; as if one were between asleep and awake, and wished to look out and were in an agony lest he should depart too soon,--as if one held one's ear and listened--sometimes as in a dream, and then as in a waking vision--one's hair was on end, and tears of joy were shed, and one felt light-hearted. And who among {223} men could set this forth in words? Yet if there is one of the initiated, he knows and recognises [what I say]."[54] None of the cases yet quoted can compare with the miracles of ancient days to be read in the inscriptions about the place--stories of women with child for three and five years, of the extraordinary surgery of the god, cutting off the head of a dropsical patient, holding him upside down to let the water run out and putting the head on again,--a mass of absurdities hardly to be matched outside _The Glories of Mary_. They make Lucian's _Philopseudes_ seem tame. There were other gods, beside Asklepios, who gave oracles in shrine and dream. Pausanias the traveller has left a book on Greece and its antiquities, temples, gods and legends of extraordinary value. "A man made of common stuff and cast in a common mould," as Dr Frazer characterizes him,--and therefore the more representative--he went through Greece with curious eyes and he saw much that no one else has recorded. At Sparta stood the only temple he knew of which had an upper story. In this upper story was an image of Aphrodite Morpho fettered[55]--a silly thing he thought it to fetter a cedar-wood doll. He particularly visited Phigalea, because of the "Black Demeter"--a curious enough image she had been, though by then destroyed.[56] He was initiated in the Eleusinian mysteries.[57] He tells us that the stony remnants of the lump of clay from which Prometheus fashioned the first man were still preserved,[58] and that the sceptre which Hephaistos made for Agamemnon received a daily sacrifice in Chæronea, Plutarch's city--"a table is set beside it covered with all sorts of flesh and cakes."[59] He has many such stories. He tells us too about a great many oracles of his day, of which that of Amphilochus at Mallus in Cilicia" is the most infallible"[60]--a curiously "suggestive superlative (_apseudéstation_). He is greatly {224} interested in Asklepios, but for our present purpose a few sentences from his elaborate account of the ceremony with which Trophonius is consulted at Lebadea must suffice. After due rites the inquirer comes to the oracle, in a linen tunic with ribbons, and boots of the country. Inside bronze railings is a pit of masonry, some four ells across and eight deep, and he goes down into it by means of a light ladder brought for the occasion. At the bottom he finds a hole, a very narrow one. "So he lays himself on his back on the ground, and holding in his hand barley cakes kneaded with honey, he thrusts his feet first into the hole, and follows himself endeavouring to get his knees through the hole. When they are through, the rest of his body is immediately dragged after them and shoots in, just as a man might be caught and dragged down by the swirl of a mighty and rapid river. Once they are inside the shrine the future is not revealed to all in one and the same way, but to one it is given to see and to another to hear. They return through the same aperture feet foremost.... When a man has come up from Trophonius, the priests take him in hand again, and set him on what is called the chair of Memory, which stands not far from the shrine; and, being seated there, he is questioned by them as to all he saw and heard. On being informed, they hand him over to his friends who carry him, still overpowered with fear, and quite unconscious of himself and his surroundings, to the building where he lodged before, the house of Good Fortune and the Good Dæmon. Afterwards, however, he will have all his wits as before, and the power of laughter will come back to him. I write not from mere hearsay: I have myself consulted Trophonius and have seen others who have done so. All who have gone down to Trophonius are obliged to set up a tablet containing a record of all they heard and saw."[61] A man who has been through such an experience may be excused for believing much. While Pausanias kept his Greek habit of criticism and employs it on occasional myths and traditions, and particularly on stories of hell--though the fact of punishment after death he seems to accept--yet his travels and his inquiries made an impression on him. "When I began this work, I used to look on these Greek stories as little better {225} than foolishness; but now that I have got as far as Arcadia, my opinion about them is this: I believe that the Greeks who were accounted wise spoke of old in riddles, and not straight out; and, accordingly, I conjecture that this story about Cronos [swallowing a foal instead of his child] is a bit of Greek philosophy. In matters of religion I will follow tradition."[62] [Sidenote: Artemidorus of Daldia] Pausanias mentions several oracles and temples of Apollo in Greece and Asia Minor--one obscure local manifestation of the god he naturally enough omitted, but a fellow-citizen of the god preserves it. "It was in obedience to him, the god of my land, that I undertook this treatise. He often urged me to it, and in particular appeared visibly to me (_enargôs epiotánti_),[63] since I knew thee, and all but ordered me to write all this. No wonder that the Daldian Apollo, whom we call by the ancestral name of Mystes, urged me to this, in care for thy worth and wisdom, for there is an old friendship between Lydians and Phoenicians, as they tell us who set forth the legends of the land."[64] So writes Artemidorus to his friend Cassius Maximus of his treatise on the scientific interpretation of dreams--a work of which he is very proud. "Wonder not," he says, "at the title, that the name stands Artemidorus Daldianus, and not 'of Ephesus,' as on many of the books I have already written on other subjects. For Ephesus, it happens, is famous on her own account, and she has many men of note to proclaim her. But Daldia is a town of Lydia of no great renown, and, as she has had no such men, she has remained unknown till my day. So I dedicate this to her, my native-place on the mother's side, as a parent's due _threptéria_."[65] Marcus Aurelius records his gratitude "that remedies have been shown to me by dreams, both others, and against blood-spitting and giddiness."[66] Plutarch, Pausanias, Aristides--dreams {226} come into the scheme of things divine with all the devout of our period. Artemidorus is their humble brother--not the first to give a whole book to dreams, but proud to be a pioneer in the really scientific treatment of them--"the accuracy of the judgments, that is the thing for which, even by itself, I think highly of myself."[67] The critic may take it "that I too am quite capable of neologisms and persuasive rhetoric (_ehuresilogein kaì pithaneùthai_), but I have not undertaken all this for theatrical effect or to please the speech-mongers; I appeal throughout to experience, as canon and witness of my words," and he begs his readers neither to add to his books nor take anything away.[68] His writing is, as he says, quite free from "the stage and tragedy style." Artemidorus takes himself very seriously. "For one thing, there is no book on the interpretation of dreams that I have not acquired, for I had great enthusiasm for this; and, in the next place, though the prophets (_mánteôn_) in the market-place are much slandered, and called beggars and quacks and humbugs by the gentlemen of solemn countenance and lifted eye-brows, I despised the slander and for many years I have associated with them--both in Greece, in cities and at festivals, and in Asia, and in Italy, and in the largest and most populous of the islands, consenting to hear ancient dreams and their results."[69] This patient research has resulted in principles of classification.[70] There are dreams that merely repeat what a man is doing (_enúphnia_); and others (_óneipoi_) which are prophetic. These last fall into two classes--theorematic dreams, as when a man dreams of a voyage, and wakes to go upon a voyage, and allegoric dreams. The latter adjective has a great history in regions more august, but the allegoric method is the same everywhere, as an illustration will show. A man dreamed he saw Charon playing at counters with another man, whom he called away on business; Charon grew angry and chased him, till he ran for refuge into an inn called {227} "The Camel," and bolted the door, whereupon "the dæmon" went away, but one of the man's thighs sprouted with grass. Shortly after this dream he had his thigh broken--the one and sole event foretold. For Charon and the counters meant death, but Charon did not catch him, so it was shown that he would not die; but his foot was threatened, since he was pursued. The name of the inn hinted at the thigh, because of the anatomy of a camel's thigh; and the grass meant disuse of the limb, for grass only grows where the earth is left at rest.[71] The passage is worth remembering whenever we meet the word allegory and its derivatives in contemporary literature. Artemidorus has five books of this stuff--the last two dedicated to his son, and containing instances "that will make you a better interpreter of dreams than all, or at least inferior to none; but, if published, they will show you know no more than the rest."[72] The sentence suggests science declining into profession. [Sidenote: Apuleius] Far more brilliant, more amusing and more attractive than any of these men, whom we have considered since we left Lucian, is Apuleius of Madaura. Rhetorician, philosopher and man of science, a story-teller wavering between Boccaccio and Hans Andersen, he is above all a stylist, a pietist and a humorist. For his history we depend upon himself, and this involves us in difficulties; for, while autobiography runs through two of his works, one of these is an elaboration of a defence he made on a charge of magic and the other is a novel of no discoverable class but its own, and through both runs a vein of nonsense, which makes one chary of being too literal. The novel is the _Golden Ass_--that at least is what St Augustine tells us the author called it.[73] Passages from this have been seriously used as sources of information as to the author. But there is another _Ass_, long attributed to Lucian though probably not Lucian's, and in each case the hero tells the tale in the first person, and the co-incidences between the Greek and the Latin make it obvious that there is some {228} literary connexion between them, whatever it is. The scene is Greece and Thessaly, but not the Greece and Thessaly of geography, any more than the maritime Bohemia of Shakespeare. Yet in the last book Apuleius seems to have forgotten "Lucius of Patræ" and to be giving us experiences of his own which have nothing to do with the hero of the _Ass_, Greek or Latin. [Sidenote: The _Apology_ of Apuleius] In the _Apology_ he comes closer to his own career and he tells us about himself. Here he does not venture on the delightful assertion that he is the descendant of the great Plutarch, as the hero of the _Ass_ does, but avows that, as his native place is on the frontiers of Numidia and Gætulia, he calls himself "half Numidian and half Gætulian"--just as Cyrus the Greater was "half Mede and half Persian." His city is "a most splendid colony," and his father held in turn all its magistracies, and he hopes not to be unworthy of him.[74] He and his brother inherited two million sesterces, though he has lessened his share "by distant travel and long studies and constant liberalities."[75] Elsewhere he tells us definitely that he was educated at Athens.[76] Everybody goes to the _litterator_ for his rudiments, to the grammarian next and then to the rhetorician--"but I drank from other vessels at Athens," so "Empedocles frames songs, Plato dialogues, Socrates hymns, Epicharmus measures, Xenophon histories, Xenocrates satires; your Apuleius does all these and cultivates the nine Muses with equal zeal--with more will, that is, than skill."[77] Like many brilliant men of his day he took to the strolling life of the rhetorician, going from city to city and giving displays of his powers of language, extemporizing wonderful combinations of words. Either he himself or some other admirer made a collection of elegant extracts from these exhibition-speeches, still extant under the title of _Florida_. His fame to-day rests on other works. In the course of his travels he came to Oea in his native-land, and there married the widowed mother of a fellow-student of his Athenian days. Her late husband's family resented the marriage; and affecting to believe that her affections had been gained by {229} some sort of witchcraft, they prosecuted Apuleius on a charge of magic. The charge was in itself rather a serious one, though Apuleius made light of it. His defence is an interesting document for the glimpses it gives into North African society, with its Greek, Latin, and Punic elements. The younger stepson has fallen into bad hands; "he never speaks except in Punic,--a little Greek, perhaps, surviving from what he learnt of his mother; Latin he neither will nor can speak."[78] On family life, on marriage customs, on the registration of births (c. 89);--on the personal habits of the defendant, his toothpowder (and a verse he made in its praise) and his looking-glass, we gain curious information. Above all the speech sheds great light on the inter-relations of magic and religion in contemporary thought. A few points may be noticed. What, asks the prosecution, is the meaning of this curious interest Apuleius has in fish? It is zoological, says Apuleius; I have written books on fish, both in Greek and Latin,--and dissected them. That curious story, too, of the boy falling down in his presence? As to that, Apuleius knows all about divination by means of boys put under magical influence; he has read of it, of course, but he does not know whether to believe or not; "I do think with Plato," he owns to the court (or to his readers), "that between gods and men, in nature and in place intermediary, there are certain divine powers, and these preside over all divinations and the miracles of magicians. Nay, more, I have the fancy that the human soul, particularly the simple soul of a boy, might, whether by evocation of charm or by mollification of odour, be laid to sleep, and so brought out of itself into oblivion of things present, and for a brief space, all memory of the body put away, it might be restored and returned to its own nature, which is indeed immortal and divine, and thus, in a certain type of slumber, foretell the future."[79] As for the boy in question, however, he is so ricketty that it would take a magician to keep him standing. Then those mysterious "somethings" which Apuleius keeps {230} wrapped up in a napkin? "I have been initiated in many of the mysteries of Greece. Certain symbols and memorials of these, given to me by the priests, I sedulously preserve. I say nothing unusual, nothing unknown. To take one instance, those among you who are _mystæ_ of Father Liber [Bacchus] know what it is you keep laid away at home, and worship in secret, far from all profane eyes. Now, I, as I said, from enthusiasm for truth and duty toward the gods, I have learnt many sacred mysteries, very many holy rites, and divers ceremonies"--the audience will remember he said as much three years ago in his now very famous speech about Æsculapius--"then could it seem strange to anyone, who has any thought of religion, that a man, admitted to so many divine mysteries, should keep certain emblems of those holy things at home, and wrap them in linen, the purest covering for things divine?" Some men--the prosecutor among them--count it mirth to mock things divine; no, he goes to no temple, has never prayed, will not even put his hand to his lips when he passes a shrine,--why! he has not so much as an anointed stone or a garlanded bough on his farm.[80] One last flourish may deserve quotation. If you can prove, says Apuleius, any material advantage accruing to me from my marriage, "then write me down the great Carmendas or Damigeron or _his_ ... Moses or Jannes or Apollobeches or Dardanus himself, or anyone else from Zoroaster and Ostanes downwards who has been famous among magicians."[81] Several of these names occur in other authors,[82] but the corruption is more interesting. Has some comparative fallen out, or does _his_ conceal another name? Is it _ihs_, in fact,--a reference to Jesus analogous to the suggestion of Celsus that he too was a magician? The philosophical works of Apuleius need not detain us, but a little space may be spared to his book _On the God of Socrates_, where he sets forth in a clear and vivid way that doctrine of dæmonic beings, which lies at the heart of ancient {231} religion, pre-eminently in this period, from Plutarch onwards. His presentment is substantially the same as Plutarch's, but crisper altogether, and set forth in the brilliant rhetoric, to which the Greek did not aspire, and from which the African could not escape, nor indeed wished to escape. Plato, he says, classifies the gods in three groups, distinguished by their place in the universe.[83] Of the celestial gods some we can see--sun, moon and stars[84] (on which, like a true rhetorician, he digresses into some fine language, which can be omitted). Others the mind alone can grasp (_intellectu eos rimabundi contemplamur_)--incorporeal natures, animate, with neither beginning nor end, eternal before and after, exempt from contagion of body; in perfect intellect possessing supreme beatitude; good, but not by participation of any extraneous good, but from themselves. Their father, lord and author of all things, free from every nexus of suffering or doing--him Plato, with celestial eloquence and language commensurate with the immortal gods, has declared to be, in virtue of the ineffable immensity of his incredible majesty, beyond the poverty of human speech or definition--while even to the sages themselves, when by force of soul they have removed themselves from the body, the conception of God comes, like a flash of light in thick darkness--a flash only, and it is gone.[85] At the other extremity of creation are men--"proud in reason, loud in speech, immortal of soul, mortal of member, in mind light and anxious, in body brute and feeble, divers in character, in error the same, in daring pervicacious, in hope, pertinacious, of vain toil, of frail fortune, severally mortal, generally continuous, mutable in the succession of offspring, time fleeting, wisdom lingering, death swift and life querulous, so they live."[86] Between such beings and the gods, contact cannot be. "To whom then shall I recite prayers? to whom tender vows? to whom slay victim? on whom shall I call, to {232} help the wretched, to favour the good, to counter the evil? .... What thinkest thou? Shall I swear 'by Jove the stone' (_per Iovem lapidem_) after the most ancient manner of Rome? Yet if Plato's thought be true, that never god and man can meet, the stone will hear me more easily than Jupiter."[87] "Nay, not so far--(for Plato shall answer, the thought is his, if mine the voice) not so far, he saith, do I pronounce the gods to be sejunct and alienate from us, as to think that not even our prayers can reach them. Not from the care of human affairs, but from contact, have I removed them. But there are certain mediary divine powers, between æther above and earth beneath, situate in that mid space of air, by whom our desires and our deserts reach the gods. These the Greeks call dæmons, carriers between human and heavenly, hence of prayers, thence of gifts; back and forth they fare, hence with petition, thence with sufficiency, interpreters and bringers of salvation."[88] To cut short this flow of words, the dæmons are, as is familiar to us by now, authors of divination of all kinds, each in its province. It would ill fit the majesty of the gods to send a dream to Hannibal or to soften the whetstone for Attius Navius--these are the functions of the intermediate spirits.[89] Justin's explanation of the theophanies of the Old Testament may recur to the reader's mind, and not unjustly.[90] The dæmons are framed of a purer and rarer matter than we, "of that purest liquid of air, of that serene element," invisible therefore to us unless of their divine will they choose to be seen.[91] From their ranks come those "haters and lovers" of men, whom the poets describe as gods--they feel pity and indignation, pain and joy and "every feature of the human mind"; while the gods above "are lords ever of one state in eternal equability," and know no passions of any kind. The dæmons share _their_ immortality and _our_ passion. Hence we may accept the local diversities of religious cult, rites nocturnal or diurnal, victims, ceremonies and ritual sad or gay, Egyptian {233} or Greek,--neglect of these things the dæmons resent, as we learn in dream and oracle. The human soul, too, is "a dæmon in a body"--the _Genius_ of the Latins. From this we may believe that after death souls good and bad become good and bad ghosts--_Lares_ and _Lemures_--and even gods, such as "Osiris in Egypt and Æsculapius everywhere."[92] Higher still are such dæmons as Sleep and Love, and of this higher kind Plato supposes our guardian spirits to be--"spectators and guardians of individual men, never seen, ever present, arbiters not merely of all acts, but of all thoughts," and after death witnesses for or against us. Of such was Socrates' familiar dæmon. Why should not we too live after the model of Socrates, studying philosophy and obeying our dæmon? [Sidenote: _The Golden Ass_] The _Golden Ass_ is the chief work of Apuleius. _Lector intende; lætaberis_, he says in ending his short preface, and he judged his work aright. The hero, Lucius, is a man with an extravagant interest in magic, and he puts himself in the way of hearing the most wonderful stories of witchcraft and enchantment. Apuleius tells them with the utmost liveliness and humour. Magical transformations, the vengeance of witches, the vivification of waterskins--one tale comes crowding after another, real and vivid, with the most alarming and the most amusing details. For example, we are told by an eye-witness (like everybody else in the book he is a master-hand at story-telling) how he saw witches by night cut the throat of his friend, draw out the heart and plug the hole with a sponge; how terrified he was of the hags to begin with, and then lest he should himself be accused of the murder; how the man rose and went on his journey--somewhat wearily, it is true; and how, as they rested, he stooped to drink, the sponge fell out and he was dead. Lucius meddles with the drugs of a witch, and, wishing to transform himself to a bird, by the ill-luck of using the wrong box he becomes an ass. He is carried off by robbers, and, while he has the most varied adventures of his own, he is enabled to record some of the most gorgeous exploits that {234} brigands ever told one another in an ass's hearing.[93] What is more, a young girl is captured and held to ransom, and to comfort her for a little, the old woman who cooks the robbers' food--"a witless and bibulous old hag"--tells her a story--"such a pretty little tale," that the ass, who is listening, wishes he had pen and paper to take it down. For, while in aspect Lucius is an ass, his mind remains human--human enough to reflect sometimes what "a genuine ass" he is--and his skin has not, he regrets, the proper thickness of true ass-hide. The tale which he would like to write down is _Cupid and Psyche_. "_Erant in quadam civitate_," begins the old woman--"There were in a certain city a king and a queen." The old and universal fairy-tales of the invisible husband, the cruel sisters, and the impossible quests are here woven together and brought into connexion with the Olympic pantheon, and through all runs a slight thread, only here and there visible, of allegory. But if Psyche is at times the soul, and if the daughter she bears to Cupid is Pleasure, the fairy-tale triumphs gloriously over the allegory, and remains the most wonderful thing of the kind in Latin. Here, and in the _Golden Ass_ in general, the extraordinarily embroidered language of Apuleius is far more in keeping than in his philosophic writings. His hundreds of diminutives and neologisms, his antitheses, alliterations, assonances, figures and tropes, his brilliant invention, his fun and humour, here have full scope and add pleasure to every fresh episode of the fairy-tale and of the larger and more miscellaneous tale of adventure in which it is set--in the strangest setting conceivable. Cupid and Psyche is his own addition to the story of the Ass--quite irrelevant, and like many other irrelevant things in books an immense enrichment. Another development of the original story which is similarly due to Apuleius alone is the climax in the last book. The ass, in the Greek story, becomes a man by eating roses. In the Latin, Lucius, weary of the life of an ass, finds himself by moonlight on the seashore near Corinth, and amid "the silent {235} secrets of opaque night," he reflects that "the supreme goddess rules in transcendent majesty and governs human affairs by her providence." So he addresses a rather too eloquent prayer to the Queen of Heaven under her various possible names, Ceres, Venus, Diana and Proserpine. He then falls asleep, and at once "lo! from mid sea, uplifting a countenance venerable even to gods, emerges a divine form. Gradually the vision, gleaming all over, and shaking off the sea, seemed to stand before me." A crown of flowers rests on her flowing hair. Glittering stars, the moon, flowers and fruits, are wrought into her raiment, which shimmers white and yellow and red as the light falls upon it. In one hand is a sistrum, in the other a golden vessel shaped like a boat, with an asp for its handle.[94] She speaks. [Sidenote: Isis] "Lo! I come in answer, Lucius, to thy prayers, I mother of Nature, mistress of all the elements, initial offspring of ages, chief of divinities, queen of the dead, first of the heavenly ones, in one form expressing all gods and goddesses. I rule with my rod the bright pinnacles of heaven, the healthful breezes of the sea, the weeping silence of the world below. My sole godhead, in many an aspect, with many a various rite, and many a name, all the world worships." Some of these names she recites, and then declares her "true name, Queen Isis."[95] The next day is her festival, she says, and her priest, taught by her in a dream, will tender Lucius the needful roses; he will eat and be a man again. But hereafter all his life must be devoted to the goddess, and then in the Elysian fields he shall see her again, shining amid the darkness of Acheron, propitious to him. The next day all falls as predicted. The procession of Isis is elaborately described.[96] The prelude of the pomp is a series of men dressed in various characters,--one like a soldier, another like a woman, others like a gladiator, a philospher and so forth. There is a tame bear dressed like a woman, and a monkey "in a Phrygian garment of saffron." Then come women in white, crowned with flowers, some with mirrors hanging on their backs, some carrying ivory combs. Men and women follow with torches and lamps; then a choir of {236} youths in white, singing a hymn, and fluteplayers dedicated to Serapis. After this a crowd of initiates of both sexes, of every age and degree, dressed in white linen and carrying sistra,--the men with shaven heads. Then came five chief priests with emblems, and after them the images of the gods borne by other priests--Anubis with his dog's head, black and gold--after him the figure of a cow "the prolific image of the all-mother goddess" ("which one of this blessed ministry bore on his shoulder, with mimicking gait")--then an image of divinity, like nothing mortal, an ineffable symbol, worthy of all veneration for its exquisite art. At this point came the priest with the promised roses--"my salvation"--and Lucius ate and was a man again. The priest, in a short homily, tells him he has now reached the haven of quiet; Fortune's blindness has no more power over him; he is taken to the bosom of a Fortune who can see, who can illuminate even the other gods. Let him rejoice and consecrate his life to the goddess, undertake her warfare and become her soldier.[97] The pomp moves onward till they reach the shore, and there a sacred ship is launched--inscribed with Egyptian hieroglyphics, purified with a burning torch, an egg, and sulphur, on her sail a vow written in large letters. She is loaded with aromatics; and "filled with copious gifts and auspicious prayers" she sails away before a gentle breeze and is lost to sight. The celebrants then return to the temple, but we have perhaps followed them far enough. From now on to the end of the book the reformed Lucius lives in the odour of sanctity. He never sleeps without a vision of the goddess. He passes on from initiation to initiation, though the service of religion is difficult, chastity arduous, and life now a matter of circumspection--it had not been before. The initiations are, he owns, rather expensive.[98] "Perhaps, my enthusiastic reader, thou wilt ask--anxiously enough--what was said, what done. I would speak if it were {237} lawful to speak, thou shouldst know if it were lawful to hear.... Hear then, and believe, for it is true. I drew near to the confines of death; I trod the threshold of Proserpine; I was borne through all the elements and returned. At midnight I saw the sun flashing with bright light. Gods of the world below, gods of the world above, into their presence I came, I worshipped there in their sight." Garments, emblems, rites, purifications are the elements of his life now. Nor does he grudge the trouble and expense, for the gods are blessing him with forensic success. In a dream, Osiris himself "chief among the great gods, of the greater highest, greatest of the highest, ruler of the greatest," appears in person, and promises him--speaking with his own awful voice--triumphs at the bar, with no need to fear the envy his learning might rouse. He should be one of the god's own Pastophori, one of "his quinquennial decurions." So "with my hair perfectly shaved, I performed in gladness the duties of that most ancient college, established in Sulla's times, not shading nor covering my baldness, but letting it be universally conspicuous." And there ends the _Golden Ass_. Was it true--this story of the ass? Augustine says that Apuleius "either disclosed or made up" these adventures. Both he and Lactantius had to show their contemporaries that there was a difference between the miracles of Apuleius and those of Christ.[99] The Emperor Septimius Severus, on the other hand, sneered at his rival Albinus for reading "the Punic Milesian-tales of his fellow-countryman Apuleius and such literary trifles."[100] [Sidenote: Apuleius and his initiation] Between these two judgments we may find Apuleius. He is a man of letters, but he has a taste for religion. Ceremony, mystery, ritual, sacraments, appeal to him, and there he stands with his contemporaries. But a man, in whose pages bandit and old woman, ass and Isis, all talk in one Euphuistic strain, was possibly not so pious as men of simpler speech. Yet his giving such a conclusion to such a tale is significant, and there is not an absurdity among all the many, in which he so gaily revels, but corresponded with something that men believed. {238} In conclusion, we may ask what Lucian of Samosata and Diogenes of Oinoanda had to offer to Aristides and Pausanias and Apuleius; and what they in turn could suggest to men whose concern in religion goes deeper than the cure of physical disease, trance and self-conscious revelling in ceremony. Some spiritual value still clung about the old religion, or it could not have found supporters in a Plotinus and a Porphyry, but (to quote again a most helpful question) "how much else?" Chapter VII Footnotes: [1] On the other hand see a very interesting passage in Tertullian, _de Anima_, 30, on the progress of the world in civilization, and population outstripping Nature, while plague, famine, war, etc., are looked on as _tonsura insolescentis generis humani_. [2] Marcus Aurelius was born about 121 A.D. and died in 180. The other two were born in or about 125. [3] e.g. viii, 17. [4] The one passage is in xi, 3. [5] Or, the English equivalent, Utopia. [6] Marcus Aurelius, ix, 28-40, with omissions. Phrases have been borrowed from the translations of Mr Long and Dr Rendall. [7] This sheds some light on his comparison of the Christians to actors, xi, 3. [8] Cf. Tertullian, _Apol._ 5, _Hadrianus omnium curiositatum explorator_. [9] _Piscator_, 19. [10] _Quomodo historia_, 24. [11] _Bis accusatus_, 27. [12] _Somnium_, 18. [13] _Bis Accusatus_, 30, 27. [14] _Apology_, 15. [15] _Bis Acc._ 32. Cf. Juvenal, 7, 151, _perimit sævos classis numerosa tyrannos_. [16] _Bis Acc._ 33, 34. [17] _Zeus Tragadus_, 15. [18] _Piscator_, 19, 20. [19] _Vit. auctio_, 27. [20] _Hermot._ 74. [21] _Ibid._ 85. [22] _Hermot._ 22-28. [23] _Ibid._ 84. [24] _V.H._, ii, 18. [25] _Piscator_, 16. [26] _Philopseudes_, 7. [27] _Ibid._ 16. [28] This ghost appears rather earlier in a letter of Pliny's, vii, 27, who says he believes the story and adds another of his own. [29] _Philopseudes_, 34. [30] _Ibid._ 17. [31] Pausanias, viii, 29, 3. Cf. Milton's _Ode on Nativity_, 25, "Typhon huge, ending in snaky twine." References to remains of giants, in Tertullian, _de resurr. carnis_, 42; Pliny, _N.H._ vii, 16, 73. [32] _Philopseudes_, 22-24. [33] _Philopseudes_, 25, 26. [34] _Icaromenippus_, 24-26. [35] _Icaromen._ 24. [36] _Zeus Tragadus_. [37] _Zeus Elenchomenos_. [38] _Deor. Eccles._ 14-18. [39] _Alexander_, 48. The reader of Marcus will remember that his first book is dated "Among the Quadi." [40] _Alexander_, 53-56. [41] Keim, _Celsus' Wahres Wort_, p. 233, suggests that Lucian was not quite clear as to the differences between Judaism and Christianity. The reference to forbidden meat lends colour to this. [42] _De morte Peregrini_, 11, 16; cf. the _Passio Perpetuæ_, 3 and 16, on attention to Christians in prison. Tertullian, _de Jejunio_, 12, gives an extraordinary account of what might be done for a Christian in prison, though the case of Pristinus, which he quotes, must have been unusual, if we are to take all he says as literally true. [43] Cf. Tertullian, _ad Martyras_, 4, _Peregrinus qui non olim se rogo immisit_. Athenagoras, _Presb._ 26, _Próteôs, toûton d' ouk agnoeîte rhípsanta heautòn eis tò pûr perì tèn Olympían_. [44] Gellius, _N.A._ xii, 11; and summary of viii, 3. [45] _Charon_ is the title of the dialogue. [46] _Menippus_, 15, 16. [47] _Menippus_, 21. [48] Eckermann, 25th Dec. 1825. [49] Sextus Empiricus, _Hypotyposes_, i, 25-30. [50] See _Rheinisches Museum_, 1892, and _Bulletin de Correspondance Hellènique_, 1897. [51] C.I.G. iv, 955. Translation of Mary Hamilton, in her _Incubation_, p. 41 (1906). [52] I agree with the view of Schubart quoted by J. G. Frazer on the passage (Pausan. ii, 27, 6) that this man was neither the Emperor Antoninus Pius nor Marcus. It is perhaps superfluous to call attention to the value of Dr Frazer's commentary, here and elsewhere. [53] _Sacred Speech_, ii, § 47, p 301, _lítras eíkosi kaì ekatón_. [54] _Sacred Speech_, ii, § 33, p. 298. For Aristides see Hamilton, _Incubation_, pt. i. ch. 3, and Dill, _Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius_, bk. iv. ch. 1. See also Richard Caton, M.D., _The Temples and Ritual of Asklepios_ (1900). [55] Paus. iii, 15, 11 [56] Paus. viii, 42, 11. [57] Paus. i, 37, 4; 38, 7. [58] Paus. x, 4, 4; they smell very like human flesh. [59] Paus. ix, 40, 11. [60] Paus. i, 34, 3. Cf. Tertullian, _de Anima_, 46, a list of dream-oracles. Strabo, c. 761-2, represents the practice as an essential feature of Judaism, _egkoimâsthai dè kaì autoùs hypèr heautôn kaì humèr tôn állôn allous toùs euoneípous_; he compares Moses to Amphiaraus, Trophonius, Orpheus, etc. [61] Paus. ix, 39, 5-14, Frazer's translation. [62] Paus. viii, 8, 3 (Frazer). _tôn mèn dè es tò theîon hekónton toîs eirêuenois chrêsómetha_. [63] The word of Luke 2, 9. [64] Artemidorus Dald. ii, 70. [65] Artem. Dald. iii, 66. [66] Marcus, i, 17; George Long's rendering, here as elsewhere somewhat literal, but valuable as leaving the sharp edges on the thought of the Greek, which get rubbed off in some translations. See Tertullian, _de Anima_, cc. 44 and following, for a discussion of dreams, referring to the five volumes of Hermippus of Berytus for the whole story of them. [67] Artem. Dald. ii, pref., _mega phrono_. [68] Artem. Dald. ii, 70. Cf. v. pref., _aneu skenês kaì tragôsías_. [69] Artem. Dald. i, pref. [70] A very different classification in Tertullian, _de Anima_, 47, 48. Dreams may be due to demons, to God, the nature of the soul or ecstasy. [71] Artem. Dald. i, 4. [72] Artem. Dald. iv, pref. [73] See Augustine, _C.D._ xviii, 18, _Apuleius in libris quos Asini aurei titulo inscripsit_. In the printed texts, it is generally called the _Metamorphoses_. [74] _Apol._ 24. [75] _Apol._ 23. [76] _Apol._ 72; _Flor._ 18. [77] _Flor._ 20. [78] _Apol._ 98. Cf. _Passio Perpetuæ_, c. 13, _et cæpit Pirpetua Græce cum eis loqui_, says Saturus; Perpetua uses occasional Greek words herself in recording her visions. [79] _Apol._ 43. Cf. Plutarch cited on p. 101. [80] _Apol._ 55, 56. Cf. _Florida_, 1, an ornamental passage on pious usage. [81] _Apol._ 90. Many restorations have been attempted. [82] e.g. Tertullian, _de Anima_, 57, _Ostanes et Typhon et Dardanus et Damigeron et Nectabis et Berenice_. [83] Much of this material Apuleius has taken from the _Timaeus_, 40 D to 43 A. [84] Cf. Lactantius, _Instit._ ii, _de origine erroris_, c. 5. Tertullian, _ad Natt._ ii, 2. Cicero, _N.D._ ii, 15, 39-44. [85] _de deo Socr._ 3, 124. Cf. the account (quoted below) of what was experienced in initiation, which suggests some acquaintance with mystical trance--the confines of death and the sudden bright light look very like it. [86] _de deo Socr._ 4, 126. [87] _de deo Socr._ 5, 130-132. [88] _de deo Socr._ 6, 132. Cf. Tert. _Apol._ 22, 23, 24, on nature and works of demons, on lines closely similar. [89] _de deo Socr._ 7, 136. [90] See chapter vi. p. 188. [91] _de deo Socr._ 11, 144. [92] _de deo Socr._ 15. [93] The story of Lamachus "our high-souled leader," now "buried in the entire element," would make anyone wish to become a brigand, Sainte-Beuve said. Here one must regretfully omit the robbers' cave altogether. [94] _Metam._ xi, 3, 4. Apuleius had a fancy for flowing hair. [95] _Metam._ xi, 5. [96] _Metam._ xi. 8 ff. [97] _Metam._ xi, 15, _da nomen santæ huic militiæ cuius ... sacramento_, etc. [98] Tertullian remarks that pagan rituals, unlike Christian baptism, owe much to pomp and expense; _de Bapt._ 2. _Mentior si non e contrario idolorum sollemnia vel arcana de suggestu et apparatu deque sumptu fidem et auctoritatem sibi extruunt_. [99] Augustine, _C.D._ xviii, 18; and cf. _ib._ viii, (on the _de deo Socr._); and Lactantius, v. 3. [100] Capitolinus _v. Albini_, 12. {239} CHAPTER VIII CELSUS _Deliquit, opinor, divina doctrina ex Judæa potius quam ex Græcia oriens. Erravit et Christus piscatores citius quam sophistam ad præconium emittens,_--TERTULLIAN, _de Anima_, 3. At the beginning of the last chapter reference was made to the spread of Christianity in the second century, and then a brief survey was given of the position of the old religion without reference to the new. When one realizes the different habits of mind represented by the men there considered, the difficulties with which Christianity had to contend become more evident and more intelligible. Lucian generally ignored it, only noticing it to laugh at its folly and to pass on--it was too inconspicuous to be worth attack. To the others--the devout of the old religion, whose fondest thoughts were for the past, and for whom religion was largely a ritual, sanctified by tradition and by fancy,--the Christian faith offered little beyond the negation of all they counted dear. We are happily in possession of fragments of an anti-Christian work of the day, written by a man philosophic and academic in temperament, but sympathetic with the followers of the religion of his fathers--fragments only, but enough to show how Christianity at once provoked the laughter, incensed the patriotism, and offended the religious tastes of educated people. It was for a man called Celsus that Lucian wrote his book upon the prophet Alexander and his shrine at Abonoteichos, and it has been suggested that Lucian's friend and the Celsus, who wrote the famous _True Word_, may have been one and the same. The evidence is carefully worked out by Keim,[1] but it is not very strong, especially as some two dozen men of the name are known to the historians of the first three centuries of our era. Origen himself knew little of Celsus--hardly more than we can gather from the quotations he made from the book {240} in refuting it. From a close study of his occasional hints at contemporary history, Keim puts Celsus' book down to the latter part of the reign of Marcus Aurelius, or, more closely, to the year 178 A.D.[2] Celsus' general references to Christianity and to paganism imply that period. He writes under the pressure of the barbarian inroads on the Northern frontier, of the Parthians in the East and of the great plague. His main concern is the Roman State, shaken by all these misfortunes, and doubly threatened by the passive disaffection of Christians within its borders.[3] From what Turk and Mongol meant to Europe in the Middle Ages and may yet mean to us, we may divine how men of culture and patriotism felt about the white savages coming down upon them from the North. Of the personal history of Celsus nothing can be said, but the features of his mind are well-marked. He was above all a man of culture,--candid, scholarly and cool. He knew and admired the philosophical writings of ancient Greece, he had some knowledge of Egypt, and he also took the pains to read the books of the Jews and the Christians. On the whole he leant to Plato, but, like many philosophic spirits, he found destructive criticism more easy than the elaboration of a system of his own. Yet here we must use caution, for the object he had set before him was not to be served by individual speculation. It was immaterial what private opinions he might hold, for his great purpose was the abandonment of particularism and the fusion of all parties for the general good. Private judgment run mad was the mark of all Christians, orthodox and heretical,--"men walling themselves off and isolating themselves from mankind"[4]--and his thesis was that the whole spirit of the movement was wrong. A good citizen's part was loyal acceptance of the common belief, deviation from which was now shown to impair the solidarity of the civilized world. Of course such a position is never taken by really independent thinkers; but it is the normal standpoint of men to whom practical {241} affairs are of more moment than speculative precision--men, who are at bottom sceptical, and have little interest in problems which they have given up as insoluble. Celsus was satisfied with the established order, alike in the regions of thought and of government. He mistrusted new movements--not least when they were so conspicuously alien to the Greek mind as the new superstition that came from Palestine. He has all the ancient contempt of the Greek for the barbarian, and, while he is influenced by the high motive of care for the State, there are traces of irritation in his tone which speak of personal feeling. The folly of the movement provoked him. [Sidenote: The Christian propaganda] This, he says, is the language of the Christians: "'Let no cultured person draw near, none wise, none sensible; for all that kind of thing we count evil; but if any man is ignorant, if any is wanting in sense and culture, if any is a fool, let him come boldly.' Such people they spontaneously avow to be worthy of their God; and, so doing, they show that it is only the simpletons, the ignoble, the senseless, slaves and women-folk and children, whom they wish to persuade, or can persuade."[5] Those who summon men to the other initiations (_teletàs_), and offer purification from sins, proclaim: "Whosoever has clean hands and is wise of speech," or "Whosoever is pure from defilement, whose soul is conscious of no guilt, who has lived well and righteously." "But let us hear what sort these people invite; 'Whosoever is a sinner, or unintelligent, or a fool, in a word, whosoever is god-forsaken (_kakodaímôn_), him the kingdom of God will receive.' Now whom do you mean by the sinner but the wicked, thief, house-breaker, poisoner, temple-robber, grave-robber? Whom else would a brigand invite to join him?"[6] But the Christian propaganda is still more odious. "We see them in our own houses, wool dressers, cobblers, and fullers, the most uneducated and vulgar persons, not daring to say a word in the presence of their masters who are older and wiser; but when they get hold of the children in private, and silly women with them, they are wonderfully eloquent,--to the effect that the children must not listen to their father, but believe _them_ and be taught by _them_; ... that they alone know how to live, and if the children will listen to them, they will be happy themselves, and will make {242} their home blessed. But if, while they are speaking, they see some of the children's teachers, some wiser person or their Father coming, the more cautious of them will be gone in a moment, and the more impudent will egg on the children to throw off the reins--whispering to them that, while their father or their teachers are about, they will not and cannot teach them anything good ... they must come with the women, and the little children that play with them, to the women's quarters, or the cobbler's shop, or the fuller's, to receive perfect knowledge. And that is how they persuade them."[7] They are like quacks who warn men against the doctor--"take care that none of you touches Science (_epistéue_); Science is a bad thing; knowledge (_gnôsis_) makes men fall from health of soul."[8] They will not argue about what they believe--"they always bring in their 'Do not examine, but believe,' and 'Thy faith shall save thee'"[9]--"believe that he, whom I set forth to you, is the son of God, even though he was bound in the most dishonourable way, and punished in the most shameful, though yesterday or the day before he weltered in the most disgraceful fashion before the eyes of all men--so much the more believe!"[10] So far all the Christian sects are at one. And the absurdity of it! "Why was he not sent to the sinless as well as to sinners? What harm is there in not having sinned?"[11] Listen to them! "The unjust, if he humble himself from his iniquity, God will receive; but the just, if he look up to Him with virtue from beginning to end, him He will not receive."[12] Celsus' own view is very different--"It must be clear to everybody, I should think, that those, who are sinners by nature and training, none could change, {243} not even by punishment--to say nothing of doing it by pity! For to change nature completely is very difficult; and those who have not sinned are better partners in life."[13] Christians in fact make God into a sentimentalist--"the slave of pity for those who mourn"[14] to the point of injustice. [Sidenote: The ecclesia of worms] Jews and Christians seem to Celsus "like a swarm of bats--or ants creeping out of their nest--or frogs holding a symposium round a swamp--or worms in conventicle (_ekklesiáxiousi_) in a corner of the mud[15]--debating which of them are the more sinful, and saying 'God reveals all things to us beforehand and gives us warning; he forsakes the whole universe and the course of the heavenly spheres, and all this great earth he neglects, to dwell with us alone; to us alone he despatches heralds, and never ceases to send and to seek how we may dwell with him for ever.'" "God is," say the worms, "and after him come we, brought into being by him (_hup' autoû gegonótes_), in all things like unto God; and to us all things are subjected, earth and water and air and stars; for our sake all things are, and to serve us they are appointed." "Some of us," continue the worms ("he means us," says Origen)--"some of us sin, so God will come, or else he will send his son, that he may burn up the unrighteous, and that the rest of us may have eternal life with him."[16] The radical error in Jewish, and Christian thinking is that it is anthropocentric. They say that God made all things for man,[17] but this is not at all evident. What we know of the world suggests that it is not more for the sake of man than of the irrational animals that all things were made. Plants and trees and grass and thorns--do they grow for man a whit more than for the wildest animals? "'Sun and night serve mortals,' says Euripides--but why us more than the ants or the flies? For them, too, night comes for rest, and day for sight and work." If men hunt and eat animals, they in their turn hunt and eat men; and before towns and communities were formed, and tools and weapons made, man's supremacy was even more questionable. "In no way is man better in God's {244} sight than ants and bees" (iv. 81). The political instinct of man is shared by both these creatures--they have constitutions, cities, wars and victories, and trials at law--as the drones know. Ants have sense enough to secure their corn stores from sprouting: they have graveyards; they can tell one another which way to go--thus they have _lógos_ and _ennoiai_ like men. If one looked from heaven, would there be any marked difference between the procedures of men and of ants?[18] But man has an intellectual affinity with God; the human mind conceives thoughts that are essentially divine (_theías ennoías_).[19] Many animals can make the same claim--"what could one call more divine than to foreknow and foretell the future? And this men learn from the other animals and most of all from birds;" and if this comes from God, "so much nearer divine intercourse do they seem by nature than we, wiser and more dear to God." Thus "all things were not made for man, just as they were not made for the lion, nor the eagle, nor the dolphin, but that the universe as a work of God might be complete and perfect in every part. It is for this cause that the proportions of all things are designed, not for one another (except incidentally) but for the whole. God's care is for the whole, and this Providence never neglects. The whole does not grow worse, nor does God periodically turn it to himself. He is not angry on account of men, just as he is not angry because of monkeys or flies; nor does he threaten the things, each of which in measure has its portion of himself."[20] [Sidenote: The God of the philosophers] Celsus held that Christians spoke of God in a way that was neither holy nor guiltless (_ouch hosíôs oud' euagôs_, iv, 10); and he hinted that they did it to astonish ignorant listeners.[21] For himself, he was impressed with the thought, which Plato has in the _Timæus_,--a sentence that sums up what many of the most serious and religious natures have felt and will always feel to be profoundly true: "The maker and father of this {245} whole fabric it is hard to find, and, when one has found him, it is impossible to speak of him to all men."[22] Like the men of his day, a true and deep instinct led him to point back to "inspired poets, wise men and philosophers," and to Plato "a more living (_energesteron_) teacher of theology"[23]--"though I should be surprised if you are able to follow him, seeing that you are utterly bound up in the flesh and see nothing clearly."[24] What the sages tell him of God, he proceeds to set forth. "Being and becoming, one is intelligible, the other visible, (_noetòn, horatòn_). Being is the sphere of truth; becoming, of error. Truth is the subject of knowledge; the other of opinion. Thought deals with the intelligible; sight with the visible. The mind recognizes the intelligible, the eye the visible. "What then the Sun is among things visible,--neither eye, nor sight--yet to the eye the cause of its seeing, to sight the cause of its existing (_synístathai_) by his means, to things visible the cause of their being seen, to all things endowed with sensation the cause of their existence (_gínesthai_) and indeed the cause himself of himself being seen; this HE is among things intelligible (_noetà_), who is neither mind, nor thought, nor knowledge, but to the mind the cause of thinking, to thought of its being by his means, to knowledge of our knowing by his means, to all things intelligible, to truth itself, and to being itself, the cause that they are--out beyond all things (_pántôn epékeina òn_), intelligible only by some unspeakable faculty. "So have spoken men of mind; and if _you_ can understand anything of it, it is well for you. If you suppose a spirit descends from God to proclaim divine matters, it would be the spirit that proclaims this, that spirit with which men of old were filled and in consequence announced much that was good. But if you can take in nothing of it, be silent and hide your own ignorance, and do not say that those who see are blind, and those who run are lame, especially when you yourselves are utterly crippled and mutilated in soul, and live in the body--that is to say, in the dead element."[25] Origen says that Celsus is constantly guilty of tautology, and the reiteration of this charge of ignorance and want of {246} culture is at least frequent enough. Yet if the Christian movement had been confined to people as vulgar and illiterate as he suggests, he might not have thought it worth his while to attack the new religion. His hint of the propagation of the Gospel by slaves in great houses, taken with the names of men of learning and position, whom we know to have been converted, shows the seriousness of the case. But to avoid the further charge which Origen brings against Celsus of "mixing everything up," it will be better to pursue Celsus' thoughts of God. "I say nothing new, but what seemed true of old (_pálai dedogména_). God is good, and beautiful, and happy, and is in that which is most beautiful and best. If then he 'descends to men,' it involves change for him, and change from good to bad, from beautiful to ugly, from happiness to unhappiness, from what is best to what is worst. Who would choose such a change? For mortality it is only nature to alter and be changed; but for the immortal to abide the same forever. God would not accept such a change."[26] He presents a dilemma to the Christians; "Either God really changes, as they say, to a mortal body,--and it has been shown that this is impossible; or he himself does not change, but he makes those who see suppose so, and thus deceives and cheats them. Deceit and lying are evil, taken generally, though in the single case of medicine one might use them in healing friends who are sick or mad--or against enemies in trying to escape danger. But none who is sick or mad is a friend of God's; nor is God afraid of any one, so that he should use deceit to escape danger."[27] God in fact "made nothing mortal; but God's works are such things as are immortal, and _they_ have made the mortal. The soul is God's work, but the nature of the body is different, and in this respect there is no difference between the bodies of bat, worm, frog, and man. The matter is the same and the corruptible part is alike."[28] [Sidenote: God's anger] The Christian conception of the "descent of God" is repulsive to Celsus, for it means contact with matter. "God's anger," too, is an impious idea, for anger is a passion; and {247} Celsus makes havoc of the Old Testament passages where God is spoken of as having human passions (_anthrôpopathés_), closing with an _argumentum ad hominem_--"Is it not absurd that a man [Titus], angry with the Jews, slew all their youth and burnt their land, and so they came to nothing; but God Almighty, as they say, angry and vexed and threatening, sends his son and endures such things as they tell?"[29] Furthermore, the Christian account of God's anger at man's sin involves a presumption that Christians really know what evil is. "Now the origin of evil is not to be easily known by one who has no philosophy. It is enough to tell the common people that evil is not from God, but is inherent in matter, and is a fellow-citizen (_empoliteúetai_) of mortality. The circuit of mortal things is from beginning to end the same, and in the appointed circles the same must always of necessity have been and be and be again."[30] "Nor could the good or evil elements in mortal things become either less or greater. God does not need to restore all things anew. God is not like a man, that, because he has faultily contrived or executed without skill, he should try to amend the world."[31] In short, "even if a thing seems to you to be bad, it is not yet clear that it is bad; for you do not know what is of advantage to yourself, or to another, or to the whole."[32] Besides would God need to descend in order to {248} learn what was going on among men?[33] Or was he dissatisfied with the attention he received, and did he really come down to show off like a _nouveau riche_ (_oi neóploutoi_)?"[34] Then why not long before?[35] Should Christians ask him how God is to be seen, he has his answer: "If you will be blind to sense and see with the mind, if you will turn from the flesh and waken the eyes of the soul, thus and thus only shall you see God."[36] In words that Origen approves, he says, "from God we must never and in no way depart, neither by day nor by night, in public or in private, in every word and work perpetually, but, with these and without, let the soul ever be strained towards God."[37] "If any man bid you, in the worship of God, either to do impiety, or to say anything base, you must never be persuaded by him. Rather endure every torture and submit to every death, than think anything unholy of God, let alone say it."[38] Thus the fundamental conceptions of the Christians are shown to be wrong, but more remains to be done. Let us assume for purposes of discussion that there could be a "descent of God"--would it be what the Christians say it was? "God is great and hard to be seen," he makes the Christian say, "so he put his own spirit into a body like ours and sent it down here that we might hear and learn from it."[39] If that is true, he says, then God's son cannot be immortal, since the nature of a spirit is not such as to be permanent; nor could Jesus have risen again in the body, "for God would not have received back the spirit which he gave when it was polluted with the nature of the body."[40] "If he had wished to send down a spirit from himself, why did he need to breathe it into the womb of a woman? He knew already how to {249} make men, and he could have fashioned a body about this spirit too, and so avoided putting his own spirit into such pollution."[41] Again the body, in which the spirit was sent, ought to have had stature or beauty or terror or persuasion, whereas they say it was little, ugly and ignoble.[42] Then, finally, "suppose that God, like Zeus in the Comedy, waking out of long sleep, determined to rescue mankind from evil, why on earth did he send this spirit (as you call it) into one particular corner? He ought to have breathed through many bodies in the same way and sent them all over the world. The comic poet, to make merriment in the theatre, describes how Zeus waked up and sent Hermes to the Athenians and Lacedæmonians; do you not think that your invention of God's son being sent to the Jews is more laughable still?"[43] The incarnation further carried with it stories of "God eating"--mutton, vinegar, gall. This revolted Celsus, and he summed it all up in one horrible word.[44] [Sidenote: The ignominy of Jesus] The ignominy of the life of Jesus was evidence to Celsus of the falsity of his claim to be God's son. He bitterly taunts Christians with following a child of shame--"God's would not be a body like yours--nor begotten as you were begotten, Jesus!"[45] He reviles Jesus for the Passion--"unhelped by his Father and unable to help himself."[46] He goes to the Gospels ("I know the whole story," he says[47]) and he cites incident after incident. He reproaches Jesus with seeking to escape the cross,[48] he brings forward "the men who mocked him and put the purple robe on him, the crown of thorns, and; {250} the reed in his hand";[49] he taunts him with being unable to endure his thirst upon the cross--"which many a common man will endure."[50] As to the resurrection, "if Jesus wished really to display his divine power, he ought to have appeared to the actual men who reviled him, and to him who condemned him and to all, for, of course, he was no longer afraid of any man, seeing he was dead, and, as you say, God, and was not originally sent to elude observation."[51] Or, better still, to show his Godhead, he might have vanished from the gibbet.[52] What befel Jesus, befals his followers. "Don't you see, my dear sir?" Celsus says, "a man may stand and blaspheme your dæmon; and not that only, he may forbid him land and sea, and then lay hands on _you_, who are consecrated to him like a statue, bind you, march you off and impale you; and the dæmon, or, as you say, the son of God, does not help you."[53] "You may stand and revile the statues of the gods and laugh. But if you tried it in the actual presence of Dionysus or Herakles, you might not get off so comfortably. But your god in his own person they spread out and punished, and those who did it have suffered nothing.... He too who sent his son (according to you) with some message or other, looked on and saw him thus cruelly punished, so that the message perished with him, and though all this time has passed he has never heeded. What father was ever so unnatural (_anósios_)? Ah! but perhaps he wished it, you say, and that was why he endured the insult. And perhaps our gods _wish_ it too, when you blaspheme them."[54] Celsus would seem to have heard Christian preaching, for beside deriding "Only believe" and "Thy faith will save thee," he is offended by the language they use about the cross. "Wide as the sects stand apart, and bitter as are their quarrels and mutual abuse, you will hear them all say their 'To me the world is crucified and I to the world.'"[55] In one great passage he mixes, as Origen says, the things he has mis-heard, and quotes Christian utterances about "a soul that lives, and a heaven that is slain that it may live, and earth slain with the {251} sword, and ever so many people being slain to live; and death taking a rest in the world when the sin of the world dies; and then a narrow way down, and gates that open of themselves. And everywhere you have the tree of life and the resurrection of the flesh from the tree--I suppose, because their teacher was nailed to a cross and was a carpenter by trade. Exactly as, if he had chanced to be thrown down a precipice, or pushed into a pit, or choked in a noose, or if he had been a cobbler, or a stone-mason, or a blacksmith, there would have been above the heavens a precipice of life, or a pit of resurrection, or a rope of immortality, or a happy stone, or the iron of love, or the holy hide."[56] [Sidenote: The Cross and the miracles] The miracles of Jesus Celsus easily explains. "Through poverty he went to Egypt and worked there as a hired labourer; and there he became acquainted with certain powers [or faculties], on which the Egyptians pride themselves, and he came back holding his head high on account of them, and because of them he announced that he was God."[57] But, granting the miracles of healing and of raising the dead and feeding the multitudes, he maintains that ordinary quacks will do greater miracles in the streets for an obol or two, "driving devils out of men,[58] and blowing away diseases and calling up the souls of heroes, and displaying sumptuous banquets and tables and sweetmeats and dainties that are not there;"--"must we count _them_ sons of God?"[59] There are plenty of prophets too, "and it is quite an easy and ordinary thing for each of them to say 'I am God--or God's son--or a divine spirit. And I am come; for already the world perisheth, and ye, oh men, are lost for your sins. But I am willing to {252} save you; and ye shall see me hereafter coming with heavenly power. Blessed is he that has worshipped me now; but upon all the rest I will send eternal fire, and upon their cities and lands. And men who do not recognize their own guilt shall repent in vain with groans; and them that have believed me, I will guard for ever.'"[60] Jesus was, he holds, an obvious quack and impostor. In fact, there is little to choose between worshipping Jesus and Antinous, the favourite of Hadrian, who had actually been deified in Egypt.[61] The teaching of Jesus, to which Christians pointed, was after all a mere medley of garbled quotations from Greek literature. Thus when Jesus said that it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to go into the kingdom of God, he was merely spoiling the Platonic saying that it is impossible for a man to be exceedingly good and exceedingly rich at the same time.[62] The kingdom of heaven itself comes from the "divinely spoken" words of Plato; it is the "supercelestial region" of the _Phædrus_.[63] Satan is a parody of Heraclitus' conception of War.[64] The Christian resurrection comes from metempsychosis.[65] The idea that "God will descend, carrying fire (like a torturer in a law-court)" comes from some confused notion of the teaching of the Greeks upon cycles and periods and the final conflagration.[66] Plato has this advantage that he never boasted and never said that God had "a son who descended and talked with me."[67] The "son of God" itself was an expression borrowed in their clumsy way by the Christians from the ancients who conceived of the universe as God's offspring.[68] [Sidenote: Resurrection] Christians lay great stress on the immortality, "but it is silly of them to suppose that when God--like a cook--brings the fire, the rest of mankind will be roasted and they themselves will alone remain, not merely the living, but even those who died long ago, rising from the earth with the identical flesh they had before. Really it is the hope of worms! For what soul of a man would any longer wish for a body that {253} had rotted?"[69] The loathsomeness of the idea, he says, cannot be expressed, and besides it is impossible. "They have nothing to reply to this, so they fly to the absurdest refuge, and say that all is possible with God. But God cannot do what is foul, and what is contrary to nature he will not do. Though you in your vulgarity may wish a loathsome thing, it does not follow that God can do it, nor that you are right to believe at once that it will come to pass. For it is not of superfluous desire and wandering disorder, but of true and just nature that God is prince (_archegétes_). He could grant immortal life of the soul; but 'corpses,' as Heraclitus says, 'are less useful than dung.' The flesh is full of--what it is not beautiful even to mention--and to make it immortal contrary to all reason (_paralogôs_), is what God neither will nor can do. For he is the reason of all things that are, so that he cannot do anything contrary to reason or contrary to himself."[70] And yet, says Celsus, "you hope you will see God with the eyes of your body, and hear his voice with your ears, and touch him with the hands of sense."[71] If they threaten the heathen with eternal punishment, the exegetes, hierophants, and mystagogues of the temples hurl back the same threat, and while words are equal, they can show proofs in dæmonic activities and oracles.[72] "With those however who speak of the soul or the mind (whether they choose to call it spiritual, or a spirit intelligent, holy and happy, or a living soul, or the supercelestial and incorruptible offspring of a divine and bodyless nature--or whatever they please)--with those who hope to have this eternally with God, with such I will speak. For they are right in holding that they who have lived well will be happy and the unjust will be held in eternal woes. From this opinion (_dógmatos_) let not them nor any one else depart."[73] In this way Celsus surveys the main points of Christian history and teaching. They have no real grounds beneath them. The basis of the church is "faction (_stásis_) and the profit it brings, and fear of those without;--those are the things that establish the faith for them."[74] Faction is their keynote, taken from the Jews at first; and faction splits them up into innumerable sects beside the "great church,"[75]--"the {254} one thing they have in common, if indeed they still have it, is the name; and this one thing they are ashamed to abandon."[76] When they all say "'Believe, if you wish to be saved, or else depart'; what are those to do who really wish to be saved? Should they throw the dice to find out to whom to turn?"[77] In short, faction is their breath of life, and "if all mankind were willing to be Christian, then they would not."[78] [Sidenote: Gods and dæmons] But Celsus is not content merely to refute; he will point out a more excellent way. "Are not all things ruled according to the will of God? is not all Providence from him? Whatever there is in the whole scheme of things, whether the work of God, or of angels, or other dæmons, or heroes, all these have their law from the greatest God; and in power over each thing is set he that has been counted fit."[79] "Probably the various sections are allotted to various rulers (_epóptais_) and distributed in certain provinces, and so governed. Thus among the various nations things would be done rightly if done as those rulers would have them. It is then not holy to break down what has been from the beginning the tradition of one and another place."[80] Again, the body is the prison of the soul; should there not then be warders of it--dæmons in fact?[81] Then "will not a man, who worships God, be justified in serving him who has his power from God?"[82] To worship them all cannot grieve him to whom they all belong.[83] Over and over Celsus maintains the duty of "living by the ancestral usages," "each people worshipping its own traditional deities."[84] To say with the Christians that there is one Lord, meaning God, is to break up the kingdom of God and make factions there (_stasiáxein_), as if there were choices to be made, and one were a rival of another.[85] Ammon is no worse than the angels of the Jews; though here the Jews are so far right in that they hold by the ways of their ancestors--an advantage which the Jewish proselytes have {255} forfeited.[86] If the Jews pride themselves on superior knowledge and so hold aloof from other men, Herodotus is evidence that their supposed peculiar dogma is shared by the Persians; and "I think it makes no difference whether you call Zeus the Most High, or Zeus, or Adonai, or Sabaoth, or Amun, like the Egyptians, or Papaios like the Scythians."[87] The evidence for the ancillary dæmons and gods he finds in the familiar places. "Why need I tell at length how many things prophets and prophetesses at the oracles have foretold, and other men and women possessed by a voice of a god within them? the marvels heard from shrines? revelations from sacrifices and victims, and other miraculous tokens? And some have been face to face with visible phantoms. The whole of life is full of these things." Cities have escaped plague and famine through warnings from oracles, and have suffered for neglecting them. The childless have gained children, and the crippled have been healed, while those who have treated sacred things with contempt have been punished in suicide and incurable diseases.[88] Let a man go to the shrine of Trophonius or Amphiaraus or Mopsus, and there he may see the gods in the likeness of men, no feigned forms (_pseudoménous_) but clear to see, "not slipping by them once, like him who deceived these people [the Christians], but ever associating with those who will."[89] "A great multitude of men, Greeks and barbarians, testify that they have often seen and still do see Asklepios, and not merely a phantom of him, but they see himself healing men, and doing them good, and foretelling the future."[90] Is it not likely that these "satraps and ministers of air and earth" could do you harm, if you did them despite?[91] Earthly rulers too deserve worship, since they hold their positions not without dæmonic influence.[92] Why should not the Christians worship them, dæmons and Emperors? If they worshipped no other but one God, they might have some clear argument against other men; but, as it is, they more than worship the person who lately appeared, and reckon that God is not wronged by the service done to his subordinate,[93]--though in truth he is only a corpse.[94] In any case, "if idols are nothing, what harm is there in taking part in the festival? but if there are dæmons, it is clear they too {256} are of God, and in them we must trust, and speak them fair, according to the laws, and pray that they may be propitious."[95] It is characteristic of the candour of Celsus that he lets slip a caution or two about the service of dæmons. Christians are as credulous, he says in one place, as "those who lightly (_alogôs_) believe in the roaming priests of Cybele (_metragúrtais_) and wonder-seers, Mithras and Sabadios and the like--phantoms of Hecate or some other female dæmon or dæmons."[96] Again, he has a word of warning as to magic, and the danger and injury into which those fall who busy themselves with it--"One must be on one's guard, that one may not, by being occupied with these matters, become entangled in the service of them [literally; fused with them, _syntakê_], and through love of the body and by turning away from better things be overcome by forgetfulness. For perhaps we should not disbelieve wise men, who say (as a matter of fact) that of the dæmons who pervade the earth the greater part are entangled in 'becoming' (_genesei syntetekós_)--fused and riveted to it--and being bound to blood and smoke and chantings and other such things can do no more than heal the body and foretell future destiny to man and city; and the limits of their knowledge and power are those of human affairs."[97] [Sidenote: The rescue of the empire] At the last comes his great plea. Human authority is of divine ordinance. "To the Emperor all on earth is given; and whatever you receive in life is from him."[98] "We must not disbelieve one of old, who long ago said-- Let one be king, to whom the son of wise Kronos has given it. If you invalidate this thought (_dógma_), probably the Emperor will punish you. For if all men were to do as you do, nothing will prevent the Emperor being left alone and deserted,[99] and all things on earth falling into the power of the {257} most lawless and barbarous savages, with the result that neither of your religion nor of the true wisdom would there be left among men so much as the name.[100] You will hardly allege that if the Romans were persuaded by you and forsook all their usages as to gods and men, and called upon your 'Most High' or whatever you like, he would descend and fight for them and they would need no other help. For before now that same God promised (as you say) this and much more to those who served him, and you see all the good he has done them and you. As for them [the Jews], instead of being masters of all the earth, they have not a clod nor a hearthstone left them; while you--if there is any of you left in hiding, search is being made for him to put him to death."[101] The Christian sentiment that it is desirable for all who inhabit the Empire, Greeks and barbarians, Asia, Europe and Libya, to agree to one law or custom, is foolish and impracticable.[102] So Celsus calls on the Christians "to come to the help of the Emperor with all their might and labour with him as right requires, fight on his behalf, take the field with him, if he call on you, and share the command of the legions with him[103]--yes, and be magistrates, if need be, and to do this for the salvation of laws and religion."[104] It will be noted that, so far as our fragments serve us, Celsus confines himself essentially to the charges of folly, perversity, and want of national feeling. An excessive opinion of the value of the human soul and an absurd fancy of God's interest in man are two of the chief faults he sees in Christianity.[105] He sees well, for the love of God our Father and the infinite significance of the meanest and commonest and most depraved of men were after all the cardinal doctrines of the new faith. There can be no compromise between the Christian conception of the Ecclesia of God and Celsus' contempt for an "ecclesia of worms in a pool"; nor between the "Abba Father" of Jesus and the aloof and philosophic God of Celsus "away beyond everything." These two {258} contrasts bring into clear relief the essentially new features of Christianity, and from the standpoint of ancient philosophy they were foolish and arbitrary fancies. That standpoint was unquestioned by Celsus. [Sidenote: The failure of Celsus] Confident in the truth of his premisses and the conclusions that follow from them, Celsus charged the Christians with folly and dogmatism. Yet it would be difficult to maintain that they were more dogmatic than himself; they at least had ventured on the experiment of a new life, that was to bring ancient Philosophy to a new test. They were the researchers in spiritual things, and he the traditionalist. As to the charge of folly, we may at once admit a comparatively lower standard of education among the Christians; yet Lucian's book _Alexander_, with its curious story of the false prophet who classed them with the Epicureans as his natural enemies, suggests that, with all their limitations, they had an emancipation of mind not reached by all their contemporaries. If they did not accept the conclusions of Greek thinkers as final, they were still less prepared to accept sleight-of-hand and hysteria as the ultimate authority in religious truth.[106] Plutarch, we may remember, based belief in immortality on the oracles of Apollo; and Celsus himself appeals to the evidence of shrines and miracles. If we say that pagans and Christians alike believed in the occurrence of these miracles and in dæmonic agency as their cause, it remains that the Christians put something much nearer the modern value upon them, while Celsus, who denounced the Christians as fools, tendered this contemptible evidence for the religion he advocated. His Greek training was in some degree the cause of this. The immeasurable vanity of the Greeks did not escape the Romans. A sense of indebtedness to the race that has given us Homer, Euripides and Plato leads us to treat all Greeks kindly--with more kindness than those critics show them whose acquaintance with them has been less in literature and more in life. The great race still had gifts for mankind, but it was now mainly living upon its past. In Plutarch the pride of race is genial and pleasant; in Celsus it takes another form--that of contempt for the barbarian and the unlettered. {259} The truism may be forgiven that contempt is no pathway to understanding or to truth; and in this case contempt cut Celsus off from any real access to the mind of the people he attacked. He read their books; he heard them talk; but, for all his conscious desire to inform himself, he did not penetrate into the heart of the movement--nor of the men. He missed the real motive force--the power of the life and personality of Jesus, on which depended the two cardinal doctrines which he assailed. The extraordinary blunders, to which the very surest critics in literature are liable, may prepare us for anything. But to those who have some intimate realization of the mind of Jesus, the portrait which Celsus drew of him is an amazing caricature--the ignorant Jewish conjuror, who garbles Plato, and makes no impression on his friends, is hardly so much as a parody. It meant that Celsus did not understand the central thing in the new faith. The "godhead" of Jesus was as absurd as he said, if it was predicated of the Jesus whom he drew; and there he let it rest. How such a dogma could have grown in such a case he did not inquire; nor, finding it grown, did he correct his theory by the fact. Thus upon the real strength of Christianity he had nothing to say. This was not the way to convince opponents, and here the action of the Christians was sounder and braver. For they accepted the inspiration of the great men of Greece, entered into their spirit (as far as in that day it was possible), and fairly did their best to put themselves at a universal point of view.[107] They had the larger sympathies. Yet for Celsus it may be pleaded that his object was perhaps less the reconversion of Christians to the old faith than to prevent the perversion of pagans to the new. But here too he failed, for he did not understand even the midway people with whom he was dealing. They were a large class--men and women open to religious ideas from whatever source they might come--Egypt, Judæa, or Persia, desirous of the knowledge of {260} God and of communion with God, and in many cases conscious of sin. In none of these feelings did Celsus share--his interests are all intellectual and practical. Plutarch before him, and the Neo-Platonists after him, understood the religious instincts which they endeavoured to satisfy, and for the cold, hard outlines of Celsus' hierarchy of heavenly and dæmonic beings they substituted personalities, approachable, warm and friendly (_ho phílos Apóllon_). Men felt the need of gods who were Saviours,--of gods with whom they might commune in sacraments--as the rise of Mithra-worship shows. They sought for salvation from sin, for holiness--the word was much on their lips--and for peace with God. To Celsus these seem hardly to have been necessities; and whether we say that he made no effort to show that they were provided for in the old religion, or that he suggested, tacitly or explicitly, that the scheme he set forth had such a provision, the effect is the same. He really had nothing to offer. [Sidenote: The victory of the Christians] Celsus did not bring against the Christians the charges of "OEdipodean unions and Thyestean banquets" familiar to the reader of the Apologists[108]--and to the student of the events that preceded the Boxer movement in China. While he taunted Jesus with being a bastard and a deceiver, and roundly denounced Christians generally for imposing upon the ignorance of men with false religion and false history, he did not say anything of note against ordinary Christian conduct. At least the fragments do not show anything of the kind. Later on the defenders and apologists of paganism had to own with annoyance that Christians set their fellow-citizens an example; Maximin Daza and Julian tried vigorously to raise the tone of pagan society. Here lies an argument with which Celsus could not deal. The Fatherhood of God (in the sense which Jesus gave to the words) and the value of the individual soul, even the depraved and broken soul, are matters of argument, and on paper they may be very questionable; but when the people, who held or (more truly) were held by these beliefs, managed somehow or other to show to the world lives transformed and endowed with the power of transforming others, the plain fact outweighed any number of _True Words_. Whatever {261} the explanation, the thing was there. Christians in the second century laid great stress on the value of paper and argument, and to-day we feel with Celsus that among them, orthodox and heretical, they talked and wrote a great deal that was foolish--"their allegories were worse than their myths"--but the sheer weight of Christian character carried off allegories and myths, bore down the school of Celsus and the more powerful school of Plutarch, Porphyry and Plotinus and abolished the ancient world, and then captured and transformed the Northern nations. Celsus could not foresee all that we look back upon. But it stands to his credit that he recognised the dangers which threatened the ancient civilization, dangers from German without and Christian within. He had not the religious temperament; he was more the statesman in his habit of mind, and he clearly loved his country. The appeal with which he closes is a proposal of peace--toleration, if the Christians will save the civilized world. It was not destined that his hopes should be fulfilled in the form he gave them, for it was the Christian Church that subdued the Germans and that carried over into a larger and more human civilization all that was of value in that inheritance of the past for which he pleaded. So far as his gifts carried him, he was candid; and if sharp of tongue and a little irritable of temper, he was still an honourable adversary. He was serious, and, if he did not understand religion, he believed in the state and did his best to save it. Chapter VIII Footnotes: [1] Keim, _Celsus' Wahres Wort_ (1873). [2] Keim, pp. 264-273. [3] Tertullian, _Apol._ 38, _nec ulla res aliena magis quam publica_. Elsewhere Tertullian explains this: _lædimas Romanos nec Romani habemur qui non Romanorum deum colimus, Apol._ 24. [4] Apud Origen, _c. Cels._ viii, 2. References in what follows will be made to the book and chapter of this work without repetition of Origen's name. The text used is that of Koetschau. [5] _c. Cels._ iii, 44. [6] _Ibid._ iii, 59. [7] iii, 55. I have omitted a clause or two. Clem A. _Strom._ iv, 67, on the other hand, speaks of the difficult position of wife or slave in such a divided household, and (68) of conversions in spite of the master of the house. Tert. _ad Scap._ 3, has a story of a governor whose wife became a Christian, and who in anger began a persecution at once. [8] iii, 75. [9] i, 9. Cf. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ i, 43, on some Christians who think themselves _euphusîs_ and "ask for faith--faith alone and bare." In _Paed._ i, 27, he says much the same himself, _tò pisteûsai mónon kaì anagennethûnai teleíôis estin en zoê_. [10] vi, 10. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ ii, 8, "The Greeks think Faith empty and barbarous, and revile it," but (ii, 30) "if it had been a human thing, as they supposed, it would have been quenched." [11] iii, 62. [12] iii, 62. [13] iii, 65, _toùs hamartangin pephykótas te kaì eithismenous_. [14] iii, 71. [15] Clement of Alexandria, _Protr._ 92, uses this simile of worms in the mud of swamps, applying it to people who live for pleasure. [16] iv, 23. [17] iv, 74. [18] So Lucian _Icaromenippus_, 19, explicitly. [19] iv, 88. Cf. Clem. Alex. _Pædag._ i, 7, _tò phíltron éndon estìn en tô anthrópô toûth' óper emphysema légetai theoû_. [20] _c. Cels._ iv, 74-99. Cf. Plato, _Laws_, 903 B, _hôs tô tou pantòs epimelouménô pròs tèn sôterían kaì aretèn toû holou pánt' estì syntetagména ktè_, explicitly developing the idea of the part being for the whole. Also Cicero, _N.D._ ii, 13, 34-36. [21] Of. M. Aurelius, xi, 3, the criticism of the theatricality of the Christians. See p. 198. [22] _c. Cels._ vii, 42, _tòn mèn oun poietèn kaì patéra toûde toû pantòs ehureîn te épgon kaì ehuronta eis pántas adynaton legein_; _Timæus_, 28 C--often cited by Clement too. [23] vii, 42. [24] vii, 42. [25] vii, 45. [26] iv, 14. [27] iv, 18. See Tertullian's argument on this question of God changing, in _de Carne Christi_, 3. See Plato, _Rep._ ii, 381 B. [28] iv, 52. See _Timæus_, 34 B ff. on God making soul. [29] iv, 73. See Clem. Alex. _Paed._ i, ch. 10, on God threatening; and Strom, ii, 72; iv, 151; vii, 37, for the view that God is without anger, and for guidance as to the understanding of language in the O.T. which seems to imply the contrary. For a different view, see Tertullian, _de Testim. Animæ_, 2, _unde igitur naturalis timor animæ in deum, si deus nan novit irasci? adv. Marc._ i, 26, 27, on the necessity for God's anger, if the moral law is to be maintained; and _adv. Marc._ ii, 16, a further account of God's anger, while a literal interpretation of God's "eyes" and "right hand" is excluded. [30] iv, 65. [31] iv, 69. [32] iv, 70. Long before (about 500 B.C.) Heraclitus had said (fragm. 61): "To God all things are beautiful and good and just; but men have supposed some things to be unjust and others just." For this doctrine of the relativity of good and bad to the whole, cf. hymn of Cleanthes to Zeus:-- _allà sù kaì tà perissá t' epístasai artia theînai_, _kaì kosmein ta kosma, kaì ou phila soì phila estín_. _ôde gàr eis èn pánta synérmokas esthlà kakoîsin_ _ôsth' éna gígnesthai pántôn logon aièn eónta_. Cf. also the teaching of Chrysippus, as given by Gellius, _N.A._ vii, 1: _cum bona malis contraria sint, utraque necessum est opposita inter sese et quasi mutuo adverse quæque fulta nisu consistere; nullum adeo contrarium est sine contrario altero ... situleris unum abstuleris utrumque_. See also M. Aurelius in the same Stoic vein, viii, 50; ix, 42. On the other side see Plutarch's indignant criticism of this attribution of the responsibility for evil to God, _de comm. not. adv. Sto._ 14, 1065 D, ff. In opposition to Marcion, Tertullian emphasizes the worth of the world; his position, as a few words will show, is not that of Celsus, but Stoic influence is not absent: _adv. Marc._ i, 13, 14; _Ergo nec mundus deo indignus: nihil etenim deus indignum st fecit, etsi mundum homini non sibi fecit, etsi omne opus inferius est suo artifice_; see p. 317. [33] iv, 3. [34] iv, 6. [35] iv, 7. [36] vii, 36. [37] viii, 63. [38] viii, 66. [39] vi, 69. "Men, who count themselves wise," says Clement (_Strom._ i, 88), "count it a fairy tale that the son of God should speak through man, or that God should have a son, and he suffer." [40] vi, 72. [41] vi, 73. Cf. the Marcionite view; cf. Tert. _adv. Marc._ iii, 11; iv, 21; v, 19, _cuius ingeniis tam longe abest veritas nostra ut ... Christum ex vulva virginis natum non erubescat, ridentibus philosophis et hæreticis et ethnicis ipsis_. See also _de carne Christi_, 4, 5, where he strikes a higher note; Christ loved man, born as man is, and descended for him. [42] vi, 75. Cf. Tert. _de carne Christi_, 9, _adeo nec humanæ honestatis corpus fuit; adv. Jud._ 14, _ne aspectu quidem honestus_. [43] vi, 78. Cf. Tert. _adv. Marc._ iii, i, _atquin nihil putem a deo subitum quia nihil a deo non dispositum_. [44] vii, 13, _skataophageîn_. Origen's reply is absurd--_hína gàr kaì doxe hóti hésthein, hos sôma phorôn ho Iesoûs hésthein_. So also said Clement (_Strom._ vi, 71). Valentinus had another theory no better, _Strom._ iii. 59. Marcion, Tertullian says (_adv. Marc._ iii, 10), called the flesh _terrenam et stercoribus infusam_. They are all filled with the same contempt for matter--not Tertullian, however. [45] i, 69. [46] i, 54. [47] i, 12. [48] ii, 23, 24. [49] ii, 34. [50] ii, 37. [51] ii, 66, 67. Tertullian meets this in _Apol._ 21. _Nam nec ille se in vulgus eduxit ne impii errore liberarcntur, ut et fides, non mediocri praemio destinata, difficultate constaret_. [52] ii, 68, [53] viii, 39. [54] viii, 41. [55] v, 65. [56] vi, 34. Cf. a curious passage of Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 114, _oûtos tèn dúsin eis anatolèn metegagen kaì tòn thanaton eis zôèn anestaúrsen exarpásas dè tês apôleias tòn ánthrôpon prosekrémasen aíthéri_, and so forth. Cf. Tert. _adv. Valent._ 20, who suggests that the Valentinians had "nut-trees in the sky"--it is a book in which he allows himself a good deal of gaiety and free quotation. [57] i, 28. [58] M. Aurelius, i, 6, "From Diognetus I learnt not to give credit to what was said by miracle-workers and jugglers (_goétôn_) about incantations and the sending away of dæmons and such things." Cf. Tertullian, _adv. Marc._ iii, 2-4, on inadequacy of proof from miracles alone, without that from prophecy; also _de Anima_, 57, on these conjurers, where he remarks, _nec magnum illi exteriores oculos circumscribere, an interiorem mentis aciem excalcare perfacile est_. See also _Apol._ 22, 23. [59] i, 68. [60] vii, 9. [61] iii, 36. [62] vi, 16. Cf. Plato, _Laws_, v, 12, p. 743 A. [63] vi, 17-19; _Phædrus_, 247 C. [64] vi, 42. [65] vii, 32; cf. Min. Felix, 11, 9. [66] iv, 11. [67] vi, 8. [68] vi, 47. Cf. Plato, _Timæus_ (last words), 92 C, _eîs ouranòs óde monogenès ón_. [69] v, 14. [70] v, 14. [71] vii, 34. [72] viii, 49. [73] viii. 48. [74] iii, 14. [75] v, 59. [76] iii, 12. [77] vi, II. [78] iii, 9. Tertullian speaks in a somewhat similar way of heretics, especially of the Gnostics: _de præscriptione hæret_. c. 42. [79] vii, 68. [80] v, 25. [81] viii, 53, 58. [82] vii, 68. [83] vii, 2. [84] Cf. v, 34, 35. [85] viii, ii. Cf. Tert. _adv. Prax._ 3, where it is argued that God's monarchy is not impaired _tot angelorum numero_, nor by the _oikonomía_ of the Trinity. [86] v, 41. [87] v, 41. [88] viii, 45. [89] vii, 35. [90] iii, 24. Cf. p. 222. [91] viii, 35. [92] viii, 63. [93] viii, 12. [94] vii, 68. [95] viii, 24. [96] i, 9, _Mithrais kaì Sabadíois_. [97] viii, 60. See note on ch. iii, p. 107. [98] viii, 67. [99] Cf. Tert. _de cor. mil._ 11, if a soldier is converted, _aut deserendum statim ut a multis actum, aut,_ etc. The chapter is a general discussion whether military service and Christianity are compatible. Cf. also Tert. _de idol._ 19, _Non convenit sacramento divino et humano, signo Christi et signo diaboli, castris lucis et castris tenebrarum ... quomodo autem bellabit immo quomodo etiam in pace militabit sine gladio quem dominus abstulit? .... omnem postea militem dominus in Petro exarmando discinxit_. Tertullian, it may be remembered, was a soldier's son. [100] viii, 68. The Greeks used _basileùs_ as Emperor. [101] viii, 69. For this taunt against the Jews, cf. Cicero, _pro Flacco_, 28, 69. [102] viii, 72. [103] viii, 73. [104] viii, 75. [105] Cf. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ i, 55, who says that hardly any words could be to the many more absurd than the mysteries of the faith. [106] Clem. Alex. _Protr._ 56 (on idols). _ou gár moi thémis empisteûsai pote toîs apsychois tàs tês psychês elpídas_. [107] This was at all events the view of Clement, _Strom._ i, 19. _oudè katapsephixesthai tôn Hellénon oíon te psilê tê perì tôn dogmatiothénton autoîs chroménous phrásei, me synembrainontas eis tèn katà méros áchri syllnóseôs ekkalypsin. pistòs gar eû mála ho met' empeirias elegchos, hóti kaì teleiotáte apádeixis ehurísketai he gnôsis tôn kategnosménôn_. [108] It is regrettable that Clement should have flung one of these against the school of Carpocrates, _Strom._ iii, 10. {262} CHAPTER IX CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA Viderint qui Stoicum et Platonicum et dialecticum Christianismum protulerunt.--TERTULLIAN, _de præscr. hæret._ 7. No one can allege that the Bible has failed to win access for want of metaphysics being applied to it.--MATTHEW ARNOLD, _Literature and Dogma_, p. 121. Though Celsus had much to say upon the vulgar and servile character of the members of the Christian community, he took the trouble to write a book to refute Christianity; and this book, as we have seen, was written from a more or less philosophical point of view. He professed himself doubtful as to whether his opponents would understand his arguments; but that he wrote at all, and that he wrote as he did, is evidence that the new faith was making its way upward through society, and was gaining a hold upon the classes of wealth and education. [Sidenote: The rise of the Church] It is not hard to understand this. Though conditions of industry were not what they are to-day, it is likely that conversion was followed by the economic results with which we are familiar. The teaching of the church condemned the vices that war against thrift; and the new life that filled the convert had its inevitable effect in quickening insight and energy. The community insisted on every man having a trade and working at it. With no such end in view, the church must have numbered among its adherents more and more people of wealth and influence in spite of all defections, just as to-day Protestantism in France has power and responsibility out of all proportions to mere numbers. The Emperor Hadrian, is said to have made the observation that in Egypt, whether men worshipped Christ or Serapis, they all worshipped money.[1] The remark had probably as much truth as such sayings generally have, but we may probably infer that many Christians were punctual in {263} their observance of the duty laid on them to be "not slothful in business." The first four or five generations of Christians could not, on the whole, boast much culture--so far as their records permit us to judge. "Not many wise," said Paul, and their fewness has left an impress on the history of the church. A tendency to flightiness in speculation on the one hand, and a stolid refusal to speculate at all on the other, are the marks of second century Christianity. The early attempts made to come to terms with "human wisdom" were not happy, either at the centre or on the circumference of the body. The adjustment of the Gospel story to Old Testament prophecy was not a real triumph of the human mind, nor were the efforts at scientific theology any better. Docetism, with its phantom Christ, and Gnosticism with its antithesis of the just God and the good God, were not likely to satisfy mankind. Simple people felt that these things struck at their life, and they rejected them, and began to suspect the intellect. The century saw the growth of ecclesiastical system, episcopal order and apostolic tradition. Men began to speak of the "old church," the "original church" and the "catholic church," and to cleave to its "rule of faith" and "tradition of sound words." By 200 A.D. the church was no longer a new thing in the world; it had its own "ancient history" without going back to Judaism and the old covenant; it had its legends; and it could now speak like the Greeks of "the old faith of our fathers." As it rose in the world, the church came into contact with new problems. As long as men were without culture, they were not troubled by the necessity of reconciling culture with faith, but the time had come when it must be done in earnest. Wealth was bringing leisure, and refinement, and new intellectual outlooks and interests. Could the church do with them? was the urgent question. Was it possible for a man to be at once a Greek gentleman of wealth and culture and a simple Christian like the humble grandfathers of his fellow-believers--or like his own slaves, the fuller and the cobbler of his household? We shall understand the problem better if we can make some acquaintance with the daily life and environment of these converts of the better classes. In the second and third books of his _Pedagogue_ Clement of {264} Alexandria deals with the daily round and deportment of Christians, for whom extravagance and luxury might be a real temptation. A few points, gathered here and there from the two books, will suffice. He recommends simplicity of diet with health and strength as its objects--the viands, which the Gospels suggest, fish and the honeycomb, being admirable for these purposes.[2] Wine provokes the passions--"I therefore admire those who have chosen the austere life and are fond of water, the medicine of temperance." "Boys and girls should as a general rule abstain from the [other] drug"--wine.[3] Good manners at table--no noisy gulping, no hiccupping, no spilling, no soiling of the couch, no slobbering of hand or chin--"how do you think the Lord drank, when he became man for us?"[4] Vessels of silver and gold, furniture of rare woods inlaid with ivory, rugs of purple and rich colours, are hardly necessary for the Christian--"the Lord ate from a cheap bowl and made his disciples lie on the ground, on the grass, and he washed their feet with a towel about him--the lowly-minded God and Lord of the universe. He did not bring a silver foot-bath from heaven to carry about with him. He asked the Samaritan woman to give him to drink in a vessel of clay as she drew it up from the well,--not seeking the royal gold, but teaching us to quench thirst easily." "In general as to food, dress, furniture and all that pertains to the house, I say at once, it should all be according to the institutions of the Christian man, fitting appropriately person, age, pursuits and time."[5] [Sidenote: Christian manners] Clement passes from the table to a general discussion of manners and habits. Man is a "laughing animal," but he should not laugh all the time. Humour is recommended rather than wit (_charientistéon ou gelôtopoiêtéon_, 45, 4). "The orderly relaxation of the face which preserves its harmony" is a smile (46, 3)--giggling and excessive laughter are perversions. Care should be taken in conversation to avoid low talk, and the scoff that leads the way to insolence, and the argument for barren victory--"man is a creature of peace," as the greeting "Peace with you" shows us. Some talkers are like old shoes--only the tongue left for mischief. {265} There are many tricks unfit for a Christian gentleman--spitting, coughing, scratching and other things; and he would do well to avoid whistling and snapping his fingers to call the servants. Fidgetting is the mark of mental levity (_symbolon kouphótetos_).[6] In the care of one's person, oil may be used; it is a sign of the luxury of the times that scents and unguents are so universally applied to such various purposes. The heathen crowned their heads with flowers and made it a reproach that Christians gave up the practice. But, as Tertullian said, they smelt with their noses; and Clement urges that on the head flowers are lost to sight and smell, and chill the brain. A flower-garden in spring, with the dew upon all its colours, and all the natural scents of the open air, is another thing. The Christian too will remember--Tertullian also has this thought--that it was another crown that the Lord wore[7]--_ex spinis opinor, et tribulis_. The real objection was that the custom was associated with idol-worship. Silk and purple and pearls are next dealt with--and earrings, "an outrage on nature"--if you pierce the ear, why not the nose too?[8] All peculiarity of dress should be avoided, and so should cosmetics--or else you may remind people of the Egyptian temple, outside all splendour, inside a priest singing a hymn to a cat or a crocodile.[9] "Temperance in drink and symmetry in food are wonderful cosmetics and quite natural."[10] Let a woman work with her hands, and health will come and bring her beauty. She should go veiled to church, like Æneas' wife leaving Troy.[11] Men may play at ball, take country walks, and try gardening and drawing water and splitting billets.[12] Finger-rings are allowed for them--gold rings, to be used as seals for security against the slaves. {266} "Let our seals be a dove, or a fish, or a ship running before the wind, or a lyre, or a ship's anchor"--not an idol's face, or a sword or a cup or something worse.[13] Men should wear their hair short (unless it is curly), grow their beards and keep their moustaches trimmed with the scissors.[14] Our slaves we should treat as ourselves, for they are men as we; "God" (as a verse, perhaps from Menander, puts it) "is the same for all, free or slave, if you think of it."[15] All these admonitions imply an audience with some degree of wealth. The Christian artisan of Celsus had no temptation to use a silver foot-bath or to plaster himself with cosmetics. It may also be remarked that the man who gives the advice shows himself well acquainted with the ways of good society--and perhaps of society not so well gifted with taste. With all this refinement went education. The children of Christian parents were being educated, and new converts were being made among the cultured classes, and the adjustment of the new faith and the old culture was imperative. The men to make it were found in a succession of scholars, learned in all the wisdom of Greece, enthusiastic for philosophy and yet loyal to the Gospel tradition. The first of these, whose name we know, was Pantænus; but beyond his name there is little to be known of him. Eusebius says that he began as a Stoic philosopher and ended as a Christian missionary to India.[16] His pupil, Clement, is of far greater importance in the history of Christian thought. [Sidenote: His classical training] Of Clement again there is little to be learnt beyond what can be gathered from his own writings. He alludes himself to the death of the Emperor Commodus as being "194 years, 1 month and 13 days" after the birth of Christ (it was in 192 A.D.); and Eusebius quotes a passage from a contemporary letter which shows that Clement was alive in 211 A.D., and another written in or about 215, which implies that he was dead.[17] We have also an indication from Eusebius that his activity as a teacher in Alexandria lasted from 180 {267} to 202 or 203.[18] We may then assume that Clement was born about the middle of the century. Epiphanius says that Clement was either an Alexandrine or an Athenian. A phrase to be quoted below suggests that he was not an Alexandrine, and it has been held possible that he came from Athens.[19] It also seems that he was born a pagan.[20] Perhaps he says this himself when he writes: "rejoicing exceedingly and renouncing our old opinions we grow young again for salvation, singing with the prophecy that chants 'How good is God to Israel.'"[21] It is obvious that he had the usual training of a Greek of his social position. If his code of manners is lifted above other such codes by the constant suggestion of the gentle spirit of Jesus, it yet bears the mark of his race and of his period. It is Greek and aristocratic, and it would in the main command the approval of Plutarch. He must have been taught Rhetoric like every one else,--his style shows this as much as his protests that he does not aim at eloquence (_euglôttía_), that he has not studied and does not practise "Greek style" (_helleíxein_).[22] He has the diffuse learning of his day--wide, second-hand and uncritical; and, like other contemporary writers, he was a devotee of the note-book. No age of Greek literature has left us so many works of the kind he wrote--the sheer congeries with no attempt at structure, no "beginning, middle and end,"--easy, accumulative books of fine miscellaneous feeding, with titles that playfully confess to their character. Like other authors of this class, Clement preserves for us many and many a fragment of more interest and value than any original piece of literature could have been. He clearly loved the poetry of Greece, and it comes spontaneously and irresistibly to his mind as he writes, and the sayings of Jesus are reinforced by those of Menander or Epicharmus. The old words charm him, and {268} he cannot reject them. His _Stromateis_ are "not like ornamental paradises laid out in rows to please the eye, but rather resemble some shady and thickly-wooded hill, where you may find cypress and plane, bay and ivy, and apple trees along with olives and figs"[23]--trees with literary connotations. Such works imply some want of the creative instinct, of originality, and they are an index to the thinking of the age, impressed with its great ancestry. It is to be remarked that the writers of our period care little for the literature of the past two or three centuries; they quote their own teachers and the great philosophers and poets of ancient Greece.[24] Few of them have any new thoughts at all, and those who have are under the necessity of clothing them in the hallowed phrases of their predecessors. This was the training in which Clement shared. Later on, he emancipated himself, and spoke contemptuously of the school--"a river of words and a trickle of mind";[25] but an education is not easily shaken off. He might quarrel with his teachers and their lessons, but he still believed in them. It may be noted that in his quotations of Greek literature his attention is mainly given to the thought which he finds in the words--or attaches to them--that he does not seem to conceive of a work of art as a whole, nor does he concern himself with the author. He used the words as a quotation, and it is not unlikely that many of the passages he borrowed he knew only as quotations. In philosophy his training must have been much the same, but here he had a more living interest. Philosophy touched him more nearly, for it bore upon the two great problems of the human soul--conduct and God. Like Seneca and Plutarch he was not interested in Philosophy apart from these issues--epistemology, psychology, physics and so forth were not practical matters. The philosophers he judged by their theology. With religious men of his day he leant to the Stoics and "truth-loving Plato"--especially Plato, whom he {269} seems to have read for himself--but he avows that Philosophy for him means not the system of any school or thinker, but the sum of the unquestionable dogmata of all the schools, "all that in every school has been well said, to teach righteousness with pious knowledge--this eclectic whole I call Philosophy."[26] To this Philosophy all other studies contribute--they are "the handmaidens, and she the mistress"[27]--and she herself owns the sway of Theology. [Sidenote: Clement and the mysteries] At some time of his life Clement acquired a close acquaintance with pagan mythology and its cults. It may be that he was initiated into mysteries; in his _Protrepticus_ he gives an account of many of them, which is of great value to the modern student. It is probable enough that an earnest man in search of God would explore the obvious avenues to the knowledge he sought--avenues much travelled and loudly vaunted in his day. Having explored them, it is again not unlikely that a spirit so pure and gentle should be repelled by rituals and legends full of obscenity and cruelty. It is of course possible that much of his knowledge came from books, perhaps after his conversion, for one great part of Christian polemic was the simple exposure of the secret rites of paganism. Yet it remains that his language is permanently charged with technical terms proper to the mysteries, and that he loves to put Christian knowledge and experience in the old language--"Oh! mysteries truly holy! Oh! stainless light! The daduchs lead me on to be the epopt of the heavens and of God; I am initiated and become holy; the Lord is the hierophant and seals the mystês for himself, himself the photagogue."[28] It is again a little surprising to hear of "the Saviour "being" our mystagogue as in the tragedy-- He sees, we see, he gives the holy things (_órgia_); and if thou wilt inquire {270} These holy things--what form have they for thee? thou wilt hear in reply Save Bacchus' own initiate, none may know."[29] It is inconceivable that a Hebrew, or anyone but a Greek, could have written such a passage with its double series of allusions to Greek mysteries and to Euripides' _Bacchæ_. Clement is the only man who writes in this way, with an allusiveness beyond Plutarch's, and a fancy as comprehensive as his charity and his experience of literature and religion. He had the Greek's curious interest in foreign religions, and he speaks of Chaldæans and Magians, of Indian hermits and Brahmans--"and among the Indians are those that follow the precepts of Buddha (_Boûtta_), whom for his exceeding holiness they have honoured as a god"--of the holy women of the Germans and the Druids of the Gauls.[30] Probably in each of these cases his knowledge was soon exhausted, but it shows the direction of his thoughts. Egypt of course furnished a richer field of inquiry to him as to Plutarch. He has passages on Egyptian symbolism,[31] and on their ceremonial,[32] which contain interesting detail. It was admitted by the Greeks--even by Celsus--that barbarians excelled in the discovery of religious dogma, though they could not equal the Greeks in the philosophic use of it. Thus Pausanias says the Chaldæans and Indian Magians first spoke of the soul's immortality, which many Greeks have accepted, "not least Plato son of Ariston."[33] In the course of his intellectual wanderings, very possibly before he became a Christian, Clement investigated Jewish thought so far as it was accessible to him in Greek, for Greeks did not learn barbarian languages. Eusebius remarks upon his allusions to a number of Jewish historians.[34] His debt to {271} Philo is very great, for it was not only his allegoric method in general and some elaborate allegories that he borrowed, but the central conception in his presentment of Christianity comes originally from the Jewish thinker, though Clement was not the first Christian to use the term Logos. Clement does not tell us that he was born of pagan parents, nor does he speak definitely of his conversion. It is an inference, and we are left to conjecture the steps by which it came, but without the help of evidence. One allusion to his Christian teachers is dropped when he justifies his writing the _Stromateis_--"memoranda treasured up for my old age, an antidote against forgetfulness, a mere semblance and shadow-picture of those bright and living discourses, those men happy and truly remarkable, whom I was counted worthy to hear." And then the reading is uncertain, but, according to Dr Stahlin's text he says: "Of these, one was in Greece--the Ionian; the next (pl.) in Magna Græcia (one of whom was from Coele Syria and the other from Egypt); others in the East; and in this region one was an Assyrian, and the other in Palestine a Hebrew by descent. The last of all (in power he was the first) I met and found my rest in him, when I had caught him hidden away in Egypt. He, the true Sicilian bee, culling the flowers of the prophetic and apostolic meadow, begot pure knowledge in the souls of those who heard him. These men preserved the true tradition of the blessed teaching direct from Peter and James, John and Paul, the holy apostles, son receiving it from father ('and few be sons their fathers' peers'), and reached down by God's blessing even to us, in us to deposit those ancestral and apostolic seeds."[35] It is supposed that the Assyrian was Tatian, while the Sicilian bee hidden away in Egypt was almost certainly Pantænus. Clement's education had been wide and superficial, his reading sympathetic but not deep, his philosophy vague and eclectic, and now from paganism with its strange and indefinite aggregation of religions based on cult and legend, he passed to a faith that rested on a tradition jealously maintained and a rule beginning to be venerable. He met men with a definite language in which they expressed a common experience--who had moreover seen a good many efforts made to mend the {272} language and all of them ending in "shipwreck concerning the faith"; who therefore held to the "form of sound words" as the one foundation for the Christian life. It says a great deal for Clement's character--one might boldly say at once that it is an index to his personal experience--that he could sympathize with these men in the warm and generous way he did. Now and again he is guilty of directing a little irony against the louder-voiced defenders of "faith only, bare faith"[36] and "straight opinion"--"the _orthodoxasts_, as they are called."[37] (The curious word shows that the terms "orthodox" and "orthodoxy" were not yet quite developed.) But he stands firmly by the simplest Christians and their experience. If he pleads for a wider view of things--for what he calls "knowledge," it is, he maintains, the development of the common faith of all Christians. It is quite different from the wisdom that is implanted by teaching; it comes by grace. "The foundation of knowledge is to have no doubts about God, but to believe; Christ is both--foundation and superstructure alike; by him is the beginning and the end.... These, I mean faith and love, are not matters of teaching."[38] As Jesus became perfect by baptism and was hallowed by the descent of the spirit, "so it befals us also, whose pattern is the Lord. Baptized, we are enlightened; enlightened, we are made sons; made sons we are perfected; made perfect we become immortal [all these verbs and participles are in the present]. 'I,' he saith, 'said ye are gods and sons of the Most High, all of you.' This work has many names; it is called gift [or grace, _chárisma_], enlightenment, perfection, baptism.... What is wanting for him who knows God? It would be strange indeed if that were called a gift of God which was incomplete; the Perfect will give what is perfect, one supposes.... Thus they that have once grasped the borders of life are already perfect; we live already, who are separated from death. Salvation is following Christ.... So to believe--only to believe--and to be born again is perfection in life."[39] He praises the poet of {273} Agrigentum for hymning faith, which his verses declare to be hard; 'and that is why the Apostle exhorts 'that your faith may not be in the wisdom of men'--who offer to persuade--'but in the power of God'--which alone and without proofs can by bare faith save."[40] [Sidenote: "The real polymetis"] It was this strong sympathy with the simplest view of the Christian faith that made the life-work of Clement possible. He was to go far outside the ordinary thoughts of the Christian community round about him--inevitably he had to do this under the compulsion of his wide experience of books and thinkers--but the centre of all his larger experience he found where his unlettered friends, "believing without letters," found their centre, and he checked his theories, original and borrowed--or he aimed at checking them--by life. "As in gardening and in medicine he is the man of real learning (_chrestomathés_), who has had experience of the more varied lessons...; so, I say, here too, of him who brings everything to bear on the truth.... We praise the pilot of wide range, who 'has seen the cities of many men'... so he who turns everything to the right life, fetching illustrations from things Greek and things barbarian alike, he is the much-experienced (_polypeiros_) tracker of truth, the real _polymêtis_; like the touchstone--the Lydian stone believed to distinguish between the bastard and the true-born gold, he is able to separate,--our _polyidris_ and man of knowledge (_gnostikos_) as he is,--sophistic from philosophy, the cosmetic art from the true gymnastic, cookery from medicine, rhetoric from dialectic, magic and other heresies in the barbarian philosophy from the actual truth."[41] This, in spirit and letter, is a very characteristic utterance. Beginning with the Lord as "the vine"--from which some expect to gather clusters of grapes in the twinkling of an eye--he ranges into medicine and sea-faring, from Odysseus "of many wiles, who saw the cities of many men and learnt their mind," to Plato's _Gorgias_, and brings all to bear on the Christian life. What his simple friends made of such a passage--if they were able to read at all, or had it read to them--it is not easy to guess, but contact must have shown them in the man a genuine and tender Christian as Christocentric as themselves, if in speech he {274} was oddly suited,--a gay epitome of Greek literature in every sentence. This, then, is the man, a Greek of wide culture and open heart, who has dipped into everything that can charm the fancy and make the heart beat,--curious in literature, cult, and philosophy, and now submitted to the tradition of the church and the authority of Hebrew prophet and Christian apostle, but not as one bowing to a strange and difficult necessity. Rather, with the humblest of God's children--those "tender, simple and guileless" children on whom God lavishes all the little names which he has for his only Son, the "lamb" and the "child"[42]--he finds in Christ "thanksgiving, blessing, triumph and joy," while Christ himself bends from above, like Sarah, to smile upon their "laughter."[43] Such was the range of Clement's experience, and now, under the influence of the great change that conversion brought, he had to re-think everything and to gather it up in a new unity. Thus in one man were summed up all the elements of import in the general situation of the church of his day. He was representative alike in his susceptibility to the ancient literature and philosophy and his love of Scripture--"truth-loving Isaiah" and "St Paul"--in his loyalty to the faith, and, not less, in his determination to reach some higher ground from which the battle of the church could be fought with wider outlook, more intelligent grasp of the factors in play, and more hope of winning men for God. [Sidenote: Faith and philosophy] Clement did not come before his time. Philosophy had begun to realize the significance of the church. The repression of the "harmful superstition" was no longer an affair of police; it was the common concern of good citizens. The model Emperor himself, the philosopher upon the throne, had openly departed from the easy policy laid down by Trajan and continued by his successors. He had witnessed, or had received reports of, executions. Writing in his diary of death, he says: "What a soul is that which is ready, if the moment has come for its separation from the body, whether it is to be extinguished, or dissolved, or to continue a whole. This readiness--see that it come from your own judgment, not in mere obstinacy, as with the Christians, but reflectively and {275} with dignity, in a way to persuade another, with nothing of the actor in it."[44] This sentence betrays something of the limitations of a good man--a beautiful spirit indeed, but not a little over-praised by his admirers in modern days. Celsus at once taunts his Christian opponents with their prospects of painful death and demonstrates the absurdity of their tenets from the point of view of philosophy. The Apologists say, too, that the philosophers lent themselves (as did also the dæmons) to inciting the mob to massacre. But after all the dialectical weapons of Philosophy were the more dangerous, for they shook the faith of the Christian which death did not shake. Again, the candid and inquiring temper of some notable converts and friends had led them to question the tradition of the church and to examine their Christian experience with a freedom from prejudice, at least in the evangelic direction, which had resulted in conclusions fatal, it seemed, to the Christian movement. Their philosophy had carried them outside the thoughts of Jesus--they had abandoned the idea of the Abba Father, of the divine love, of the naturalness and instinctiveness of Christian life. Incarnation and redemption they rejected, at least in the sense which made the conceptions of value to men. Jesus they remodelled into one and another figure more amenable to their theories--a mere man, a demi-god, a phantom, into anything but the historic personality that was and could remain the centre and inspiration of Christian life. Of all this mischief philosophy, men said, was the cause.[45] "I know quite well," writes Clement, "what is said over and over again by some ignorantly nervous people who insist that we should confine ourselves to the inevitable minimum, to what contains the faith, and pass over what is outside and superfluous, as it wears us out to no purpose and occupies us with what contributes nothing to our end. Others say philosophy comes of evil and was introduced into life for the ruin of {276} men by an evil inventor."[46] They were afraid of philosophy, as children might fear a ghost, in case it should take them away[47]--but this, as Clement saw, was no way to meet the danger. The Christian must not philosophize, they said--Tertullian said it too; but how could they know they must not philosophize unless they philosophized?[48] Whether philosophy is profitable or not, "you cannot condemn the Greeks on the basis of mere statements about their opinions, without going into it with them till point by point you discover what they mean and understand them. It is the refutation based upon experience that is reliable."[49] [Sidenote: His defence of philosophy] So Clement has first of all to fight the battle of education inside the church, to convince his friends that culture counts, that philosophy is inevitable and of use at once for the refutation of opponents and for the achievement of the full significance of faith. Then he has to show how philosophy at its best was the foe of superstition and the champion of God's unity and goodness--a preparation for the Gospel. Lastly he has to restate the Christian position in the language of philosophy and to prove that the Gospel is reaffirming all that was best in the philosophic schools and bringing it to a higher point, indeed to the highest; that the Gospel is the final philosophy of the universe, the solution of all the problems of existence, the revelation of the ultimate mind of God. Clement boldly asserts the unity of all knowledge. Everything contributes, everything is concentric. "Just as every family goes back to God the Creator, so does the teaching of all good things go back to the Lord, the teaching that makes men just, that takes them by the hand and brings them that way."[50] And again:--"When many men launch a ship, pulling together, you could not say there are many causes, but one consisting of many--for each of them is not by himself the cause of its being launched but only in conjunction with others; so philosophy, which is a search for truth, contributes to the perception (_katalepsis_) of truth, though it is not the {277} cause of perception, except in conjunction and co-operation with other things. Yet perhaps even a joint-cause we might call a cause. Happiness is one, and the virtues more than one which are its causes. The causes of warmth may be the sun, the fire, the bath and the clothing. So, truth is one and many things co-operate in the search for it, but the discovery is by the Son.... Truth is one, but in Geometry we have geometrical truth, in Music musical; so in Philosophy--right Philosophy--we should have Greek truth. But alone the sovereign Truth is unassailable, which we are taught by the Son of God."[51] Elsewhere, when challenged to say what use there is in knowing the causes that explain the sun's motion,[52] geometry and dialectics, when Greek philosophy is merely man's understanding, he falls back upon the mind's instinctive desire for such things, its free will (_tèn proaíresin toû noû_), and quickly marshals a series of texts from the Book of _Wisdom_ on the divine source of wisdom and God's love of it, concluding with an allegory drawn from the five barley loaves and the two fishes on which the multitude were fed, the former typifying the Hebrew Law ("for barley is sooner ripe for harvest than wheat") and the fishes Greek philosophy "born and moving amid Gentile billows." ("If you are curious, take one of the fishes as signifying ordinary education and the other the philosophy that succeeds it.... A choir of voiceless fish came sweeping on, the Tragic muse says somewhere"[53]). His appeal to the mind is a much stronger defence than any such accumulation of texts, but for the people he had in view the texts were probably more convincing. The impulse to Philosophy is an inevitable one, native to the human mind, and he shows that it is to the Divine Reason working in all things, to Providence, that we must attribute it. {278} "Everything, so far as its nature permits, came into being, and does so still, advancing to what is better than itself. So that it is not out of the way that Philosophy too should have been given in Divine Providence, as a preliminary training towards the perfection that comes by Christ.... 'Your hairs are numbered' and your simplest movements; can Philosophy be left out of the account? [An allegory follows from Samson's hair.] Providence, it says, from above, from what is of first importance, as from the head, reaches down to all men, as 'the myrrh,' it says, 'that descends upon Aaron's beard and to the fringe of his garment'--viz.: the Great High Priest, 'by whom all things came into being, and without him nothing came'--not, that is, on to the beauty of the body; Philosophy is outside the people [possibly Israel is meant] just as raiment is. The philosophers then, who are trained by the perceptive spirit for their own perception,--when they investigate not a part of Philosophy, but Philosophy absolutely, they testify in a truth-loving way and without pride to truth by their beautiful sayings even with those who think otherwise, and they advance to understanding (_synesin_), in accordance with the divine dispensation, that unspeakable goodness which universally brings the nature of all that exists onward toward the better so far as may be."[54] Thought (_phronesis_) takes many forms, and it is diffused through all the universe and all human affairs, and in each sphere it has a separate name--Thought, Knowledge, Wisdom or Faith. In the things of sense it is called Right Opinion; in matters of handicraft, Art; in the logical discussion of the things of the mind, it is Dialectic. "Those who say that Philosophy is not from God, come very near saying that God cannot know each several thing in particular and that He is not the cause of all good things, if each of them is a particular thing. Nothing that is could have been at all without God's will; and, if with His will, then Philosophy is from God, since He willed it to be what it is for the sake of those who would not otherwise abstain from evil." "He seeth all things and he heareth all[55] {279} and beholds the soul naked within, and he has through all eternity the thought (_epínoia_) of each several thing in particular," seeing all things, as men in a theatre look around and take all in at a glance. "There are many things in life that find their beginning in human reason, though the spark that kindles them is from God.[56] Thus health through medicine, good condition through training, wealth through commerce, come into being and are amongst us, at once by Divine Providence and human co-operation. And from God comes understanding too. And the free will (_proairesis_) of good men most of all obeys God's will.... The thoughts (_epinoiai_) of virtuous men come by divine inspiration (_epípnoia_), the soul being disposed so and the divine will conveyed (_diadidonénou_) to human souls, the divine ministers taking part in such services; for over all nations and cities are assigned angelic governances--perhaps even over individuals."[57] Philosophy makes men virtuous, so it cannot be the product of evil--that is, it is the work of God. As it was given to the best among the Greeks, we can divine who was the Giver.[58] This is a favourite thought with Clement, and, as he does with all ideas that please him, he repeats it over and over again, in all sorts of connexions and in all variety of phrase. When a man is avowedly making "patchwork" books (_Stromateis_), there is really no occasion on which we can call it irrelevant for him to repeat himself, and this is a thought worth repeating. "Before the advent of the Lord, Philosophy was necessary to the Greeks for righteousness, and it is still profitable for piety, a sort of primary instruction for those who reap faith by revelation.... God is the cause of all good things, of some directly, as of the Old and New Testament, of others indirectly as of Philosophy. And perhaps even directly it was given in those times to the Greeks, before the Lord called the Greeks also; for Philosophy too was a _paidagogos_ for the Greek world, as the Law was for the Hebrews, to bring them to Christ."[59] {280} "Generally speaking, we should not be wrong in saying that all that is necessary and profitable to life comes to us from God--and that Philosophy was more especially given to the Greeks, as a sort of covenant (_diathéke_) of their own, a step (_hypobathra_) toward the Philosophy according to Christ,--if Greek philosophers will not close their ears to the truths, through contempt of the barbarian speech."[60] "God is the bestower (_choregós_) of both covenants, who also gave Philosophy to the Greeks, whereby among the Greeks the Almighty is glorified."[61] "In those times Philosophy by itself 'justified' the Greeks--though not to the point of perfect righteousness."[62] "As in due season the Preaching now comes, so in due season the law and the prophets were given to the barbarians and Philosophy to the Greeks, to train their ears for the Preaching."[63] [Sidenote: The origin of philosophy] Philosophy however fell short of the Law. Those, who were righteous by the Law, still lacked Faith; while the others, whose righteousness was by Philosophy, not only lacked Faith but failed to break with idolatry.[64] (This was in many quarters the capital charge against contemporary philosophy.) It was for this reason that the Saviour preached the Gospel in Hades, just as after him, according to Hermas, "the apostles and teachers, when they fell asleep in the power and faith of the Son of God, preached to those who had fallen asleep before them."[65] It is curious that Clement not only cites Philosophy as a gift of God to the Gentiles before Faith came, that God's judgments might be just, but he also says, on the authority of the Law (quoting inaccurately and perhaps from memory), that God gave them the sun, the moon and stars to worship, which God made for the Gentiles that they might not become utterly atheistic and so utterly perish. "It was a road given to them, that in worshipping the stars they might look up to God."[66] That they fell into idolatry was however only too patent a fact. {281} The exact means, by which the Greeks received the truths contained in their philosophy, is not certain. A favourite explanation with Christian writers, and one to which Clement gives a good deal of thought, is that Greek thinkers borrowed at large from the Old Testament, for Moses lived some six hundred years before the deification of Dionysos, the Sibyl long before Orpheus.[67] Clement's illustrations are not very convincing. "The idea of bringing Providence as far down as the moon came to Aristotle from this _Psalm_: 'Lord, in heaven is thy mercy and thy truth as far as (_héos_) the clouds.'" Epicurus took his conception of Chance from "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity;" while the Sabbath is found in several lines of Homer--unfortunately spurious. An attempt to convict Euripides of plagiarism from Plato's _Republic_ shows the worth of these suggestions, and the whole scheme wakes doubts as to the value of Clement's judgment.[68] Another theory was angelic mediation. God might have communicated with the Greeks by inferior angels;[69] or those angels who fell into pleasure might have told their human wives what they knew of divine secrets, "and so the doctrine of Providence got about."[70] Or else by happy guess or accident the Greeks found parts of the truth for themselves--or in virtue of some naturally implanted notion (_énnoia_) or common mind, and then "we know who is the author of nature."[71] Whatever the explanation, in any case the hand of God was to be traced in it--Providence foreknew all, and so designed that the wickedness of fallen angels and men should promote righteousness and truth.[72] So much for those who quote the text "All that ever came before me were thieves and robbers,"[73] or who say that the devil is the author of {282} Philosophy[74] (though we may admit Epicureanism to have been sown by the sower of tares).[75] We might look far for a more vivid illustration of the contrast between sound instinct and absurd theory. [Sidenote: The _Protrepticus_] Thus he vindicates the right of the Christian to claim Philosophy as the manifestation of the Divine Logos, and as a fore-runner of the Gospel, and in his _Protrepticus_ he shows how the Christian thus re-inforced can deal with paganism. If the _Stromateis_ weary even the sympathetic reader with their want of plan, their diffuseness and repetition, and their interminable and fanciful digressions--faults inherent in all works of the kind--the _Protrepticus_ makes a different impression. It is written by the same hand and shows the same tendencies, but they are under better control. Allegories, analogies and allusions still hinder the development of his thought--like Atalanta he can never let a golden apple run past him. He is not properly a philosopher in spite of all his love of Philosophy, and he thinks in colours, like a poet. Yet he is not essentially a man of letters or a poet; he is too indolent; his style is not inevitable or compulsive. It is too true a confession when he says that he does not aim at beauty of language. His sentence will begin well, and then grow intricate and involved--in breaks an allusion, not always very relevant, and brings with it a quotation that has captured his fancy and paralyses his grammar--several perhaps--some accommodation is made, and the sentence straggles on, and will end somehow--with a pile of long words, for which others have been patiently waiting since before the quotation, in pendent genitives, accusatives and so forth. But in the _Protrepticus_--in the better parts of it--something has happened to his style, for (to speak after his own manner) Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. He is no longer arguing; he surrenders to a tide of emotion, and is borne along singing, and as he sings, he seems to gather up all the music of the ancient world; we catch notes that come from Greek and Hebrew song, and the whole is woven together {283} into a hymn to "the Saviour," "my Singer," "our new Orpheus," that for sheer beauty, for gladness and purity of feeling is unmatched in early Christian literature. One comes back to it after years and the old charm is there still. That it can survive in a few translated fragments is hardly to be expected. He begins with the famous singers of Greek myth--Amphion, Arion, and Eunomus with the grass-hopper... You will believe empty myths, he says, but "Truth's bright face seems to you to be false and falls under eyes of unbelief." But Cithæron and Helicon are old. "Let us bring Truth and shining Wisdom from heaven above to the holy mount of God and the holy choir of the prophets. Let her, beaming with light that spreads afar, illumine all about her them that lie in darkness, and save men from error." "My Eunomus sings not Terpander's strain, nor Capion's, not the Phrygian, the Lydian or the Dorian, but the eternal strain of the new harmony, the strain that bears the name of God, the new song, the song of the Levite, with A drug infused antidote to the pains Of grief and anger, a most potent charm For ills of every name,[76] a sweet and true cure of sorrow." Orpheus sang to enslave men to idols, to foolish rites, to shadows. "Not such is my singer; he has come, soon to end cruel slavery to tyrannic dæmons; he transfers us to the gentle and kindly yoke of piety, and calls to heaven them that were fallen to earth."[77] It was this new song that first made the whole cosmos a harmony, and it is still the stay and harmony of all things. It was this Logos of God who framed "the little cosmos, man," setting soul and body together by the holy spirit, and who sings to God upon this organ of many tones--man. The Logos himself is an organ for God, of all the harmonies, tuneful and holy.[78] What does this organ, this new song, tell us? The Logos, that was before the Day-Star was, has appeared among men as a teacher,--he by whom all things were made. {284} As Demiurge he gave life; as teacher he taught to live well; that, as God, he may lavish upon us life forever. Many voices and many means has the Saviour employed for the saving of men. Lest you should disbelieve these, the Logos of God has himself become man that you might learn from man how man may become God.[79] He casts a glance over Greek myths and mysteries--cymbals, tambourines, emblems, legends and uncleanness, the work of men who knew not the God who truly is, men "without hope and without God in the world." "There was from of old a certain natural fellowship of men with heaven, hidden in the darkness of their ignorance, but now on a sudden it has leapt through the darkness and shines resplendent--even as that said by one of old, See'st thou that boundless æther there on high That laps earth round within its dewy arms? and again, O stay of earth, that hast thy seat on earth, Whoe'er thou art, beyond man's guess to see; and all the rest that the children of the poets sing."[80] But wrong conceptions have turned "the heavenly plant, man," from the heavenly life and laid him low on earth, persuading him to cleave to things fashioned of earth. So he returns to the discussion of pagan worships--"but by now your myths too seem to me to have grown old"--and he speaks of the dæmon-theory by which the pagans themselves explained their religion. The dæmons are inhuman and haters of men; they enjoy the slaying of men--no wonder that with such a beginning superstition is the source of cruelty and folly. But "no! I must never entrust the hopes of the soul to things without souls."[81] "The only refuge, it seems, for him who would come to the gates of "Salvation is the Divine Wisdom."[82] {285} He now reviews the opinions of the philosophers about God. The Stoics (to omit the rest) "saying that the divine goes through all matter, even the most dishonourable, shame Philosophy."[83] "Epicurus alone I will gladly forget."[84] "Where then are we to track out God, Plato? 'The Father and maker of this whole it is hard to find, and, when one has found him, to declare him to all is impossible.' In his name why? 'For it is unspeakable.' Well said! Plato! thou hast touched the truth!"[85] "I know thy teachers," still addressing Plato, "Geometry thou dost learn from Egyptians, Astronomy from Babylonians, the charms that give health from Thracians; much have the Assyrians taught thee; but thy laws--such of them as are true--and thy thought of God, to these thou hast been helped by the Hebrews."[86] After the philosophers the poets are called upon to give evidence--Euripides in particular.[87] Finally he turns to the prophets and their message of salvation--"I could quote you ten thousand passages, of which 'not one tittle shall pass' without being fulfilled; for the mouth of the Lord, the holy spirit, spoke them."[88] God speaks to men as to his children--"gentle as a father," as Homer says. He offers freedom, and you run away to slavery; he gives salvation, and you slip away into death. Yet he does not cease to plead--"Wake, and Christ the Lord shall lighten upon you, the sun of resurrection."[89] "What would you have covenanted to give, oh! men! if eternal salvation had been for sale? Not though one should measure out all Pactolus, the mythic river of gold, will he pay a price equal to salvation."[90] Yet "you can buy this precious salvation with your own treasure, with love and faith of life ... that is a price God is glad to accept."[91] Men grow to the world, like seaweed to the rocks by the sea, and despise immortality "like the old Ithacan, yearning not for Truth and the fatherland {286} in heaven, and the light that truly is, but for the smoke."[92] It is piety that "makes us like God"--a reference to Plato's familiar phrase. God's function (_érgon_) is man's salvation. "The word is not hidden from any. Light is common and shines upon all men; there is no Cimmerian in the reckoning. Let us hasten to salvation, to re-birth. Into one love to be gathered, many in number, according to the unity of the essence of the Monad, let us hasten. As we are blessed, let us pursue unity, seeking the good Monad. And this union of many, from a medley of voices and distraction, receives a divine harmony and becomes one symphony, following one coryphæus (_choreutés_) and teacher, the Word, resting upon the Truth itself, and saying 'Abba Father.'"[93] Here indeed Philosophy and the Gospel join hands, when the Monad and Abba Father are shown to be one and the same.[94] It is easy to see which of the thoughts represented by these names means most to Clement. "Our tender loving Father, the Father indeed, ceases not to urge, to admonish, to teach, to love; for neither does he cease to save"--"only, oh! child! thirst for thy Father, and God will be shown to thee without a price."[95] "Man's proper nature is to be at home with God;" as then we set each animal to its natural task, the ox to plough and the horse to hunt, so "man, too, who is born for the sight of heaven, a heavenly plant most truly, we call to the knowledge of God.... Plough, we say, if you are a ploughman, but know God as you plough; sail, if you love sea-faring, but calling on the heavenly pilot"[96] "A noble hymn to God is an immortal man, being built up in righteousness, in whom are engraved the oracles of truth"[97]; and very soon he quotes "Turn the other cheek" as a "reasonable law to be written in the heart."[98] {287} "God's problem is always to save the flock of men. It was for that the good God sent the good Shepherd. The Logos has made truth simple and shown to men the height of salvation."[99] "Christ wishes your salvation; with one word he gives you life. And who is he? Hear in brief: the Word of truth, the Word of immortality, that gives man re-birth, bears him up to truth, the goad of salvation, who drives away destruction, who chases forth death, who built in men a temple that he might make God to dwell among men."[100] The last chapter is a beautiful picture of the Christian life, full of wonderful language from Homer, the _Bacchæ_ of Euripides, and the Mysteries, and in the centre of it--its very heart--"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." In the passages here quoted from the _Protrepticus_ some of Clement's main ideas in the realm of Christian thought are clearly to be seen; and we have now to give them further and more detailed examination. We have to see what he makes of the central things in the new religion--of God, and the Saviour, and of man, and how he interprets the Gospel of Jesus in the language of Greek philosophy. It is to be noted that, whatever happened in the course of his work--and very few books are, when written, quite what the writer expected on beginning--Clement looked upon his task as interpretation. The Scriptures are his authorities--"he who has believed the divine Scriptures, with firm judgment, receives in the voice of God who gave the Scriptures a proof that cannot be spoken against."[101] Amid the prayers and hymns of the ideal Christian comes daily reading of the sacred books.[102] Clement has no formal definition of inspiration, but he loved the sacred text, and he made it the standard by which to judge all propositions. It is perhaps impossible to over-estimate the importance of this loyalty in an age, when Christian speculation was justly under suspicion on account {288} of the free re-modelling of the New Testament text that went with it. Clement would neither alter, nor excise, but he found all the freedom he wanted in the accepted methods of exegesis. Allegory and the absence of any vestige of historical criticism--and, not least, the inability induced by the training of the day to conceive of a work of art, or even a piece of humbler literature, as a whole--his very defects as a student secured his freedom as a philosopher. He can quote Scripture for his purpose; the phrase will support him where the context will not; and sometimes a defective memory will help him to the words he wants, as we have seen in the case of the worship of sun, moon and stars. To the modern mind such a use of Scripture is unwarrantable and seems to imply essential indifference to its real value, but in Clement and his contemporaries it is not inconsistent with--indeed, it is indicative of--a high sense of the value of Scripture as the _ipsissima verba_ of God. And after all a mis-quotation may be as true as the most authentic text, and may help a man as effectually to insight into the thoughts of God. [Sidenote: The Logos] We have seen that Clement quarrelled with the Stoics for involving God in matter--"even the most dishonourable." The World-soul was, in fact, repugnant to men who were impressed with the thought of Sin, and who associated Sin with matter. This feeling and a desire to keep the idea of God disentangled from every limitation led to men falling back (as we saw in the case of Plutarch) on the Platonic conception of God's transcendence. Neo-Platonism has its "golden chain" of existence descending from Real Being--God--through a vast series of beings who _are_ in a less and less degree as they are further down the scale. It is not hard to sympathize with the thoughts and feelings which drew men in this direction. The best thinkers and the most religious natures in the Mediterranean world (outside the circle of Jesus, and some Stoics) found the transcendence of God inevitably attractive, and then their hearts sought means to bridge the gulf their thoughts had made. For now he was out of all knowledge, and away beyond even revelation; for revelation involved relation and limitation, and God must be absolute. {289} We have seen how Plutarch found in the existence of dæmons a possibility of intercourse between gods and men, while above the dæmons the gods, he implies, are in communication with the remote Supreme. But for some thinkers this solution was revolting. Philo, with the great record before him of the religious experience of his race, was not prepared to give up the thought "O God, thou art my God."[103] Linking the Hebrew phrase "the word of the Lord" with the Stoic Logos Spermaticos and Plato's Idea, he found in the resulting conception a divine, rational and spiritual principle immanent in man and in the universe, and he also found a divine personality, or quasi-personality, to come between the Absolute and the world. He pictures the Logos as the Son of God, the First-born, the oldest of angels, the "idea of ideas," and again as the image of God, and the ideal in whose likeness man was made. As the ambassador of God, and High Priest, the Logos is able to mediate directly between man and God, and bridges the gulf that separates us from the Absolute.[104] More than anything else, this great conception of Philo's prepared the way for fusion of Greek thought and Christianity. Clement is conspicuously a student and a follower of Philo--nor was he the first among Christian writers to feel his influence. Clement, as already said, professed himself an eclectic in philosophy, and of such we need not expect the closest reasoning. Our plan will be to gather passages illustrative of his thoughts--we might almost say of his moods--and set side by side what he says from time to time of God. On such a subject it is perhaps impossible to hope for logic or consistency except at the cost of real aspects of the matter in hand. Something will be gained if we can realize the thoughts which most moved the man, even though their reconciliation is questionably possible. This doubt however does not seem to have occurred to himself, for he connects the dogmata of the philosophers and the teaching of the New Testament as if it were the most natural thing in the world. {290} To begin with the account of God which Clement gives in philosophical language. "The Lord calls himself 'one' (_hèn_)--'that they all may be one ... as we are one; I in them, and thou in me, that they may be perfected into one.' Now God is 'one' (_hèn_) and away beyond the 'one' (_henòs_) and above the Monad itself."[105] Again, after quoting Solon and Empedocles and "John the Apostle" ("no man hath seen God at any time"), Clement enlarges on the difficulty of speaking of God:--"How can that be expressed, which is neither genus, nor differentia, nor species, neither indivisible, nor sum, nor accident, nor susceptive of accident? Nor could one properly call him a whole (_hólon_); for whole (_tò hólon_) implies dimension, and he is Father of the Whole (_tôn hólon_). Nor could, one speak of his parts, for the one is indivisible and therefore limitless, not so conceived because there is no passing beyond it, but as being without dimension or limit, and therefore without form or name. And if we ever name him, calling him, though not properly, one, or the good, or mind, or absolute being, or father, or God, or demiurge, or lord, we do not so speak as putting forward his name; but, for want of his name, we use beautiful names, that the mind may not wander at large, but may rest on these. None of these names, taken singly, informs us of God; but, collectively and taken all together, they point to his almighty power. For predicates are spoken either of properties or of relation, and none of these can we assume about God. Nor is he the subject of the knowledge which amounts to demonstration; for this depends on premisses (_prótera_) and things better known (_gnorimótepa_);[106] but nothing is anterior to the unbegotten. It remains then by divine grace and by the Logos alone that is from him to perceive the unknowable."[107] Again, "God has no natural relation (_physikèn schésin_) to us, as the founders of heresies hold (not though he make us of what is not, or fashion us from matter, for _that_ is not at all, and _this_ is in every point different from God)--unless you venture to say that we are part of him and of one essence (_homoousíous_) with God; and I do not understand how anyone who {291} knows God will endure to hear that said, when he casts his eye upon our life and the evils with which we are mixed up. For in this way (and it is a thing not fit to speak of) God would be sinning in his parts, that is, if the parts are parts of the whole and complete the whole--if they do not complete it, they would not be parts. However, God, by nature (_physei_) being rich in pity (_éleos_), of his goodness he cares for us who are not his members nor by nature his children (_méte moríon ónton autoû méte physei téknon_). Indeed this is the chief proof of God's goodness, that though this is our position with regard to him, by nature utterly 'alienated' from him, he nevertheless cares for us. For the instinct of kindness to offspring is natural (_physikè_) in animals, and so is friendship with the like-minded based on old acquaintance, but God's pity is rich towards us who in no respect have anything to do with him, I mean, in our being (_ousía_) or nature or the peculiar property of our being (_dynámei tê oikeía tês ousías hemôn_), but merely by our being the work of His will."[108] "The God of the Whole (_tôn hélon_), who is above every voice and every thought and every conception, could never be set forth in writing, for his property is to be unspeakable."[109] It follows that the language of the Bible is not to be taken literally when it attributes feelings to God. Clement has cited texts which speak of "joy" and "pity" in connexion with God, and he has to meet the objection that these are moods of the soul and passions (_tropàs psychês kaì pathe_). We mistake, when we interpret Scripture in accordance with our own experience of the flesh and of passions, "taking the will of the passionless God (_toû apathous theoû_) on a line with our own perturbations (_kinémasi_). When we suppose that the fact in the case of the Almighty is as we are able to hear, we err in an atheistic way. For the divine was not to be declared as it _is_; but as we, fettered by flesh, were able to understand, even so the prophets spoke to us, the Lord accommodating himself to the weakness of men with a mind to save them {292} (_soteríos_)." Thus the language of our emotions, though not properly to be employed, is used to help our weakness.[110] For God is, in fact, "without emotion, without wrath, without desire" (_apathès_, _athumos_, _anepithúmetos_).[111] Clement repeatedly recurs with pleasure to this conception of "Apathy"; it is the mark of God, of Christ, of the Apostles, and of the ideal Christian, with whom it becomes a fixed habit (_héxis_).[112] God is not like a man (_anthropoeidès_), nor does he need senses to hear with, nor does he depend on the sensitiveness of the air (_tò eupathès toû héros_) for his apprehensions, "but the instantaneous perception of the angels and the power of conscience touching the soul--these recognize all things, with the quickness of thought, by means of some indescribable faculty apart from sensible hearing. Even if one should say that it was impossible for the voice, rolling in this lower air, to reach to God, still the thoughts of the saints (_agíon_) cleave, not the air alone, but the whole universe as well. And the divine power instantly penetrates the whole soul like light. Again do not our resolves also find their way to God, uttering a voice of their own? And are not some things also wafted heavenward by the conscience? ... God is all ear and all eye, if we may make use of these expressions."[113] Thus it would seem that God is not so far from every one of us as we might have supposed from the passages previously quoted, and the contrast between the two views of God grows wider when we recall Clement's words in the _Protrepticus_ about the Heavenly Father. While a Greek, the pupil of the philosophers, could never use the language of a Jew about "God our Father" with the same freedom from mental reservation, Clement undoubtedly speaks of God at times in the same spirit that we feel in the utterances of Jesus. He goes beyond what contemporary philosophers would have counted suitable or desirable, as we can see in the complaints which Celsus makes of Christian language about God, though Celsus, of course, is colder than the religious {293} of his day. But the main difference between Christians and philosophers was not as to God the Father, but as to Christ. When Clement, in his work of restatement, came to discuss Christ, he found Philo's Logos ready to his hand and he was not slow to use it. It is characteristic that, just as he unquestioningly accepted the current philosophic account of God and saw no great difficulty in equating a God best described in negations with the Abba Father of Jesus, so he adopted, not less light-heartedly, the conflate conception of the Logos. Whether its Platonic and Stoic elements would hold together; whether either of them was really germane to the Hebrew part; whether in any case any of the three sets of constituents corresponded with anything actually to be reached by observation or experience; or whether, waiving that point, the combination was equal to its task of helping man to conceive of God at once as immanent and transcendent, Clement hardly inquired. So far he followed Philo. Then came in a new factor which might well have surprised Plato, Zeno and Philo alike. Following once more, but this time another leader, Clement equates the Philonian Logos with the historic Jesus of Nazareth. So stated, the work of Clement may well look absurd. But after all he is not the only man who has identified the leading of instinct with philosophic proof. In succession he touched the central thoughts of his various leaders, and he found them answer to cravings within him. He wanted a God beyond the contagion of earth, Supreme and Absolute; and Plato told him of such a God. Yet the world needed some divine element; it must not be outside the range and thought of God; and here the conception of divine Reason, linking man and nature with God Himself, appealed to his longing. Lastly the impossibility of thinking Jesus and his work to be accidental, of conceiving of them as anything but vitally bound up with the spiritual essence of all things, with God and with God's ultimate mind for man and eternity, was the natural outcome of entering into the thoughts of Jesus, of realizing his personality and even of observing his effect upon {294} mankind.[114] When one remembers how in every age men have passed through one form and another of experience, and have then compacted philosophies to account for those experiences, have thought their constructions final, and have recommended their theories as of more value than the facts on which, after reflection, slight or profound, but perhaps never adequate, they have based them, it will not seem strange that Clement did the same. Ah yet, when all is thought and said, The heart still overrules the head; Still what we hope we must believe, And what is given us receive. The old task is still to do. The old cravings are still within us; still the imperishable impulse lives to seek some solution of the great question of the relations of God and the soul and the universe, which may give us more abiding satisfaction than Clement's can now have, and which will yet recognize those old cravings, will recognize and meet them, not some but all of them. "Most perfect, and most holy of all," says Clement, "most sovereign, most lordly, most royal and most beneficent, is the nature of the Son, which approaches most closely to the One Almighty Being. The Son is the highest Pre-eminence, which sets in order all things according to the Father's will, and steers the universe aright, performing all things with unwearying energy, beholding the Father's secret thoughts through his working. For the Son of God never moves from his watch-tower, being never divided, never dissevered, never passing from place to place, but existing everywhere at all times and free from all limitations. He is all reason, all eye, all light from the Father, seeing all things, hearing all things, knowing all things, with power searching the powers. To him is subjected the whole army of angels and of gods--to him, the Word of the Father, who has received the holy administration by reason of Him who subjected it to him; through whom also all men belong to him, but some by way of knowledge, while others have not yet attained to this; some as friends, some as faithful servants, others as servants merely."[115] {295} [Sidenote: The Logos] The Logos is the source of Providence, the author, as already seen, of all human thought and activity, of the beauty of the human body too,[116] Saviour and Lord at once of all men--man being "his peculiar work," for into him alone of animals was a conception of God instilled at his creation. "Being the power of the Father, he easily prevails over whomsoever he will, not leaving even the smallest atom of his government uncared for."[117] "He it is in truth that devises the bridle for the horse, the yoke for the bull, the noose for the wild beast, the rod for the fish, the snare for the bird; he governs the city and ploughs the land, rules and serves, and all things he maketh; Therein he set the earth, the heaven, the sea, And all the stars wherewith the heaven is crowned. O the divine creations! O the divine commands! This water, let it roll within itself; this fire, let it check its rage; this air, let it spread to æther; and let earth be fixed and borne, when I will it. Man I yet wish to make; for his material I have the elements; I dwell with him my hands fashion. If thou know me, the fire shall be thy slave."[118] "All[119] gaze on the supreme Administrator of the universe, as he pilots all in safety according to the Father's will, rank being subordinated to rank under different leaders till in the end the Great High Priest is reached. For on one original principle, which works in accordance with the Father's will, depend the first and second and third gradations; and then at the extreme end of the visible world there is the blessed ordinance of angels; and so, even down to ourselves, ranks below ranks are appointed, all saving and being saved by the initiation and through the instrumentality of One. As then the remotest particle of iron is drawn by the breath (_pneúmati_) of the stone of Heraklea [the magnet] extending through a long series of iron rings, so also through the attraction of the holy spirit (_pneúmati_) the virtuous are adapted to the highest {296} mansion; and the others in their order even to the last mansion; but they that are wicked from weakness, having fallen into an evil habit owing to unrighteous greed, neither keep hold themselves nor are held by another, but collapse and fall to the ground, being entangled in their own passions."[120] This last clause raises questions as to evil and freewill. Clement believed in freewill; for one thing, it was necessary if God was to be acquitted of the authorship of evil. "God made all things to be helpful for virtue, in so far as might be without hindering the freedom of man's choice, and showed them to be so, in order that he who is indeed the One Alone Almighty might, even to those who can only see darkly, be in some way revealed as a good God, a Saviour from age to age through the instrumentality of his Son, and in all ways absolutely guiltless of evil."[121] Clement also brings in the Platonic Idea to help to express Christ. "The idea is a thought of God (_ennóema_), which the barbarians have called God's Logos."[122] "All the activity of the Lord is referred to the Almighty, the Son being, so to speak, a certain activity (_enérgeia_) of the Father,"[123] and a little lower he adds that the Son is "the power (_dynamis_) of the Father."[124] As such he may well be "above the whole universe, or rather beyond the region of thought."[125] And yet, as we have seen, he leans to the view that the Logos is a person--the Great High Priest. In criticizing him, it is well to remember how divergent are the conceptions which he wishes to keep, and to keep in some kind of unity. Once again, in many of Clement's utterances upon the Logos there is little that Philo, or perhaps even a pagan philosopher, could not have approved; but through it all there is a new note which is Clement's own and which comes from another series of thoughts. For it is a distinctive mark of Clement's work that the reader rises from it impressed with the idea of "the Saviour." The _Protrepticus_ is full of the thought of that divine love of men, warm and active, which {297} Jesus associated with "your heavenly Father," but which Clement, under the stress of his philosophy must connect with the Logos--"cleansing, saving and kindly; most manifest God indeed, made equal with the ruler of the universe."[126] He is our "only refuge" (_monè kataphygé_), the "sun of resurrection," the "sun of the soul."[127] And yet one group of ideas, familiar in this connection, receives little notice from Clement. The Logos is indeed the Great High Priest, but the symbolism of priest and sacrifice and sin-bearer is left rather remarkably unemphasized. He is "the all-availing healer of mankind,"[128] but his function is more to educate, to quicken, and to give knowledge than to expiate. The great and characteristic feature of the Logos is that "he took the mask (_prosopeîon_) of a man and moulded it for himself in flesh and played a part in the drama of mankind's salvation; for he was a true player (_gnesios agonistés_), a fellow-player with the creature; and most quickly was he spread abroad among all men, more quickly than the sun, when he rose from the Father's will, and proved whence he was and who he was by what he taught and showed, he, the bringer of the covenant, the reconciler, the Logos our Saviour, the fountain of life and peace, shed over the whole face of the earth, by whom (so to say) all things have become an ocean of blessings."[129] Though essentially and eternally free from passion (_apathés_) "for our sake he took upon him our flesh with its capacity for suffering" (_tèn pathetèn sárka_)[130] and "descended to sensation (_aísthesis_)."[131] "It is clear that none can in his lifetime clearly apprehend God; but 'the pure in heart shall see God' when they come to the final perfection. Since, then, the soul was too weak for the perception of what _is_ (_tôn ónton_), we needed a divine teacher. The Saviour is sent down to teach us how to acquire good, and to give it to us (_choregós_)--the secret and holy knowledge of the great Providence,"[132]--"to show God to foolish men, to end corruption, {298} to conquer death, to reconcile disobedient children to their Father.... The Lord pities, educates, encourages, exhorts, saves and guards, and as the prize of learning he promises us out of his abundance the kingdom of heaven--this alone giving him joy in us, that we are saved."[133] All this was foreknown before the foundation of the world; the Logos was and is the divine beginning or principle of all things, "but because he has now taken the long-hallowed name, the name worthy of his power, the Christ, that is why I call it the new song."[134] And indeed he is right, for "the Epiphany, now shining among us, of the Word that was in the beginning and before it"[135] is new in philosophy; and it is a new thing also that the doctrine of a Logos should be "essentially musical." The Incarnation of the divine Teacher is the central fact for Clement. The identification of this incarnate Logos with Jesus of Nazareth was part of Clement's inheritance, and as usual he accepted the form which the tradition of the Church had assumed. But Clement's theology altered the significance of Jesus. For the Abba Father whom Jesus loved, he substituted the great Unknowable, and then he had to bring in a figure unfamiliar to the thought of Jesus--the Logos, whom he clothed with many of the attributes of the Father of Jesus, and then identified with Jesus himself. Not unnaturally in this combination the historic is outweighed by the theoretic element, and indeed receives very little attention. The thought of Incarnation is to Clement much more important than the Personality. [Sidenote: The virgin-birth] Jesus is "God and pedagogue," "good shepherd," and "mystic Angel (or messenger)," "the pearl," "the great High Priest," and so forth.[136] In a few passages (some of them already quoted) Clement speaks of the earthly life of Jesus--of the crown of thorns, the common ware, and the absence of a silver foot-bath. But he takes care to make it clear that Jesus was "not an ordinary man," and that was why he did not marry and have children--this in opposition to certain {299} vain persons who held up the Lord's example as a reason for rejecting marriage, which "they call simple prostitution and a practice introduced by the devil."[137] So far was Jesus from being "an ordinary man" that Clement takes pains to dissociate him from ordinary human experience. To the miraculous birth he refers incidentally but in a way that leaves no mistake possible. "Most people even now believe, as it seems, that Mary ceased to be a virgin through the birth of her child, though this was not really the case--for some say she was found by the midwife to be a virgin after her delivery."[138] This expansion of the traditional story is to be noted as an early illustration of the influence of dogma. The episode appears in an elaborate form in the apocryphal Gospels.[139] But Clement goes further. "In the case of the Saviour, to suppose that his body required, _quâ_ body, the necessary attentions for its continuance, would be laughable (_gélos_). For he ate--not on account of his body, which was held together by holy power, but that it might not occur to those who consorted with him to think otherwise of him--as indeed later on some really supposed him to have been manifested merely in appearance [_i.e._ the Docetists who counted his body a phantom]. He himself was entirely without passion (_apathés_) and into him entered no emotional movement (_kínema pathetikón_), neither pleasure nor pain."[140] A fragment (in a Latin translation) of a commentary of Clement's upon the first _Epistle of John_, contains a curious statement: "It is said in the traditions that John touched the surface of the body of Jesus, and drove his hand deep into it, and the firmness of the flesh was no obstacle but gave way to the hand of the disciple."[141] At the same time we read: "It was not idly that the Lord chose to employ a body of mean form, in order that no one, while praising his comeliness {300} and beauty, should depart from what he said, and in cleaving to what is left behind should be severed from the higher things of thought (_tôn noetôn_)."[142] It is consistent with the general scheme of Clement's thought that the cross has but a small part in his theology. "It was not by the will of his Father that the Lord suffered, nor are the persecuted so treated in accordance with his choice"--it is rather in both cases that "such things occur, God not preventing them; this alone saves at once the providence and goodness of God."[143] Yet "the blood of the Lord is twofold; there is the fleshly, whereby we have been redeemed from corruption, and the spiritual, by which we have been anointed."[144] The cross is the landmark between us and our past.[145] On the whole Clement has not much to say about sin, though of course he does not ignore it. It is "eternal death";[146] it is "irrational";[147] it is not to be attributed "to the operation (energy) of dæmons," as that would be to acquit the sinner, still it makes a man "like the dæmons" (_daimonikós_).[148] God's punishments he holds to be curative in purpose.[149] He says nothing to imply the eternity of punishment,[150] and as we have seen he speaks definitely of the Gospel being preached to the dead. [Sidenote: The vision of the true gnostic] The Christian religion, according to Clement, begins in faith and goes on to knowledge. The heavier emphasis with him always falls on knowledge, though he maintains in a fine chapter that faith is its foundation.[151] "The Greeks," he says, "consider faith an empty and barbarous thing,"[152] but he is far from such a view. Faith must be well-founded--"if faith is such as to be destroyed by plausible talk, let it be destroyed."[153] But the word left upon the reader's mind is knowledge. A passage like the following is unmistakable. "Supposing one were to offer the Gnostic his choice, whether he would prefer {301} the knowledge of God or eternal salvation, one or the other (though of course they are above all things an identity); without the slightest hesitation he would choose the knowledge of God for its own sake."[154] The ideal Christian is habitually spoken of in this way, as the "man of knowledge"--the true "Gnostic," as opposed to the heretics who illegitimately claim the title. A very great deal of Clement's writing is devoted to building up this Gnostic, to outlining his ideal character. He is essentially man as God conceived him, entering into the divine life, and, by the grace of the Logos, even becoming God. This thought of man becoming God Clement repeats very often, and it is a mark of how far Christianity has travelled from Palestine. It begins with the Platonic ideal of being made like to God, and the means is the knowledge of God or the sight of God given by the Logos. "'Nought say I of the rest,'[155] glorifying God. Only I say that those Gnostic souls are so carried away by the magnificence of the vision (_theopía_) that they cannot confine themselves within the lines of the constitution by which each holy degree is assigned and in accordance with which the blessed abodes of the gods have been marked out and allotted; but being counted as 'holy among the holy,' and translated absolutely and entirely to another sphere, they keep on always moving to better and yet better regions, until they no longer greet the divine vision in mirrors or by means of mirrors, but with loving souls feast for ever on the uncloying never-ending sight, radiant in its transparent clearness, while throughout the endless ages they taste a never-wearying delight, and thus continue, all alike honoured with an identity of pre-eminence. This is the apprehensive vision of the pure in heart. This, then, is the work (_enérgeia_) of the perfected Gnostic--to hold communion with God through the Great High Christ being made like the Lord as far as may be. Yes, and in this process of becoming like God the Gnostic creates and fashions himself anew, and adorns those that hear him."[156] In an interesting chapter Clement discusses abstraction from material things as a necessary {302} condition for attaining the knowledge of God; we must "cast ourselves into the greatness of Christ and thence go forward."[157] "If a man know himself, he shall know God, and knowing God shall be made like to him.... The man with whom the Logos dwells ... is made like to God ... and that man _becomes_ God, for God wishes it."[158] "By being deified into Apathy (_apatheian_) a man becomes Monadic without stain."[159] As Homer makes men poets, Crobylus cooks, and Plato philosophers; "so he who obeys the Lord and follows the prophecy given through him, is fully perfected after the likeness of his Teacher, and thus becomes a god while still moving about in the flesh."[160] "Dwelling with the Lord, talking with him and sharing his hearth, he will abide according to the spirit, pure in flesh, pure in heart, sanctified in word. 'The world to him,' it says, 'is crucified and he to the world.' He carries the cross of the Saviour and follows the Lord 'in his footsteps as of a god,' and is become holy of the holy."[161] We seem to touch the world of daily life, when after all the beatific visions we see the cross again. Clement has abundance of suggestion for Christian society in Alexandria, and it is surprising how simple, natural and wise is his attitude to the daily round and common task. Men and women alike may "philosophize," for their "virtue" (in Aristotle's phrase) is the same--so may the slave, the ignorant and the child.[162] The Christian life is not to eradicate the natural but to control it.[163] Marriage is a state of God's appointing--Clement is no Jerome. Nature made us to marry and "the childless man falls short of the perfection of Nature."[164] Men must marry for their country's sake and for the completeness of the universe.[165] True manhood is not proved by celibacy--the married man may "fall short of the other as regards his personal salvation, but he has {303} the advantage in the conduct of life inasmuch as he really preserves a faint (_olígen_) image of the true Providence."[166] The heathen, it is true, may expose their own children and keep parrots, but the begetting and upbringing of children is a part of the married Christian life.[167] "Who are the two or three gathering in the name of Christ, among whom the Lord is in the midst? Does he not mean man, wife and child by the _three_, seeing woman is made to match man by God."[168] The real fact about the Christian life is simply this, that the New Song turns wild beasts into men of God.[169] "Sail past the siren's song, it works death," says Clement, "if only thou wilt, thou hast overcome destruction; lashed to the wood thou shalt be loosed from ruin; the Word of God will steer thee and the holy spirit will moor thee to the havens of heaven."[170] To the early Christian "the wood" always meant the cross of Jesus. The new life is "doing good for love's sake,"[171] and "he who shows pity ought not to know that he is doing it.... When he does good by instinctive habit (_en héxei_) then he will be imitating the nature of good."[172] God breathed into man and there has always been something charming in a man since then (_philtron_).[173] So "the new people" are always happy, always in the full bloom of thought, always at spring-time.[174] The Church is the one thing in the world that always rejoices.[175] Clement's theology is composite rather than organic--a structure of materials old and new, hardly fit for the open air, the wind and the rain. But his faith is another thing--it rests upon the living personality of the Saviour, the love of God and the significance of the individual soul, and it has the stamp of such faith in all the ages--joy and peace in believing. It has lasted because it lived. If Christianity had depended on the {304} Logos, it would have followed the Logos to the limbo whither went Æon and Aporrhoia and Spermaticos Logos. But that the Logos has not perished is due to the one fact that with the Cross it has been borne through the ages on the shoulders of Jesus. Chapter IX Footnotes: [1] See the letter of Hadrian quoted by Vopiscus, _Saturninus_, 8 (_Script. Hist. Aug._). [2] _Pædag._ ii, 2; 13; 14. [3] _Pæd._ ii, 20, 2, 3. [4] _Pæd._ ii, 32, 2. [5] _Pæd._ ii, 38, 1-3. [6] _Pæd._ ii, 45-60. [7] _Pæd._ ii, 61-73; Tertullian, _de corona militis_, 5, flowers on the head are against nature, etc.; _ib._ 10, on the paganism of the practice; _ib._ 13 (end), a list of the heathen gods honoured if a Christian hang a crown on his door. [8] _Pæd._ ii, 129, 3; iii, 56, 3; Tertullian ironically, _de cultu fem._ ii, 10, _scrupulosa deus et auribus vulnera intulit_. [9] iii, 4, 2. Cf. Erman, _Handbook of Egyptian Religion_, p. 22: "In the temple of Sobk there was a tank containing a crocodile, a cat dwelt in the temple of Bast." The simile also in Lucian, _Imag._ 11, and used by Celsus _ap._ Orig. _c. Cels._ iii, 17. [10] iii, 64, 2. [11] iii, 79, 5. [12] iii, 50. [13] iii, 59, 2. [14] ii, 60, 61. [15] iii, 92. Cf., in general, Tertullian, _de Cultu Feminarum_. [16] Euseb. _E.H._ v, 10. [17] Euseb. _E.H._ vi, 11, 6; vi, 14, 8. [18] Euseb. _E.H._ vi, 6; see de Faye, _Clément d'Alexandrie_, pp. 17 to 27, for the few facts of his life--a book I have used and shall quote with satisfaction. [19] Epiphanius, _Haer._ I, ii, 26, p. 213; de Faye, _Clément d'Alexandrie_, p. 17, quoting Zahn. [20] Euseb. _Præpar. Ev._ ii, 2, 64. _Klémes ... pántôn mèn dià peìras elthòn anèr, thâttón ge mèn plánes ananeúsas, hôs àn pròs toû sôteríou lógou kaì dià tês euaggelikês didaskalías tôn kakôn lelutrômenos_. [21] _Pæd._ i, 1, 1. [22] _Strom._ i, 48, 1; ii, 3, 1. [23] _Strom._ vii. 111. Such hills are described in Greek novels; cf. Ælian, _Varia Historia_, xiii, 1, Atalanta's bower. [24] One may perhaps compare the admiration of the contemporary Pausanias for earlier rather than later art; cf. Frazer, _Pausanias and other Sketches_, p. 92. [25] _Strom._ i, 22, 5. [26] _Strom._ i, 37, 6; and vi, 55, 3. [27] _Strom._ i, 29, 10 (the phrase is Philo's); Truth in fact has been divided by the philosophic schools, as Pentheus was by the Mænads, Strom, i, 57. Cf. Milton, _Areopagitica_. [28] _Protr._ 120, 1; _ô tôn hagíon hos alethôs mysterion, ô phoòos akerátou. dadouchoûmai toùs ouranoùs kaì tòn theòn epopteûsai, hágios gínomai muoúmenos, hierophanteî dè ho kyrios kaì tòn músten sphragízetai photagogôn_. Strange as the technical terms seem to-day, yet when Clement wrote, they suggested religious emotion, and would have seemed less strange than the terms modern times have kept from the Greek--bishop, deacon, liturgy, diocese, etc. [29] _Strom._ iv, 162, 3. [30] _Strom._ i, 71, 4. The Brahmans also in iii, 60. [31] _Strom._ v, 20, 3; 31, 5; etc. [32] _Strom._ vi, ch. iv, § 35 f. [33] Origen, _c. Cels._ i, 2. Celsus' words: _hikanoùs ehureîn dógmata toùs barbárous_, and then _krînai dè kaì bebaiôsasthai kaì askêsai pròs aretèn tà hypò barbaron ehurethénta ameínonés eisin héllenes_. Pausanias, iv, 32, 4, _egò dè Chaldaíous kaì Indôn toùs mágous prôtous oîda eipóntas hos athánatos estin anthrótou phyche. kaí sphisi kaì Hellénon álloi te epeísthesan kaì ouch hékista Plâton ho Arístonos_. [34] Euseb. _E.H._ vi, 13. [35] _Strom._ i, 11. The quotation is roughly from Homer, _Od._ ii, 276. [36] _Strom._ i, 43, i. Some who count themselves _euphueîs, mónen kaì psilèn tèn pístin apaitoûsi_. [37] _Strom._ i, 45, 6, _oi orthodoxastaí_. [38] _Strom._ vii, 55. [39] _Pædag._ i, 26; 27. Perhaps for "he saith," we should read "it saith," viz. Scripture. [40] _Strom._ v, 9. [41] _Strom._ 43, 3-44, 2. [42] _Pæd._ i, 14, 2; 19. Cf. Blake's poem. [43] _Pæd._ i, 22, 3. [44] Marcus Aurelius, xi, 3. He may have had in mind some who courted martyrdom. [45] Euseb. _E.H._ v, 28, quotes a document dealing with men who study Euclid, Aristotle and Theophrastus, and all but worship Galen, and have "corrected" the Scriptures. For the view of Tertullian on this, see p. 337. [46] _Strom._ i, 18, 2. [47] _Strom._ vi, 80, 5. [48] _Strom._ vi, 162, 5. [49] _Strom._ i, 19, 2. _psilê tê perì tôn dogmatisthenton autoîs chromenous phrâsei, ue synembaínontas eis tèn kata meros áchri syggnóseos ekkálypsin_. [50] _Strom._ vi, 59, 1. The exact rendering of the last clause is doubtful; the sense fairly clear. [51] _Strom._ i, 97, 1-4. [52] Spherical astronomy. A curious passage on this at the beginning of Lucan's _Pharsalia_, vii. [53] _Strom._ vi, 93, 94. The line comes from a play of Sophocles, fr. 695. It may be noted that Clement has a good many such fragments, and the presence of some very doubtful ones among them, which are also quoted in the same way by other Christian writers (_e.g._ in _Strom_, v, 111-113), raises the possibility of his borrowing other men's quotations to something near certainty. Probably they all used books of extracts. See Justin, _Coh. ad. Gent._ 18; Athenagoras, _Presb._ 5, 24. [54] _Strom._ vi, 152, 3-154, 1. Cf. _Strom._ iv, 167, 4, "the soul is not sent from heaven hither for the worse, for God energizes all things for the better."--If the English in some of these passages is involved and obscure, it perhaps gives the better impression of the Greek. [55] Cf. _Iliad_, 3, 277. [56] We may note his fondness for the old idea of Plato that man is an _phytòn ouránion_ and has an _emphytos archaia pròs ouranon koinoniá_. Cf. _Protr._ 25, 3; 100, 3. [57] _Strom._ vi, 156, 3-157, 5. [58] _Strom._ vi, 159. Cf. vi, 57, 58, where he asks Who was the original teacher, and answers that it is the First-born, the Wisdom. [59] _Strom._ i, 28, _kata proegoúmenon_ and _kat epakoloúthema_. See de Faye, p. 168, 169. Note ref. to Paul, _Galat._ 3, 24. [60] _Strom._ vi, 67, 1. [61] _Strom._ vi, 42, 1. [62] _Strom._ i, 99, 3. [63] _Strom._ vi, 44, 1. [64] _Strom._ vi, 44, 4. [65] _Strom._ vi, 45-7; Cf. _Strom._ ii, 44, citing Hermas, _Sim._ ix, 16, 5-7. A curious discussion follows (in _Strom._ vi, 45-52) on the object of the Saviour's descent into Hades, and the necessity for the Gospel to be preached in the grave to those who in life had no chance of hearing it. "Could he have done anything else?" (§ 51). [66] _Strom._ vi, 110, 111; Deuteronomy 4, 19, does not bear him out--neither in Greek nor in English. [67] _Strom._ i, 105 and 108. Cf. Tert. _adv. Marc._ ii, 17, _sed ante Lycurgos et Salonas omnes Moyses et deus; de anima_, 28, _mutio antiquior Moyses etiam Saturno nongentis circiter annis_; cf. _Apol._ 19. [68] For the Scripture parallels see _Strom._ v, 90-107. For Euripides and other inter-Hellenic plagiarisms, _Strom._ vi, 24. [69] _Strom._ vii, 6. [70] _Strom._ v, 10, 2. See an amusing page in Lecky, _European Morals_, i, 344. [71] _Strom._ i, 94, 1; _katà períptosin_; _katà syntychian_; _physikèn ennoian_; _koinòn noûn_. [72] _Strom._ v, 10; i, 18; 86; 94. [73] _Strom._ i, 81, 1; _John_ 10, 8. [74] _Strom._ vi, 66; 159. [75] _Strom._ vi, 67, 2. [76] _Odyssey_, iv, 221, Cowper's translation. [77] _Protr._ 1-3. [78] _Ibid._ 5; 6. [79] _Protr._ 8, 4, _lógos ho toû theoû ánthropos genómenos hína dè kaì sù parà anthropou máthes, pê pote ára anthropos gentai theós_. [80] _Protr._ 25, 3; ref. to Euripides, _fr._ 935, and _Troades_, 884. The latter (not quite correctly quoted by Clement) is one of the poet's finest and profoundest utterances. [81] _Protr._ 56, 6. [82] _Ibid._ 63, 5. [83] _Protr._ 66, 3. [84] _Ibid._ 66, 5. [85] _Ibid._ 68, 1. [86] _Protr._ 70, 1; in _Strom._ i, 150, 4, he quotes a description of Plato as _Mousês attikíxon_. Cf. Tertullian, _Apol._ 47. [87] _Protr._ 76. He quotes _Orestes_, 591 f.; _Alcestis_, 760; and concludes (anticipating Dr Verrall) that in the _Ion gymnê te kephalê ekkukleî tô theátro tous theoús_, quoting _Ion_, 442-447. [88] _Protr._ 82, 1. [89] _Ibid._ 84, 2. [90] _Ibid._ 85, 4. [91] _Ibid._ 86, 1. [92] _Protr._ 86, 2. The reference is to _Odyssey_, i, 57. One feels that, with more justice to Odysseus, more might have been made of his craving for a sight of the smoke of his island home. [93] _Protr._ 88, 2, 3. [94] Elsewhere, he says God is beyond the Monad, _Pæd._ i, 71, 1, _epékein toû henòs kaì hypèr autèn tèn monáda_. See p. 290. [95] _Protr._ 94, 1, 2. On God making the Christian his child, cf. Tert. _adv. Marc._ iv, 17. [96] _Protr._ 100, 3, 4. [97] _Ibid._ 107, 1. [98] _Ibid._ 108, 5. [99] _Protr._ 116, 1, _hypsos_ (height) is the word used in literature for "sublimity," and that may be the thought here. Cf. Tert. _de Bapt._ 2, _simplicitas divinorum operum ... et magnificentia_. See p. 328. [100] _Protr._ 117, 4. [101] _Strom._ ii, 9, 6. [102] _Ibid._ vii, 49. [103] _Psalm_ 63, 1. [104] See Caird, _Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philosophers_, ii, pp. 183 ff; de Faye, _Clément_, pp. 231-8. [105] _Pæd._ i, 71, 1; cf. Philo, _Leg. Alleg._ ii, § 1, 67 M. _táttetai oûn ho theòs katà tò en kaì tèn monáda, mâllon dè kaì he monàs katà tòn héna theón_. Cf. de Faye, p. 218. [106] Expressions taken from Aristotle, _Anal. Post._ i, 2, p. 71 b, 20. [107] _Strom._ v, 81, 5-82, 3. [108] _Strom._ ii, 74, 1-75, 2; cf. Plutarch, _de def. or._ 414 F, 416 F (quoted on p. 97), on involving God inhuman affairs; and also _adv. Sto._ 33, and _de Sto. repugn._ 33, 34, on the Stoic doctrine making God responsible for human sin. Cf. further statements in the same vein in _Strom._ ii, 6, 1; v 71, 5; vii, 2. [109] _Strom._ v. 65, 2. [110] _Strom._ ii, 72, 1-4. [111] _Strom._ iv, 151, 1. [112] See _Strom._ ii, 103, 1; iv, 138, 1; vi, 71-73; _Pæd._ i, 4, 1. [113] _Strom._ vii, 37, Mayor's translation. The "expressions" are said to go back to Xenophanes (cited by Sext. Empir. ix, 144) _oulos gàr horâ, oûlos dè noeî, oûlos dé t' akoúei_. Cf. Pliny, _N. H._ ii, 7, 14, _quisquis est deus, si modo est alius, et quacumque in parte, totus est sensuus, totus visuus, totus audituus, totus animæ, totus animæ, totus sui_. [114] Cf. _Strom._ ii, 30, 1, _ei gàr anthrópinon ên tò epitédeuma, hos Hellenes epélabon, kàn apésbe_. _he dè aúxei_ (_sc._ _he pístis_). _Protr._ 110, 1, _ou gàr àn oútos en olígo chróno tosoûton érgon áneu theias komidês exénusen ho kúrios_. [115] _Strom._ vii, 5, J. B. Mayor's translation. [116] _Pæd._ i, 6, 6, _tò dè sôma kallei kaì eurythmia synekerásato_. [117] Phrases mostly from Strom, vii, 6-9. _ennoian enestáchtai theoû_. See criticism of Celsus, p. 244. [118] _Pæd._ iii, 99, 2-100, 1. The quotation is from Homer's description of Hephaistos making the shield for Achilles, _Il._ 18, 483. [119] All parts of the universe. [120] _Strom._ vii, 9. Mayor's translation, modified to keep the double use of _pneûma_. For the magnet see Plato, _Ion._ 533 D, E. [121] _Strom._ vii, 12. [122] _Strom._ v, 16, 3 (no article with Logos). [123] _Strom._ vii, 7 [124] _Strom._ vii, 9. [125] _Strom._ v, 38, 6, _ho kúrios hyperáno tou kósmon, mâllon dè epekeino toû noetoû_. [126] _Protr._ 110, 1. [127] _Protr._ 63, 5; 84, 2; 68, 4. [128] _Pæd._ i, 6, 2, _ólou kédetai toû plásmatos, kaì sôma kaì psychèn akeîtai autoû no panarkès tès anthropótetos iatrós_. [129] _Protr._ 110, 2, 3. Cf. also _Pæd._ i, 4, 1-2. [130] _Strom._ vii, 6. Cf. _Pæd._ i, 4, 2. _apólutos eis tò pantelès anthropinon pathôn_. [131] _Strom._ v, 40, 3. [132] _Strom._ v, 7, 7-8. [133] _Protr._ 6, 1-2, _touto mónon apolaúon hemôn hò sozómetha_. [134] _Protr._ 6, 5. [135] _Protr._ 7, 3. [136] The references are (in order) _Pæd._ i, 55; i, 53, 2; i, 59, 1; ii, 118, 5; _Protr._ 120, 2. [137] _Strom._ iii, 49, 1-3, _oudè anthropos ên koinós_. [138] _Strom._ vii, 93. [139] See _Protevangelium Jacobi_, 19, 20 (in Tischendorf's _Evangelia Apocrypha_, p. 36), a work quoted in the 4th century by Gregory of Nyssa, and possibly the source of this statement of Clement's. Tischendorf thinks it may also have been known to Justin. See also _pseudo-Matthei evangelium_, 13 (Tischendorf, p. 75), known to St Jerome. [140] _Strom._ vi, 71, 2. A strange opinion of Valentinus about Jesus eating may be compared, which Clement quotes without dissent in _Strom._ iii, 59, 3. See p. 249, n. 4. [141] Printed in Dindorf's edition, vol. iii, p. 485. [142] _Strom._ vi, 151, 3. Cf. Celsus, p. 249, and Tert. _de carne Christi_, 9, _Adeo nec humanæ honestatis corpus fuit_; Tertullian however is far from any such fancies as to Christ's body not being quite human, see p. 340. [143] _Strom._ iv, 86, 2, 3; contrast Tertullian's attitude in _de Fuga in Persecutione_, etc. [144] _Pæd._ 19, 4. [145] _Pæd._ iii, 85, 3. [146] _Protr._ 115, 2. [147] _Pæd._ i, ch. 13. [148] _Strom._ vi, 98, 1. [149] Cf. _Strom._ i, 173; iv, 153, 2; _Pæd._ i, 70, _he gàr kolasis ep' agathô kaì ep' opheleia toû kolazoménon_. [150] Cf. J. B. Mayor, Pref. to _Stromateis_, vii, p. xl. [151] _Strom._ ii, ch. 4. Cf. ii, 48. [152] _Strom._ ii, 8, 4. [153] _Strom._ vi, 81, 1. [154] _Strom._ iv, 136, 5. [155] From Æsch. _Agam._ 36. [156] _Strom._ vii, 13. (Mayor's translation in the main). Cf. _Protr._ 86, 2, _theosébeia exomoioûsa tô theô_; _Pæd._ 1, 99, 1; _Strom._ vi, 104, 2. [157] _Strom._ v, 71, 3. [158] _Pæd._ iii, 1, 1, and 5. [159] _Strom._ iv, 152, 1. [160] _Strom._ vii, 101. [161] _Strom._ ii, 104, 2, 3, with reff. to Paul _Gal._ 6, 14; and Odyssey, 2, 406. Other passages in which the notion occurs are _Strom._ iv, 149, 8; vii, 56, 82. Augustine has the thought--all the Fathers, indeed, according to Harnack. See Mayor's note on _Strom._ vii, 3. It also comes in the _Theologia Germanica_. [162] _Strom._ iv. 62, 4; 58, 3; the _aretè_ in _Pæd._ i, 10, 1. [163] _Pæd._ ii, 46, 1. [164] _Strom._ ii, 139, 5. [165] _Strom._ ii, 140, 1, a very remarkable utterance. [166] _Strom._ vii, 70, end. [167] _Pæd._ ii, 83, 1, _toîs dè bebamekósi skópos he paidopoiîa, telos dè he euteknía_. Cf. Tertullian, _adv. Marc._ iv, 17, on the impropriety of God calling us children if we suppose that he _nobis filios facere non permisit auferendo connubium_. The opposite view, for purposes of argument perhaps, in _de exh. castitatis_, 12, where he ridicules the idea of producing children for the sake of the state. [168] _Strom._ iii, 68, 1. [169] _Protr._ 4, 3. [170] _Protr._ 118, 4. [171] _Strom._ iv, 135, 4. [172] _Strom._ iv, 138, 2, 3. [173] _Pæd._ i, 7, 2. [174] _Pæd._ i, 20, 3, 4. [175] _Pæd._ i, 22, 2, _móne púte eis toùs aiônas menei chaírous aeí_. {305} CHAPTER X TERTULLIAN In his most famous chapter Gibbon speaks at one point of the affirmation of the early church that those who persisted in the worship of the dæmons "neither deserved nor could expect a pardon from the irritated justice of the Deity." Oppressed in this world by the power of the Pagans, Christians "were sometimes seduced by resentment and spiritual pride to delight in the prospect of their future triumph. 'You are fond of spectacles,' exclaims the stern Tertullian, 'expect the greatest of all spectacles, the last and eternal judgment of the universe. How shall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold so many proud monarchs, and fancied gods, groaning in the lowest abyss of darkness; so many magistrates, who persecuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever kindled against the Christians; so many sage philosophers blushing in red-hot flames with their deluded scholars; so many celebrated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but of Christ; so many tragedians more tuneful in the expression of their own sufferings; so many dancers----' But the humanity of the reader will permit me to draw a veil over the rest of this infernal description, which the zealous African pursues in a long variety of affected and unfeeling witticisms."[1] The passage is a magnificent example of Gibbon's style and method,--more useful, however, as an index to the mind of Gibbon than to that of Tertullian. He has abridged his translation, and in one or two clauses he has missed Tertullian's points; finally he has drawn his veil over the rest of the infernal description exactly when he knew there was little or nothing more to be quoted that would serve his purpose. He has made no attempt to understand the man he quotes, nor the {306} mood in which he spoke, nor the circumstances which gave rise to that mood. Yet on the evidence of this passage and a sonnet of Matthew Arnold's, English readers pass a swift judgment on "the stern Tertullian" and his "unpitying Phrygian sect." But to the historian of human thought, and to the student of human character, there are few figures of more significance in Latin literature. Of the men who moulded Western Christendom few have stamped themselves and their ideas upon it with anything approaching the clearness and the effect of Tertullian. He first turned the currents of Christian thought in the West into channels in which they have never yet ceased to flow and will probably long continue to flow. He was the first Latin churchman, and his genius helped to shape Latin Christianity. He, too, was the first great Puritan of the West, precursor alike of Augustine and of the Reformation. The Catholic Church left him unread throughout the Middle Ages, but at the Renaissance he began once more to be studied, and simultaneously there also began the great movement for the purification of the church and the deepening of Christian life, which were the causes to which he had given himself and his genius. Such a man may be open to criticism on many sides. He may be permanently or fitfully wrong in thought or speech or conduct; but it is clear that an influence so great rests upon something more profound than irritability however brilliant in expression. There must be somewhere in the man something that corresponds with the enduring thoughts of mankind--something that engages the mind or that wins the friendship of men--something that is true and valid. And this, whatever it is, is the outcome of many confluent elements--of temperament, environment and experience, perhaps, in chief. The man must be seen as his personal friends saw him and as his enemies saw him; what is more, they--both sets of them--must be seen as he saw them. The critic must himself, by dint of study and imagination, be played upon by as many of the factors of the man's experience as he can re-capture. Impressions, pleasures, doubts, hopes, convictions, friendships, inspirations--everything that goes to shape a man is relevant to that study of character without which, in the case of {307} formative men, history itself becomes pedantry and illusion. Particularly in the case of such a man as Tertullian is it needful to repeat this caution. The impetuous dogmatism in which his mind and, quite as often, his mood express themselves, and his hard words, harder a great deal than his heart, no less than his impulsive convictions, "seem," as Gibbon put it, "to offend the reason and the humanity of the present age." On the other side, the church, which the historian in a footnote saddles with the responsibility of sharing Tertullian's most harsh beliefs, is at one with "the present age" in repudiating him on grounds of her own. Yet, questioned or condemned, Tertullian played his part, and that no little one, in the conflict of religions; he stood for truth as he saw it, and wrote and spoke with little thought of the praise or blame of his contemporaries or of posterity--all _that_ he had abandoned once for all, when he made the great choice of his life. Questioned or condemned, he is representative, and he is individual, the first man of genius of the Latin race to follow Jesus Christ, and to re-set his ideas in the language native to that race. [Sidenote: Carthage] Tertullian was born about the middle of the second century A.D. at Carthage, or in its neighbourhood. The city at all events is the scene of his life--a great city with a great history. "Tyre in Africa" is one of his phrases for Carthage and her "sister-cities," and he quotes Virgil's description of Dido's town _studiis asperrima belli_.[2] But his Carthage was not that of Dido and Hannibal. It was the re-founded city of Julius Cæsar, now itself two hundred years old--a place with a character of its own familiar to the reader of Apuleius and of Augustine's _Confessions_,--a character confirmed by the references of Tertullian to its amusements and its daily sights. "What sea-captain is there that does not carry his mirth even to the point of shame? Every day we see the frolics in which sailors take their pleasure."[3] Scholars have played with the fancy that they could trace in Tertullian's work the influence of some Semitic strain, as others with equal reason have found {308} traces of the Celt in Virgil and Livy. Tertullian himself has perhaps even fewer references to Punic speech and people than Apuleius, while, like Apuleius, he wrote in both Greek and Latin,[4] and it is possible that, like Apuleius, and Perpetua the martyr, he spoke both. Jerome tells us that Tertullian was the son of a centurion.[5] He tells us himself, incidentally and by implication, that he was the child of heathen parents. "Idolatry," he says, "is the midwife that brings all men into the world;" and he gives a very curious picture of the pagan ceremonies that went with child-birth, the fillet on the mother's womb, the cries to Lucina, the table spread for Juno, the horoscope, and finally the dedication of a hair of the child, or of all his hair together, as the rites of clan or family may require.[6] Thus from the very first the boy is dedicated to a genius, and to the evil he inherits through the transmission of his bodily nature is added the influence of a false dæmon--"though there still is good innate in the soul, the archetypal good, divine and germane, essentially natural; for what comes from God is not so much extinguished as overshadowed."[7] The children of Christian parents have so far, he indicates, a better beginning; they are holy in virtue of their stock and of their upbringing.[8] With himself it had not been so. It is curious to find the great controversialist of later days recalling nursery tales, how "amid the difficulties of sleep one heard from one's nurse about the witch's towers and the combs of the sun"--recalling too the children's witticisms about the apples that grow in the sea and the fishes that grow on the tree.[9] They come back into his mind as he thinks of the speculations of Valentinus and his followers. [Sidenote: His training] His education was that of his day,--lavish rhetoric, and knowledge of that very wide character which in all his contemporaries is perhaps too suggestive of manual and {309} cyclopaedia[10]--works never so abundant in antiquity as then. But he was well taught, as a brilliant boy deserved, and his range of interests is remarkable. Nor is he overwhelmed by miscellaneous erudition, like Aulus Gellius for instance, or like Clement of Alexandria, to come to a man more on his own level. He is master of the great literature of Rome; he has read the historians and Cicero; he can quote Virgil with telling effect. _Usque adeone mori miserum est?_ he asks of the Christian who hesitates to be martyred;[11] "a hint from the world" he says. Sooner or later, he read Varro's books, the armoury of every Latin Christian against polytheism. He "looked into medicine," he tells us, and a good many passages in his treatises remind us of the fact.[12] It may help to explain an explicitness in the use of terms more usual in the physician perhaps than in the layman. But his career lay not in medicine but in law, and he caught the spirit of his profession. It has been debated whether the Tertullian, whose treatise _de castrensi peculio_ is quoted in the Digest, is the apologist or another, but no legal treatises are needed to convince the reader how thoroughly a lawyer was the author of the theological works. He has every art and every artifice of his trade. He can reason quietly and soundly, he can declaim, he can do both together. He is a master of logic, delighting in huge chains of alternatives. He can quibble and wrest the obvious meaning of a document to perfection, browbeat an opponent, argue _ad hominem_,[13] evade a clear issue, and anticipate and escape an obvious objection, as well as any lawyer that ever practised. Again and again he impresses us as a special pleader, and we feel that he is forcing us away from the evidence of our own sense and intelligence to a conclusion which he prefers on other grounds. His {310} epigrams rival Tacitus, and there is even in his rhetoric a conviction and a passion which Cicero never reaches. The suddenness of his questions, and the amazing readiness of his jests, savage, subtle, ironic, good-natured, brilliant or commonplace,[14] impress the reader again and again, however well he knows him. Yet Tertullian never loses sight of his object, whatever the flights of rhetoric or humour on which he ventures. In one case, he plainly says that his end will best be achieved by ridicule. "Put it down, reader, as a sham fight before the battle. I will show how to deal wounds, but I will not deal them. If there shall be laughter, the matter itself shall be the apology. There are many things that deserve so to be refuted; gravity would be too high a compliment. Vanity and mirth may go together. Yes, and it becomes Truth to laugh, because she is glad, to play with her rivals, because she is free from fear."[15] Then, with a caution as to becoming laughter, he launches into his most amusing book--that against the Valentinians. [Sidenote: His style] Tertullian rivals Apuleius in brilliant mastery of the elaborate and artificial rhetoric of the day. He has the same tricks of rhyming clauses and balancing phrases. Thus: _attente custoditur quod tarde invenitur_;[16] or more fully: _spiritus enim dominatur, caro famulatur; tamen utrumque inter se communicant reatum, spiritus ob imperium, caro ob ministerium_.[17] Here the vanities of his pagan training subserve true thought. Elsewhere they are more playful, as when he suggests to those, who like the pagans took off their cloaks to pray, that God heard the three saints in the fiery furnace of the Babylonian king though they prayed _cum sarabaris et tiaris suis_--in turbans and trousers.[18] But when he gives us such a string of phrases as _aut Platonis honor, aut Zenonis vigor, aut Aristotelis tenor, aut Epicuri stupor, aut Heracliti moeror, aut Empedoclis furor,_[19] one feels that he is for the moment little better than one of the wicked. At the beginning of his tract on Baptism, after speaking {311} of water he pulls himself up abruptly--he is afraid, he says, that the reader may fancy he is composing _laudes aquae_ (in the manner of rhetorical adoxography) rather than discussing the principles of baptism.[20] His tract _de Pallio_ is frankly a humorous excursion into old methods, in which the elderly Montanist, who has left off wearing the _toga_, justifies himself for his highly conservative and entirely suitable conduct in adopting the _pallium_. The "stern" Tertullian appears here in the character that his pagan friends had long ago known, and that his Christian readers might feel somewhere or other in everything that he writes. There is a good-tempered playfulness about the piece, a fund of splendid nonsense, which suggest the fellow-citizen of Apuleius rather than the presbyter.[21] But earnestness, which is not incompatible with humour, is his strong characteristic, and when it arms itself with an irony so powerful as that of Tertullian, the result is amazing. Sometimes he exceeds all bounds, as when in his _Ad Nationes_ he turns that irony upon the horrible charges, which the pagans, knowing them to be false, bring against the Christians, while he, pretending for the moment that they are true, invites his antagonists to think them out to their consequences and to act upon them.[22] Or again take the speech of Christ on the judgment day, in which the Lord is pictured as saying that he had indeed entrusted the Gospel once for all to the Apostles, but had thought better of it and made some changes--as of course, Tertullian suggests, he really would have to say, if it could be supposed that the latest heretics were right after all.[23] But, whatever be said or thought of the rhetoric, playful or earnest, it has another character than it wears in his contemporaries. For here was a far more powerful brain, strong, clear and well-trained, and a heart whose tenderness and sensibility have never had justice. In some ways he very much suggests Thomas Carlyle--he has the same passion, the same vivid imagination and keen sensibility, the same earnestness and the same loyalty to truth as he sees it regardless of {312} consequence and compromise,--and alas! the same "natural faculty for being in a hurry," which Carlyle deplored, and Tertullian before him--"I, poor wretch, always sick with the fever of impatience"[24]--the same fatal gift for pungent phrase, and the same burning and indignant sympathy for the victim of wrong and cruelty.[25] The beautiful feeling, which he shows in handling the parables of the lost sheep and the prodigal son, in setting forth from them the loving fatherhood of God,[26] might surprise some of his critics. Nor has every great Christian of later and more humane days been capable of writing as he wrote of victory in battle against foreigners--"Is the laurel of triumph made of leaves--or the dead bodies of men? With ribbons is it adorned--or with graves? Is it bedewed with unguents, or the tears of wives and mothers?--perhaps too of some who are Christians, for even among the barbarians is Christ."[27] There are again among his books some which have an appeal and a tender charm throughout that haunt the reader--that is, if he has himself passed through any such experience as will enable him to enter into what was in Tertullian's mind and heart as he wrote. So truly and intimately does he know and with such sympathy does he express some of the deepest religious emotions.[28] [Sidenote: His early life] From time to time Tertullian drops a stray allusion to his earlier years. He was a pagan--_de vestris sumus_--"one of yourselves" (_Apol._ 18); "the kind of man I was myself once, blind and without the light of the Lord."[29] A Roman city, and Carthage perhaps in particular, offered to a gifted youth of Roman ways of thinking endless opportunities of self-indulgence. Tertullian speaks of what he had seen in the arena--the condemned criminal, dressed as some hero or god of the mythology, mutilated or burned alive, for the amusement of a shouting {313} audience,[30] "exulting in human blood."[31] "We have laughed, amid the mocking cruelties of noonday, at Mercury as he examined the bodies of the dead with his burning iron; we have seen Jove's brother too, with his mallet, hauling out the corpses of gladiators."[32] In later days when he speaks of such things, he shudders and leaves the subject rather than remember what he has seen--_malo non implere quam meminisse_.[33] He knew the theatre of the Roman city--"the consistory of all uncleanness" he calls it. "Why should it be lawful (for a Christian)," he asked, "to see what it is sin to do? Why should the things, which 'coming out of the mouth defile a man,' seem not to defile a man when he takes them in through eyes and ears?"[34] He speaks of Tragedies and Comedies, teaching guilt and lust, bloody and wanton; and the reader of the _Golden Ass_ can recall from fiction cases wonderfully illuminative of what could have been seen in fact. When he apostrophizes the sinner, he speaks of himself. "You," he cries, "you, the sinner, like me--no! less sinner than I, for I recognize my own pre-eminence in guilt."[35] He is, he says, "a sinner of every brand, born for nothing but repentance."[36] To say, with Professor Hort, on the evidence of such passages that Tertullian was "apparently a man of vicious life" might involve a similar condemnation of Bunyan and St Paul; while to find the charge "painfully" confirmed by "the foulness which ever afterwards infested his mind" is to exaggerate absurdly in the first place, and in the second to forget such parallels as Swift and Carlyle, who both carried explicit speech to a point beyond ordinary men, while neither is open to such a suggestion as that brought against Tertullian. With such cases as Apuleius, Hadrian or even Julius Cæsar before us, it is impossible to maintain that Tertullian's early life must have been spotless, but it is possible to fancy more wrong than there was. The excesses of a man of genius are generally touched by the {314} imagination, and therein lies at once their peculiar danger, and also something redemptive that promises another future. Tertullian at any rate married--when, we cannot say; but, as a Christian and a Montanist, he addressed a book to his wife, and in his _De Anima_ he twice alludes to the ways of small infants in a manner which suggests personal knowledge. In the one he speaks with curious observation of the sense-perception of very young babies; in the other he appeals to their movements in sleep, their tremors and smiles, as evidence that they also have dreams. Such passages if met in Augustine's pages would not so much surprise us. They suggest that the depth and tenderness of Tertullian's nature have not been fully understood.[37] [Sidenote: The evidence of nature] Meanwhile, whatever his amusements, the young lawyer had his serious interests. If he was already acquiring the arts of a successful pleader, the more real aspects of Law were making their impression upon him. The great and ordered conceptions of principle and harmony, which fill the minds of reflective students of law in all ages, were then reinforced by the Stoic teaching of the unity of Nature in the indwelling of the Spermaticos Logos with its universal scope and power. Law and Stoicism, in this union, formed the mind and character of Tertullian. In later days, under the stress of controversy (which he always enjoyed) he could find points in which to criticize his Stoic teachers; but the contrast between the language he uses of Plato and his friendliness (for instance) for _Seneca sæpe noster_[38] is suggestive. But that is not all. A Roman lawyer could hardly speculate except in the terms of Stoicism--it was his natural and predestined language. Above all, the constant citation of Nature by Tertullian shows who had taught him in the first instance to think. When, years after, in 212 A.D., he told Scapula that "it is a fundamental human right, a privilege of Nature, that any and every man should worship what he thinks right," he had sub-consciously gone back to the great Stoic _Jus Naturæ_.[39] {315} Nature is the original authority--side by side, he would say in his later years, with the inspired word of God,--yet even so "it was not the pen of Moses that initiated the knowledge of the Creator.... The vast majority of mankind, though they have never heard the name of Moses--to say nothing of his book--know the God of Moses none the less."[40] One of his favourite arguments rests on what he calls the _testimonium animæ naturaliter Christianæ_--the testimony of the soul which in its ultimate and true nature is essentially Christian; and this argument rests on his general conception of Nature. Let a man "reflect on the majesty of Nature, for it is from Nature that the authority of the soul comes. What you give to the teacher, you must allow to the pupil. Nature is the teacher, the soul the pupil. And whatever the one has taught or the other learnt, comes from God, who is the teacher of the teacher (_i.e._ Nature)";[41] and neither God nor Nature can lie.[42] An extension of this is to be found in his remark, in a much more homely connexion, that if the "common consciousness" (_conscientia communis_) be consulted, we shall find "Nature itself" teaching us that mind and soul are livelier and more intelligent when the stomach is not heavily loaded.[43] The appeal to the _consensus_ of men, as the expression of the universal and the natural, and therefore as evidence to truth, is essentially Stoic. Over and over he lays stress upon natural law. "All things are fixed in the truth of God,"[44] he says, and "our God is the God of Nature."[45] He identifies the natural and the rational--"all the properties of God must be rational just as they are natural," that is a clear principle (_regula_);[46] "the rational element must be counted natural because it is native to the soul from the beginning--coming as it does from a rational author (_auctore_)."[47] He objects to Marcion that everything is so "sudden"--so spasmodic--in his scheme of things.[48] For himself, he holds with Paul ("doth not Nature teach you?") that "law is natural and Nature legal," that {316} God's law is published in the universe, and written on the natural tables of the heart.[49] This clear and strong conception of Nature gives him a sure ground for dealing with antagonists. There were those who denied the reality of Christ's body, and declaimed upon the ugly and polluting features in child-birth--could the incarnation of God have been subjected to this?[50] But Nature needs no blush--_Natura veneranda est non erubescenda_; there is nothing shameful in birth or procreation, unless there is lust.[51] On the contrary, the travailing woman should be honoured for her peril, and counted holy as Nature suggests.[52] Here once more we have an instance of Tertullian's sympathy and tenderness for woman, whom he perhaps never includes in his most sweeping attacks and condemnations. Similarly, he is not carried away by the extreme asceticism of the religions of his day into contempt for the flesh. It is the setting in which God has placed "the shadow of his own soul, the breath of his own spirit"--can it really be so vile? Yet is the soul _set_, or not rather blended and mingled with the flesh, "so that it may be questioned whether the flesh carries the soul or the soul the flesh, whether the flesh serves the soul, or the soul serves the flesh.... What use of Nature, what enjoyment of the universe, what savour of the elements, does the soul not enjoy by the agency of the flesh?" Think, he says, of the services rendered to the soul by the senses, by speech, by all the arts, interests and ingenuities dependent on the flesh; think of what the flesh does by living and dying.[53] The Jove of Phidias is not the world's great deity, because the ivory is so much, but because Phidias is so great; and did God give less of hand and thought, of providence and love, to the matter of which he made man? Whatever shape the clay took, Christ was in his mind as the future man.[54] Some of these passages come from works of Tertullian's later years, when he was evidently leaning more than of old to ascetic theory. They are therefore the more significant. {317} If he wrote as a pagan at all, what he wrote is lost; but it is not pushing conjecture too far to suggest that his interest in Stoicism precedes his Christian period, when such an interest is so clearly more akin to the bent of the Roman lawyer than the Christian of the second century. [Sidenote: The goodness of the Creator] The rationality and the order of the Universe are commonplaces of Stoic teachers, and, in measure, its beauty. Of this last Tertullian shows in a remarkable passage how sensible he was. Marcion condemns the God who created this world. But, says Tertullian, "one flower of the hedge-row by itself, I think--I do not say a flower of the meadows; one shell of any sea you like,--I do not say the Red Sea; one feather of a moor-fowl--to say nothing of a peacock,--will they speak to you of a mean Creator?" "Copy if you can the buildings of the bee, the barns of the ant, the webs of the spider." What of sky, earth and sea? "If I offer you a rose, you will not scorn its Creator!"[55] It is surely possible to feel more than the controversialist here. "It was Goodness that spoke the word; Goodness that formed man from the clay into this consistency of flesh, furnished out of one material with so many qualities; Goodness that breathed into him a soul, not dead, but alive; Goodness that set him over all things, to enjoy them, to rule them, even to give them their names; Goodness, too, that went further and added delight to man ... and provided a helpmeet for him."[56] Of his conceptions of law something will be said at a later point. It should be clear however that a man with such interests in a profession, in speculation, in the beauty and the law of Nature, could hardly at any time be a careless hedonist, even if, like most men converted in mid-life, he knows regret and repentance. On the side of religion, little perhaps can be said. He had laughed at the gods burlesqued in the arena. To Mithras perhaps he gave more attention. In discussing the soldier's crown he is able to quote an analogy from the rites of Mithras, in which a crown was rejected, and in which one grade of {318} initiates were known as "soldiers."[57] Elsewhere he speaks of the oblation of bread and the symbol of resurrection in those rites, "and, if I still remember, Mithras there seals his soldiers on the brow."[58] _Si memini_ is a colloquialism, which should not be pressed, but the _adhuc_ inserted may make it a more real and personal record. To Christian ideas he gave little attention. There were Christians round about him, no doubt in numbers, but they did not greatly interest him. He seems, however, to have looked somewhat carelessly into their teaching, but he laughed at resurrection, at judgment and retribution in an eternal life.[59] He was far from studying the Scriptures--"nobody," he said later on, "comes to them unless he is already a Christian."[60] Justin devoted about a half of his _Apology_ to prove the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy in the life of Jesus--an _Apology_ addressed to a pagan Emperor. Tertullian, in his _Apology_, gives four chapters to the subject, and one of these seems to be an alternative draft. The difference is explained by Justin's narrative of his conversion, in which he tells us how it was by the path of the Scriptures and Judaism that he, like Tatian and Theophilus, came to the church. Tertullian's story is different, and, not expecting pagans to pay attention to a work in such deplorable style[61] as the Latin Bible, which he had himself ignored, he used other arguments, the weight of which he knew from experience. In his _de Pallio_, addressed to a pagan audience, as we have seen, he alludes to Adam and the fig-leaves, but he does not mention Adam's name and rapidly passes on--"But this is esoteric--nor is it everybody's to know it."[62] [Sidenote: The martyrs] Tertullian is never autobiographical except by accident, yet it is possible to gather from his allusions how he became a Christian. In his address to Scapula[63] he says that the first governor to draw the sword on the Christians of Africa was Vigellius Saturninus. Dr Armitage Robinson's discovery of the original Latin text of the _Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs_, who {319} suffered under Saturninus, has enabled us to put a date to the event, for we read that it took place in the Consulship of Præsens (his second term) and of Claudianus--that is in 180 A.D., the year of the death of Marcus Aurelius. These _Acts_ are of the briefest and most perfunctory character. One after another, a batch of quite obscure Christians in the fewest possible words confess their faith, are condemned, say _Deo Gratias_, and then--"so all of them were crowned together in martyrdom and reign with the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen." That is all. They were men and women, some of them perhaps of Punic extraction--Nartzalus and Cittinus have not a Roman sound. After this, it would seem that in Africa, as elsewhere, persecution recurred intermittently; it might be the governor who began it, or the chance cry of an unknown person in a mob, and then the people, wild and sudden as the Gadarene swine and for the same reason (Christians said),[64] would fling themselves into unspeakable orgies of bloodshed and destruction. What was more, no one could foretell the hour--it might be years before it happened again; it might be now. And the Christians were surprisingly ready, whenever it came. Sometimes they argued a little, sometimes they said hardly anything. _Christiana sum_, was all that one of the Scillitan women said. But one thing struck everybody--their firmness, _obstinatio_.[65] Some, like the philosophic Emperor, might call it perversity; he, as we have seen, found it thin and theatrical, and contrasted it with "the readiness" that "proceeded from inward conviction, of a temper rational and grave"[66]--an interesting judgment from the most self-conscious and virtuous of men. On other men it made a very different impression--on men, that is, more open than the Cæsar of the passionless face[67] to impression, men of a more sensitive and imaginative make, quicker in penetrating the feeling of others. Tertullian, in two short passages, written at different dates, shows how the martyrs--perhaps these very Scillitan {320} martyrs--moved him. "That very obstinacy with which you taunt us, is your teacher. For who is not stirred up by the contemplation of it to find out what there is in the thing within? who, when he has found out, does not draw near? and then, when he has drawn near, desire to suffer, that he may gain the whole grace of God, that he may receive all forgiveness from him in exchange for his blood?"[68] So he wrote in 197-8 A.D., and fourteen years later his last words to Scapula were in the same tenor--"None the less this school (_secta_) will never fail--no! you must learn that then it is built up the more, when it seems to be cut down. Every man, who witnesses this great endurance, is struck with some misgiving and is set on fire to look into it, to find what is its cause; and when he has learnt the truth, he instantly follows it himself as well."[69] It would be hard to put into a sentence so much history and so much character. _Et ipse statim sequitur_. The martyrs made him uneasy (_scrupulo_). There must be more behind than he had fancied from the little he had seen and heard of their teaching. "No one would have wished to be killed unless in possession of the truth," he says.[70] In spite of his laughter at resurrection and judgment, he was not sure about them. When he speaks in later life of the _naturalis timor animæ in deum_[71]--that instinctive fear of God which Nature has set in the soul--he is probably not himself without consciousness of sharing here too the common experience of men; and this is amply confirmed by the frequency and earnestness with which he speaks of things to come after death. Here however were men who had not this fear. Their obstinacy was his teacher. He looked for the reason, he learned the truth and he followed it at once. That energy is his character--to be read in all he does. Like Carlyle's his writings have "the signature of the writer in every word." {321} "It is the idlest thing in the world," he says, "for a man to say, 'I wished it and yet I did not do it.' You ought to carry it through (_perficere_) because you wish it, or else not to wish it at all because you do not carry it through."[72] And again: "Why debate? God commands."[73] Tertullian obeyed, and ever after he felt that men had only to look into the matter, to learn and to obey. "All who like you were ignorant in time past, and like you hated,--as soon as it falls to their lot to know, they cease to hate who cease to be ignorant."[74] [Sidenote: Idolatry] Tertullian's tract _On Idolatry_ illustrates his mind upon this decisive change. There he deals with Christians who earn their living by making idols--statuaries, painters, gilders, and the like; and when the plea is suggested that they _must_ live and have no other way of living, he indignantly retorts that they should have thought this out before. _Vivere ergo habes?_[75] _Must_ you live? he asks. Elsewhere he says "there are no musts where faith is concerned."[76] The man who claims to be _condidonalis_,[77] to serve God on terms, Tertullian cannot tolerate. "Christ our Master called himself Truth--not Convention."[78] Every form of idolatry must be renounced, and idolatry took many forms. The schoolmaster and the _professor litterarum_ were almost bound to be disloyal to Christ; all their holidays were heathen festivals, and their very fees in part due to Minerva; while their business was to instruct the youth in the literature and the scandals of Olympus. But might not one study pagan literature? and, if so, why not teach it? Because, in teaching it, a man is bound, by his position, to drive heathenism deep into the minds of the young; in personal study he deals with no one but himself, and can judge and omit as he sees fit.[79] The dilemma of choosing between literature and Christ was a painful thing for men of letters for centuries after this.[80] So Tertullian lays down the law for others; what for himself? {322} Under the Empire there were two ways to eminence, the bar and the camp, and Tertullian had chosen the former. His rhetoric, his wit, his force of mind, and his strong grasp of legal principles in general and the issue of the moment in particular, might have carried him far. He might have risen as high as a civilian could. It was a tempting prospect,--the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them--and he renounced it; and never once in all the books that have come down to us, does he give any hint of looking back, never so much as suggests that he had given up anything. Official life was full of religious usage, full too of minor duties of ritual which a Christian might not discharge. Tertullian was not the first to see this. A century earlier Flavius Clemens, the cousin of Domitian, seems to have been a Christian--Dio Cassius speaks of his atheism and Jewish practices, and Suetonius remarks upon his "contemptible inertia," though he was consul.[81] In other words, the Emperor's cousin found that public life meant compromise at every step. This is Tertullian's decision of the case--it has the note of his profession about it. "Let us grant that it is possible for a man successfully to manage that, whatever office it be, he bears merely the title of that office; that he does not sacrifice, nor lend his authority to sacrifices, nor make contracts as to victims, nor delegate the charge of temples, nor look after their tributes; that he does not give shows (_spectacula_) at his own or the public cost, nor preside over them when being given; that he makes no proclamation or edict dealing with a festival; that he takes no oath; that--and these are the duties of a magistrate--he does not sit in judgment on any man's life or honour (for you might bear with his judging in matters of money); that he pronounces no sentence of condemnation nor any [as legislator] that should tend to condemnation; that he binds no man, imprisons no man, tortures[82] no man"--if all this can be managed, a Christian may be a magistrate.[83] Tertullian made his renunciation and held no magistracy. It may be said that, as he held none, it was easy to renounce it; but hopes are often harder to renounce than realities. So Tertullian left the law and the Stoics, to study {323} the Scriptures, Justin and Irenæus[84]--the Bible and the _regula fidei_ his new code, and the others his commentators. The Christian is "a stranger in this world, a citizen of the city above, of Jerusalem"; his ranks, his magistracies, his senate are the Church of Christ; his purple the blood of his Lord, his _laticlave_ in His cross.[85] But Tertullian could speak, on occasion, of what he had done. "We have no fear or terror of what we may suffer from those who do not know," he wrote to Scapula, "for we have joined this school (_sectam_) fully accepting the terms of our agreement; so that we come into these conflicts with no further right to our own souls."[86] The contest was, as he says elsewhere, "against the institutions of our ancestors, the authority of usage, the laws of rulers, the arguments of the wise; against antiquity, custom, necessity; against precedents, prodigies and miracles,"[87] and he did not need Celsus to remind him what form the resistance of the enemy might take. He knew, for he had seen, and that was why he stood where he did. But it is worth our while to understand how vividly he realized the possibilities before him. There were the private risks of informers and blackmailers, Jews[88] and soldiers, to which the Christians were exposed.[89] They were always liable to be trapped in their meetings--"every day we are besieged; every day we are betrayed; most of all in our actual gatherings and congregations are we surprised."[90] How are we to meet at all, asks the anxious Christian, unless we buy off the soldiers? By night, says Tertullian, "or let three be your church."[91] Then came the appearance before the magistrate, where everything turned on the character or the mood of the official. Tertullian quotes to Scapula several instances of kindness on the bench, rough and ready, or high-principled.[92] Anything might {324} happen--"then," wrote Perpetua, "he had all our names recited together and condemned us to the beasts."[93] What followed in the arena may be read in various Acts of Martyrdom--in the story of Perpetua herself, as told in tense and quiet language by Tertullian. He, it is generally agreed, edited her visions, preserving what she wrote as she left it, and adding in a postscript what happened when she had laid down her pen for ever. The scene with the beasts is not easy to abridge, and though not long in itself it is too long to quote here; but no one who has read it will forget the episode of Saturus drenched in his own blood from the leopard's bite, amid the yells of the spectators, _Salvum lotum! salvum lotum!_ nor that of Perpetua and Felicitas, mothers both, one a month or so, the other three days, stripped naked to be tossed by a wild cow. And here comes a curious touch; the mob, with a superficial delicacy, suggested clothing; rough cloths were put over the women, and the cow was let loose; they were tossed, and then all were put to the sword. [Sidenote: On martyrdom] "At this present moment," writes Tertullian, "it is the very middle of the heat, the very dog-days of persecution--as you would expect, from the dog-headed himself, of course. Some Christians have been tested by the fire, some by the sword, some by the beasts; some, lashed and torn with hooks, have just tasted martyrdom, and lie hungering for it in prison."[94] Cross, hook, and beasts[95]--the circus, the prison, the rack[96]--the _vivicomburium_,[97] burning alive--and meanwhile the renegade Jew is there with his placard of the "god of the Christians," an ugly caricature with the ears and one hoof of an ass, clad in a toga, book in hand[98]--the Gnostic and the nervous Christian are asking whether the text "flee ye to the next" may not be God's present counsel--and meantime "faith glows and the church is burning like the bush."[99] Yet, says Tertullian to the heathen, "we say, and we say it openly,--while you are torturing us, torn and bleeding, we cry aloud 'We worship God through Christ.'"[100] To {325} the Christian he says: "The command is given to me to name no other God, whether by act of hand, or word of tongue ... save the One alone, whom I am bidden to fear, lest he forsake me; whom I am bidden to love with all my being, so as to die for him. I am his soldier, sworn to his service, and the enemy challenge me. I am as they are, if I surrender to them. In defence of my allegiance I fight it out to the end in the battle-line, I am wounded, I fall, I am killed. Who wished this end for his soldier--who but he who sealed him with such an oath of enlistment? There you have the will of my God."[101] "And therefore the Paraclete is needed, to guide into all truth, to animate for all endurance. Those, who receive him, know not to flee persecution, nor to buy themselves off; they have him who will be with us, to speak for us when we are questioned, to help us when we suffer."[102a] "He who fears to suffer cannot be his who suffered."[102b] The tracts _On Flight in Persecution_ and _The Antidote for the Scorpion_ are among his most impressive pieces. They must have been read by his friends with a strange stirring of the blood. Even to-day they bring back the situation--living as only genius can make it live. But what of the man of genius who wrote them? At what cost were they written? "Picture the martyr," he writes, "with his head under the sword already poised, picture him on the gibbet his body just outspread, picture him tied to the stake when the lion has just been granted, on the wheel with the faggots piled about him"[103]--and no doubt Tertullian saw these things often enough, with that close realization of each detail of shame and pain which is only possible to so vivid and sensitive an imagination. He saw _himself_ tied to the stake--heard the governor in response to the cry _Christiana leonem_[104] concede the lion--and then had to wait, how long? How long would it take to bring and to let loose the lion? How long would it seem? Through all this he went, in his mind, not once, nor twice. And meanwhile, what was the audience doing, while he stood there tied, {326} waiting interminably for the lion? He knew what they would be doing, for he had seen it, and in the passage at the end of _de Spectaculis_, which Gibbon quotes, every item of the description of the spectator is taken in irony from the actual circus. No man, trained, as the public speaker or pleader must be, to respond intimately and at once to the feelings and thoughts, expressed or unexpressed, of the audience, could escape realizing in heightened tension every possibility of anguish in such a crowd of hostile faces, full of frantic hatred,[105] cruelty and noise. To this Tertullian looked forward, as we have seen, and went onward--as another did who "steadfastly set his face for Jerusalem." The test of emotion is what it has survived, and Tertullian's faith in Christ and his peace of mind survived this martyrdom through the imagination. Whatever criticism has to be passed upon his work and spirit, to some of his critics he might reply "_Ye_ have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin." So much did martyrdom mean to the individual, yet it was not merely a personal affair. It was God's chosen way to propagate his church--so it had been foretold, and so it was fulfilled. "Nothing whatever is achieved," says Tertullian to the heathen, "by each more exquisite cruelty you invent;[106] on the contrary, it wins men for our school. We are made more as often as you mow us down; the blood of Christians is seed."[107] Sixteen centuries or so later, Thoreau in his _Plea for Captain John Brown_, a work not unlike Tertullian's own in its force, its surprises, its desperate energy and high conviction, wrote similarly of the opponents of another great movement. "Such do not know that like the seed is the fruit, and that in the moral world, when good seed is planted, good fruit is inevitable, and does not depend on our watering and cultivating; that when you plant, or bury, a hero in his field, a crop of heroes is sure to spring up. This is a seed of such {327} force and vitality, that it does not ask our leave to germinate." [Sidenote: On baptism] There were yet other possibilities in martyrdom. It was believed by Christians that in baptism the sins of the earlier life were washed away; but what of sins after baptism? They involved a terrible risk--"the world is destined to fire like the man who after baptism renews his sins"[108]--and it was often felt safer to defer baptism to the last moment in consequence. Constantine was baptized on his death-bed. "The postponement of baptism is more serviceable especially in the case of children;" says Tertullian, "let them become Christians when they shall be able to know Christ. Why should the innocent age hasten to the remission of sins?"[109] As to sins committed after baptism, different views were held. In general, as the church grew larger and more comprehensive, it took a lighter view of sin, but Tertullian and his Montanist friends did not, and for this they have been well abused, in their own day and since. They held that adultery and apostasy were not venial matters, to be forgiven by a bishop issuing an "edict," like a _Pontifex Maximus_, in the legal style, "I forgive the sins of adultery and fornication to such as have done penance, _pænitentia functis_."[110] The Montanist alternative was not so easy; God, they held, permitted a second baptism, which should be final--a baptism of blood. "God had foreseen the weaknesses of humanity, the strategems of the enemy, the deceitfulness of affairs, the snares of the world--that faith even after baptism would be imperilled, that many would be lost again after being saved--who should soil the wedding dress, and provide no oil for their lamps, who should yet have to be sought over mountain and forest, and carried home on the shoulders. He therefore appointed a second consolation, a last resource, the fight of martyrdom and the baptism of blood, thereafter secure."[111] This view may not appeal to us to-day; it did not appeal to Gnostic, time-server and coward. The philosophy of sin involved is hardly deep enough, but {328} this doctrine of the second baptism cannot be said to lack virility. But Tertullian himself did not receive the first baptism with any idea of looking for a second. Like men who are baptized of their own motion and understanding, he was greatly impressed by baptism. "There is nothing," he says, "which more hardens the minds of men than the simplicity of God's works, which appears in the doing, and the magnificence, which is promised in the effect. Here too, because, with such simplicity, without pomp, without any novel apparatus, and without cost, a man is sent down into the water and baptized, while but a few words are spoken, and rises again little or nothing cleaner, on that account his attainment of eternity is thought incredible."[112] It must be felt that the illustration declines from the principle. It may also be remarked that this is a more magical view of baptism than would have appealed to Seneca or to his contemporaries in the Christian movement, and that, as it is developed, it becomes even stranger. Tertullian's description of baptism is of interest in the history of the rite. The candidate prepares himself with prayer, watching and the confession of sin.[113] "The waters receive the mystery (_sacramentum_) of sanctification, when God has been called upon. The Spirit comes at once from heaven and is upon the waters, sanctifying them from himself, and so sanctified they receive (_combibunt_) the power of sanctifying."[114] This is due to what to-day we should call physical causes. The underlying matter, he says, must of necessity absorb the quality of the overlying, especially when the latter is spiritual, and therefore by the subtlety of its substance more penetrative.[115] We may compare "the enthusiastic spirit," which, Plutarch tells us, came up as a gas from the chasm at Delphi,[116] and further the general teaching of Tertullian (Stoic in origin) of the corporeity of the soul and of similar spiritual beings. He illustrates the influence of the Spirit in thus affecting the waters of baptism by the analogy of the unclean spirits that haunt streams and fountains, natural and artificial, and similarly affect men, though for evil--"lest any should think it a hard thing that God's holy angel should be present to temper {329} waters for man's salvation."[117] Thus when the candidate has solemnly "renounced the devil, his pomp and his angels,"[118] he is thrice plunged,[119] his spirit is washed corporeally by the waters "medicated" and his flesh spiritually is purified.[120] "It is not that in the waters we receive the Holy Spirit, but purified in water under the angel, we are prepared for the Holy Spirit.... The angel, that is arbiter of baptism, prepares the way for the Spirit that shall come."[121] On leaving the water the Christian is anointed (_signaculum_). The hand of blessing is laid upon him, and in response to prayer the Holy Spirit descends with joy from the Father to rest upon the purified and blest.[122] [Sidenote: Renouncing the world] Tertullian never forgot the baptismal pledge in which he renounced the devil, his pomp and his angels; and, for his part, he never showed any tendency to make compromise with them--when he recognized them, for sometimes he seems not to have penetrated their disguises. Again and again his pledge comes back to him. What has the Christian to do with circus or theatre, who has renounced the devil, his pomp and his angels, when both places are specially consecrated to these, when there, above all, wickedness, lust and cruelty reign without reserve?[123] How can the maker of idols, the temple-painter, etc., be said to have renounced the devil and his angels, if they make their living by them?[124] We have seen the difficulty of the schoolmaster here. The general question of trade troubles Tertullian--its cupidity, the lie that ministers to cupidity, to say nothing of perjury.[125] Of astrologers, he would have thought, nothing needed to be said--but that he had "within these few days" heard some one claim the right to continue in the profession. He reminds him of the source of his magical information--the fallen angels.[126] One must not even name them--to say _Meditis fidius_ is idolatry, for it is a prayer; but to say "I live in the street of Isis" is not sin--it is sense.[127] Many inventions were attributed by pagans to their gods. If every implement of life is set down to some god, "yet I still must recognize Christ lying on a couch--or when he brings a basin {330} to his disciples' feet, or pours water from the jug, and is girded with linen--Osiris' own peculiar garb."[128] In fact, common utility, and the service of ordinary needs and comforts, may lead us to look upon things (to whomsoever attributed) as really due to the inspiration of God himself "who foresees, instructs and gives pleasure to man, who is after all His own."[129] Thus common sense and his doctrine of Nature come to his aid. "So amid rocks and bays, amid the shoals and breakers of idolatry, faith steers her course, her sails filled by the Spirit of God."[130] [Sidenote: The _Apology_] Tertullian had been a lawyer and a pleader, as we are reminded in many a page, where the man of letters is overridden by the man of codes and arguments; and a lawyer he remained. The Gospel, for instance, bade that, if any man take the tunic, he should be allowed to take the cloak also. Yes, says Tertullian, if he asks--"if he threatens, I will ask for the tunic back."[131] A man, with such habits of mind, will not take violent measures to repel injustice, but he may be counted upon to defend himself in his own way. Tertullian, accordingly, when persecution broke out in the autumn of 197 in Carthage, addressed to the governor of the province an Apology for the Christians. It is one of his greatest works. It was translated into Greek, and Eusebius quotes the translation in several places. It is a most brilliant book. All his wit and warmth, his pungency and directness, his knowledge and his solid sense come into play. As a piece of rhetoric, as a lawyer's speech, it is inimitable. But it is more than that, for it is as full of his finest qualities as of his other gifts of dexterity and humour. It shows the full grown and developed man, every faculty at its highest and all consecrated, and the book glows with the passion of a dedicated spirit. He begins with the ironical suggestion that, if the governors of provinces are not permitted in their judicial capacity to examine in public the case of the Christians, if this type of action alone their authority is afraid--or blushes--to investigate in the interests of justice, he yet hopes that Truth by the {331} silent path of letters may reach their ears. Truth makes no excuse--she knows she is a stranger here, while her race, home, hope, grace and dignity are in heaven. All her eagerness is not to be condemned unheard. Condemnation without trial is invidious, it suggests injustice and wakes suspicion. It is in the interests of Christianity, too, that it should be examined--that is how the numbers of the Christians have grown to such a height. They are not ashamed--unless it be of having become Christians so late. The natural characteristics of evil are fear, shame, tergiversation, regret; yet the Christian criminal is glad to be accused, prays to be condemned and is happy to suffer. You cannot call it madness, when you are shown to be ignorant of what it is. Christians are condemned for the name's sake, though such condemnation, irrespective of the proving of guilt or innocence, is outrage. Others are tortured to confess their guilt, Christians to deny it. Trajan's famous letter to Pliny, he tears to shreds; Christians are not to be hunted down--that is, they are innocent; but they are to be punished--that is, they are guilty. If the one, why not hunt them down? If the other, why punish? Of course Trajan's plan was a compromise, and Tertullian is not a man of compromises. If a founder's name is guilt for a school, look around! Schools of philosophers and schools of cooks bear their founders' names with impunity. But about the Founder of the Christian school curiosity ceases to be inquisitive. But the "authority of laws" is invoked against truth--_non licet esse vos!_ is the cry. What if laws do forbid Christians to be? "If your law has made a mistake, well, I suppose, it was a human brain that conceived it; for it did not come down from heaven." Laws are always being changed, and have been. "Are you not yourselves every day, as experiment illumines the darkness of antiquity, engaged in felling and cutting the whole of that ancient and ugly forest of laws with the new axes of imperial rescripts and edicts?"[132] Roman laws once forbade extravagance, theatres, divorce--they forbade the religions of Bacchus, Serapis and Isis. Where are those laws now? "You are always praising antiquity, and you improvise your life from day to day."[133] In passing, one remark may be made in view of what is {332} said sometimes of Tertullian and his conception of religion. "To Tertullian the revelation through the Christ is no more than a law."[134] There is truth in this criticism, of course; but unless it is clearly understood that Tertullian drew the distinction, which this passage of the _Apology_ and others suggest, between Natural law, as conceived by the Stoics, and civil law as regarded by a Propraetor, he is likely to be misjudged. He constantly slips into the lawyer's way of handling law, for like all lawyers he is apt to think in terms of paper and parchment; but he draws a great distinction, not so familiar to judges and lawyers--as English daily papers abundantly reveal--between the laws of God or Nature and the laws of human convention or human legislatures. The weak spot was his belief in the text of the Scriptures as the ultimate and irrefragable word and will of God, though even here, in his happier hours, when he is not under stress of argument, he will interpret the divine and infallible code, not by the letter, but by the general principles to be observed at once in Nature and the book. _Legis injustæ honor nullus est_[135] is not the ordinary language of a lawyer. The odious charges brought by the vulgar against the Christians then, as now in China, and used for their own purposes by men who really knew better, he shows to be incredible. No one has the least evidence of any kind for them, and yet Christian meetings are constantly surprised. What a triumph would await the spy or the traitor who could prove them! But they are not believed, or men would harry the Christians from the face of the earth (c. 8). As to the idea that Christians eat children to gain eternal life--who would think it worth the price? No! if such things _are_ done, by whom are they done? He reminds his fellow-countrymen that in the reign of Tiberius priests of Saturn were crucified in Africa on the sacred trees around their temple--for the sacrifice of children. And then who are those who practise abortion? "how many of those who crowd around and gape for Christian blood?" And the gladiatorial shows? is it the Christians who frequent them? Atheism and treason were more serious charges. "You do {333} not worship the gods." What gods? He cannot mention them all--"new, old, barbarian, Greek, Roman, foreign, captive, adoptive, special, common, male, female, rustic, urban, nautical and military"--but Saturn at any rate was a man, as the historians know. But they were made gods after they died. Now, that implies "a God more sublime, true owner (_mancipem_), so to speak, of divinity," who made them into gods, for they could not of course have done it themselves; and meanwhile you abolish the only one who could have. But why should he?--"unless the great God needed their ministry and aid in his divine tasks"--dead men's aid! (c. 11). No, the whole universe is the work of Reason; nothing was left for Saturn to do, or his family. It rained from the beginning, stars shone, thunders roared, and "Jove himself shuddered at the living bolts which you put in his hand." Ask the spiders what they think of your gods and their webs tell you (c. 12). To-day a god, to-morrow a pan, as domestic necessity melts and casts the metal. And the gods are carried round and alms begged for them--_religio mendicans_--"hold out your hand, Jupiter, if you want me to give you anything!"[136] Does Homer's poetry do honour to the gods (c. 14)--do the actors on the stage (c. 15)? Christians are not atheists. They worship one God, Creator, true, great, whose very greatness makes him known of men and unknown.[137] Who he is, and that he is one, the human soul knows full well--_O testimonium animæ naturaliter Christianæ_! But God has other evidence--_instrumentum litteraturæ_. He sent into the world men "inundated with the divine spirit" to proclaim the one God, who framed all things, who made man, who one day will raise man from the dead for eternal judgment. These writings of the prophets are not secret books. Anyone can read them in the Greek version, which was made by the seventy elders for Ptolemy Philadelphus. To this book he appeals,--to the majesty of Scripture, to the fulfilment of prophecy. Zeno called the Logos the maker of all things--and named him Fate, God, mind of Jove, Necessity. Cleanthes described him as permeating all things. This the Christians also hold to {334} be God's Word, Reason and Power--and his Son, one with him in being, Spirit as He is Spirit. This was born of a Virgin, became man, was crucified and rose again. Even the Cæsars would have believed on Christ, if Cæsars were not needful to the world, or if there could be Christian Cæsars.[138] As for the pagan gods, they are dæmons, daily exorcised into the confession of Christ. But the charge of Atheism may be retorted. Are not the pagans guilty of Atheism, at once in not worshipping the true God and in persecuting those who do? As a rule they conceive, with Plato, of a great Jove in heaven surrounded by a hierarchy of gods and dæmons.[139] But, as in the Roman Empire, with its Emperor and its procurators and prefects, it is a capital offence to turn from the supreme ruler to the subordinate, so "may it not involve a charge of irreligion to take away freedom of religion, to forbid free choice of divinity, that I may not worship whom I will?" Every one else may; but "we are not counted Romans, who do not worship the god of the Romans. It is well that God is God of all, whose we are, whether we will or no. But with you it is lawful to worship anything whatever--except the true God." But the gods raised Rome to be what she is. Which gods? Sterculus? Larentina? Did Jove forget Crete for Rome's sake--Crete, where he was born, where he lies buried?[140] No, look to it lest God prove to be the dispenser of kingdoms, to whom belong both the world that is ruled and the man who rules. Some are surprised that Christians prefer "obstinacy to deliverance"--but Christians know from whom _that_ suggestion comes, and they know the malevolence of the dæmon ranks, who are now beginning to despair since "they recognize they are not a match for us" (c. 27). For the Emperor Christians invoke God, the eternal, the true, the living. They look up, with hands outspread, heads bared, and from their hearts, without a form of words, they pray for long life for the Emperor, an Empire free from alarms, a safe home, brave armies, a faithful senate, an honest people and a quiet world (c. 30). They do this, for the Empire stands {335} between them and the world's end. (It was a common thought that the world and Rome would end together.) Christians however honour Cæsar as God's vice-gerent; he is theirs more than any one's, for he is set up by the Christians' God. They make no plots and have no recourse to magic to inquire into his "health" (c. 35).[141] In fact "we are the same to the Emperors as to our next-door neighbours. We are equally forbidden to wish evil, to do evil, to speak evil, to think evil of anyone." So much for being enemies of the state (c. 36). Christians do not retaliate on the mob for its violence, though, if they did, their numbers would be serious. "We are but of yesterday, and we have filled everything, cities, islands, camps, palace, forum," etc.; "all we have left you is the temples." But "far be it that a divine school should vindicate itself with human fire, or grieve to suffer that wherein it is proved" (c. 37). Christians make no disturbances and aspire to no offices. They are content to follow their religion and look after the poor, the shipwrecked, and men in mines and prisons. "See how they love each other!" say the heathen.[142] They are not, as alleged, the cause of public disasters; though if the Nile do not overflow, or if the Tiber do, it is at once _Christianos ad leonem_! But they are "unprofitable in business!" Yes, to pimps, poisoners and mathematicians; still they are not Brahmans or solitaries of the woods, exiles from life, and they refuse no gift of God. "We sail with you, take the field with you, share your country life, and know all the intercourse of arts and business" (cc. 42, 43). They are innocent, for they fear God and not the proconsul. If they were a philosophic school, they would have toleration--"who compels a philosopher to sacrifice, to renounce, or to set out lamps at midday to no purpose?" Yet the philosophers openly destroy your gods and your superstitions in their books, and win your applause for it--and they "bark at your princes." He then points out how much there is in common to Christians and philosophers, and yet (in a burst of temper) how unlike they are. No, "where is the likeness between the philosopher and the Christian? the disciple of Greece and of heaven? the trafficker in fame and in life? the friend and the foe of error?" (c. 46). {336} The Christian artisan knows God better than Plato did. And yet what is knowledge and genius in philosopher and poet, is "presumption" in a Christian! "Say the things are false that protect you--mere presumption! yet necessary. Silly! yet useful. For those who believe them are compelled to become better men, for fear of eternal punishment and hope of eternal refreshment. So it is inexpedient to call that false or count that silly, which it is expedient should be presumed true. On no plea can you condemn what does good" (c. 49). Yet, whatever their treatment, Christians would rather be condemned than fall from God. Their death is their victory; their "obstinacy" educates the world; and while men condemn them, God acquits them. That is his last word--_a deo absolvimur_ (c. 50). Such, in rough outline, is the great Apology--not quite the work of the fuller or baker at whom Celsus sneered. Yet it has not the accent of the conventional Greek or Latin gentleman, nor that of the philosophic Greek Christian. The style is unlike anything of the age. Everything in it is individual; there is hardly a quotation in the piece. Everything again is centripetal; Tertullian is too much in earnest to lose himself in the endless periods of the rhetorician, or in the charming fancies dear to the eclectic and especially to contemporary Platonists. Indeed his tone toward literature and philosophy is startlingly contemptuous, not least so when contrasted with that of Clement. For this there are several reasons. First of all, like Carlyle, Tertullian has "to write with his nerves in a kind of blaze," and, like Carlyle, he says things strongly and sweepingly. It is partly temperament, partly the ingrown habit of the pleader. Something must be allowed to the man of moods, whose way it is to utter strongly what he feels for the moment. Such men do a service for which they have little thanks. Many moods go in them to the making of the mind, moods not peculiar to themselves. In most men feelings rarely find full and living expression, and something is gained when they are so expressed, even at the cost of apparent exaggeration. The sweeping half-truth at once suggests its complement to the man who utters it, and may stir very wholesome processes of thought in the milder person who hears it. {337} [Sidenote: The philosophers] In the next place the philosophers may have deserved the criticism. Fine talk and idle talk, in philosophic terms, had disgusted Epictetus;[143] and for few has Lucian more mockery than for the philosophers of his day--Tertullian's day--with their platitudes and their beards, their flunkeyism and love of gain. Clement of Alexandria, who loved philosophy, had occasional hard words for the vanity of its professors.[144] For a man of Tertullian's earnestness they were too little serious. _Gloriæ animal_[145] is one of his phrases--a creature of vainglory was not likely to appeal to a man who lived in full view of the lion and the circus. He had made a root and branch cleavage with idolatry, because no men could die like the Christians unless they had the truth. The philosophers--to say nothing of their part now and then in stirring the people against the Christians--had made terms with polytheism, beast-worship, magic, all that was worst and falsest in paganism, "lovers of wisdom" and seekers after truth as they professed themselves to be. Ancient Philosophy suggests to the modern student the name of Heraclitus or Plato; but Tertullian lived in the same streets with Apuleius, philosopher and Platonist, humorist and _gloriæ animal_. But even Plato vexed Tertullian.[146] The "cock to be offered to Æsculapius" was too available a quotation in a world where the miracles of the great Healer were everywhere famous. The triflers and the dogmatists of the day used Plato's myths to confute the Christian doctrine of the resurrection. And of course Plato and Tertullian are in temperament so far apart, that an antipathy provoked by such causes was hardly to be overcome. Again, Tertullian remarks frequently that heresy has the closest connexion with philosophy. Both handle the same questions: "Whence is evil, and why? and whence is man and how? and whence is God?"[147] Marcion, for instance, is "sick (like so many nowadays and, most of all, the heretics) with the question of evil, whence is evil?"[148] and turns to dualism. Or else "the heretics begin with questions of the resurrection, for the resurrection of the flesh they find harder to believe than the unity of the Godhead."[149] What Celsus, a typical product of {338} contemporary philosophy, thought of the resurrection of the flesh we have seen--a "hope of worms!" Lastly, there was a strong tendency in the church at large for re-statement of the gospel in the terms of philosophy; and in such endeavours, as we know, there is always the danger of supposing the terms and the philosophy of the day to be more permanent and more valid than the experience which they are supposed to express. In Tertullian's century there seemed some prospect that every characteristic feature of the gospel would be so "re-stated" as to leave the gospel entirely indistinguishable from any other eclectic system of the moment. Jesus became a phantom, or an æon; his body, sidereal substance, which offered, Clement himself said, no material resistance to the touch of St John's hand. God divided, heaven gone, no hope or faith left possible in a non-real Christ even in this life--Christians would be indeed of all men most miserable, and morality would have no longer any basis nor any motive. What in all this could tempt a man to face the lions? It was not for this that Christians shed their blood--no, the Gnostics recommended flight in persecution. It is easy to understand the sweeping _Viderint_--Tertullian's usual phrase for dismissing people and ideas on whom no more is to be said--"Let them look to it who have produced a Stoic and Platonic and dialectic Christianity. We need no curiosity who have Jesus Christ, no inquiry who have the gospel."[150] It was natural for Clement and his school to try to bring the gospel and philosophy to a common basis--a natural impulse, which all must share who speculate. The mistake has been that the church took their conclusions so readily and has continued to believe them. For Tertullian is, on his side, right, and we know in fact a great deal more about Jesus than we can know about the Logos. [Sidenote: The _Præscription of heretics_] Accordingly a large part of Tertullian's work, as a Christian, was the writing of treatises against heresy. He has in one book--_de Præscriptionibus Hæreticorum_--dealt with all heretics together. The _Regula Fidei_, which is a short creed,[151] was instituted, he says, by Christ, and is held among Christians without questions, "save those which heretics raise and which make heretics." On that _Regula_ rests the Christian faith. To know nothing against it, is to know everything. But appeal is {339} made to Scripture. We must then see who has the title to Scripture (_possessio_),[152] and whence it comes. Jesus Christ while on earth taught the twelve, and they went into the world and promulgated "the same doctrine of the same faith," founding churches in every city, from which other churches have taken faith and doctrine--he uses the metaphors of seed and of layers (_tradux_) from plants. Every day churches are so formed and duly counted Apostolic. Thus the immense numbers of churches may be reckoned equivalent to the one first church. No other than the Apostles are to be received, as no others were taught by Christ. "Thus it is established that every doctrine which agrees with those Apostolic mother-churches, the originals of the faith, is to be set down to truth, as in accordance with what the churches have received from the apostles, the apostles from Christ, and Christ from God."[153] But have the churches been faithful in the transmission of this body of doctrine? Suppose them all to have gone wrong, suppose the Holy Spirit to have been so negligent--is it likely that so vast a number should have wandered away into _one_ faith? Again let Marcion and others show the history of their churches. Let their doctrines be compared with the Apostolic, and their varieties and contradictions will show they are not Apostolic. If then Truth be adjudged to those who walk by the _Regula_, duly transmitted through the church, the Apostles and Christ from God, then heretics have no right of appeal to the Scriptures which are not theirs. If they are heretics, they cannot be Christians; if they are not Christians, they have no right (_ius_) to Christian literature. "With what right (_iure_) Marcion, do you cut down my wood? By what licence, Valentinus, do you divert my springs? ... This is my estate; I have long held it; I am first in occupation; I trace my sure descent from the founders to whom the thing belonged. I am the heir of the Apostles."[154] In this, as in most human arguments, there are strands of different value. The legal analogy gave a name to the book--_præscriptio_ was the barring of a claim--but it is not {340} the strongest line. Law rarely is. But Tertullian was not content to rule his opponents out of court. He used legal methods and manners too freely, but he knew well enough that these settled nothing. As a rule he had much stronger grounds for his attack. He wrote five books against Marcion to maintain the unity of the Godhead and the identity of the Father of Jesus, the God of the Old Testament and the God of Nature. His book against the Valentinians has a large element of humour in it--perhaps the best rejoinder to the framers of a cosmogony of so many æons, none demonstrable, all fanciful,--the thirty of them suggest to him the famous Latin sow of the _Æneid_.[155] Against Hermogenes he maintains the doctrine of the creation of the world from nothing. The hypothesis that God used pre-existing matter, makes matter antecedent and more or less equal to God. And then, in legal vein, he asks a question. How did God come to use matter? "These are the three ways in which another's property may be taken,--by right, by benefit, by assault, that is by title, by request, by violence." Hermogenes denies God's title in this case; which then of the other means does he prefer?[156] [Sidenote: The incarnation of Christ] His best work in the controversial field is in his treatises, _On the Flesh of Christ_, _On the Resurrection of the Flesh_, and _On the Soul_. The first of these, above all, will appeal to any reader to whom the historic Jesus is significant. Much has changed in outlook and preconceptions since Tertullian wrote, but his language on the reality of Jesus, as an actual human being and no sidereal or celestial semblance of a man, on the incarnation, and the love of God, still glows and still finds a response. "Away," he pictures Marcion saying, "Away with those census-rolls of Cæsar, always tiresome, away with the cramped inns, the soiled rags, the hard stall. Let the angelic host look to it!"[157] And then he rejoins, Do you think nativity impossible--or unsuitable--for God? Declaim as you like on the ugliness of the circumstances; yet Christ _did_ love men (born, if you like, just as you say); for man he descended, for man he preached, for man he lowered himself with every humiliation down to death, and the death of the cross. Yes, {341} he loved him whom he redeemed at so high a price. And with man he loved man's nativity, even his flesh. The conversion of men to the worship of the true God, the rejection of error, the discipline of justice, of purity, of pity, of patience, of all innocence--these are not folly, and they are bound up with the truth of the Gospel. Is it unworthy of God? "Spare the one hope of all the world, thou, who wouldst do away with the disgrace of faith. Whatever is unworthy of God is all to my good."[158] The Son of God also died--"It is credible because it is foolish. He was buried and rose again; it is certain because it is impossible." And how could all this be, if his body were not true? "You bisect Christ with a lie. The _whole_ of him was Truth."[159] The gospel narrative from beginning to end implies that Christ's body was like ours--"he hungered under the devil, thirsted under the Samaritan woman, shed tears over Lazarus, was troubled[160] at death (for, the flesh, he said, is weak), last of all he shed his blood." How could men have spat in a face radiant with "celestial grandeur"? Wait! Christ has not yet subdued his enemies that he may triumph with his friends. Jesus is to come again, as he was, as he is, sitting at the Father's right hand, God and man, flesh and blood, the same in essence and form as when he ascended; so he shall come.[161] And men will be raised in the flesh to receive judgment. A storm overhangs the world.[162] What the treasure-house of eternal fire will be, may be guessed from the petty vents men see in Etna and elsewhere.[163] There will be white robes for martyrs; for the timid a little portion in the lake of fire and sulphur.[164] All that Gibbon thought would "offend the reason and humanity of the present age" in the last chapter of the _de Spectacutis_ may recur to the reader. But, continues Tertullian in that passage, my gaze will be upon those who let loose their fury on the Lord himself--"'This,' I shall say, 'is he, the son of the carpenter or the harlot, Sabbath-breaker, Samaritan, demoniac. This is he whom you bought from {342} Judas; this is he, whom you beat with the reed and the palms of your hands, whom you disfigured with your spittle, to whom you gave gall and vinegar. This is he whom his disciples stole away, that it might be said he had risen,--or the gardener took him away, that his lettuces might not be trodden by the crowds that came.'" "A long variety of affected and unfeeling witticisms," is Gibbon's judgment. A mind less intent on polemic will judge otherwise of Tertullian and his controversies. There is, first of all, much more of the philosophic temper than is commonly supposed. He does not, like Clement and other Greeks, revel in cosmological speculations as to the Logos, nor does he loosely adopt the abstract methods of later Greek philosophy. But in his treatment of the Soul, of moral order and disorder, and of responsibility, he shows no mean powers of mind. He argues from experience, and from the two sources, from which he could best hope to learn most directly the mind of God, Nature and the Scriptures. The infallibility of the Scriptures is of course a limitation to freedom of speculation, but it was an axiom of the early church, and a man of experience might accept it, bound up as it was with sound results in the martyr-death and the changed life. Tertullian will get back to the facts, if he can; and if he judges too swiftly of Nature and too swiftly accepts the literal truth of Scripture,--while these are drawbacks to our acceptance of his conclusions, there is still to be seen in him more independence of mind than in those Greek Fathers for whom Greek philosophy had spoken the last word in metaphysics. It is psychology that interests Tertullian more, and moral questions, and these he handles more deeply than the Stoics. He stands in line with Augustine and Calvin, his spiritual descendants. If he speaks more of hell than certain Greeks do, it is not unnatural. The man, who saw such deaths in the amphitheatre as he describes in the _Passion of Perpetua_, who remembered the expressions he had then seen on the faces of the spectators, who knew too well the cruelty that went with Roman lust, could hardly help believing in hell. What was the origin of evil? asked philosopher and heretic. What is its destiny? and what are you to do with it now? asked Tertullian; and, in all seriousness, the answer to the former {343} question is more likely to be found when the answers of the latter are reached. At any rate the latter are more practical, and that adjective, with what it suggests of drawback and of gain, belongs to Tertullian. [Sidenote: On conduct] His application of the test of utility to belief is obviously open to criticism. "It is expedient," said Varro, "for men to be deceived in religion." No, Tertullian would have said, it is more expedient for them to know the truth; and he backed his conviction by his appeal to Nature, on the one hand, Nature, rational through and through, and ever loyal to law, to fixity of principle, and on the other hand by reference to the verification of his position yielded by experience--once more the martyr-death and the transformed character. These fundamental ideas he may have misused in particulars, if not in matters more essential; but, if he is wrong from the beginning in holding them, human knowledge, progress and conduct become fortuitous and desultory at once. Nature and verification from life are substantially all we have. To these of course Tertullian added revelation in a sense distinct. From the question of conduct we pass naturally to the great cleavage of Tertullian with the church. A change had come in church practice and government since the days when the _Teaching of the Apostles_ represented actual present fact,--perhaps even since the _Apology of Aristides_. The church had grown larger, it had developed its organization, and it was relying more on the practical men with a turn for administration, who always appear when a movement, begun by idealists, seems to show signs of success. The situation creates them, and they cannot be avoided. They have their place, but they do not care for ideas. Thus in the church the ministry of the Spirit, the ministry of gifts, was succeeded by the ministry of office, with its lower ideals of the practical and the expedient. The numbers of the church swelled, and a theory began to spread, which Cyprian took up later on, and which was almost inevitable on his principles, that the church was an ark, with beasts clean and beasts unclean within it. This theory answered to the actual facts, hardly to the ideal, and Tertullian rejected it.[165] Conduct at once suggested the theory, {344} and responded to it. Christians fell into adultery and apostasy, and while at first this meant "delivery to Satan," restoration became progressively easy. The _Shepherd_ of Hermas extended second chances, till Tertullian fiercely spoke of "that apocryphal shepherd of adulterers.[166]" From Phrygia came the suggestion of reformation. Our evidence as to the history of Montanism in its native land is derived from hostile sources, and the value of it must partly depend on the truth of the witnesses and partly on their intelligence, and of neither have we any guarantee at all. That they are clearly hostile is plain from the fragments in Eusebius. That they understood the inner meaning of what they condemned, we have no indication. Montanus, however, asserted Christ's promise of the Paraclete--his enemies allege that he identified himself with the Paraclete, a statement which might be used to show how quotation may lead to _suggestio falsi_. But the coming of the Paraclete was not in fact a synonym for fanaticism and the collection of money, as the enemies of Montanus hinted. It meant the bracing of Christian life and character, and the restoration of prophecy, new revelation of truth, power and progress. It appealed to the Christian world, and the movement spread--probably with modifications as it spread. The oracles of Montanus and of two women, Prisca and Maximilla, became widely known, and they inculcated a stern insistence on conduct, which was really needed, while they showed how reformation was to be reached. To use language of more modern times, involves risk of misconception; but if it may be done with caution, we may roughly say that the Montanists stood for what the Friends call the Inner Light, and for progressive revelation--or, at any rate, for something in this direction. The indwelling of God was not consistent with low living; and earnest souls, all over the world, were invested with greater power and courage to battle with the growing lightness in the church and to meet the never-ceasing hostility of the world--the lion and the cruel faces of the amphitheatre. [Sidenote: Ecstacy] Yet Montanism failed for want of a clear conception of the real character of primitive Christianity. Aiming at morals, Montanists conceived of life and the human mind and God in a {345} way very far from that of Jesus. They laid a stress, which is not his, on asceticism and on penance, and they cultivated ecstasy--in both regions renouncing the essentially spiritual conception of religion, and turning to a non-Christian view of matter. They thus aimed at obtaining or keeping the indwelling spirit of Jesus, known so well in the early church, but by mechanical means; and this, though the later church in this particular followed them for generations, is not to be done. Still, whatever their methods and their expedients, they stood for righteousness, and here lay the fascination of Montanism for Tertullian. Throughout his later life Tertullian, then, was a Montanist, though the change was not so great as might be expected. Some of his works, such as that _On Monogamy_, bear the stamp of Montanism, for re-marriage was condemned by the Montanists. Elsewhere his citation of the oracles of Prisca suggests that a book belongs to the Montanist period; or we deduce it from such a passage as that in the work _On the Soul_ where he describes a vision. The passage is short and it is suggestive. "We have to-day among us a sister who has received gifts (_charismata_) of the nature of revelations, which she undergoes (_patitur_) in spirit in the church amid the rites of the Lord's day falling into ecstasy (_per ecstasin_). She converses with angels, sometimes even with the Lord, and sees and hears mysteries, and reads the hearts of certain persons, and brings healings to those who ask. According to what Scriptures are read, or psalms sung, or addresses made, or prayers offered up, the matter of her visions is supplied. It happened that we had spoken something of the soul, when this sister was in the spirit. When all was over, and the people had gone, she--for it is her practice to report what she has seen, and it is most carefully examined that it may be proved--'amongst other things,' she said, 'a soul was shown to me in bodily form and it seemed to be a spirit, but not empty, nor a thing of vacuity; on the contrary, it seemed as if it might be touched, soft, lucid, of the colour of air, and of human form in every detail."[167] Such a story explains itself. The corporeity of the soul {346} was a tenet of Stoicism, essential to Tertullian, for without it he could not conceive of what was to follow the resurrection. He spoke of it and we can imagine how. It would hardly take a vision to see anything of which he spoke. The sister however was, what in modern phrase is called, psychopathic, and the vision occurred, controlled by the suggestion that preceded it. [Sidenote: Conclusion] It must be admitted that there is in some of his Montanist treatises, particularly where he is handling matters of less importance, such as re-marriage, fasting, and the like, a bitterness of tone which is not pleasant. As long as his humour and his strong sense control his irony, it is no bad adjunct of his style, it is a great resource. But it declines into sarcasm, and "sarcasm," as Teufelsdröckh put it, "is the language of the devil"; and we find Tertullian, pleading for God and righteousness, in a tone and a temper little likely to win men. But the main ideas that dominate him still prevail--conduct, obedience, God's law in Nature and in the book, the value of the martyr-death. Little is to be got by dwelling on his outbursts of ill temper; they hardly do more than illustrate what we knew already, his intensity, his sensibility, his passion. They form the negative side of the great positive qualities. Let me gather up a few scattered thoughts which come from his heart and are better and truer illustrations of the man, and with them let chapter and book have an end. Conduct is the test of creed (_de Præscr. Hær._ 43). To lie about God is in a sense idolatry (_de Præscr._ 40). Security in sin means love of it (_de Pudic._ 9). Whatever darkness you pile above your deeds, God is light (_de Pænit._ 6). What we are forbidden to do, the soul pictures to itself at its peril (_de Pænit._ 3). Truth persuades by teaching, it does not teach by making things plausible (_adv. Valent._ 1). Faith is patience with its lamp lit--_illuminata_ (_de Pat._ 6). Patience is the very nature of God. The recognition of God understands well enough the duty laid upon it. Let wrong-doing be wearied by your patience (_de Pat._ 3, 4, 8). There is no greater incitement to despise money than that the Lord himself had no wealth (_de Pat._ 7). Love is 'the supreme mystery (_sacramentum_) of faith (_de Pat._ 12). Faith fears no famine {347} (_de Idol._ 12). Prayer is the wall of faith (_de Or._ 29). Every day, every moment, prayer is necessary to men.... Prayer comes from conscience. If conscience blush, prayer blushes (_de exh. cast._ 10). Good things scandalize none but the bad mind (_de virg. vel._ 3). Give to Cæsar what is Cæsar's--his image on the coin; give to God what is God's--his image in man, yourself (_de Idol._ 15). But to this there is no end, and an end there must be. By his expression of Christian ideas in the natural language of Roman thought, by his insistence on the reality of the historic Jesus and on the inevitable consequences of human conduct, by his reference of all matters of life and controversy to the will of God manifested in Nature, in inspiration and in experience, Tertullian laid Western Christendom under a great debt, never very generously acknowledged. For us it may be as profitable to go behind the writings till we find the man, and to think of the manhood, with every power and every endowment, sensibility, imagination, energy, flung with passionate enthusiasm on the side of purity and righteousness, of God and Truth; to think of the silent self-sacrifice freely and generously made for a despised cause, of a life-long readiness for martyrdom, of a spirit, unable to compromise, unable in its love of Christ to see His work undone by cowardice, indulgence and unfaith, and of a nature in all its fulness surrendered. That the Gospel could capture such a man as Tertullian, and, with all his faults of mind and temper, make of him what it did, was a measure of its power to transform the old world and a prophecy of its power to hold the modern world, too, and to make more of it as the ideas of Jesus find fuller realization and verification in every generation of Christian character and experience. Chapter X Footnotes: [1] Gibbon, _Decline and Fall_, c. 15 (vol. ii, p. 177, Milman-Smith); Tertullian, _de Spectaculis_, 30. [2] Both of these in _de Pallio_, 1. It may be noted that in allusions to Dido's story he prefers the non-Virgilian version, more honourable to the Queen; _Apol._ 50; _ad martyras_, 4. [3] _adv. Valentin._ 12. [4] References to his Greek treatises (all lost) may be found in _de cor. mil._ 6; _de bapt._ 15; _de virg. vel._ 1. [5] _De viris illustribus, sub nomine_. [6] _de anima_ 39. [7] _Ibid._ 41. [8] _Ibid._ 39. [9] _adv. Valent._ 3, _in infantia inter somni difficultates a nutricula audisse lamiæ turres et pectines Solis; ibid._ 20, _puerilium dicibulorum in mari poma nasci et in arbore pisces_. [10] e.g. he alludes to a manual on flowers and garlands by Claudius Saturninus, and another on a similar subject, perhaps, by Leo Ægyptius; _de cor. mil._ 7, 12. Apart from the Christian controversy on the use of flowers, we shall find later on that he had a keener interest in them than some critics might suppose; _adv. Marc._ i, 13, 14. [11] _de juga_, 10. [12] _de anima_, 2; cf. _ibid._ 10, quotation of a great anatomist Herophilus who dissected "six hundred" subjects in order to find out Nature's secrets; also _ibid._ 25, a discussion of childbirth to show that the soul does not come into the child with its first breath; _ibid._ 43, a discussion of sleep. _Scorpiace_, 5, surgery. [13] e.g. the end of _adv. Hermogenem_. [14] Puns, e.g., on _areæ, ad Scap._ 3; on _strophæ, de Spect._ 29; on _pleroma, adv. Val._ 12. See his nonsense on the tears, salt, sweet, and bituminous, of Achamoth, a Valentinian figure, _adv. Val._ 15; on "the Milesian tales of his Æons," _de Anima._ 23. [15] _adv. Valent._ 6. [16] _adv. Valent._ 1. [17] _de baptismo_, 4. [18] _de oratione,_ 15 [19] _de anima,_ 3. [20] _de bapt._ 3 (end) [21] On _de pallio_ see Boissier, _La Fin da Paganisme_, bk. iii, ch. 1. [22] _ad Natt_, i, 7; the charges were incest, and child-murder for purposes of magic. [23] _de Præscriptione_, 44 (end). Similarly of resurrection, virgin-birth, etc..--_recogitavi_. [24] _de Patientia_, 1, _miserrimus ego semper æger caloribus impatientiæ_. [25] Cf. his tone as to the _scortum_, unexampled, so far as I know, in Latin literature, and only approached in Greek perhaps by Dio Chrysostom--the _publicæ libidinis hostiæ_ (_de Spect._ 17), _publicarum libidinum victimæ_ (_de cult. fem._ ii, 12). He alone of all who mention the strange annual scene on the stage, which Cato withdrew to allow, has pity for the poor women. [26] _de Pænitentia_, 8. [27] _de corona_, 12. [28] I refer especially to such passages as _de Carne Christi_, 4-9, 14; _de Resurr. Carnis_, 7, 12, etc. [29] _de Pænit._ 1, _hoc genus hominum quod et ipsi retro fuimus, cæci, sine domini lumine_. [30] _Apol._ 15, cf. _ad Natt._ i, 10, another draft of the same matter. [31] _de Spect._ 19, _eamus in amphitheatrum ... delectemur sanguine humano_ (ironically). [32] _Apol._ 15. The burning-iron was to see whether any life were left in the fallen. [33] _de Spect._ 19 (end). [34] _de Spectaculis_, 17. [35] _de Pænit._ 4. [36] _de Pænit._ 12, _peccator omnium notarum, nec ulli rei nisi pænitentiæ natus_. [37] _de anima_, 19 and 49. Add his words on the wife taken away by death, _cui etiam religiosiorem reservas affectionem_, etc., _de exh. cast._ 11. [38] _de anima_, 20. Cf. _ibid._ 17, on the moderation of the Stoics, as compared with Plato, in their treatment of the fidelity of the senses. [39] _ad Scap._ 2. _Tamen humani iuris et naturalis potestatis est unicuique quod putaverit colere_. [40] _adv. Marc._ i, 10, _major popularitas generis humani_. [41] _de testim. animæ_, 5. [42] _de test. an._ 6. [43] _de jejunio_, 6. [44] _de spectaculis_, 20. [45] _de cor. mil._ 5, _Naturæ deus noster est_. [46] _adv. Marc._ i, 23. [47] _de anima_, 16. [48] _adv. Marc._ iii, 2; iv, 11. [49] _de cor. mil._ 6, _et legem naturalem suggerit et naturam legalem_. [50] Cf. _de carne Christi_, 4. [51] _de anima_, 27. [52] _de carne Christi_, 4, _ipsum mulieris enitentis pudorem vel pro periculo honorandum vel pro natura religiosum_. [53] _de Resurr. Carnis_, 7. [54] _Ibid._ 6. [55] _adv. Marcion._ i, 13, 14. Compare the beautiful picture at the end of _de Oratione_, of the little birds flying up, "spreading out the cross of their wings instead of hands, and saying something that seems to be prayer." [56] _adv. Marc._ ii, 4. [57] _de cor. mil._ 15. [58] _de præscr._ 40, _et si adhuc memini, Mithra signat_, etc. [59] Apol. 18. _Hæc et nos risimus aliquando_. _De vestris sumus_. [60] _de test. animæ_, 1. [61] So Arnobius (i, 58, 59) and Augustine felt. Tertullian does not complain of the style himself, but it was a real hindrance to many. [62] _de Pallio_, 3, _Sed arcana ista nec omnium nosse_. [63] _ad Scap._ 3. [64] "The devils entered into the swine." Cf. p. 164. [65] Pliny to Trajan, 96, 3, _pertinaciam et inflexibilem obstinationem_. [66] Marcus Aurelius, xi, 3. Cf. Aristides, _Or._ 46, who attributes _authádeia_, to _oi en tê Palaistíne dussebeîs_. [67] _Hist. August. M. Anton._ 16, _Erat enim ipse tantæ tranquillitatis ut vultum nunquam mutaverit mærore vel gaudio_. [68] _Apol._ 50, _Illa ipsa obstinatio quam exprobratis magistra est. Quis enim bib contemplatione eius concutitur ad requirendum quid intus in re sit? quis non ubi requisivit accedit? ubi accessit pati exoptat_, etc. [69] _ad. Scap._ 5. _Quisque enim tantam tolerantiam spectans, ut aliquo scrupulo percussus, et inquirere accenditur, quid sit in causa, et ubi cognoverit veritatem et ipse statim sequitur_. [70] _Scorpiace_, 8 (end). [71] _de testim. animæ_, 2. Cf. _de cult. fem._ ii, 2, _Timor fundamentum salutis est_. [72] _de Pænitentia_, 3. [73] _de Pænit._ 40. _Quid revolvis? Deus præcipit_. [74] _ad Natt._ i, 1. [75] _de Idol._ 5. [76] _de cor mil._ 11, _non admittit status fidei necessitates_. [77] _de Idol._ 12. [78] _de virg. vel._ i, _Dominus noster Christus veritatem se non consuetudinem cognominavit_. [79] _de Idol._ 10. [80] See the correspondence of Ausonius and Paulinus. [81] Dio Cassius, 67, 14; Suetonius, _Domit._ 15; Eusebius, _E.H._ iii, 18. See E. G. Hardy, _Studies in Roman History_, ch. v., pp. 66, 67. [82] To obtain evidence--legal in the case of slaves. [83] _de Idol._ 17. [84] Cf. _adv. Valentin._ 5. [85] _de cor. mil._ 13, _clavus latus in cruce ipsius_. There is a suggestion of a play upon words. [86] _ad Scap._ i, opening sentence of the tract. [87] _ad Nat._ ii, 1. [88] _Apol._ 7. Cf. _Scorp._ 10, _synagogas Judæorum fontes persecutionum_. [89] Cf. _de fuga_, 12; _ad Scap._ 5. [90] _Apol._ 7. [91] _de fuga_, 14, _sit tibi et in tribus ecclesia_. [92] _ad Scap._ 4. [93] _Passio Perpetuæ_, 6. [94] _Scorpiace_, 1. [95] _Apol._ 30. [96] _Scorp._ 10. [97] _de anima_, 1. [98] _Apol._ 16; _ad Natt._ i, 14. [99] _Scorpiace_, 1; the reference is to Moses' bush, _nec tamen consumebatur_. [100] _Apol._ 21. [101] _Scorpiace_, 4 (end). [102a] _de fuga_, 14 (both passages). [102b] _de fuga_, 14 (both passages). [103] _de pudicitia_, 22. [104] For this cry in various forms see _Apol._ 40; _de res. carn._ 22; _de exh. castit._ 12; _de spect._ 27, _conventus et cætus ... illic guotidiani in nos leones expostulantur_. [105] _Scorpiace_, 11, _ecce autem et odio habimur ab omnibus hominibus nominis causa; de anima_, 1, _non unius urbis sed universi orbis iniquam sententiam sustinens pro nomine veritatis_. [106] Cf. _de anima_, 1, _de patibulo et vivicombirio per omne ingenium crudelitatis exhauriat_. [107] _Apol._ 50, _semen est sanguis Christianorum_. [108] _de Bapt._ 8. [109] _Ibid._ 18. [110] Ironic chapter in _de pudicitia_, 1. The edict is a technical term of the state, and the Pontifex Maximus was the Emperor, till Gratian refused the title in 375 A.D. [111] _Scorpiace_, 6; cf. _de Bapt._ 16. [112] _de Bapt._ 2. [113] _Ibid._ 20. [114] _Ibid._ 4. [115] _Ibid._ 4. [116] Cf. p. 102. [117] _de Bapt._ 5. [118] _de Spectac._ 4; _de cor. mil._ 3. [119] _de cor. mil._ 3, _ter mergitamur_. [120] _de Bapt._ 4. [121] _Ibid._ 6. [122] _de Bapt._ 8. For other minor details as to food and bathing see _de cor. mil._ 3. [123] _de Spectac._ 4. [124] _de Idol._ 6. [125] _de Idol._ 11. Cf. Hermas, _Mandate_, 3, on lying in business. [126] _de Idol._ 9. [127] _Ibid._ 20. [128] _de cor. mil._ 8. [129] _Ibid._ 8. [130] _de Idol._ 24, _inter hos scopulos et sinus, inter hæc vada et freta idololatriæ, velificata spiritu dei fides navigat_. [131] _de fuga_, 13. [132] _Apol._ 4. [133] _Apol._ 6. [134] Gwatkin, _The Knowledge of God_ (Gifford Lectures) ii, p. 163. [135] _ad Natt._ i, 5. [136] Cf. pp. 20-22. [137] _Apol._ 17, _ita eum vis magnitudinis et notum hominibus obicit et ignotum_. [138] _Apol._ 21. [139] Chapters 22 to 24 give a good summary of his views on dæmons. [140] Celsus refers to Christian discussion of this; Origen, _adv. Cels._ iii 43. [141] Cf. _ad. Scap._ 2, with argument from end of world. [142] c. 39 _vide, inquiunt, ut invicem se diligant_. [143] Epictetus, _D._ iii, 23. [144] Clement, _Strom._ vi, 56, _philautía_. [145] _de anima_, 1. [146] Cf. _de anima_, 6, 17, 18, 23, etc. [147] _de Præscr._ 7. [148] _adv. Marc._ i, 2. [149] _de res. carnis_, 2. [150] _de Præscr._ 7. [151] _de Præscr._ 13. [152] _de Præscr._ 15. [153] _de Præscr._ 21. [154] _de Præscr._ 37, _Mea est possessio_. Cf. definition which says _possessions appellantur agri ... qui non mancipatione sed usu tenebantur et ut quisque occupaverat possidebat_. Tertullian improves this title as he goes on. [155] This gibe is in _adv. Marc._ i, 5; there are plenty without it in _adv. Val_. [156] _adv. Hermog._ 9, _iure, beneficio, impetu, id est dominio precario vi_. [157] _de carne Christi_, 2. [158] _de carne Christi_, 5, _Quodcunque deo indignum est mihi expedit_. [159] _de carne Christi_, 5, _prorsus credibile est quia ineptum est, ... certum est quia impossibile.... Quid dimidias mendacio Christum? Totus veritas fuit_. [160] _de carne Christi_, 9, _trepidat_ perhaps represents the _agonía_ of Luke. [161] _de res. carnis_, 51. [162] _de pænit._ 1. [163] _de pænit._ 12. [164] _Scorpiace_, 12 [165] _de Idol._ 24 (end), _Viderimus enim si secundum arcæ typum et corvus et milvus et lupus et canis et serpens in ecclesia erit_. [166] _de Pud._ 20. [167] _de anima_, 9. {349} INDEX Absolute Being (of God), 93, 112, 133, 188, 231, 257, 288, 289, 290-292. Actium, battle, 2. Ælian, 209. Æsculapius (Asklepios), 22, 191, 209, 221-223, 255, 337. Alexander of Abonoteichos, 211, 212. Alexander Severus, 14. Alexandria, 78, 79, 81; ch. ix., beginning. Allegoric methods, 72, 126, 181, 184, 226, 278, 288. Anaxagoras, 102. Ancyra, monument, 5. Angels, 15, 95, 279, 281, 329. Antinous, 160, 172, 252. Antoninus, M. Aurelius, Emperor, see Marcus. Antony (M. Antonius, the Triumvir), 2, 9. Anubis, 22, 209, 211, 236. Apathy, 161, 232, 291, 292, 297, 302; see also Greek Index. Apellas, M. Julius, 221, 222. Apelles, the painter, 217. Apis, 6. Apollo, 5, 82, 94. Apollonius of Tyana, 14. Apuleius, see ch. vii. generally, his origin and history, 228. his studies, 228. his mind and style, 227, 228, 234, 237, 337. defence on charge of Magic, 228, 230. the _Golden Ass_, 227, 233-237. on philosophy, 230. on gods, 231. on mysteries, 230. on human life, 231. on religion, 230. Aricia, 26. Aristides, Ælius, 222. Artemidorus of Daldia, author of a book on the interpretation of dreams, 88, 225-227. Arval Brothers, 9. _Ass_, book once attributed to Lucian, 20, 21, 227. Astrology, 18, 35, 147, 329. Astronomy, 27, 97, 219, 277, 281, 285. _Ataraxia_, 216, 219. Athens, 78, 80, 267. students at Athens, 78, 80, 228. Attalus, a Stoic, 41. Attis, 21. Augustine, St, 8, 12, 21, 166, 237, 307. Augustus, 1, 2. attempts to reform state, 3. his monument at Ancyra, 5. his superstitions, 6. restoration of religion, 5-7, 9, 14, 32. his system of government, 34. effects of his system, 18, 33-37. Baptisms, 109, 159, 327-329. Barnabas, 151, 165, 180, 181, 192. Blood, eating with, 15. Brahmans, 270, 335. Britannicus, 45. British Isles, 26, 105. Browning, R., quoted, 27, 144. Buddha, 270. Buddhism, 68. Burrus, 44-46. Carlyle, Thomas, 40, 41, 159, 311, 312, 313, 336, 346. Carthage, 109, 307. Catullus, 21. Celsus, see ch. viii. generally. who was he? 239, 240. his date, 240. his mind and style, 240, 241, 258-261. on folly of Christians, 241-243, 245. on vulgarity of Christians, 241, 242. on "only believe," 242, 250. on Christian account of God, 242-244. and God's descent, 246. his own account of God, 244, 245, 246-248, 254. and of dæmons, 254-256. Christian thinking anthropocentric, 243, 244. on evil, 247. on true religion, 248, 254, 259, 260. on ancestral religion, 254. on incarnation, 248, 249. on the historic Jesus, 117, 172, 173, 249-252. on persecution of Christians, 250, 275. on the sects, 250, 253. on miracles and magic, 251. on evidence of oracles, 255, 258. on Christian plagiarisms, 117, 252. on immortality, 252, 253. his plea for Roman Empire, 256, 257, 261. misses centre of Christian movement, 259. quoted ch. viii. _passim_, and pp. 95, 114, 116, 117, 193, 194. Chæronea, 79, 82, 86, 223. Chaldæans, 17, 207, 270. Christ in prophecy, 183-193. Christian community and early Church, see chs. v. and vi. generally. name Christian, 151. its variety, 141, 143-147. its unity, 141, 143. its universality, 143, 144. the new life, 142, 152, 159-162, 164-166, 302, 303, 335. its happiness, 142, 148, 165, 166. conversion, 142, 150. Jewish influence, 143, 144. Greek influence, 144, 145, 168. Roman influence, 146. freedom from dæmons, 146, 147, 283, 284. dæmons retaliate in persecution, 164, 319. knowledge of God, 147, 300, 301. the "Holy Spirit," 142, 149-151, 174. Jesus the centre, 141, 151, 152, 157, 194, 259. Jesus the example, 264, 265, 272. theories as to Jesus, 154-157, 275, 289-298, 340, 341. the "ecclesia of God," 158, 257. organization of Christian society, 157-159, 263, 339. its sacraments, 158, 159. propagation, 159-162, 196, 241. women, 163, 180, 316. marriage, 302, 303, 314. immortality, 163. belief in second coming of Christ, 164, 341. persecution, 164, 165, 250, 275, 319, 323-326. martyrs, 146, 165, 319-321. controversy with Judaism, 167-169 ff., 175. effect of this, 194, 195. admission of Gentiles, 168. sects, 250, 253. the "great church," 253. spiritual religion, 179, 181, 182. its progress, 196, 262, 263 f. daily reading of Scriptures, 287. question of philosophy, 134, 145, 156, 157, 263, 274-276, 336-338. tenacity of historic facts of Gospel, 113-115, 119, 145, 152, 271. the _regula_, 338, 339. the "ark" theory, 343. Christian feeling toward the Empire, 240, 257, 303, 322, 334, 335. Chrysippus, 71, 73, 96, 209, 247. Cicero, M. Tullius, 1, 7, 8. his wife and daughter, 10. on divination, 16, 17. Claudia Acte, 45. Claudius, Emperor, 43, 44. Cleanthes, 39, 71, 247. Clement of Alexandria, see ch. ix. generally. his writings, 267, 279, 282. his history, 266, 267. his education, 267-274. the mysteries, 269. his conversion, 271. his mind and style, 267, 273, 282, 293. his literary interests, 267, 273, 277. his use of Scripture, 287, 288, 291. on philosophy, 268, 273, 275-282. his references to Plato, 273, 279, 281, 285, 286, 296. to Euripides, 281, 284. his use of Philo, 289. on knowledge, 272, 300, 301. unity of knowledge, 275. on faith, 242, 280, 300. on Absolute God (see also Monad below), 290-292. on the Monad, 286, 290. the love of God and Abba Father, 285, 286, 293, 297. on the Logos, 283, 287, 289-298, on incarnation, 297, 298. on Jesus, 283, 293, 298-300. on the cross, 300, 302. on Christian life, 272, 287, 302, 303. on manners, 264-266. on sin, 300. on "deification," 301, 302. on marriage, 302, 303. on Christian tradition, 271, on virgin-birth, 299. Christocentric, 272, 273, 274. the _Protrepticus_, 282-287, 296. Clement quoted, ch. ix. _passim_, and on pp. 149, 166, 242, 243, 244, 247, 248, 251, 257, 258, 259, 260. Cleopatra, 2. Consensus of mankind as evidence, 68, 91, 210, 315. _Cf._ Tertullian (_testimonium animæ_). Cooks, schools of, 302, 331. Cornutus, 41, 55. Critias, verses of, 4, 5. Crocodiles worshipped, 108, 111, 265. _Cupid and Psyche_, 234. Cybele, 5, 20, 21, 103. Cyprian, 147, 158, 343. Dæmons, 14, 39, 59, 94-102, 103, 152-154, 254-256. not gods, 94, 232. intermediaries between gods and men, 96, 97, 98, 229, 232. subject to change, 96. guardian-dæmons (_genius_), 15, 59, 99, 100, 233, 308. may be seen by the physical eye, 99, 100, 207, 208, 232, 255. communicate with souls directly, 101, 102. authors of pagan cults, 107, 232, 254. relations with oracles, magic, etc., 102, 108, 229, 253. resent neglect, 164, 233, 255. their tyranny, 19, 107, 146, 147, 284. some usurp names of gods, 107, 108, 232. dæmon-possession, 100, 153. "glossolaly," 150. dangers from dæmons, 256. the name of Jesus and dæmons, 147. dæmons the fallen angels, 95, 281. dæmon-theory and Emperor-worship, 154. dæmons misled Jews as to law, 181. forestalled Christian sacraments, 159. and facts of Christian teaching, 191. facts behind dæmon-theory, 100, 150, 153, 222, 231. Dancing, secular and sacred, 76, 79, 80. _Dea dia_, 9, 19. Delphi, 82, 92, 102, 107, 108. Dio Cassius, 48, 322. Dio Chrysostom, 80, 312. Diodorus Siculus, 5. Diogenes Laertius, 39. Diogenes of Oinoanda, 217-220. Dionysus, 98, 108, 191, 250. Divination, 16, 17, 229. Docetism, 146, 154, 157, 299. Domitian, 49, 81, 322. Dreams studied, 6, 225-227. Druids, 270. Ecstasy, 101, 102, 153, 345. Egyptian religion, 21, 25, 56, 211, 265, 270; see Isis, Osiris, Serapis. Emperor-worship, 163. Ennius, 3. Epictetus, see ch. ii. generally. his history, 49-50. his solitude, 50-52. his habits, 52. his celebrity, 53. on cleanliness, 52. a relic of Epictetus, 53, his teaching, 50, 53. quoted throughout ch. ii. Epicurus, 16, 17, 218-220, 281, 282, 285. Epidauros, 221, 222. Euclid, 80, 275. Euhemerus, 5, 106. Euripides, 243, 270, 281, 284, 285, 287. Fauns, 12, 13. Flavius Clemens, 322. Francis, St, 40, 49. Fravashi, 15. Freedmen, 33, 35. Gadarenes, 123, 203. Gaius, Emperor, 34. Galen, 160. Garlands, use of, 230, 265. Gellius, Aulus, 53, 80, 87, 213. _Genius_, see Dæmons. Germans, 36, 200, 211, 270. Giants, 208. Gibbon, 305. Gladiatorial shows, 36, 312, 313. Stoic criticism, 63. Christian criticism, 162. Glossolaly, see Tongues. Gnosticism and Gnostics, 263, see Marcion and Valentinus. God, see Absolute Being. Golden Age, 7, 33, 36, 171. Gospels, 113-115. credibility, 114, 115. Greece, depopulated, 78. Guardian, see Dæmons. Gyges, myth of, 34. Hades, value of the belief in it, 5. described by those who have seen it, 105, 208. the gospel preached in Hades by Christ and apostles, 101, 280. Hadrian, 88, 200, 252, 262. Heraclitus, 219, 247, 252, 253. Herakles, 62, 98, 173, 191, 250. Hermas, 48, 166, 280, 329, 344. Herodotus, 34, 255. Hesiod, 98. Hierodules, 22, 172. "Holy," 11, 13, 19. Holy Spirit, see Christian community. Horace, 9, 13, 30, 78. Odes on the Augustan reformation, 6, 7. his own feelings on religion, 10, 28. on superstition, 17. his "conversion," 18. Human sacrifices, 26, 107. "Hymn of the Soul," Gnostic, 15. Idols, meat offered to, 16. Ignatius, 146, 158, 159, 161, 163, 174. Immortality, 31, 68-70, 104, 105, 163, 164, 252, 253. Incubation, 22, 23, 99, 221. Indians, 270. Inspiration, 103, 169, 174, 287, 333, 342. Irenæus, 323. Isis, 22-24, 98, 99, 106, 107, 110, 111, 235-237. Jesus, see chapters iv. and v. generally; see Christ. "Life" of Jesus hardly possible, 115. dates available, 115. his character can be known, 115, 116. his personality centre of Christian movement, 116, 139, 141, 151, 152, 157, 194, 257. repeated in personality of his followers, 139, 140. his style, criticized by Celsus, 117. his conversation, 117-120. humour or playfulness in his talk, 118, 119, 127. his manner, 119. his fixed gaze, 123. his parables as reminiscences, 120. his childhood and youth, 120, 121. his mother and father, 120, 121. _Abba_, 121, 137, 148, 149, 150, 257, 260, 286. _Amen_, 125. on children, 121, 122. on being "born again," 122. outdoor life, 122, 123. on wild nature, 123; _cf._ 265. his reality, 123-127. anger, 123. on self-deception, 124. on vulgar vices, 124. on poverty and hunger, 124, 125; _cf._ 264, 346. energy of character, 125. on traditional beliefs, 125. his use of Scripture, 126. his temptations, 126-130. his "weakness," 127, 340. the agony in the garden, 128, 129. his betrayal, 128, 129. his experience of men, 128, 130. his "disposition for private friendships," 129. his belief in common men, 130 happiness in God centre of his Gospel, 130, 134, 150, 165, 166. on holiness, 131-133. on rituals and taboos, 133. on relation with God, 130, 133-138. his intuition, 134. on Fatherhood of God, 134-135. on likeness to God, 135. on instinct, 135, 136. on Last Judgment, 136. on Kingdom of God, 137. on Messiahship, 128, 138. his cross, 138, 139, 153, 163, 250, 251, 300, 302. the crown of thorns, 265. the "spirit of Jesus," 139, 150, 168. Christian teaching of resurrection, 146, 163, 173, 340. Jesus in early Church, 151. theories as to Jesus, 154-157, 340. second coming, 164, 341. connexion with Judaism, 167 Jewish slanders on Jesus, 172, 173. attack of Celsus, 172, 173, 249-252. better known than the Logos, 338. Jews, see Judaism. exiled from Palestine, 180. set mobs against Christians, 169, 323, 324. John the Baptist, 115. Judaism, see ch. vi. generally. among Greeks and Romans, 11, 70, 103. its history, 169-172. its Messianic future, 143, 170-172. its morality, 143. its casuistry, 131. its tribal character, 132, 144. its taboos, 131, 132, 178. its monotheism, 143, 146, 169, 172, 173. its teaching on sin, 144. its Scriptures, 144, 174. influence on Greek readers, 176. prophecy of Christ in Scriptures, 183-193. Judaism and Jesus, 167. Judaism and Paul, 167-169. resistance to Christianity, 169-174, 180. circumcision, 171, 177, 179, 180. Sabbath, 11, 132, 171, 177-181. anti-Christian propaganda, 172, 173, 324. Christian arguments against Judaism, 176-193. Jewish law temporary, 181, 182. Julian, 23, 162, 260. Julius Cæsar, C., 1, 78, 307. _Julius Cæsar_ (Shakespeare's), 139. _Juno_ (guardian), 59. Jupiter Capitolinus, 19. Justin Martyr, 72, 148, 165, 176-193, 318, 323; see ch. vi. generally. Juvenal, 21, 23, 24, 55, 132, 202. King, term applied to Roman Emperor, 34, 256. _Kyphi_, 103. Lactantius, 183, 237. Lares, 5, 11, 14, 233. Larvæ, 16. Lemures, 16, 233. Linen, in religious ritual, 22, 211, 224, 230, 236, 330. Livy, 8, 17. Logos spermaticos (Stoic), see Greek Index. Logos (Christian), 138, 156, 157, 189; see also under Clement. Lucian, see ch. vii. his origin and history, 201, 202. his Dialogues, 202 f. his mind and style, 203, 204, 215. on philosophy, 205, 206, 209. on the "Celestial City," 205. on the gods, 209-211. on human life, 213-215. on superstition, 206-208. _Philopseudes_, 206-208. on life after death, 214, 215. on Christians, 162, 212. quoted, pp. 53, 162, 163. Lucretius, 12, 16, 20, 30, 71. on religion, 25, 26, 27. on Nature, 25. Lupercal, 5. Lupercalia, 9. Magians, 13, 98, 105, 270. Magic, 18, 207, 229, 230, 233, 251, 256, 335. Mantic (see Oracles and Dæmons), 101. Marcion, 114, 193, 315, 317, 337-340. Marcus Aurelius, Emperor, 63, 130, 196-201, 211, 225, 251, 319. criticism of Christians, 198, 200, 244, 274. Marriage, 160, 229, 299, 302, 303. Martyrs, 146, 165, 319-326. Maximilla, 163, 344. Maximin Daza, 162, 260. Menander, 99, 266, 267. Messalina, 43, 44. Messiah, 138, 156, 170, 173. Metempsychosis, 42, 164, 252. Mithras, 105, 191, 210, 256, 260, 317, 318. Monarchy, 34. Monasticism, 24. Monotheism, 19, 94, 143, 146, 148. Montanism, 327, 343, 346. Moses before Greek literature, 176, 281. man before Moses, 315. a magician, 230. Mother of the gods, see Cybele. Muhammad, 191. Mystagogue, 78, 99, 253, 269 Mysteries, 6, 76, 92, 145, 158, 230, 269, 284, 287. Napoleon, 44. Nature, in philosophy, 36, 39, 57, 58, 66, 314-317. Necromancy, 99, 105. Neo-Platonism, 111. Nero, 44-47. Nicopolis, 49. Numa, King-- inventor of religion, 8. and the nymph, Egeria, 100. Nursery tales, 308. Octavian, see Augustus. Oinoanda, 217. Oracles, 223, 255. their numbers, 78. their evidence as to gods, 92, 255. as to immortality, 104. dæmons and oracles, 101, 102, 255; see Dæmons. oracle of Trophonius, 224, 255. Origen, 114. his book against Celsus; see ch. viii. _passim_. Orpheus, 14, 98, 173, 281, 283. Osiris, 98, 111, 233, 237, 330. Ovid, 3, 8, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 23, 59. Pan and Pans, 12, 13. Pantænus, 266, 271. Pantheism, 29, 38, 58. Paul, 148-150, 154-156, 167-169, 174, 177. Pausanias, the traveller, 222-225, 268, 270. Penates, 8, 14. Peregrinus Proteus, 212, 213. Perpetua, the martyr, 88, 229, 308, 324. Persius, 41, 55, 56, 67, 68. Philo, 125, 153, 156, 194, 289, 290. Photagogue, 269. Piso's conspiracy, 47. Plagiarism, 117, 252, 281. Plato, 34, 50, 72, 96, 97, 102, 117, 118, 135, 149, 229-232, 244, 245, 252, 270, 285, 288, 289, 293, 336, 337. Pliny, the Elder, 13, 18, 26. Pliny, the Younger, 82, 208, 331. Plotinus, 99, 100. Plutarch, see ch. iii. generally. his history, 78-88. his city, 79, 82. his family, 79-80. his friends, 80, 81. his wife and children, 85, 86. his slaves, 86-88. his travels, 81. his poor Latin, 81. his studies, 83. his writings, 83-85. his character, 83-85, 89, 105. his "philosophy," 89-91, 105, 110. defect in his thinking, 83, 85, 110, 111. value of his work, 90, 110, 111. "the ancient faith of our fathers," 76, 89. on the knowledge of the divine, 91-93. on Absolute Being and transcendence of God, 93, 94, 97, 105. Providence and the government of the universe, 93-96. on deputy gods and dæmons (_q.v._), 94-102. the guardian, 99. on "Mantic" (oracles, divination, etc.), 100-103. on superstition, 103. on pleasures of faith, 76, 104. on immortality, 104, 105. on evil, 105. his apocalypses, 105. on defence of tradition, 76, 106-108, 111. on purification of legends, 106-108. on questionable rituals, 107, 108. on the Stoics, 64, 66, 68, 72, 73, 82, 94, 95, 97, 99. quoted, ch. iii. _passim_; also pp. 42, 56, 60, 66, 68, 72, 73, 136. Polybius, on Roman religion, 3-4. Polycarp, 165. Pontifex Maximus, 6, 327. Porphyry, 99. Prisca, 163, 344. Propertius, 8. Prudentius, 7, 11. Psychomanteion, 99. Punic language, etc., 229, 308, 319. Pythagoras, 42, 55, 96, 173. Quintilian, 9, 43, 48. Religion-- nature of, 19. development of, 24. Oriental, 24. polytheism knows no false gods, 25. how to judge religions, 40. city cults, 56. Gospels, 56. and philosophy, 132. See also Jesus, Christian community, and Plutarch. Rhetoric, 37, 41, 43, 82, 85, 202, 226, 228, 231, 267, 268, 310. Rome-- her empire gift of gods, 7, 82, 334. government of empire, 1, 2, 33, 141. rise of superstition, 18. under the Emperors, 33-37. influence of Stoics, 39. women of Rome, 41, 51-52. its crowds of people, 47, 48. as a school for virtue, 49. Plutarch at Rome, 81. art collections, 145. Sabbath, 11, 132, 171. Sacrifice, human, 26, 107. Salvation, 54, 67, 151. Satyrs, 12, 13. Scepticism, 216, 217. Scillitan martyrs, 319. Scriptures source of Greek philosophy, 176, 281, 285. Sealskin, as protection against thunder, 6. Self-examination, 54, 55. Seneca, see ch. ii. generally. his history, 41-47. his parents, 41, 43. his teachers, 41-43. his style, 43. exile, 43-44. minister, 44-46. his end, 47. his character, 47-49. his books, 45, 46. his letters, 48. his teaching, 49. on popular gods and superstition, 17, 49. self-examination, 54. quoted, ch. ii. _passim_; also pp. 15, 31, 91. Serapis, 21-24. Servius, commentator on Virgil, 8, 15. Servius Sulpicius, 10. Servius Tullius, 14. Sextus Empiricus, 4, 216, 217. Slavery, 36, 52. Socrates, 38, 72, 73, 117, 148, 233. _Solomon, Psalms of_, 170. Sotion, a Pythagorean, 42. Spermaticos Logos, see Greek Index. Sterculus, 334. Stoicism, see chap. ii. generally; see Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, and Seneca; see Greek Index for Spermaticos Logos and other technical terms. unity of existence, 37, 56, 57, 58, 97, 314. man a "fragment of God," 38, 58, 60. the soul, 38. God, 58. polytheism and personality of gods, 70, 73, 76, 95. worship of God, 57. "God within," 61, 148. "Holy Spirit," 61, 65. Providence, 38, 59-61, 71. harmony with Nature, 39, 66. argument from consensus, 68, 91. divination, 16, 17, 92. dæmons, 59, 70. the guardian, 58, 59. the example, 72, 73. fatalism, 60. prayer, 66, 199, 200. endurance, 60. duty, 61. the "hymn to Zeus," 61, 165. mankind, 63. failure of Stoicism, 63 f., 67, 75. on pity, 65. the will, 65-68. the feelings, 66. sin, 67, 68 immortality, 68-70, 164. the final conflagration, 69, 72, 164. criticism of Stoicism among the ancients, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 70, 71-73, 82, 95, 97, 99, 164, 205, 206, 216, 285, 288, 291. Strabo, the Geographer, 26, 223. Superstition, see chs. i. and vii. no refuge in sleep from it, 17, 109. practices, 109, 230. beliefs, 206-208. Syriac, 201. Syrians, 56, 103, 207. Taboos, 131, 132. Tacitus, 33, 37. Tatian, 145-147, 148, 164, 271, 318. Taurobolium, 67, 70. Tertullian, see ch. x. generally. conventional accounts of him, 305, 306, 313. his work, 306. his history, 307-322. his education, 308-310. his rhetoric, 309-311. his mind and style, 311, 312, 325, 330, 346. his literary interests, 309, 321. his interest in medicine, 309. his interest in law, 309, 330, 331, 332, 339, 340. his Stoicism, 314. on "Nature," 314-317. Nature's beauty, 317. as to asceticism, 316, 345. on man, 316. his conversion, 318-321. _testimonium animæ_, 315, 320, 333. on God, 315-317, 328. on sin, 327. on forgiveness, 327. on baptism, 327-329. on the Scriptures, 315, 332, 333. on prophecies of Christ in Old Testament, 178-180, 184, 188, 189, 193. on philosophy and philosophers, 336-338. on heresy and heretics, 338-341. on idolatry, 321, 322, 329. on war, 312. on theatre, 313. on amphitheatre, 312, 313, 324. on marriage and child-birth, 314, 316, 345. on Christian life, 335. on trade, 329. on persecution, 318-320, 323-326. on martyrdom, 319-321, 324-327. his _Apology_, 330-336. on the Church, 343 f. on Montanism, 344 f. on ecstasy, 345. on the Paraclete, 344. on pagan gods, 7. Tertullian quoted, chs. vi. and x. _passim_; also pp. 17, 18, 71, 73, 93, 103, 108, 111, 137, 142, 143, 148, 160, 161, 165, 166, 197, 212, 240, 243, 248, 249, 250, 251, 254, 256. Theophilus, 148, 318. Thoreau, 326. Thrasea Pætus, 40, 45, 151. Tiberius, 33, 34. Tibullus, 11. Tongues, speaking with, 142, 149, 153, 174. Tragedies, 37. Trajan, 35, 331. Trees, holy, 13, 230. Trophonius, oracle of, 224, 255. "Trypho," ch. vi. _passim._ Valentinus and his school, 299, 308, 340. Varro-- on national value of deceit in religion, 5, 343. his books on the gods, 8, 9, 309. counted an "enemy of religion," 8, 10 Vegetarianism, 24, 42, 108. Virgil, see ch. i., 28-32. his history, 28. the civil wars, 1, 28. Italy, 28. on Nature, 29. on Man, 31. on religion, 31, 32. Virgin-births, 100, 189-192, 299, 334 Wells, holy, 13. Witches, 97, 233. Wordsworth, 2, 30, 64, 77, 86. Xenophanes, 16, 111, 292. Zeno, 39, 72, 333. Zoology, ancient, 181, 229. Zoroaster, 98, 105, 230. {359} GREEK INDEX _apátheia_, 66, 302. _apathès_, 291, 292, 297, 299. _apórroia_, 153, 304, _apóspasma toû theoû_, 38. _autarkes_, 31. _génesis_, 23, 61, 98. _gígnestha_, 70. _daímôn_, 39; see Dæmons. _dógmata_, 65, 199. _éntheos_, 92, 153; _cf._ 174. _enthousiódes_, 102. _énnoia_, 56, 244, 281, 295. _epékeina_, 245. _theomachein_, 65, 109. _theotókos_, 21. _theophortos_, 21. _kósmios_, 38, 64. _krásis_, 102. _logos_, see _spermatikos logos_. _hóla, tà_, 59, 290, 291. _pathetòs_, 155, 189, 297. _pathos_, 66, 103. _pneûma_, 101, 102, 295. _pneûma diápuron_, 38. _pneûma enthousiastikòn_, 102. _politeia toû kósmou_, 39. _proaíresis_, 65, 279. _spermatikos logos_, 37, 56, 64, 71, 77, 148, 156. _tà epí soi_, 39, 65, 66. _phantasíai_, 39, 51, 101, 216. _phantastikòn, tò_, 103. PRINTED BY TURNBULL AND SPEARS, EDINBURGH