^ PRINCETON, N. J. ^ Presented by \ V"(S/5\C\(SY^.^ \ (9\^\ox~ RR 125 .T73 1874 L^ T T 1838-1922. Townsend, L. • -^ * ^, ^^-^ The arena and the throne ■ s. dif? JM4m...^IKa. --^^^' ^^^' ..-.^'K'ii-i"'-'''. . . ^^. RUPTIONS AND FLAMES tQ 40 BO 40 /DA 110,000. Seeja^e 236. THE Arena and the Throne. L. T. TOWNSEND, D. I?., AUTHOR OF "credo," " SWORD AND GARMENT," "gOD-MAN," ETC., ETC. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. New York: lee, shepard and dillingham. 1874. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, By lee and SHEPARD, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, No. 19 Spring Lane. TO MY STEP-FATHER, ALVIN FLETCHER, WHOSE KINDNESS TO THE FATHERLESS DESERVES A LARGER RETURN THAN WE HAVE POWER TO GIVE, %\i% f olume IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. PREFACE The subjects herein discussed were first treated with no thought of pubHcation. They grew into their present shape while the author was engaged in professional duties in the pulpit and lecture- room. One day they formed a voluntary rela- tionship, looked like a book, were presented to the publishers, and accepted. If the public receives this volume with the same favor as other books of the author have been received, he will be satisfied. (5) CONTENTS. PAGE I. THE FIELD 9 II. THE DEFEAT 67 in. THE TRIUMPH 115 IV. THE KING 177 APPENDIX. A. Arguments for the Plurality of Worlds. Chalmers. Figuier. Proctor 229 B. Distances of Astronomical Bodies. Fonte- nelle. Mitchell 232 C. Mazsty-colored Suns, and their Effect. Fi- guier 233 D. Solar Eruptions. Young 234 E. Physical Constitution of the Sun. Kirchhoff. Thomson 237 F. Inhabitants of Jupiter. Wolf. Proctor. . . . 239 G. A Plea for Judas. Storj. De Quincej 242 H. The Tortures and Disclosures of Con- science. Webster 250 I. The Book of Job. Wemyss 252 7 THE FIELD O, rack me not to such extent; These distances belong to Thee; The world's too little for Thy tent, A grave too big for me. Herbert. Th J breath sustains jon fiery dome ; But man is most thy favored home. Sterling. Behold this midnight splendor, — worlds on worlds; Ten thousand add and twice ten thousand more, Then weigh the whole; one soul outweighs them all, And calls the seeming vast magnificence Of unintelligent creation poor. YouNG. Not to this evanescent speck of earth Poorly confined; the radiant tracts on high Are our exalted range; intent to gaze Creation through, and from that full complex Of never-ending wonders, to conceive Of the Sole Being right. Thomson. O rich and various man ! thou palace of sight and sound, carrying in thy senses the morning, and the night, and the unfathomable galaxy; in thy brain the geometry of the city of God ; in th}^ heart the power of love and the realms of right and wrong. An individual man is a fruit which it costs all the foregoing ages to form and ripen. He is strong, not to do, but to live; not in his arms, but in his heart; not fts an agent but as a fact. Emerson. Man, if he compares himself with all that he can see, is at the zenith of power; but if he compares himself with all that he can conceive, he is at the nadir of weakness. COLTON. Up, man ! for what if thou with beasts hast part. Since in the body framed of dust thou art.'' Yet know thyself upon the other side Higher than angels, and to God allied. Trench. II Roll on, ye stars! exult in youthful prime; Mark with bright curves the printless steps of Time : Near and more near your beamy cars approach, And lessening orbs on lessening orbs encroach : Flowers of the sky! ye, too, to age must yield, — Frail as your silken sisters of the field ! Star after star from heaven's high arch shall rush, Suns sink on suns, and systems systems crush, Headlong, extinct, to one dark centre fall, And Death, and Night, and Chaos mingle all! Till o'er the wreck, emerging from the storm, Immortal Nature lifts her changeful form, Mounts from her funeral pyre on wings of flame, And soars and shines, another and the same. Darwin. Ye golden lamps of heaven! farewell. With all your feeble light; Farewell, thou ever-changing moon. Pale empress of the night! And thou, refulgent orb of day! In brighter flames arraj-ed. My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere, No more demands thine aid. Ye stars are but the shining dust Of my divine abode. The pavement of those heavenly courts Where I shall reign with God. Doddridge. Learn more reverence; not for rank or wealth ; that needs no learning; That comes quickly — quick Jis sin does! ay, and often leads to sin ; But for Adam's seed — man! Trust me, 'tis a clay above your scorning, With God's image stamped upon it, ami God's kindling breath within. Mrs. BiiowNiNG. 12 THE FIELD IS the entire physical universe inhabited or in- habitable, are questions which for two centuries have received, from able disputants, both affirmative and negative answers. As each last writer has closed his argument, he seems to have completely silenced all opponents ; but anon is himself silenced by some new comer with hands full of additional data. The advocates of a Plurality of Inhabited Worlds find in Fontenelle their first and ablest advocate. His eftbrts at popularizing the discoveries of Newton and the calculations of Kepler, which had just then intro- duced the system of modern astronomy, were success- ful. His "Plurality of Worlds," published in i6S6, was full of freshness, intelligence, and grace, and has justly won much praise for the author. Twelve years later, " Cosmotheoros," by Christian Huygens, a Dutchman, — a work which is far less pleasing in style, but far more correct, scientifically, than Fontenelle, — appeared in Paris. The various other treatises that immediately follovv'ed were little else than imitations of Fontenelle and Huygens. The controversy between Sir David Brewster, supporting the idea of inhabited planets, and Mr. Whewell, con- IzJ THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. tradictlng it, brought out, in 1S33, all the new scien- tific material then known, which in any way bore upon the subject. The works of Richard A. Proctor have given us the products of the more recent investi- gations, and are worthy of careful study.* It will be seen, upon review of the different argu- ments and speculations presented, that, from first to last, and on both sides, there has been but slight vari- ation in the line of reasoning followed. Arguments from analogy are the favorite ones, especially for those supporting the theory of a plurality of inhabited worlds. The planets resemble the earth, the fixed stars resem- ble the sun ; therefore it is concluded the planets are inhabited, and the fixed stars have attending inhabited planets. Another argument is drawn from what is regarded as the consistency of things. It is claimed that it ill accords with the goodness, grandeur, and magnifi- cence of the Divine Being, to people this earth with intelligent and moral beings, leaving tlie surrounding worlds, which are of immensely superior proportions, silent and empty. To say that these arguments, as variously developed and illustrated from year to year, have but little weight, and that they have been easily answered, would be saying what is not true.f No one can go forth and gaze upon the illimitable * M. Flam mar Ion, M. Figuricr, and a score of men of loss note, have, from time to time, written upon the subject, h it have, added scarcely anything of importance bearing upon that side of the argument represented by the amusing and ingenious '"Conversations" of Fonlct\elle. t Appendix A. THE FIELD. I5 heavens with anything like due appreciation of magni- tudes, without being well nigh overwhelmed ; in such contemplation one feels not like expanding into an angel, but like shrinking into a mote, and is able to find for the emotions excited no fitter expression than the words of inspiration, " When I consider thy heav- ens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained ; what is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou visitest him?" Replies to the ever-repeated forms of arguments in support of the plurality of inhabited worlds based upon analogy and the consistency of things, have been, from age to age, as uniform as the arguments them- selves. Differences between the earth and every known astronomical body have been pointed out, of suiBcient magnitude, it has been claimed, to destroy the weight of the argument from analogy ; while the force of the argument from consistency, it has been reasoned, depends altogether upon the relative posi- tion of humanity in the universe. If man's greatness is not measured by his physical properties, or if to be a man is greater than to be a planet, which certain scientists seem to deny, then this little earth, despite its littleness, may consistently have a place in the divine mind and economy, to which every other planet is an utter stranger. If the majestic workmanship of God is not confined chiefly to Jupiter and his moons, nor to Saturn and his rings, nor to the magnificence of double stars, nor to the magnitudes of the nebulae, nor to any of these temporal things, but to ina7i^ then it is enough, and the consist- l6 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. ency of things is sufRciently preserved, even if all these immense astronomical bodies in the universe have no higher or other use save to regulate for man the earth's motions, to aid him in his otherwise peril- ous navigations, and by study and contemplation to awaken in him thoughts of the skill, power, and grandeur of the Infinite One. And this earth, in its sea, soil, and atmosphere, may be teeming with inhab- itants, visible and invisible to the naked eye, simply to show God to man as in an ever-unfolding revelation, which more and more fully dawns upon him at every advancing step of his ceaseless scientific investigations and discovery ; and it is possible, also, that not a thing of life is to be found upon any other planet, because they can there serve no such purpose. In fine, it is claimed by those representing this side of the ques- tion, that in precisely the proportion that man, by tel- escopic research and spectroscopic analysis, can make out the physical conditions and proportions of planet, star, or nebula, in that proportion is the end of their creation completely subserved ; it is enough, accord- ing to this, which we denominate the theological idea, that man can see, not that others must occupy, the planets. Consequently, it is argued that tlie eyes of the spiritual universe may be fixed upon this earth with an intensity of interest in comparison with wliich tlie entire physical imiverse beside may pale into the merest insignificance. In addition to this, the theological argument against the plurality of inhabited worlds rarely fails to make its ai)pearauce, whenever the subject, from this j:)()int of view, is presented. The dilliculty, as set tbrth by THE FIELD. 1*] this argument, relates to the discrepancy between the theological and the scientific view of the universe. According to theology, this earth, in point of interest, is the centre of the physical universe ; it has received a visit in person from the Creator ; it has witnessed the union between Deity and humanity ; upon it over- whelming interests are represented as culminating ; humanity, created in the image of God, springing from one federal head, is working out its probation upon this planet, and upon no other : the eyes of the spirit- ual universe are accordingly, and almost immovably, fixed upon it ; and the hosts of heaven are ministering to its inhabitants.* In fine, it is extremely difficult to overcome the objection of infidelity, that Christianity lavishes altogether too great attentions upon this earth, if it is only one of many similar inhabited worlds. The single point of the divine manifestation in the person of Jesus is to most minds an overwhelming objection, while such a visit and manifestation are per- * Trench well states the case : " Scripture is no story of the material universe. A single chapter is sufficient to tell us that ' God made the heavens and the earth.' Man is the central figure there ; or, to speak more truly, the only figure : all which is there besides serves but as a background for him. He is not one part of the furniture of this planet, not the highest merely in the scale of its creatures, but the lord of all; sun. moon, and stars, and all the visible creation, bor- rowing all their worth and their significance from the rela- tions where they stand to him. Since he appears therein the ideal worth and dignity of his unfallen condition, and even now, when only a broken fragment of the sceptre with which once he ruled the world remains in his hand, such he is com- manded to regard himself still." 2 l8 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. fectly consistent, nay, inevitably demanded, provided the earth is unique ; but it is altogether incompatible with the scientific view which regards this as a paltry world in the midst of immeasurable other worlds of the same sort, and of vastly grander proportions. It is a pertinent question, which will never fail of being asked. How is it possible that the Divine One could consistently leave the glories of his empire to dwell upon a mote — a mote so small that its absence, with that of all its inhabitants, would scarcely be missed from the physical universe? We are aware that to these questions various expla- nations have been given. This, that, and the other relief from the difficulty have been beautifully, forci- bly, and eloquently presented by Dr. Chalmers, whom no writer has surpassed in these discussions ; but still, after the exhilaration of his sentences is exhausted, we inevitably feel ourselves falling back into the train of customary thought and ordinary expression ; and the reaction, in spite of ourselves, arouses suspicions ad- verse to revelation. In point of fact, a reconciliation between the theological and scientific view is reached, if reached at all, through unnatural distortions. We weep and fear ; the conviction stares us full in the face that the fundamental idea of Christianity is, that every man, of the lowest cast, and outcast even, is of more value than all the physical worlds flying in majesty and grandeur above us, together with every- thing they contain ; and also, that intensity of interest throughout the spiritual universe is centred upon tliis earth, Ijccausc it alone is the home of a class of bcinjjjs the like of which iiuwhcre else exists — beings who THE FIELD. 1 9 are in the line of promotion to the highest positions bestowed upon any created intelHgences. Whereas, on the other hand, as ahxady pointed out, if all these regions of space are full of inhabitable and inhabited worlds, then this little earth on which we dwell, with all its inhabitants, is, as Whewell forcibly expresses it, " afinihilated by the magnitudes about us." * In the present review of the general question before us we are not to ask, what can God do, but what has he done, and what are the facts which can be deduced in support of given speculations. This limitation will, we think, not only be allowed, but demanded, by every intelligent reader ; for otherwise there would be no limit to the possibilities that may be imposed upon us by fertile imaginations. We may imagine civil- ized and religious inhabitants upon the diminutive planetoids, upon meteoric stones, and upon the wild and bare volcanic peaks of the moon ; we may sup- pose that the entire celestial ether is inhabited by re- sponsible beings ; we may say, if disposed, that there are a million intelligences like ourselves holding wise converse upon the rich tapestry of a sunset-cloud ; w^e may assert, with Giordano and Bruno, that the interior of the earth is inhabited ; that the fabled Ariel and sylphs people the air, that naiads and water-sprites people the seas, that gnomes inhabit the darkness, and salamanders the fire. But clearly enough all such imaginary suppositions are to be ruled out of the pres- ent discussion. To make clear our position in a word, it is this : inasmuch as science proves that the astro- ♦ Appendix B. 20 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. nomical bodies are uninhabitable by physical and moral agents sometliing like ourselves, by exactly so much may our confidence be re-established in the direct biblical representations, but shaken respecting a plurality of inhabited worlds. It hardly need be stated that facts bearing upon these matters are at present numerous and reliable to an extent hardly dreamed of until of late. The j^hys- ical sciences are now systematized as never before, and within the past few years have been making almost incredible advances. Political economy has so ar- ranged avocations in harmony with the principles of division of labor, that every man is allowed and asked to give exclusive attention to his favorite field of inves- tigation. The astronomer may study the heavens, while the manufacturer clothes him, and the agri- culturist feeds him, and the merchant holds for ex- change his products and needed supplies, while the mechanic builds his observatory, the machinist manu- factures his wonderful instruments of observation, and while the mathematician furnishes his no less won- derful tables of calculation ; and each in turn receives an almanac in compensation thereof. With such facil- ities at hand, w^ith all the modern improvements of art and invention, it would be marvellous if there were not occasion to change some of the hypotheses that were started years ago b}'- such men as Copernicus, Galileo, and Kepler, and ably defended by Chalmers and his followers. It is also too well known hardly to allow mention, tliat tlie physical condition of the heavenly bodies was formerly ascertained solely by means of astronomical THE FIELD. 21 and mathematical calculations. Their weight, dis- tances, and relative density were estimated, very early, with surprising approximation. But more recently, estimates have been reduced to a nicety and precision almost incredible. The science of chemistry, as well as the higher mathematics, has come to the aid of those engaged upon these matters. The chemist and the astronomer have harmoniously joined their forces. An astronomical observatory has now appended to it a stock of appliances such as hitherto was only to be found in the chemical laboratory. A devoted corps of volunteers of all nations have directed their tele- scopic and spectroscopic artillery to every region of the universe. The sun, the spots on his surface, the corona, and the red and yellow prominences seen round him during total eclipses, the moon, the plan- ets, comets, auroras, nebulse, white stars, yellow stars, red stars, variable and temporary stars, each tested by the prism, is compelled to show its distinguishing prismatic colors. Rarely before in the history of science has enthusiastic perseverance, directed by pen- etrative genius, produced within ten years so brilliant a succession of discoveries. It is not merely the chem- istry of sun and stars that is subjected to analysis by the spectroscope ; the laws of their being are now subjects of direct investigation ; and already we have glimpses of their evolutional history through the stu- pendous power of this most subtile and delicate test : thus solar and stellar chemistry have been succeeded by solar and stellar physiology.* * Sir William Thomson. 22 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. So admirably is this work clone, that the light from every visible orb that hangs in or flashes over the sky, even the most distant, is taken into the labora- tory, is analyzed, and sifted, and made to report as to what is the physical and chemical construction and composition of those orbs : their relative weight is also thereby estimated, and their moments measured with approximate accuracy ; spectrum analysis may yet correct the most exact mathematical calcula- tions hitherto received.* This union of optics, math- * The science of spectrum analj'-sis has so far modified the whole sj'stem of astronomy that we may state in a word the principles upon which it is applied. It is ascertained upon experiment that any solid, liquid, or gas, when heated until luminous, giv^es off a light peculiar to itself. Upon the spec- trum each peculiar light finds its exact place, and shows its peculiar characteristics, by means of the lines it assumes thereon ; so that by the spectra of any light known, be it moon-light, planet-light, sun-light, gas-light, or the light from any other substance, its chemical character can be accu- rately detected. One can also, thereby, trace resemblances and dissimilarities between our earth and the other heavenly bodies, and thus ascertain, at once, whether or not they are inhabitable. This science of spectrum analysis, it should be noticed, is not recent in all its particulars. It has had an historic growth. The prismatic analysis of light was first discovered by Newton, and was estimated by himself as being " the oddest, if not the most considerable, detection which hath hitherto been made in the operations of nature." But the obtaining of a pure spectrum, with the discovery of the dark lines, was reserved for the nineteenth century. Our fundamental knowledge of the dark lines is due solely to P'raunhofer. Wolhiston saw them, but did not discover them. Brewster labored long and well to perfect the prismatic analysis of THE FIELD. 23 ematics, and chemistry has relieved the science of modern astronomy of many of its former uncertain- ties, and has thrown over it an imposing splendor that renders it one of the most inspiring and enno- bling, as well as attractive fields of investigation. As- tronomical science is no longer in its cradle, but has shown its face in public, and left off its childish prat- tle. " Formerly one man observed the stars for all Christendom, and the rest of the world observed Jiiin. But now, up and down Europe and North America, from the deep blue of Italian skies to the cold, frosty atmospheres of St. Petersburg and Glasgow, from the clear sky of New England to the salubrious atmos- phere of California, the stars are conscious of being sun-light; he laid important foundations for a grand super- structure, which he scarcely lived to see. Piazzi Smyth, by spectroscopic observation performed on the Peak of Tene- riffe, added greatly to our knowledge of the dark lines pro- duced in the solar spectrum bv the absorption of our own atmosphere. The prism became an instrument for chemical qualitative analysis in the hands of Fox Talbot and Her- schel. But the application of this test to solar and stellar chemistry had never been suggested, either directly or indi- rectly, by any other naturalist, when Stokes taught it in Cambridge, at some time prior to the summer of 1852. To the toil of Kirchhoff and of Angstrom we owe large- s(?n.le maps of the solar spectrum. These maps now consti- tute the standards of reference for all workers in the field. Plucker and Hittorf made the important discovery of changes in the spectra of ignited gases produced by changes in the physical condition of the gas. Lockyer and Falkland have furnished us with the effects of varied pressure upon the quality of light emitted by glowing gases. 24 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. everywhere watched, and can no longer hide from us their mysteries." * Seventy years ago Dr. Chahners conjectured that the time might come when astronomical instruments would arrive at such perfection as to afford an ob- server an inside view of the planets. He had no mis- giving, apparently, should that time arrive, that we would sec men like ourselves, " with as close resem- blance," — to employ an expression of some early astronomer, — *' as tliat existing between one egg and another." But these rapid advances, by means of new appliances, which have brought under our range new and* hitherto unexplained phenomena, report less and less in favor of the scientific, but more and more in support of the theological idea ; so much so that no well-informed person will now venture to repeat the assertions of former w^riters as to the general inhab- itablcness of the physical universe.f Comets and Zodiacal Lights.\ — Who has seen * De Qj-iincey. t Perhaps our spu-itualistic friends desire us to make an exception in case of a so-vvcll-informed person as Mr. An- drew Jackson Davis. He seems to have more than realized, it is true, the most sanguine expectations of the great Scotch divine; for he has seen with the naked eye (if we be- lieve his claims) all those things which Dr. Chalmers desired to see but could not, or, if possible, more incredible still, he has visited our planetary neighbors in person, and has made their intimate acquaintance. A spiritualistic friend told us the other day that science could never go beyond spiritual clairvoyance, and that, therefore, all views at variance with those of Mr. Davis should be abandoned. X Of zodiacal light we shall say not much, since so little is THE FIELD. 2^ one of those bodies which we call comets, which at times spreads out its silvery veil over a third part of the visible heavens, without being filled with de- light or wonder? How startling the journeys of these bodies ! From cold, ice-bound regions beyond the planetary system they come, onward towards the sun they go, into its very face and eyes they fly 5 until he glares upon them with twenty-five thousand six hun- dred times fiercer heat than that with which a ver- tical sun at midday scorches our equator, and then away they return to another baptism in regions of eternal frost. The matter of which comets are composed was long since known to be of the least appreciable spe- cific gravity. The comet of 1847, known as Miss Mitchel's, passed directly over a star of the fifth mag- nitude ; and yet its light, which would have been entirely obliterated by a moderate fog extending only a few yards from the earth, appeared in no way en- feebled. " I have examined," says General Mitchel, '" the most minute telescopic stars, and have received their light undimmed, though it had penetrated thou- sands and tens of thousands of miles of this cometary matter." The evidence is conclusive that the comet is only vapor, and almost perfectly transparent. The most fleecy and gossamer clouds that rest in the sky, or are driven hitlier and thither by the idlest breath of a fitful summer breeze, is a hundred fold more sub- really known respecting it. It is, doubtless, ar solar append- age, perhaps of the nature of comets, or of meteors. Certain- ly, judging from the present reports of scientific investigation, it is something not verv distinct from one or the other. 26 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. stantial than the comet. It is claimed by those who have carefLilly investigated these subjects, that the substance of comets is so attenuated that if their di- ameter were a hundred thousand miles, having a pro- portionate length, they would not contain so much matter as would be required to fill an ordinary-sized gentleman's hat. The convulsions feared should a comet some time strike the earth are altogether beyond the possibility of taking place. These phosphorescent, rather fluorescent, bodies are found to be composed largely of pure vapor of carbon.* Here, then, are certain bodies of vast proportions, the largest objects in the solar system, of magnificent appearance, self-luminous, and also to a certain extent reflective, which are of such a chnracter as to so far preclude the idea of inhabitants that not an intelligent and informed advocate of such an idea can, first or last, be found. Now, may we not apply the same reasoning to comets which is applied to other astro- nomical bodies.^ Have we not a right to ask. Why were comets created, unless they are inhabited ? Why did God make these grand displays of physical phenomena, sending them flying through the universe in exact orbits and with exact periods, unless they somehow bear upon their vapory and gas-lit surface intelligent and moral beings? How can an astio- * The lij^ht of Brorsen's comet has been subjected to crit- ical spectrum analysis, and found to be nearly identical with that of highly heated vapor of carbon. The composition of this comet (and it is doubtless true of all others), by chemical analysis, discloses also an in;^redient which docs not coincide with anything now known upon the earth. THE FIELD. 2^ nomical body be so charming, grand, and vast in its proportions if it is not peopled with inteUigences? And if not thus peopled, is it not evidence that there is a glaring inconsistency betw^een the divine wisdom, skill, and benevolence, on the one hand, and such a needless expenditure of creative energy on the other? Such are the facts : let each answer for himself. Shooting Stars^ Meteors^ a?zd Aerolites. — These names represent bodies of the same general physical character ; * the difference between them is one of circumstance only. The shooting star disappears when far up the sky ; the meteor comes near to us, but disappears, sometimes with loud reports, before reaching the earth, while the aerolite reaches the earth unconsumed. Some of these displays, especially the October and November meteoric showers, are grand and imposing, and numberless eyes watch them from nightfall until dawn-light. These bodies belong to systems which revolve about the sun with the regu- larity of planets. They are as independent in their creation as Jupiter or the sun ; they are not mere fuel for the sun to feed upon, as certain astronomers have conjectured ; they retard, rather than increase, his flames ; they are not, as Figuier supposes, mere mes- * Aerolites bring us, of known substances, oxide of iron, oxides of nickel, of cobalt, and of manganese, magnesia, lime, silica, copper, and sulphur, and have the appearance of having been changed to a solid from a liquid state under a dense atmosphere of hj'drogen gas. Meteors are dissipat- ed in their passage through the air, but the unconsumed part sometimes falls to the earth in the form of dust of jellow chloride of iron. Cometarj meteors we need not discuss. 28 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. sengcrs sent to us across space from other worlds, to tell us of the composition of tlicir soil ; nor, as Sir William Thomson suggests, are they express trains from other worlds to ours, freighted with the germs of life and seeds of vegetation. These interesting vis- itants come rather, without reasonable doubt, from trains of small planets, little asteroids, which circle around the sun, forming diflerent systems, and con- stituting belts analogous to Saturn's rings; and the reason for the comparatively large number of mete- ors which we observe annually about the 14th of No- vember is, that at that time the earth's orbit cuts through some meteoric belt. We have probably not yet passed through the very nucleus, or densest part ; but thirteen times, in Octobers and Novembers, from October 13, A. D. 903, to November 14, 1866, inclu- clusive (this last time having been correctly predicted by Professor Newton, of Yale College), we have, by actual observation, passed through a part of the belt greatly denser than the average. When in their revo- lution these bodies encounter the earth's atmosphere, they are ignited by friction, and give us safe and inex- pensive, but magnificent displays of fireworks. The aggregate number of the meteoric systems is beyond calculation, and the number of meteors composing each system is next to infinite.* * Professor Newton calculates, upon reliable data, that, on an average, in the course of a single day 7.500.000 meteors, large enough to be visible to the naked eye, are consumed in the earth's atmosphere, and about 400,000,000 meteors, visi- ble through a telescope of moderate power, arc thus con- sumed. Fifty points of radiation, at least, have been already discovered. THE FIELD. 29 Though knowing Httle of their extent and number, they tell us some things of importance. They report, as does everything else in the universe, how lavish is the Creator in his expenditures ; not merely bread enough, but bread to spare, is the law of his kingdom — a fact which is loaded with analogies against the theory of a plurality of inhabited worlds. The Nebulce constitute a class of astronomical bodies concerning which there has been, perhaps, more discussion than respecting any others. These starry clusters, or patches of " starry powder," so called, seem to be of endless extent ; they rise one above another, and appear without limit to stretch away into God's immensity. Two theories, radically differing from one another, cover the various specula- tions presented. The first and oldest supposes them to be stellar clusters. Such a conclusion is natural, for at first sight they appear to be stars seen through mist. Powerful telescopes have been able to resolve some of them into distinct points of light; supposi- tions were rife that with more powerful instruments of observation all the nebulous clusters could be thus resolved. It was further argued that each cluster con- stitutes a distinct stellar system. In harmony with this supposition, our sun is to be looked upon as an individual star, forming only a single unit in a cluster or mass of many millions of other similar stars, — a mere fragment in the midst of a universe of similar solar systems, represented as everywhere teeming with human inhabitants, subject to the same thouglits, experiences, and developments as characterize our- selves. 30 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. The second, known as the Laplace theory, regards the nebuhc as a luminous fluid, diffused through the universe, being now in a formative state, becoming, or soon to become, distinct stellar systems, like our own. It was natural for sceptical physicists, upon embracing this idea, to conclude that by natural processes, and without the intervention of a Creator, these nebulae are to become distinct systems, then completed worlds, which in time have the inherent power of producing plants, and brutes, and man. The first of these theories is now generally set aside. Among other things there has been of late a radical change as to the supposed distances of the nebulas. Professor Roscoe informs us that the opinion that their remoteness is what makes it so difficult to re- solve them can no longer be upheld, and that their nebulous appearance is not on account of their great distance, but because of the highly attenuated con- dition of the substances composing them.* * It is also the opinion of Sir John Ilcrschel, supported by Lord Rosse, that the nebidae, as a class of objects, are not more distant than the nearest fixed stars. Said David Gill, in an address before the Edinburgh meeting of the British Association (1S71), " From observations extending over eleven months, I concluded that the planetary nebula No. 37, in Merschel's 4th catalogue, possessed a very measurable parallax, and a considerable proper motion. Should further measures confirm this result, the true inference to be drawn is, that some of the planetary nebulcc, at least, are nearer to us than the fixed stars, and probably perform an entirely distinct part in the economy of nature." "There are vast numbers of the nebuhe," says Lord Rosse, "much too faint to be sketched or measured with any prospect of advantage, the THE FIELD. " 3 1 But in addition to the more accurate telescopic ex- aminations we have also the report of spectrum anal- ysis, which forever sets at rest the question of the physical character of the nebulae. They can no lon- ger, in the light of this science, to say the least, be represented as suns like ours. When Mr. Huggins brought the image of the nebulce upon the slit of his spectroscope, he found that he no longer had to do with a class of bodies of the nature even of stars ! * most powerful instruments we possess showing in them nothing of an organized structure, but merely a confused mass of nebulosity of varying brightness." " I believe," says Proctor, " that future researches will prove, not only that the Milky Way, as a whole, is much nearer than we have been imagining, but that portions of it are absolutely nearer to us than the brightest of the single stars." The researches of Huggins, Secchi, and Wullner, seem to indi- cate that the temperature of the nebulse is extremely high; but those of Zollner, Frankland, and Lockyer indicate a comparatively low temperature. It is claimed by others that a moderate process of condensation would develop, from cool matter, as great an amount of heat as nebulous or stellar masses have as yet evinced. * " The conclusion," says Roscoe, " is obvious, that the close association of points of light in a nebula can no longer be accepted as proof that the object consists of true stars. These luminous points, in some nebulae at least, must be regarded as portions of matter denser, probably, than the outlying parts of the great nebulous mass, but still gaseous." The same writer, in another connection, affirms "that the nebulae are not groups of far-distant suns, because we find that the light which some of them give out is not the kind of light which such far-distant fixed stars must emit." Sir William Thomson, indorsing the discoveries of Huggins, claims that the light of the nebulae, so far as hitherto sensi- 32 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. The light of some of them is very feeble. Mr. Lock- yer estimates that an ordinary sperm candle a quarter of a mile distant, would give off a light twenty thou- sand times more brilliant. Two thirds of the nebulas thus far examined are unhesitatingly pronounced gase- ous. They are composed of nitrogen and hydrogen united with certain unknown elements. It has been doubted by high authority whether a single nebula can be pointed out which contains light enough "to light a good-sized room." In view of all these facts, we seem forced to the conclusion that these number- less masses and points of light, which were formerly supposed to be suns like the sun in our planetary sys- tem, and which were thought to be attended by inhab- ited planets countless in number, arc for the mrjst part luminous gas ; those that are irresolvable are, at most, but primitive "fire-mist" "light;" while the resolvable arc still in a gaseous state, though larthcr advanced than the irresolvable. We are misled by the term frequently employed — " clouds of fiery dust" — even, for, as a class of objects, the ncbulai, like the comets, many of them, — two thirds at least, — are nothing but heated vapor. Respecting the re- maining one third, it is shown that as cor.iparctl with ble to us, proceeds from incandescent hydrogen and nitroj^en gases. Mr. Tait suggests that thcv may be gaseous exhala- tions, ignited by collisions between meteoric stones, " The spectroscope shows us," says David Gill, " that these nebulx' are not stars. l)ut iiicandcsccnt gas. 1 am re- ported as sa\ing that the conclusion I had arrived at was, that the nebula ' ttv/.v not a collection of matter^ but a fixed star* This is entirely wrong, ami would have been more nearly correct had it been reversed." THE FIELD. 33 our solar system they are not at all complete ; they are spiral in their movements and confused in their masses ; their forms are irregular, and destitute of any apparent system ; there seems not the slightest evi- dence that they have passed from their original chaotic state. To insist upon covering them, or any of their dependencies, with living intelligence, is, in the light of modern scientific inquiry, the wildest conjecture possible. If the theory of Laplace is true, they are certainly uninhabitable ; while the earlier and oppo- site theory, as we have seen, has at present not the slightest foundation.* One might as well live in the zodiacal light, or upon the intangible twilight, or upon the northern aurora, or in a gas flame, as upon the nebulce. There is as much evidence that those vast cumulous clouds of midsummer, which assume all kinds of fantastic shapes, — alpine mountains and royal palaces, — tinged with the richest tints of sunrise and sunset, are the abodes of life, as to suppose that these almost-intermi- nable tracts of nebulous matter are inhabited. To emphasize this thought is unnecessary, other than at the single point of its bearing upon the argu- ment from analog}^ and the consistenc}^ of things. All that has been said clearly weakens the force of these arguments. If we mistake not, they begin to menace * While the theory of Laplace, as a whole, has been of late years growing in favor, and justly so, still it must be confess d that it is beset, at certain points, with many objections. Tl.e nebulae are resolvable by the telescope, from a supposed mass f)f fluid, into distinct elements, and by the spectroscope from a solid or liquid state into the most attenuated gas. 3 34 THE ARENA A\D THE THRONE. those who have hitherto employed them ; at least, the advocates of a plurality of inhabited worlds find, year- ly, less and less encouragement in the varied results of scientific investigation. Nineteen twentieths of the beautiful objects which glimmer in the midnight heav- ens, and wliich a few years since w^ere thought by some to be inhabitable, are now transferred, without a dis- senting voice, from the scientific to the theological side of this question. Man need no longer be abashed, re- garding himself a mere mote, but may smile and lift his hand for the crown and sceptre which revelation has so manifestly designated as his exclusive possession. Fixed Stars are those self-luminous and twinkling orbs which occupy regions beyond our solar system, and which in stellar space rise, many deep, to heights and distances incomprehensible. Advocates of'' more worlds than one " have been very confident and jubi- lant over data from this source. From the magnitude of these bodies and tlicir resemblance to our sun, they have been claimed, with confidence wliich scarcely listens to objection, to be centres of systems of inhab- ited worlds in no respects inferior to the planets of our solar system, and in many respects vastly superior. Before we can feel at liberty, however, to admit all that has been presented for our unqualified acce])tauce respecting the fixed stars, we certainly have the right to enter upon a re-examination of former suppositions in the light of facts which modern scientific investi- gation presents to us. As early as 1S14, Fraunhofer discovered that the spectra of the various fixed stars which he examined difier frjm that of the sun and planets, lie came, THE FIELD. 35 thus early, to the remarkable conclusion that the chemical constitution of the fixed stars must therefore, in some respects, difler from that of our solar system. There are differences so great between the fixed stars themselves, however, that such a sw^eeping conclusion as this of Fraunhofer may not be admitted by every one, especially by those who find certain strong anal- ogies between our sun and some of the fixed stars. A more recent statement is that of Professor Roscoe, which will doubtless be regarded by many as authorita- tive. *' We have now arrived," he says, " at a distinct understanding of the physical constitution of the fixed stars: they consist of a white-hot nucleus, giving off a continuous spectrum, surrounded by an incandescent atmosphere, in which exist the absorbent vapors of the particular metals." But with this general state- ment w^e can hardly rest satisfied, since the diflerent classes of fixed stars report to us, in each case, data distinct and characteristic. Stars of ]^a7'iable L?cstre form a curious class, and are at present studied with special interest, From our distant point of view they appear remarkabl}^ beauti- ful. But when the telescope and spectroscope, aided by the imagination, enable us to stand within hailing distance, nay, to plant our feet upon their siirface and to penetrate beneath their fiery ej^teripr, we find that the sublime energies which are at work upon and within them are well nigh appalling; settled at once is the question of their inhabitabihty, and that of any system of planets which may or may not be revolving about them. The variableness, so beautiful to tiie naked eye, but so terrible to the eye of science, is the re- 36 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. suit of enormous and sometimes sudden explosions of hvdros^en j^as. This fierce aui^fmentation of li^lit and heat would terminate the supposed organized planetary life in an instant.* No less fearful for these conjectured planetary inhabitants is the sudden diminution, and in some instances the entire extinction, of the liglit of the variable stars. Think of a system of inhabited worlds having a sun brilliant as ours, which perceptibly begins to wane with no returning spring-time ! f Or think of a system of worlds flooded one day with light and heat, the next plunged into the thickest dark- ness, and locked • in the embrace of universal ice ! Sorrowful, indeed, the plight of those inhabitants.]: * Professor Roscoe bears out Lockyer andjannsen in a cal- culation that if the intensity of the sun's rays were increased no more than were those of the stars in the Northern Crown in May, 1S66, our sohd globe would be dissipated in vapor almost as soon as a drop of water in a furnace. The ter.ipor- ature in the sunlight would rise at once to that only attaina- ble in the focus of the largest burning-glass. t The first two stars in Ilvdra, in less than a human life- time, changed, in the seventeenth century, from the fourth to the eighth magnitude, so that the most fearful and perpet- ual winter succeeded what had been perpetual summer. A notable star in the Swan varies from the fifth to the tenth magnitude. A star in Cepheus changes in five days from the third to the fifth magnitude. A star in Lyra in six days diminishes from the third to the fifth magnitude. A c,tar in the Whale is subjected to remarkable changes ; waxing, waning, disappearing, and then relighting its llames, and shining for a time with steady brilliancy. X A noted star in the Great Bear vanished in the eighteenth century; the eighth and ninth stars of Taurus have also dis- appeared; the fiflj.-fifth star of Hercules, a star in Auriga, the eleventh in Lupus, and several olher.s in the catalogue of THE FIELD. 37 Nay, these appearances may indicate that the entire class of variable and periodic stars are self-luminous bodies, as yet destitute of permanent forms, and like- wise destitute of attending regular planetary systems. Another class of fixed stars, known as double or compound stars^ possess certain remarkable features. The earlier term, " double," is hardly exact, for many are found to be not only double, but triple, quadruple, and even multiple. M. Struve is authority for saying that not less than one in three or four of the fixed stars are compound. Still more remarkable is the fact that diflerent parts of compound stars often shine with dif- ferent colors. A combination frequently occurring is crimson and blue.* The singular vicissitudes of light diffused upon the attendant planets (if they are attend- ed), in consequence of two suns in their firmament, is well nigh inconceivable by the poor mortals inhabit- ing the earth, who have but a single sun to light the day and a single moon to reflect the sun-light by night. In general, such suns will rise at different times. When the blue sun rises, it will for a time preside alone in the heavens, diff^using a blue morning. Its crimson companion, however, soon appearing, the lights of both being blended in the strongest combina- tion at intervals, may result in a midday of white light. As evening approaches, and the two orbs descend towards the western horizon, the blue sun will first set, Ptolemy, have vanished, leaving their planetary inhabitants to raise their crops and grope their waj- under star-light. * The combination red and green is found in Hercules and Cassiopeia; brown and green, also brown and blue, in the Whale, Giraffe, Orion, Gemini, and Swan. 38 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. leaving the crimson one alone in the heavens, and like a mighty conflagration will light up the western sky, and close the day. As the year rolls on, these changes will be varied in every conceivable manner. At those seasons when the suns are on opposite sides of the planet, crimson and blue days will alternate, without any intervening night ; and at tlie intermedi- ate epochs all the various intervals of rising and set- ting of the two suns will be exhibited. Clouds, wa- ters, and vegetation will each share in this multiplicity of changing hues.* The romance of all this witchery of star wonders is still further enhanced upon the dis- covery of stars which have the extraordinary power of changing their color, — rightly named " chameleon stars." One of the components of a double star in Her- cules changed, in twelve vears, from yellow, tln'ough gray, clierry red, and a most beautiful red, to yellow again. The variations produced, in consequence, can- not be described, nor realized, nor scarcely imagined. But it should be ever borne in mind that the more wonderful these marvels of stellar condition, the more inevitably are all these stars removed from the field of analogy, and the more surely tue they rendered unin- habitable. The spectrum of every colored star, as we are assured b^- KirchhoO', wants certain rays existing in our solar spectrum. We find, therefore, as in case of the nebuhe, that those of the fixed stars which are varial>le and compound, though grand and imposing astronomical bodies, are \cvv far from helping t'.ie cause of More Worlds than One. l>ut it is asked. Are tiieie not white stais which })resent strong and uncpies- * Professr^r Liirdner. Appendix C THE FIELD. 39 tioned analogies between themselves and the sun? It has been so claimed. Our knowledge of some of them is yet limited. While awaiting additional facts, we must bear in mind that nothing yet like a planet has been discovered revolving around any one of the fixed stars. The absence of regular motion among the fixed stars ; the slowness of their changes, indicating extreme rarity ; their gyratory movements, indicating crudeness, long since led Humboldt to maintain the opinion that the whole weight of analogy is against ex- isting similarity between the sun and the fixed stars. The earlier supposition of Herschel, that some of the fixed stars — Alpha, Centauri, and Sirius — emit more light than the sun, is also now set aside as untenable. Later investigations, based upon a more accurate and extended observation of phenomena, show that their light in many instances is less than that of the sun, and tiiat in this respect our sun, instt-ad of being one of the least, is among tlie more important objects in the entire physical universe. The hypotliesis so grandly stated by General Mitch- ell and others, that the sun, with its retinue of planets, is revolving about some distant centre, in common with other solar systems, is very far from receiving general indorsement. Regularity of motion in the solar system can be explained more easily upon a less complicated hypothesis. The earlier speculations of Kant, Lambert, and Wright (middle of the eighteenth century), subsequently indorsed and confirmed by Sir W. Herschel, that the Milky Way is a projection on the sphere of a stratum of stars, in the midst of which our sun and system are placed, with a possible 40 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. centre towards Sirius, is much more in harmony with recent discoveries.* Who can tell but ours is the only ripe sun in the universe ! We may be forced to the conclusion, after all, that the grandest created thing is I not at the large but at the small end of the telescope. I It may turn out that a human being, with a tele- \ J scope in one hand, a spectroscope in the other, and himself endowed with imagination, and not some actual inhabitant on those beautiful stars, is the one for whom magnificent stellar entertainments have been nightly given. The conceptions of Herschel and Laplace are no less grand that they are earthlings than if they had been denizens of Algol or Mira. ^Madness must indeed be in the brain of the astrono- mer who falls not often upon his knees. God is not shorn of his glory, nor have his purposes met defeat, though Brewster and Dr. Chalmers should chance to have been mistaken. We thank the one for his pro- found reasonings and thrilling suppositions, and the other for his sublime rhetorical flights; but no man is infallible. "A theory," as Voltaire has quaintly re- marked, " is like a mouse, which may successfully pass nineteen holes, but is stopped at the twentieth." We thank Science for the much siie has disclosed. I We await yet greater revelations. Perhaps she will I tell us anou that the astronomical centre of the pliNsical * Tlic illustration fiist proposed by Ilorschcl is. that the universe of stars presents a form similar to that of two watch crystals, brought together so as to forin a hollow tlouble con- vex, and that the solar system is placed in or near the centre. Proctor, in his Essays on Astronomy^ p. 331, has a diagiam, given for another ])in-pose, which may, however, prove a cor- *ect representation of the stellar uni\erse. THE FIELD. 41 DIAGRAM FROM PROCTOR'S "ESSAYS ON ASTRONOMY." 42 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. universe is identical with its theological centre, — both being not far from the present home of humanity. TJic Solar Syste7n. — The arguments from analogy and tlie consistency of things have been so weakened by investigations in the nebular and the stellar heavens that the theory of the general inhabitability of the solar system must be left to stand or fall upon its own mer- its ; presumptions in favor of such views there are not. The most majestic body in the solar system is the Sim. A theory, which gained for a time some head- way, claims that beneath the phosphorescent atmos- phere of the sun is a non-luminous atmosphere, sur- rounding an interior body protected from the exterior fiery rays, and thereby rendered suitable for habitation. "■ If," said Arago, '' you ask me this question, Is the sun inhabited? I should answer that I know nothing about it. But if you ask me if the sun can be inhabited by beings organized like those who people our globe, I should not hesitate to answer. Yes." This view is evidently an out-growth of the no longer tenable supposition that it is a wasteful econo- my to create grand and majestic bodies, and leave them destitute of intelligent inhabitants. Certainly, if such reasoning can anywhere apply, it is in the case before us. The size and magnificence of the sun reso- li.tely demand inhabitants, if such characteristics fur- nish a(lc(|uale reason for providing ]:)opiilations. I'o form a body equal to the sun in bulk, it would be necessary to roll into (juc nearly i .400,000 globes of the size of our earth. Place togetlicr all the i)lancts of our system, and as a })roduct there would be a body five hundred times less in bulk than the sun. There- THE FIELD. 43 fore, according to the reasoning sometimes employed, if any spot in the solar system is inhabited, then, by all odds, must the sun be thronged with inhabitants. But we have already thrice seen that Science no longer listens to such arguments. No matter how great, no matter how grand, the object may be, — the telescope and spectroscope take it in hand to settle the question without leave or license, and without the least respect for our preconceptions. Aided by the telescope we look upon a conflagration in the sun of such immense and appalling proportions as would instantly destroy organ- ized physical life, though distant from it by hundreds of thousands of miles. Under a July tropical sun, though ninety-four millions of miles away, we are full near enough for comfort. The theory of a non-lumi- nous atmosphere is a tremendous and obstinate effort to render habitable a realm which is most manifestly uninhabitable.* Lockyer, who has estimated the extent of the solar flames, has given us some startling figures. He has seen masses of flame leaping upward from the body of the sun twenty-seven thousand miles in height; and then, as if conscious of a defeated effort to destroy the universe, he has seen them settle back again to their ordinary level in a space of less than ten minutes. * The heat at the sun's surface, by accurate experiment, is found to be prodigious. The fiercest blaze of a furnace gives off not a seventh part as much heat. What form of life is there which is adapted to such abodes? The test of polari- zation of light, applied by Arago, has conclusively shown that the luminous matter of the sun is gaseous. But perhaps men could be so conditioned as to live in gas-flame. (_? ) 44 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. Other flames have been seen to flash up to the enor- mous distance of from ninety to a hundred thousand miles. The vast vokmies of smoke rising from these sohir eruptions can be distinctly seen with the eye un- aided by the telescope.* If any doubts ha\e remained as to the accuracy of telescopic observations, they are now completely silenced by the science of spectrum analysis. There is at present no question but that the physical composition and exact chemical nature of the sun are accurately disclosed to us by the tests of the solar spectra under the experiments of such men as Bunsen and Kirchhoif.-j- They confirm observations made by telescopes, and the experiments of polariza- tion, and fully restore the opinions of those philoso- phers of the middle ages who saw in the sun, not an inhabited world, — which, unless inhabited, would be a reproach to the wisdom of the Creator, — but a '' globe of fire," a kind of '' gigantic torch," which, together with the moon, was set '' in the firmament of heaven, to give light upon the earth, and to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness," expressly for the benefit of man.| * This is, doubtless, the most satisfactory explanation of the spots visible upon the sun's surface. The view that they are produced by the sudden fall upon the sun's surface of immense quantities of meteoric matter, which, by force of concussion, fusion, and ignition, are afterwards converted into solar-fuel, or that they are produced by terrific tornadoes, sweeping over ilic sun's surface, similar to those which sometimes vi.sit our own ti()j)ics, are theories which can hardly be said to have, at the jiicsent time, the support of science. See Ap- pendix D. t Appendix E. + Gen. i. 17-19. THE FIELD. 45 The planets are to us the nearest visible astronom- ical bodies. Tiiey have known analogies between themselves and the earth more striking and more nu- merous than have any of the bodies already examined. Very confident have been many vs^riters, that human inhabitants occupy the planets, who differ not much, if in any respect, from ourselves. Others, with equal confidence, have pointed out certain important dif- ferences distinguishing the various planetary inhabit- ants. But those who of late have given the subject anything like critical attention have concluded that the most which has heretofore been written respecting planetary inhabitants is purely visionary, and so arbi- trary in its character as to preclude its reception as in the least degree reliable. Dr. Chalmers kept with- in the bounds of reasonable conjecture ; but certain others — Sir Humphry Davy, Fontenelle, Christian Wolf, and Andrew Jackson Davis, for illustration, — have allowed their enthusiasms and imaginations to run into all sorts of wild vagaries and extrava- gances. The inhabitants of the planet Saturn are rep- resented by Davy as efl^ecting their locomotion by the agency of six wings. Their arms, he says, resemble the trunks of elephants ; and though in form they are a species of zoophyte, still they are more intelligent than man. Fontenelle likewise favors us with the jDcculiar characteristics of the different planetary inhabitants. Some he represents as exceedingly phlegmatic, others lively and agile as the most active Frenchman. Some are like the Moors of Granada, and still others like fur-clad Laplanders. 46 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. The inhabitants of Mercury are represented by Hnygens as pre-eminently scientific, their close prox- imity to the sun giving them peculiar advantages in astronomical investigations. Christian Wolf, the Ger- man astronomer, estimates that the inhabitants of Ju- piter are fourteen feet in height by eye measurement. But Proctor, by a course of reasoning equally clear, shows that they are but two and a half feet in height.* Andrew Jackson Davis stands in advance of all others in furnishing definite information upon this subject. Of course his announcements must be received as re- liable, (?) for he is claimed by modern medium spirit- ualists, as already remarked, to be the most wonderful clairvoyant medium of the age, and is supposed to have visited in person the various planets he has so minutely described, and to have held consultation in person witli these our planetary kindred. There are, according to this distinguished oracle, two classes of inhabitants upon the planet Saturn. Those of the first and lower class are represented as very muscular; their bodies are rather wide than otherwise, and not perfectly round ; they have great strength and elasticity of movement ; tliey have more extensive scope of mental comprehension than the inhabitants of earth ; and they are characterized by strong passions and love of mirth. On the other hand, the higher men of Saturn are represented as tlie perfection of physical development ; their lungs, heart, and head, which are fully described by Mr. Davis, are the em- bodiment of health and perfection ; tlieir judgment is * Appendix F. THE FIELD. 47 SO excellent (though we fail to see the connection) that they do not know what weakness or sickness means ; the most difficult subjects are comprehended by one grasp of their gigantic intellects ; they have telescopic eyes, which can reach through the entire solar system ; they dwell in immense buildings, and live under a general free-love system similar to that advocated by Mr. Theodore Tilton. The inhabitants of Jupiter are also, in substance, thus described by Mr. Davis : They are not in any respect fully up to the standard of those of Saturn ; through a constitutional modesty they assume an inclined position closely resembling the modern Grecian bend ; they are more highly intellectual and amiable than the inhabit ants of earth ; they are able to converse by the dexter ous working or winking of the upper lip ; their com- munities are made up of spiritual affinities, as in Sat- urn : in consequence, they multiply rapidly, and enjoy perfect health ; they never die, but their bodies are changed by a process of felicitous evaporation ; so enormous are their expansive and sweeping intellects that they comprehend all things and relations by a single concentrated thought ; they live in tents upon the equator, and their society is an harmonious and happy brotherhood of medium spiritualists. According to Mr. Davis, the peculiarity of the in- habitants of Mars is, that they have upon the tops of their heads no hair, resulting, it is possible, from the bondage in which for a long time they may have been held. The inhabitants of Venus are noted for having a splendid breathing and digestive apparatus, the latter 48 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. of which is quite necessary, as they eat with perfect impunity their own oOspring. The human inhabitants of Mercury are celebrated for their incessant activity, prodigious memories, and orang-outang appearance ; they have no use for their ears, and fight with shngs and stones. They have, as we should expect of such barbarians, no spiritualists among them, hut are governed by an ignorant and self-constituted arbitration, and their church polity is probably Old School Presbyterian. Favored as we are with so many and such definite accounts as to our outside kindred, it seems ung-rateful not to accept these statements as final, especiall}' since the rest of the stellar universe seems so ill suited for the purposes of habitation. Why not without contro- versy concede the point that the planets are each in- habited? Has not enough already been shown respect- ing the nebula} and fixed stars to satisfy the theological argument? Shall we not be lonesome and homesick if there be no one beyond to hail and return our sig- nals anon, when our sciences reach greater perfection? Possibly. A few additional facts, however, can injure no one ; facts are dangerous only to the false. Of the planets Uranus and Neptune, the arctic worlds, we say nothing, for their position places them beyond controversy ; they are dark and vaporous worlds, frozen too, unless their internal and primeval fires are still smouldering. The planet Saiiirn can, however, haidly be tlius quickly passed by in silenec. It is a stupendous globe as compared with the earth ; its volume is nearly nine hundred times greater; it is less imposing in its di- THE FIELD. 49 menslons than Jupiter, but more magnificent in its surroundings. Eight moons sail through its heav- ens, presenting the varying phases of waxing and waning in striking contrasts and combinations ; three rings, one nearly transparent, each having regular periodic revolutions, encircle this planet with their beautiful drapery. A lunar or solar eclipse upon our earth is a rare occurrence, and rivets the atten- tion and interest of humanity. But upon Saturn the phenomenon is of dail}^ occurrence. In some of its latitudes there may be seen one, two, three, and even four solar eclipses daily. Aside from these, there is every conceivable variety of eclipse coming from in- terpositions and conjunctions of sun, moons, and rings, resulting in a display of astronomical wonders which would thrill an intelligent eye-witness with inexpres- sible delight. Owing to these splendid arrangements and adornings of Saturn, it has. been selected by advocates of more worlds than one as the abode of the most favored, intelligent, and exalted species of human creatures. But however I'emorseless it may seem to disturb and dislodge these imaginary inhab- itants, modern science has presented certain facts, we are compelled to confess, before which past specula- tions vanish as the mists of morning. The density of this ringed world is now estimated to be no greater than that of the lightest cork. The sun appears to one upon its surface little else than a distant star. The rings, so beautiful to us under telescopic ob- servation, produce an eclipse upon some parts of its surface of fifteen years' duration. The various phenomena which this planet presents to us were 4 50 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. accounted for, until quite recently, upon the sup- position that it has a nucleus of cinders at the centre surrounded by a vast extent of vapors scarcely more ponderous than a London fog ; hence, if this is the correct supposition, men can no more inhabit Saturn than they can live in a mass of frozen mist, which the sun is never able to penetrate. The supposition now generally approved is, that Saturn consists of an un so- lidified mass of star-stuft' in process of cooling, subject to internal throes so tremendous as to upheave hundreds of square miles of its surface far above the ordinary level, giving it its frequent "square-shouldered" ap- pearance. If this is the condition of Saturn, then, in- stead of frozen fog, the surrounding clement is a mass of heated vapors and clouds which are continually ris- ing from the seething fires beneath. This planet, ac- cording to this supposition, is as uninhabitable as a volcano, whose fires have subsided, but are far from extinguished. The grandest exterior planet known to our system is Jupiter. Though at a distance which almost con- founds the imagination, it is, when in the meridian, upon a winter's midnight, one of the most magnificent of the heavenly bodies. Roll together into one fourteen hundred worlds like our ov/n, and tlicre would result a planet no larger in bulk than Jupiter. Its stupendous magnitude with difficulty dawns upon us even under telescopic observation. When Galileo directed the first telescope to the examination of Jupiter, he discovered four minute objects which he at first supposed to be stars, but subsequently discovered to be moons like our own. The one nearest Jupiter, in the brief space THE FIELD. 5I of forty-two hours, goes through all its phases, from the thin, extended ring to the full and rounded circle. The progress of its changes is so rapid that it would be actually visible to a near eye-witness. The other satellites have longer periods, and are so arranged that one standing upon Jupiter would enjoy four dif- ferent months at the same time, being in duration four, eight, seventeen, and forty days respectively. One would scarcely need a time-piece upon this planet, for its wonderful celestial clock-work is provided with its month, day, hour, minute, and even second hand. Littrow * highly congratulates the astronomers of Jupiter, inasmuch as the sunlight is so faint that, with the naked eye, they can see the stars at midday. But there is another side to this enchanting picture. Littrow does not tell us whether agriculturists would be satisfied with the system of things found upon this planet ; it would seem that while the astronomer was laughing everybody else would be found weeping. Jupiter, at its greatest distance, is five hundred and eighteen millions of miles from the sun ; the light and heat are therefore four fifths less than upon the earth ; its days and nights will scarcely average five hours in length ; its reflective pov^er, as great as that of white paper, which renders the star so beautiful to us, is in consequence of perpetual banks of clouds and vapors, which Madler, after careful examination, concludes must shut out from its surface, except from very nar- row limits, all light from the sun. Even did the unob- structed sun-light fall directly upon the surface of thjs planet, only four tenths of the light thus received, * Picture of the Heavens. 52 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. owing to the planet's reflective power, would be avail- able for the jDurposes of economy. The former sup- position of science, that Jupiter is a mass of ice- logged waters and frozen fogs surrounding central cinders of matter, answered the condition of most of the phenomena" presented ; but more recent investiga- tions incline to the conclusion that this giant among the planets is a mass of fire-fluid bubbling and seeth- ing, but in such condition, however, as to emit for us but the slightest degree of light and heat. One or the other of the above suppositions is unquestionably true : in the one case the inhabitants of Jupiter must be aquatic men made up of frozen pulp ; in the other case they must be such men as can live in a world whose entire surface is covered with vortices of active volcanoes, and whose atmosphere is gaseous exhala- tions equalled only by those of some pit infernal.* From Jupiter we, for the present, pass by the Plan- etoids and Mars, the Earth, and the Moon, calling at- tention first to those planets which lie between us and the sun. Mercury need not long detain us, since the most * The eruptive action is especially observed upon Jupiter when it is nearest the sun; and likewise the sun's eruptive action is at that time the greatest, through their mutual at- traction. The belts of Jupiter are, doubtless, due to the vio- lent discharge of vapors from regions below its visible sur- face. Proctor concludes that Jupiter cannot be inhabited, but claims that its moons are favored with inhabitants. Per- haps we ought not to press one who is driven to such shifts; but the fact is, Jupiter's moons ^re as uninhabitable as would be our earth if scarcely a ray of illumination reached us from the sun. THE FIELD. 53 frantic suppositions and imaginary contrivances have failed to render it inhabitable. A dense atmosphere has been proposed by some, a rare atmosphere by others, and a single and double envelope of clouds by certain others, as a means of modifying the intense heat of the sun's rays ; but either supposition defeats the object sought, and proves about equally fatal to the imaginary inhabitants of this planet.* In fine, its close proximity to the sun giving it, w^hen nearest the sun, ten times the light and heat we receive ; Its extreme density and general astronomical appearance indicat- ing its utter destitution of w^ater and atmosphere ; its abrupt and extreme climatic changes, in consequence of its prodigious inclination (70°), — are conditions which, * The ingenuity of some unscientific men, in these matters, is often very remarkable and amusing. For instance, when it was thought that the day of Venus was considerably longer than ours, it was clearly shown that such an arrangement is indispensable to this planet; but the day is found to be actu- ally a little less than ours (23 hours, 21 minutes, 24 seconds). Likewise elaborate articles have appeared, showing how ex- cellent is the arrangement of the rings and moons of Saturn and the moons of Jupiter, in order to give the extra and necessary light to these distant planets; but the fact is, that the multiple moon-light of Jupiter and Saturn is not a twentieth of that which our moon gives to the earth. Thus, likewise, in the case of Mercury; if the atmosphere is ex- tremely^ dense, it would i-ender the heat by day sufficient to boil water at the equator; if extremely rare, it would render the cold by night sufficient to congeal the gases, even ; while an envelope of clouds sufficient to afford protection would, in the first place, require a dense atmosphere to support them, and, in the second place, would require a thickness of clouds such as to leave the planet in almost total darkness. 54 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. SO far as we can imagine, render both animal and vegetable life impossible upon its surfoce. The beautiful and conspicuous planet Vcmts^ our morning and evening star, next greets us, but its re- ports, under scientific examination, vary not much from those of Mercury. The sun, as seen from its surface, would present magnificent but terrible phe- nomena. The inclination of the axis of Venus is such that there is poured down upon the same latitude an intensity of light and heat unknown at our equator in midsummer ; but a little later there follows a polar winter, whose cold is such as to defy any known chemical test.* No flora or fauna known to the earth could endure for a single season such abrupt changes. Nor could the denizens of the arctic and sub-arctic regions live through the heat of a single midsummer's nightless day. Modifications of atmosphere such as to counteract these violent changes, would involve changes, as in case of Mercur}^ so great as to kill while they cure. Indeed, if Venus has any atmos- phere, it must, owing to its extreme variations of tem- perature, be the home of incessant and furious tem- pests. The opinion is better established than any other, that Venus is destitute of water, and destitute of atmosphere, and that its surface diflcrs not much from the crude slag which is cast out from glass man- ufactories. The Moon brings us comparatively near home ; it is * "This planet has no temperate zone. The torrid and icy zones encroach the one upoii the other, and rule successively over the regions wliich in our world constitute the temperate zone." M. Babinet. THE FIELD. 55 only thirty diameters of the earth distant ; we could reach it, travelling at ordinary railroad speed, in a half year. Professor Phillips, before the British Associ- ation, stated that spots only a few hundred feet in area could be easily detected. A crop of wheat removed from a field, or, as Herschel states, the construction or the devastation of a fair-sized city, would be quickly noticed by our astronomers. Yet never a change has been observed upon its surface. One of its hemi- spheres is forever hidden from the earth, the other is continually looking down upon it. Its unchangeable features tell us that never a cloud hangs in the lunar sky, while the absence of all refraction after the occul- tation of star-light, renders it absolutely certain that the moon is entirely destitute of anything that can be called an atmosphere. It appears to be in the same advanced stage, and is probably identical in substance, with aerolites.* Its geological history has all the in- terest of a romance. It was once " fire-mist," or " sun- stuflT," " star-stufi'," or " world-stuff'," as variously named, which is probably the original created sub- stance, " light " — God said. Let there be light (sun- stuff'), and light (sun-stuff') was. Later the moon wit- nessed activities like those now at work in the sun. It was at that time a world on fire, whose flames reached far towards the earth ; later the flames subsided, and, like Jupiter at the present time, the moon became a * Should the moon fall towards the earth, it would upon striking our atmosphere be ignited by friction. If consumed before reaching the earth's surface, it would be a shooting star; if it reached comparatively near us, it would be a me- teor; if it reached the earth's surface, it would be an aerolite. 56 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. bubbling mass of fire, having but slight illumination ; at this stage an atmosphere appeared containing mois- ture ; * this moisture, condensing and falling upon the surface, would be thrown off in the form of steam and vapor ; subsequently, as the cooling process went on, waters remained upon the surface, rivers flowed from the mountains and emptied themselves into the lunar seas. In the course of time the moisture penetrated deeper and deeper, the internal fires were entirely quenched, the thirsty rocks drank up every drop of water, and then, as if insatiable, absorbed the very atmosphere, leaving the moon as we now find it, a home of desolation, an " abandoned camp," a " fossil world," an " ancient cinder," a mass of rough slag,t whose reflecting power does not much differ from that of a gray, weathered, sandstone rock. No atmos- phere ! I No water ! Beautiful in all its phases, hung in the heavens to preach to man of the fate now im- pending over the earth unless an infinite Providence shall cut short the days of desolation by a merciful and prophesied catastrophe. § * It is estimated that one eighth of the glowing hydrogen composing the flames of the sun is convertible into pure water. t Phillips. X Zollner, Bond, and Herschel. § See 2 Pet. iii. 10-14. It is estimated at the present time, owing to the internal fires of the earth, that water and air are able to penetrate less than one fiftieth of the distance to the earth's centre; therefore, long before these fires are extin- guished, the terrestrial water and atmosphere, like those of the moon, will have disappeared from tlie surface of a worn-out world. But for some providential interference the fate, not only of the earth, but of all celestial bodies, is written upon the face of the moon; the sun itself will become a hunp of frozen matter, darkening the heavens. THE FIELD. ^'J We now return to Mars^ the planet which, for spe- cial reasons, was reserved to complete our list.* It has been called the miniature earth. " It is the only object in the heavens which is known to exhibit fea- tures resembling those of our earth." f Its density, the length of its days, its seasons and years, are not widely different from those of the earth. The inhab- itants of this planet (if it is inhabited) would have some advantages and some disadvantages as compared with the earth's inhabitants. The force of gravitation, being about one half what it is upon the earth, would enable a man weighing three or four hundred pounds to easily leap upwards to the height of five or six feet ; this, in some emergencies, would doubtless be of advan- tage. Another thing to be noticed is, that navigation through the air must be made, upon this planet, the nor- mal method of locomotion. One could swim through the atmosphere of Mars, if it has an atmosphere like that of the earth, as the inhabitants of the earth swim through the waters of the sea ; this may be, however, a questionable advantage. * Between Mars and Jupiter are twenty-three small bodies, called planetoids. They were formerly supposed to be parts of a planet thrown into fragments by some internal or exter- nal force; more likely is it that they have never been a sin- gle planet, but assumed their present dimensions when the fire-mist of the solar system crystallized, if this term may be allowed. Some of the planetoids can boast a diameter of considerable extent, though in no case over a few hundred miles, while others are not larger than a terrestrial moun- tain. We need not dwell upon their physical condition, as no one is disposed to assign to them inhabitants. t Proctor. 58 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. But the following serious discomfitures must like- wise be met with upon this planet. Its climate is far more rigorous than the earth's, its mass much less. It is doubtful if there is water upon it in quantities suffi- cient to produce a fog equal to that which, upon an autumn morning, hangs over a single American lake. The dark spots mapped out and named Phillips's Sea, Dawes's Ocean, and the like, are very far from being universally recognized as bodies of water.* Seidel and ZoUner have arrived at the conclusion, after the most careful observations, that the light re- flected from this planet comes, not, as in case of Jupi- ter and Saturn, from an envelope of clouds, but almost directly, as with the moon, from the true surface of the planet. Certain other scientists, who have given the subject not a little attention, claim that there is no satisfactory evidence tliat Mars has an atmos- phere of sufficient consistency to support any form of organized physical life. Probabilities appear to be assuming the character of certainty, that Mars is already a worn-out world ; its internal fires are nearly extinguished ; its atmosphere and water are nearly absorbed ; it has reached its perpetual autumn-brown hue, and is the home of utter desolation, like that which reigns upon the moon. With such facts and probabilities before us, is it not assumption to say that Mars is inhabitable .'* Nay more, with such facts * For a long time the dark spots upon the moon were thought to be seas. " Sea of Serenity," " Sea of Crises," and '* Sea. of Humors," were some of the names given. It is use- less to say the names have been dropped, and the former opin- ion discarded. THE FIELD. 59 before us, and with the arguments from analogy and the consistency of things turned completely against the supporters of a plurality of inhabitable worlds, and brought to bear with all their force in support of the view that the earth alone is the seat of physical and organized life, is it not assumption, if not pre- sumption, to say that Mars is inhabited ? Faced by the facts gathered from every region of the physical uni- verse, met by adverse analogies on the right hand and on the left, and confronted by the manifest import of revelation, we do not see how any one can have rea- sonable justification for saying that Mars is an inhab- ited planet until, at least, balloons can be descried rising in its atmosphere, or until ships can be seen sailing across its seas, or crowds be observed gathering at its seats of empire, or armies be beheld marshalling their hostile forces in settlement of international difficulties. Strong and decisive probabilities thus compel us to conclude that there is not a plurality of inhabited worlds in the physical universe. We turn, therefore, with all the more interest, to our Earth. We can say of it what we are able to say of no other spot in the I universe — it is both inhabitable and inhabited. Sci- entific investigation shows with a remarkable degree of uniformity, as we have seen, that the solar system is the chief and the most complete of all similar sys- tems, and also, that the earth is the only planet in the solar system known to have conditions essential to the existence of physical organisms ; namely, land, water, and atmosphere, properly proportioned — - " ground to stand upon, air to breathe, and water to nourish." The earth seems, therefore, if we mistake 6o THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. not, to be the one domesticated hearth-stone of the so- lar system. It holds a central position in the system to which it belongs ; it occupies the temperate zone as to the other planets ; upon the side next the sun are found the silence and desolation of worn-out worlds ; upon the side opposite are worlds for the most part so fresh from the forge of the Infinite as to be but the abode of constant volcanic throes and eruiDtions. The earth seems to be the one arena God ihas selected, upon which to have wrought out some jof the grandest problems that will ever be submitted 'to the universe. The question, Why was this little earth chosen for such a purpose, instead of some object of vaster pro- portions, is quickly followed by a question equally pertinent: Why should it not have been chosen.? It is as well adapted for the purpose of developing hu- manity and displaying the providence of God as any other world could be ; it is large enough for that purpose, and has a history of sufficient duration. It is an objection of no weight to say that the sphere is too limited for an infinite God to bestow upon it such special attentions. For the physical universe, taken as a whole, is not infinite ; * God must, thcre- * This is easily shown. For if the sidereal system were infinite, then the whole heavens would shine with the bril- liancy of starlight. This is very far from being the case. There are broad vacant spaces in the neighborhood of all nebulas. "The access to the nebulcc," says Sir John Iler- schcl, *' is on all sides through a desert." Each one of these deserts reports that tlie stars, in number and distance, are finite. THE FIELD. 6l fore bestow attention upon a part; it is for him to decide which that part shall be. The purposes of God cannot be safely estimated by rods and furlongs. The earth is large enough for him to display upon it infinite majesty, and the entire universe is to him a limitation. Equally without force is the objection that God would not wait until a few thousand years ago before creating physical life. For why should he not wait.? and besides this, since he is eternal, the objection lies with equal relevancy against any time that might have been selected ; it was for him, and no one else, to decide the moment of time at which to call animate or inanimate creatures into being. Creation was a tardy moment, in a scientific point of view, whenever commenced or completed. But more than this, anal- ogies and helps from every quarter come to our sup- port in settlement of these various questions. Is it regarded as a needless consumption of time to employ countless ages in fitting up this earth for human abodes ? Man is even yet a geological novelty in this world, whom no theory of development can account for. Myriads of years, also, and multitudes of differ- ent species of physical life appeared and disappeared long times before man came on earth to admire them. Was not such workmanship miscalculated and abor- tive .f* No one answers the question but with an em- phatic No. Everybody feels that the divine glory and wisdom are not thereby brought into question. Nay, such delay and condescension do not dethrone the Infinite One. The Deity can lie concealed in a rose- bud without suffering dishonor. In the unsightly pool 62 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. of muddy water he has ofttimes worked, precipitating therefrom the finest crystals and gems. What God has in store, and what he intends by present proce- dures, we cannot always tell ; his ways are past find- ing out. He is in no haste. He works a twelvemonth to form a flower, which, unseen by human eye, with- ers the day it blooms. Some plants bud but once in a hundred years. He is likewise lavish of his expen- ditures even to apparent prodigality. He never minds a few score more than are wanted for a purpose. A million seeds fall from a tree when it is the arrange- ment for but one to take root ; and the spawn of a single fish numbers two hundred millions. Of a truth, we are met here, there, and everywhere by assurances that it is in strict harmony with God's way to seem to waste his energies by hanging out this handsome " jew^- elry of the stars " innumerable, yet reserving but one of all the number for habitation. If it is ordered that the remaining part of the physical universe shall be but the leaves, the stems, the stocks of the one '' fertile flow- er," or if it is planned that the earth shall be the one physical " sanctuary of the universe," " the Holy Land of Creation," the scene of God's special manifestation, tlie one, among a million others, around which the most vital interests are suspended, and connected with which the grandest issues are awaited ; or if it is ar- ranged that earthly humanity shall be the unique and })cciiliar child of the physical universe, and that the central point of the earth's history and of universal history, shall be, and is, the coming and life of man's elder brother, who lived in Nazareth ; in fine, if the scientific and the physical centres of the universe shall THE FIELD. 63 be found to coincide with the theological centre as revealed in the Holy Scriptures, — even then no form of science need take the alarm, for such has been the way of the Infinite from the beginning. The sublime truths of revealed religion, in view of these considerations, seem to find new expression, and come home to us with a wealth of suggestion hereto- fore unknown. The fundamental principles of Chris- tianity hereby clear themselves from troublesome obscurities. We can the better understand why rev- elation places such high distinctions upon humanity, and why the entire gulfs of stars seem to pale almost into obscurity before one of the little ones whom our Saviour blessed : those children were not made for the stars, but the stars for them ; and when every glis- tening sun shall fall from its place in the sky, the feeblest child shall continue to shine forth, and will shine forever and ever in the kingdom of heaven. We see also why the Deity is so lavish of astro- nomical wonders in man's behalf; nothing short of stars enough to call out human thought and investiga- tion until time ends, would be enough ; it is as if God had said, " Anything I can do for man shall be done ; give him extent of worlds to last him his lifetime, and sufficient to tax his skill and invention to the utmost." What if God has made the stars in number such that they appear as '' silver sand" and " dianiond dust;" he who has given us his Son, shall he not with liim freely give us all things? It is clear, also, why the present period, throughout the material universe is, so far as the nature of the It is God's Sabbath time. 64 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. The changes known to be taking place are not new creations ; all things are pointing to decay and death. The workshop of the Almighty, his forge and pro- ductions, are cooling otT; no sounds of the bellows or anvil are heard. It is as if, six thousand years ago, when humanity was brought forth, the Creator had commanded the intelligent universe to pause, and do nought else save to w\atch human development, and take note of the princes and kings as they shall prove themselves worthy of sceptres and thrones. The consistency of things requires, also, that other changes respecting the arena of human development shall one day be wrought out. When man's earthly life terminates, the physical universe will have no fur- ther end to subserve ; it shall be dissolved ; * and then will have come the last epoch of the physical universe, and the story of its history and existence will have been told.f But in this dissolution are involved changes * 2 Pet. iii. 10-13. t The history of the physical universe can now be read with an accuracy scarcely less than that with which the geo- logical history of the earth is examined. In general, " stellar geology," as the science is called, divides the history of the natural universe into the following periods : — I. The Epoch of Light. Some part of the divine energy •was at this period converted into perfect physical lumination, which was homogeneous, but which contained, perhaps, the elements or basis of the material part of the physical universe. II. The Epoch of Mineral Mist. The mass of lumination passed into a degree of heterogcncousness ; the solid light became points of light. III. The Epoch of Condensation. The mineral mist, at this stage, became luminous liquid, with manifest tenden- THE FIELD. 6^ such as befit human destiny ; universal decay and cor- ruption are to put on incorruption ; the earthy is to become heavenly, and the natural is to become spirit- ual.* Science has no word to speak against these changes. It is now shown that planets and suns, if } suddenly arrested, would be converted into terrific con- 1 j flagrations. Everj^thing is now proved to be converti- ble into any or everything else. Heat and motion are interchangeable quantities. Diamonds and charcoal are equivalents. " Flowers are but earth vivified." f cies towards assuming spherical forms, together with spiral motions. IV. The Solar Epoch. The liquid mass became of such con- sistency as to shape itself into globes of solid fire, surrounded by a blazing photosphere ; the largest body in a given system becoming the centre of an organized system of worlds. V. The Planetary Epoch. This may be subdivided into three stages, (i.) The preparatory stage. The luminous fires were extinguished ; periodic revolution was established ; crusts formed ; waters fell as now upon Jupiter, and later as during the earth's period of rain; and geological history was brought on towards completion. (2.) The stage of culmina- tion. This stage presents all the phases of physical geogra- phy, as now displayed upon the earth. (3.) The stage of desolation. The internal fires are completely or nearly ex- tinguished ; the waters and atmosphere are absorbed, and the period of utter darkness and universal refrigeration is ushered in. VI. We add upon Bible authority the Epoch of Spiritualiza- tion. The phj'sical universe will be arrested in its motion by the hand that first gave it movement; instantly every orb will be again in flames ; all things will be changed in a mo- ment, and in the twinkling of an eye ; and the phj'sical uni- verse will be succeeded by the spiritual. * I Cor. XV. 46, 49, 53. t Lamartine. 5 66 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. " And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away ; and there was no more sea. And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her hus- band. And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are passed away." * * Rev. xxi. 1-4. THE DEFEAT His eye no more looked onward, but its gaze Rests where remorse a life misspent surveys. By the dark shape of what he zs, serene Stands the bright ghost of what he might have been; Here the vast loss, and there the worthless gain, — Vice scorned, yet wooed, and Virtue loved in vain. BULWER. What more, O Avarice, canst thou do to us. Since thou my blood so to thyself hast drawn, It careth not for its own proper flesh.? Dante. " Little sins are pioneers of hell." The sea of this world hides so many rocks that a vessel whose rudder is not in the hand of Wisdom must of necessity soon suffer shipwreck. Hengstenberg. The great art of life is to play for much and stake but little. Johnson. Sin is a sweet poison ; it tickleth while it stabbeth. The first thing that sin doth is to bewitch, then to put out the eyes, then to take away the sense and feeling; to do to a man as Lot's daughters did to him, make him drunk, and then he doth he knoweth not what. As Joab came with a kind salute to Abner and thrust him under the fifth rib, while Abner thought of nothing but kindness, so sin comes smiling, comes pleasing and humoring thee, while it giveth thee a deadly stab. Anthony Burgess. No man can be stark nought at once. Let us stop the progress of sin in our soul at the first stage, for the farther it goes the faster it will increase. Fuller. As sins proceed they ever multiply, and like figures in arithmetic, the last stands for more than all that went before it. Sir Thomas Browne. 69 My lord cardinal [Cardinal Richelieu], there is one fact which jou seem to have entirely forgotten. God is a sure paymaster. He may not pay at the end of the week, month, or year; but I charge you remember that he pays in the end. Anne of Austria. Nothing is more common than for great thieves to ride in triumph where small ones are punished. But let wickedness escape as it may, at the last it never fails of doing itself jus- tice ; for every guilty person is his own hangman. Seneca. In general, treachery, though at first sufficiently cautious, yet in the end betrays itself. LiVY. Extreme avarice almost always makes mistakes. There is no passion that oftener misses its aim, nor on which the present has so much influence in prejudice of the future. Rochefoucauld. Use sin as it will use you ; spare it not, for it will not spare you ; it is your murderer and the murderer of the whole world. Use it, therefore, as a murderer should be used ; kill it before it kills you; and though it bring you to the grave, as it did your head, it shall not be able to keep you there. You love not death; love not the cause of death. Baxter. Suicide is a crime most revolting to the feelings; nor does any reason suggest itself to our understanding by which it can be justified. Napoleon. 70 THE DEFEAT EVERY man's life ends in defeat or triumph. Those who suffer final defeat may have gained, meantime, some single and signal victories ; while those who achieve a final triumph may have met, early in the contest, many a rough defeat. Illustrative of each of these classes we take two characters, familiar to all readers of the Sacred Scrip- tures, both of which are as apt examples for our pur- pose as any others therein recorded. Judas, the apostate, is a name, as It seems to us, synonymous with the word defeat. Little is known of his early life ; so little, indeed, that nothing can be said. This is true of almost every biblical character. We find the various contestants in Scripture history struggling in their vigorous manhood ; in that struggle, and not in their birth, or their youth, is involved their final defeat or triumph, though birth and youth may have had much to do therewith.* * Legend tells us that Judas was a foredoomed wretch, whose mother received a warning of what he would be, in a dream, before his birth. To avoid this, his parents enclosed him in a chest, and plunged him into the sea. The sea cast 71 72 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. After the mere mention of the name of Judas, and his call to the apostleship, he comes first into notice at a festival in Bethany, at the house of Simon the leper. The circumstances attending this gathering are of interest. It was the evening of the day on which our Lord had arrived in that village from a season of re- tirement in the country near Ephraim. The inhab- itants of Bethany were filled with delight, " and," says the sacred record, " there they made him a sup- per." It was similar to the complimentary entertain- ments of modern times given in honor of distinguished guests. This efibrt on the part of these humble people was an expression of hearts beating with love and ado- ration for a friend who was more than brother. Of those present some are specially worthy of men- tion. He, for instance, who was master of the house, Simon, bearing the surname " Leper." He had once been afflicted with that terrible disease, which.no phy- sician could heal. He had been obliged to utter the mournful cry, " Unclean, unclean ! " as a warning to him upon the shore in the domain of a king and queen, who adopted him as their own son. Malignant from his birth, he killed a foster-brother, and fled to Judea, and became a page to Pontius Pilate. He committed many monstrous crimes, was at length filled with contrition and terror, and fled to Christ for peace. Thenceforward the account agrees with the New Testament narrative. After the betrayal, despair came and offered him choice of weapons of destruction, and he chose the rope and hung himself. At his death his evil genius seized the broken rope, and dragged him down to the seething abyss below. At his approach hell sent forth a shout of joy. Lucifer smoothed his pain-racked brow, and from his burn- ing throne welcomed a greater sinner than himself. THE DEFEAT. 73 those who approached him. But upon the night in question he was a well man. The ugly spots had gone, and his skin was like that of a child. A monu- ment was he and a glad witness for Ilim who had pronounced the almighty words, " Be clean'' There was another person in the guest chamber especially deserving mention. He was a young man who, a few months before this, had been enshrouded and borne to the tomb, surrounded by his weeping sis- ters and a sympathizing community. No citizen of Bethany doubted his death and burial. But in obedi- ence to a single command from his divine Friend, he came forth from the tomb ; the aspect of death had disappeared ; the breeze from the hill-side blew off the smell of the grave ; and he returned with his friends, and helped remove from his home the sym- bols and emblems of his own funeral. And with all these things Judas was perfectly familiar. The presence of Mary, the sister of Lazarus, at this entertainment, cannot be overlooked, for she played no unimportant part.* Entering the chamber during the festivities, she quietly approached the one in whose honor the feast was spread. Gratitude, vener- ation, and I love were in her heart. At a moment when least observed, the devoted woman broke the seal of a well-closed alabaster box of pure oil of spikenard, very costly ; with lavish hand she poured the whole of it upon the head of Jesus, and upon his feet, and then knelt and wiped his feet with her loosened tresses. The house was filled with fragrance. This ♦ Matt. xxvi. 6-9. Mark xiv. 3-5. John xii. 2-4. 74 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. tribute was more suggestive than Mary knew. It appears upon the surface to be an act of gratitude done by a simple-hearted, loving woman, to one who had pardoned her sins, told her of heaven, and raised to life her dead brother ; but it was more than that. It was also a prophetic tribute ; it was a memorial, which, wherever the gospel is preached, shall be told of her. In all the remotest regions of the world, and in the latest ages of time, this shall be told, that Jesus died " in the fragrant odors of this dear wo- man's love." But one tliere was in that company who did not enjoy the fragrance of spikenard. There are such, — those, we mean, who enjoy nothing unless inaugurat- ed by themselves, or unless it contributes directly to their desires or purposes. With such very little in this world is exactly right ; no morning is without its cloud, and the most finished picture is a daub, and the whitest marble has its flaws. How little such men suspect that the flaw is in their own souls ! How much like the waves of the troubled sea do hearts like that of Judas cast up mire and dirt ! This dissatisfied and restless man quickly, but qui- etly and artfully, circulated among his fellow-disciples the plausible inquiry, '' Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?* By his remarkable power of eloquence, his profound respect for religion, his reverence for the teachings of the Master, his sober conversation, together with his plausible address, his unbounded sympathy and benev^ * John xii. 5. THE DEFEAT. 75 olent appeal, Judas inaugurated disaffection, and com- pletely misled the body of the disciples. For the moment they were fastened in the same snare that held him, and we hear them also inquiring, " To wdiat purpose is this waste? for this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor." " And they murmured against her." * How success- fully had this festal scene been converted into an hour of temptation, and the pure offering of a loving heart into an offence I But Jesus was moved by this act of the woman. Of himself and the dishonor done him personally by these murmurings he said nothing ; it grieved him to the quick, nevertheless, that the woman had been so badly and unkindly used ; like a faithful advocate he appeared at once in her defence. " Trouble her not," he said, "for this" (following the original) "is a beautiful work which she hath wrought." f Such were the gentle words which silenced the * Matt xxvi. 8, 9. Mark xiv. 6, 9. t Matt. xxvi. 10-13. Mark xiv. 6-9. John xii. 7, 8. Alford makes an excellent observation upon this prophecy of Christ. *'We cannot but be struck with the majesty of this prophetic announcement, introduced with the pecuhar and weighty aiiii,v Xiyia vj^dv, conveying, hy implication, the whole mystery of the tvay/iXiov which should go forth from his death, as its source, looking forward to the end of time, when it shall have been preached in the whole world, and specifying the fact that this deed should be recorded wherever it is preached." He sees in this announcement a distinct prophet- ic recognition of the existence of vjritten gospel records, by means of which alone the deed related could be universally proclaimed. 76 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. murmurings of the disciples, or changed them into praise and comphmcnt, and fully restored confidence to the distressed woman's heart. But he who had oc- casioned this disturbance was exasperated ; he felt, without the least occasion for it, that a personal wrong had been done him ; in consequence, he began at once to dally with thoughts of treachery, and took the pre- liminary steps in the ways of treason. He was likewise much provoked because he had not so well succeeded as he had planned. Something, of course, is wrong upon the face of his transactions. His conduct and words were the expression of benev- olence, but his heart appears to be the home of self- ishness. The inspired writer leaves us not long in doubt, but explores and explodes, in a word, this pre- tended piety and professed regard for the poor, and gives us a clew by which henceforth we may follow this sower of dissensions : " This he said, not that he cared for the jooor, but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein." * This man had been preaching up benevolence, it thus appears, with the hidden intention of making some- thing handsome out of it for himself. Of such perfidy was his heart fully capable. This apostle was simply a hypocrite. lie had shown talent, he had exerted a controlling influence, but it is ordained from the be- ginning that a hypocrite cannot long triumph in his hypocrisy. As Judas withdrew we discover tliat de- feat already has been written upon his leading pur- pose. Iniquity gains much, but rarely the thing wanted, and never the thing best. * John xii. 6. THE DEFEAT. 77 Now fairly introduced to Judas, we may follow him a step farther. Jerusalem is west of Bethany a dis- tance of a trifle less than two miles, the Mount of Olives standing between. Thither Judas, as he left the feast chamber, directed his steps. As he reached the summit of the Mount of Olives, the scene under the clear sky and full moon of that evening must have been enchanting. At the foot of the mount, looking westward, was the valley of Jehoshaphat ; beyond was Jerusalem ; to the south of the city lay the valley of Hinnom, which, extending east and west, united with the valley of Jehoshaphat at a point south-east of the city. The bluffs on either side these valleys, at their junction, are from twenty-five to forty feet in height. In the time of our Saviour they were in excellent state of cultivation, and richly clothed with vineyards and olive trees. On the left, passing up Hinnom, was the Hill of lEvil Counsel, on which was the Potters' Field, afterwards purchased with the thirty bloody pieces of silver. Opposite this, tov^ards the city, in full view from the position we now occupy on the summit of the Mount of Olives, was a spot of land which was replete with interest to Judas ; he owned it. He paused to look upon it a moment before descending to the city. He might have reasoned thus : That is mine. What if Christ and his otlier followers go to wreck and ruin ; I am safe. Let them waste the oint- ment if they like ; that spot of land will support me. Indeed, that was a choice lot, one of the best in the environs of the entire city. It commanded a view of both these important valleys referred to ; it looked upon Mount Zion, the Mount of Olives, and two other 78- THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. important elevations, since known as the Mounts of Offence and Evil Counsel ; it was at that time plenti- fully irrigated by water drawn from the Pool of Sil- oam. Yes, Judas was a sharp, shrewd man, and a sharp, shrewd buyer. No one could overreach him, and no good bargain in Jerusalem would escape his notice. He was a provident man, as the world would say ; in case of a failure on the part of Christ and his mission, Judas had taken the precaution to make these suitable provisions for himself and family.* And notice, that these ample provisions had been made even though the conditions of discipleship re- quired that all things should be given up, — real estate with personal property, — and the whole turned over into the common treasury. It had proved peril- ous in one instance, at least, not to do this much.! But Judas had done much worse; he was not only a deceiver and a h}pocrile, but a defaulter ; he was a thief; nay, the worst kind of a thief. The gifts of friends, in some instances the gifts of poor people, given to Jesus by way of expressing their love, in- trusted to Judas, the treasurer of the company, — even these he had purloined from the bag, and with this doubly consecrated money had purchased this sjDlendid suburban estate, to which he could retire when the mission of Jesus was accomplished. J But all this * The psal'.n supposed to be written descriptive of tiic be- trayer mentions the fact of both wife and children. — Psahn cix. Acts i. 20. t Acts V. I -1 2. X " Now this man purchased a field with the reward of ini- quity." Acts i. 18. This was purchased, not with the money THE DEFEAT. 79 could not have been so successfully accomplished unless Judas had been far above the average of men. No one could have managed his aftliirs as these were managed, have covered up his steps with such skil- ful tact, and have escaped the suspicion of every one of his companions, even to the last, of being any- thing other than a man of superior devotion and un- questioned integrity, unless by the aid of positive intellectual ability. It always takes about twice the amount of brains to gain an end dishonestly that it does to gain it honestly. Judas was also perfectly self-confident, yet with a show of modesty. He was smart ; he knew it. He had his abilities under perfect self-control, and always, somehow, skilfully managed them in his own personal interest. By universal consent the money was intrusted en- tirely to his care and disposal ; his accounts were, perhaps, never questioned or audited. His hand was always upon the sails when they needed reefing. His ability would have been acknowledged and his influ- ence instantly felt in any position. Public responsi- bility, from which others shrank, he would have easily borne. His occasional pilfering and thieving tended to make him more and more subtle, shrewd, artful, and cautious. He never allowed himself to be pent up or which was thrown at the feet of the priests in the temple; that went to buy the Potters' Field, on the Mount of Evil Counsel (Matt, xxvii. 6-10) ; but this field opposite was the purchase of money stolen. We can now see why, at the sup- per in Bethany, this man had pleaded so zealously for the poor. , 8o THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. hemmed into close quarters, such that his genius could find no way out. No one plays the Judas adroitly and to the purpose unless he is a man of much mind. Common men become petty villains ; real talent will not stoop to steal old junk or clothes-pins ; it strikes rather for the most that can be reached. Does it not sometimes appear that those men and women of any community who are serving the tables of worldly pleasure with the greatest devotion are more talented than those who are in the service of the church? This is not always the case; but frequently does it not so ajopcar? The smartest men everywhere are the meanest. Had the talents of some of the lewd- est women been consecrated to God, they would, by universal consent, have occuj^ied the first ranks in society. But it is well to note that bad men, who are very smart, are very fiir from smart in one thing — this, that they do not see that it is exceedingly foolish and short-sighted to do wrong instead of right. The cheat smiles that he has cheated another, not thinking how fearfully he has cheated himself. How cheaply most such sell themselves! "Smart, but foolish," is an epitaph suitable for more gravestones than one. Notice another thing. Judas was never rash, like the other disciples, but always cool and self-collected. He wore, perhaps, no better clotlics than did his compan- ions, but was, we suspect, always in better trim. He was one of those slick, smooth men, who ever have for you a smile ; but it is well not to take too much stock in some men's smiles ; a man's face is part of his stock in trade. The aflability of Judas allbrdcd a THE DEFEAT. 8l cloak of completest protection. The wolf could be detected by no ordinary observation. He was so agreeable and apparently disinterested, that half the world, for want of better discernment, would have thought him the politest of gentlemen. He knew in all company how best to deport himself. His want of gallantry was completely veiled under a hypocritical display of manners. Politeness is genuine kindness of heart; of this Judas was utterly destitute. He was as ungentlemanly as he was base. He could cast, with- out hesitation, a burden of disquietude and confusion upon the spirit of that devoted woman who honored Christ with her costly sacrifice. Was that politeness ? What cared he for Mary's heart? It was only a few ounces of flesh. If he had broken it or crushed it to atoms, while clutching for the three hundred pence, it would not have troubled him. Such affable men, wherever met, are not gentlemen. When the poor woman and the shop-worn girl cry out that their hearts and lives are crushed between the pavement and the feet of that man who in many a circle passes for a gentleman, nothing more need be said ; God's judgment cannot give a more inevitable lie to all such false pretensions. One who abuses another is not a gentleman ; one who lives on other folks' money, or lives extravagantly, if he does not pay his debts, is not a gentleman ; nay, one who in any way appropriates to his own use what belongs to another is not a gen- tleman ; he is a reckless-man. We parted company with Judas upon the Mount of Olives, where he was congratulating himself upon his successful transactions. Under his eye was that mag- 6 82 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. nificent plot of ground ; let us look well to that plot of grozind^ for wc shall have sad and special occasion to revisit it anon. It must have been quite late, perhaps near midnight, when Judas reached the outer gate, upon the eastern side of the city. Making known his mission to the guard, he was at once admitted, and accompanied to the temple. At tliat hour silence reigned in all its outer courts. The cloisters and halls which, during the day, were thronged with w^orshippers, were now deserted and empty. The night wind swept through those cloistered aisles, meeting nought unusual save this one restless and sleepless adventurer. The watch- stars from above seemed to look down upon this soli- tary visitant with strange inquiries. The moon was in her full, and the sky was cloudless. How sublimely grand must the temple have then appeared to this dis- ciple of Jesus ! The great blocks of fine white marble were joined together with such perfect skill that no seam could be traced. The building had the appear- ance of having been cut into its present shape out of one solid block of marble. In the distance, on ap- proaching the city, it resembled a mountain of snow. How imposing the sight to this one, who for three years had dwelt with Ilim who was more homeless than the bird of the air and the fox of the hill-side. Over the porch of the court of the priests, encircling the pillars, was a vine made of solid gold, hung with golden grapes, whose clusters were of the size of a man. Heavy plates of gold covered this entrance to the temple, reflecting the moonlight, and making every object visible. Look now upon this defaulter THE DEFEAT. 83 and intentional betrayer, as he passed through those empty but majestic temple courts ; he entered at the gate called, Beautiful ; he had often entered it be- fore ; he 231'oceeded onv/ard through the Court of the Gentiles, and up the nineteen steps to the Court of the Israelites, where he asked audience of the priests then on duty. They proflered him immediate hearing, and he was requested to make known his mission. He broke the silence with the question, '' What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you ? " Ah, that was a fatal question. It was a ro\igh, heartless, slave-vender's question. This man huck- sters for a price upon the head of the priceless. He barters for blood. " And when they heard it," says Mark, " they were glad." Glad ! What a beautiful word ! How it wells up from childhood ! Soiled henceforth is that word. What had troubled these men was this : they feared the common people. They could not arrest Christ except in their absence. They therefore needed for a guide one who was well acquainted with all the private resorts of our Saviour ; here was their man. How providential.? An uproar among the people can now be prevented. They deliberated, gave explana- tions, and offered thirty pieces of silver. Doubtless for such signal service Judas had expect- ed a much larger sum. But they made it clear to him why they could not consistently give more than the price stipulated. They did not wish to recognize in Christ anything but the meanest specimen of hu- manity. The current price of a common slave was thirty pieces of silver.* Judas saw the force of their * About tifteen duilare* 84 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. reasoning. He was helped likewise to see the force of other things. He felt, doubtless, that all hope of promotion, shoidd he remain with the company of the disciples, was at an end. His Master would neither employ the enthusiasm of the people nor his miracu- lous powers to secure temporal position. Wh}^ follow him longer.? * Judas also remembered the slight he had received ; and his peculiar estimate of such a slight would not allow him to brook it. He felt, for the moment, as he ascended those temple steps, that he was not the man to receive a personal rebuff from that Nazarene, whom the devil made him now look upon, not as the Messiah, Sut as only a Rabbi. In addition to this, the scene at Bethany presented to his mind only a wasteful company, in which all things were going to dissolution. Those former dreams * The heart of Judas had probably been not exactly right from the beginning, and his talents were consequently use- less for any great purpose. It is only sanctified talent that is better than no talent. The less a wicked man knows, the better. The appearance of Christ, the glory of his marvel- lous deeds, and the expectation of universal dominion subject to his control, had attracted this man from Kerioth. He made an accurate estimate of those things. " He swore fealty to the ba?i7ier, but not to the Inimiliatioyi^ of Christ." Judas may not at first have been consciously a hypocrite. He very likely for a time played the part of a disciple with a com- mendable degree of outward and inward truthfulness. He probably did not at first pretend much more than did others. He, with others, followed Jesus politically, and with no deeper or higher motives than a longing for the realization of those earthly and enchanting ideas which his lively imagination had depicted to him. THE DEFEAT. 8^ of his had been dashed to the ground. Now, here, in the temple, was the place and the opportunity for restoring what seemed lost. With these rulers, with whom he was holding this midnight interview, was authority, which his Master seemed not to have ; wealth and power were there, but belonged not to his Master. He thought, too, that his Master was ter- ribly extravagant. To a man constituted like Judas he did ofttimes seem thus. It was not at the Bethany supper alone that the avarice of Judas had discovered what seemed to be, on the part of our Saviour, a needless and careless expenditure of property, but elsewhere he had seen the same thing without under- standing its purport. He saw property wasted as if it had cost nothing, and since it was being squandered so carelessly, why could he not take his share? Besides all this, he had estimated his own talents. He had reckoned that as he was of more service to the Master than the rest of his followers, he was con- sequently entitled to extra compensation. No burden was so great and important as his. Why should he not receive somewhat extra therefor? and by making these appropriations quietly, instead of publicly, he could pre- vent, on the part of his fellow-disciples, all complaint. There was policy in his method, and also justice, as he thought. Three years had been wasted. Three years were of value to him. If, then, his hopes of pro- motion were gone, might he not still remain and pocket what he could ? By taking only half the re- ceipts he would save to the Master more than any one else. Might he not turn his ov/n receipts to as good use as anyone else? Thus, in a hundred and one 86 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. ways, Judas had been quieting his conscience and excusing himself, until he could frame an excuse for the most daring impiety. So can any man. But the old adage tells us a plain truth. He that excuses himself in any act is at the same moment his own acctiser. Self-excusinsf and the grand scenes surrounding: Judas had thus accomplished their work. He was mentally intoxicated ; rather exhilarated. How insig- nificant the festal chamber in Bethany, in comparison with what then blinded his eye and tempted his heart ! There, in that temple and with those priests, were wealth and power. Those temple officials guarded immense treasures ; thousands were nothing to them, while small amounts of money for present needs, the gifts of charity, which could be carried from place to place in a bag, constituted his Master's possessions. If not now, the time may come, he reasoned, when these men and their wealth will be of service ; I shall be their guest in all the future ; * my standing as a citizen depends upon breaking from Jesus, and form- ing a confederacy with these rulers. His silence in view of their proposition became oppressive. Each minute's delay seemed an hour. Why delay? Yes, Judas, why delay? Take the thirty pieces; they will be all you can receive, and all the priests will give ; for these are the words of the old prophet : " vSo they weighed for my ]:)ricc thirty pieces of sil\^er."t * In this Judas must take his chances; they arc, under like circumstances, more often adverse than otherwise. Ilail lel- lows are not always well met. t Zech. xi. 12. In view of what has now been said, the THE DEFEAT. 87 With these terms the bargain was closed, and Jesus was sold for exactl}^ one third the price of the oint- ment, by the very man who grumbled against the woman who had poured it as an anointing upon the devoted head of our Saviour ; whilst if Judas could have sold that offering of devotion, he would have stolen its price, have added it to his other thefts, and then have absconded with the whole. The next scene to which the inspired writers intro- duce us is in a guest-chamber in the city of Jerusalem. The time was the evening of the first day of unleav- ened bread ; consequentl}^ four days have intervened since we left the festal scene in Bethany. How that time was passed by Judas we are not informed. Upon this evening the Bethany friends of our Lord did not appear. Martha was not needed to serve the Master, nor Mary to anoint him, nor Lazarus and Simon to witness for hira ; these services had been already well performed. None but his disciples were present. We first look in upon a supper which preceded the institu- tion of the Lord's Supper ; no chair was at that time vacant ; no face was especially downcast ; from pres- ent appearances one would suspect no lurking wrong. But a man was there who had already bargained to sell his Master for the price of a slave. point raised bj Story, that the bribe was too small to move Judas, seems answered. It is stated thus : — *' Does not the bribe seem all too small and mean.? He held the common purse, and, were he thief, Had daily power to steal, and lay aside A secret and accumulating fund ; So doing, he had nothing risked of fame, While here he braved the scorn of all the world." 88 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. How Judas could have braved it sufficiently to come, after that transaction in the temple, sit down with his Master, and eat the paschal supper, as if noth- ing were in his heart but good intentions and wishes, is almost beyond conjecture. But he was a man of consummate coolness.* Pictures representing the "Lord's Supper" present twelve disciples with their Master. One sitting near our Lord is represented of dark complexion, having a morose expression, mingled with satanic hate and re- venge. These representations involve two important mistakes. First, there were but eleven disciples at the Lord's Supper. This feast of which we are now speaking was a preliminary entertainment, — the paschal supper, at which Judas was present ; he retired before the institution of the Lord's Supper. Second, he wore, on that occasion, anything but a malignant face. We doubt if he was of dark comj^lexion. No one smiled more frequently, conversed more freely, appeared easier in his movements, or occasioned less suspicion among his fellows. As treasurer of the company, and on account of his commanding; influence, Judas took a position next the Master, a privilege that none disputed. With a trifling * We say, without entering into any lengthy discussion, that the presence of Judas at this supper table, after the transaction with the priests in the temple, betokens as heart- less pcrfidv, as diabolical hypocrisy and treachery as can be found on record ; and those who have attempted to palliate the guilt of Judas — De Qiiincoy and Archbishop Whatelj, for illustration — have in nothing else been more unsuccess- ful. See also Appendix G. THE DEFEAT. difference growing out of the question among certain others, in which Judas was in no wise engaged, as to *' who shall be the greatest," which was easily si- lenced by our Saviour, the scene, at first, was one. of appareitt joy and happiness. But a cloud rested, during this interview, upon the mind of our Saviour. He knew the whole ; the past and the future were fully disclosed to his eye, as were, likewise, all the hearts in that company ; and he knew, among other things, that there was one of that number who was, and had been, at heart a devil. Pertinent, perhaps, is the question, at this point, Who made Judas to differ from his fellow-disciples ? There can be but one reply. God makes men intellectually and circumstantially different, but the use each one makes of his talents and surroundings involves in every case personal responsibility. God gave Judas superior abilities, but, contrary to his deeper convic- tions of right and duty, he prostituted them. Clearly, then, he was responsible. His natural ability was such as to raise him very high or sink him very low. The antithesis of character is left, ultimately, to per- sonal choice. There had been offered to each disciple the same gospel ; each had felt the Spirit's influence ; each had possessed the same gracious opportunities ; the world, the flesh, and the devil had addressed the heart of each ; each, in fine, had been subjected to peculiar temptations and peculiar allurements. But the other disciples had chosen Christ, and commenced their ascent to heaven ; this reprobate had chosen the world, and had descended, and was continuing to de- scend to the kingdom of Satan. 90 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. What is true in these instances is true of all others. All men are responsible parties in every transaction. No one can shift his responsibility upon any one else. There is no man, however low he has fallen, but knows, whatever his case may be to-day, that the time has been when he could have, and when he felt he ought to have, chosen the path of holiness and heaven. Our antecedents certainly have much to do with us; but despite antecedents, we can resist the devil if we will ; in that are involved the sublimest resistance and grandest conquest. Some of those whose antecedents have been as black as one can well picture, have been governed by purposes based upon the highest integrity, and have, nevertheless, become the most honored instru- ments in God's service. Moral differences are always optional ; else we are not men, but machines. Tre- mendous, therefore, are the powers intrusted to every man ; and great is the fall of that man's house who builds upon sand. The day had been when, in the innocence of child- hood, Judas had sported on the hills of Kerioth, which were almost within sight from the Mount of Olives. He was the hope and confidence of parents and friends. A promising youth he must have been. But he had one point of danger and exposure. Satan could overthrow him, if at all, by bringing everything to bear upon that point; and at that point, witiiout a double guard, Satan could overthrow iiim. But Judas, in this respect, was no worse than others. Every man has his weak point of character; some one where and respecting one thing ; others another where and respecting something else. It has come to THE DEFEAT. 9I be an adage that every man has his price, at which Satan can buy him. And Satan knows enough not to make great bids for small returns. He can better afford to plot twenty years for the overthrow of a great sou] than contrive a single day to entangle one who is not much. Luther, Paul, our Saviour, what assaults they received ! When one is severely tempted by the devil, a compliment is paid. The devil strikes 07tly^ we were about to say, for the best ; he seems to let the half-wits go ; but Christ strikes for all, rank and file ; * to him all souls are equally dear and alike precious. The basis of an avaricious character was born in Judas ; this was his weakness, — his easily beset- ting sin, — and Satan knew it. Properly controlled, however, and sanctified, this disposition would have proved a benefit to the world and the church. It w^ould have led him to gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost, that the whole might be consecrated to God. As it was, however, this element of charac- ter became the source of danger ; he kept yielding imtil avarice became a ruling passion. It was love of gain that kept him from going back, when " many went back, and walked no more with him" (Christ). * But the results are widely opposite in the two opposite cases. Those who accept Christ, he inspires with his own life, and they at length are able to confound the unsanctified wisdom of the world. Those of many accomplishments, on the other hand, whom the devil deceives, he at length plunges into disgrace and ruin. It is thus that the first often become last, and the last first. In the end God will have the best troops in the field, and will keep in advance of Satan. 92 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. It was not carrying the bag while he followed the Master, but, at length, following the Master that he might carry the bag and pilfer from it, that made Judas a thief and a hireling. He might have carried the bag with the same devotion that others carried the cross, if he had been so disposed. It was, doubtless, however, a very hazardous thing for Judas to hear the clink of coin, when he saw that all hope of promotion from the position of bag-carrier among that company of Galileans to the emoluments of lord high treasurer of the new kingdom of Israel, was at an end. As he saw Christ, day by day, yielding up every opportunity of establishing a kingdom, and of gratifying the golden hopes of his followers, and as he began to suspect that Christ's kingdom was not to be temporal, but spiritual (which fiict seemed to have been apprehended by Judas sooner tiian by any other disciple), the money was no longer safe in his hands. Some men are so constituted that they had better never expose them- selves to the dangers and temptations of handling other men's money. Such was Judas, and many other such there are who had better seek other em- ployment. Much depends upon adaptation between employment and constitutional characteristics. If a man puts himself in the teeth of danger, the chances are, that in the same hour of his venture, occasions, impulses, and circumstances will conspire against him ; and unless there is a double guard at the point of weakness, also the defence of previous resistance, the victim is surely ruined ; then shall be seen, not what a day, but what an hour and even a moment, can bring forth. THE DEFEAT. 93 Pertinent, also, is another question : Why was Judas selected for this position, and why was he allowed to hold it, if Christ knew all ? * Truly it seems a terri- ble dispensation by which God did, in this case, and does, also, in other cases, allow wicked men to minister in holy things. How strange that a wolf dressed in black is allowed sometimes to occupy a pulpit! But is any injustice done such characters if God does not at once strike them with a thunderbolt, rather than leave them to a gradual exposure and a no less terri- ble doom? In the instance before us, we suspect that Judas was hardly selected for the place he filled, but that he got himself the place. He was an office- seeker, the last, of all men, fit for office, but the men who somehow often obtain the office they desire. God allowed such disposal of events eighteen hundred years ago, and allows it still. But why allow Judas to hold the position ? We do not know. This case of Judas is only one of a thousand. The moment any defaulter commences his course, why does not Providence arrest his steps or depose him from * Story states this point strongly: — *' Besides, why chose they for their almoner A man so lost to shame, so foul with greed? Or why, from some five-score of trusted men, Choose him as one apostle among twelve? Or why, if he were known to be so vile (And who can hide his baseness at all times?), Keep him in close communion to the last? Nought in his previous life, or acts, or words, Shows this consummate villain, that, full-grown, Leaps all at once to such a height of crime." 94 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. his position of trust? It does not. Our Saviour did in the case of Judas as God now often does in the case of sinful men ; he employed all possible means to win back the rebel heart, though knowing full well that none of them would avail. Events must be so ordered that every mouth shall be stopped in the day of judgment, and all things will then disclose that God has done the best he could under the circumstances, in every individual case, to bless and redeem. It would, of course, have been just for Christ ab- ruptly to have exposed this traitor, and have disgraced him in the presence of his fellow-disci^oles. But he did not. He treated him kindly. What could have succeeded if not kindness.'' He knelt, at their last meeting but one, and bathed that disciple's feet. How could Judas have escaped, at that moment, a twinge of remorse ? Peter, under his personal sense of un- worthiness, exclaimed, as our Lord approached him with towel and bowl, " Thou shalt never wash my feet." But this complacent hypocrite, defaulter, and traitor allowed the act without objection or hesitation. He was also admitted into the nearest and most in- timate relationship. He was intrusted with the most important office. What, that could be, was not done for Judas? He listened daily to the instructions, coun- sels, and prayers of his Master. Some of the teach- ings of our Lord were presented in such a way as seemingly to have been given especially to overcome the constitutional failing of Judas. The contrast be- tween the service of God and Mainmon, the discourse on the dcceitfulness of riches, the proverb of the camel and the eye of the needle, the parable of the rich but THE DEFEAT. 95 foolish man, and the requirements made upon the young ruler, must have fallen upon this man's heart as though they had been chiefly or solely meant for him. If he would have yielded to the truth under any circumstances, it would have been while thus associated with Christ ; but men are sometimes slain upon the steps of the temple. It was not necessary for Judas, because he was treasurer, to betray his Mas- ter. He did that voluntarily. Those talents of his, had they been consecrated, — there was no reason why they should not have been, — would have immortalized him, and have given him one of the highest positions among his fellows. Yes, everything was done that could be done, in consistency with his freedom, to save this wayward disciple, but he would not ; therefore — But aside from no injustice done, there was a di- vine purpose in allowing Judas to pursue his course and hold his position. He thereby became the spy whom Christ had permitted to remain among the dis- ciples, even after repeated thefts. He was the devil's tool, but the world's witness to the integrity and hon- esty of this company which was led by Jesus. If there had been fraud anywhere, it would have been in the department of the treasury. If Christ had been an impostor, he would have winked at certain irreg- ularities, and have connived with his treasurer. But this sharp-eyed, shrewd man, the sharpest and the shrewdest of the twelve, at length confessed to the rulers that Jesus was faultless and pure. Important, indeed, was it, if Judas was bent upon a dishonest course, that he had been permitted to carry the bag. A Pharaoh was he in accomplishing divine purposes. 96 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. The wrath of man will always work out the praise of God. God rules, the devil tries to. "And as they did eat," continues the narrative, "Jesus said, Behold, the hand of him that betrayeth me is with me on the table." * Eleven of that com- pany were terror-struck ; one only remained cool and self-composed. They looked upon one another in amazement. The question flew from mouth to mouth, ** Lord, is it I .? " "Is it I.?" "Isitl.?"t No one there bore the face of a traitor. Each, for the moment, thought not of his neighbor, but of himself j Yet that man, who knew more than the others, who had already agreed to the betrayal, remained silent, and doubtless his fellow-disciples mistook his silence for conscious integrity. Our Lord, perceiving that no effect was produced upon the insensibility of Judas by this indefinite inti- mation, and being still desirous of reaching his heart, narrowed the group, and said, " He that dippeth his hand with me in the dish, the same shall betray me." § And still we read that " the disciples looked one on another, doubting of whom he spake." But Judas had meanwhile unwittingly betrayed himself, by an act which seems to have been unobserved by any of his fellow-disciples. The Master, it is well known, was the proper dis- penser of the food at the table. But, in an unguarded moment, Judas had dipped in the dish where no one * Matt. xxvi. 21, 22. Mark xiv. 18, 19. Luke xxii. 21, 23. John xiii. 21, 22. t Matt. xxvi. 22. Mark xiv. 19. X John xiii. 22. § Matt. xxvi. 23. THE DEFEAT. 97 else would have, and where no other one save the Master ought to have dipped the ladle. It was an accident. Judas did not intend to be discourteous. He meant to have received the portion allotted to him, as did the others ; but unconsciously the speaking hand betrayed the traitor,* and forthwith our Saviour added, " The Son of man indeed goeth, as it is written of him, but woe to the man by whom the Son of man is betrayed ! Good were it for that vian if he had never been born."t What an appalling denunciation ! Kind invitations and offices having failed, our Lord sought to awaken the slumbering conscience of this follower by tearing from before his eyes the mask with which Satan had so successfully blinded him. Why stands not Judas pale as a corpse .f* How heedlessly men sometimes thrust aside the de- * "It is a psychological fact," says Lange, "that an evil conscience will betray itself in the hand, at the very motnent when one succeeds in showing a hypocritical face, full of innocence and calmness." Mr. Webster was once examining a witness, whose story, under direct and cross examination, had been unusually clear and explicit. There was no deviation, in sentence or word. The testimony could not be broken or impeached. The witness was perfectly composed, and his voice not the least tremulous. But Mr. Webster had noticed that, in an unguarded moment, the witness's hand had wandered to his side pocket, and was quickly withdrawn. Whereupon Mr. Webster sprang to his feet with the force of a giant, and witli the voice of a lion exclaimed, "Out with it, sir!" and the affrighted witness drew from his pocket the testimony he had given, carefully written in the hand of the opposing counsel. t Matt. xxvi. 24. Mark xiv. 21. 7 98 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. nunciations of God's word, and the deep convictions of their souls ! There is a kind of doom in the words '•'•that man;^^ they dismiss the traitor. He is to be henceforth a stranger. " That 7?ia7i" not a disciple. " That man," equivalent to " I know not whence thou art ; " " De- part from me," " Worker of iniquity." " It were good for that man if he had never been bor?z" But eternity is so long, and heaven is so glorious, that if a man should suffer a million ages, and then be restored, were it not better that he had been born } Yes, — if he could be restored. This was no cant saying on the lips of Christ. He often spoke as if he knew that there is a fire which w^ill never be quenched. Nor is this the language of rage ; it is the announcement of one whose heart bleeds at being obliged to pronounce it. Our Lord was always calm when he spoke of retribution. His voice never trembled with uncertainty, and his vision was not limited, but his eye, undimmed, pierced both the glory and the gloom of endless ages. Who, after listening to his words, will dare face death unpre- pared } Why falls not the traitor at the feet of the Master, imploring escape from such dreadful doom.^ Alas! how successfully Satan befools and befogs the mind that yields to him ! How deaf the ear that heard not those terrible maledictions ! There sat that insensible and guilty apostate unmoved, thinking of his bargain with the rulers, and of the coming opportunity to be- tray his Master, and of his suburban j^lot of ground, where he was to pass his future years, and fare sump- THE DEFEAT. 99 tuously every day. " Thou fool^ this night thy soul shall be required of thee." John at length asked Christ plainly who it was that should betray him, for as yet no one knew save the betrayed and the betrayer. Jesus answered, " He it is to whom I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it." And when he had dipped the sop, when every eye was fixed, wdien every breath was hushed, when every heart had almost for the moment forgotten to beat, " he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon," thereby fulfilling the Scripture, " If thine enemy hun- ger, feed him." Then it was that Judas for the first time broke the silence, and with all the surprise of injured innocence inquired — what.? "Is it I.''" Our Saviour made a simple affirmative reply — " Thou hast said it." * John adds, " And after the sop, Satan entered into him." Then said Jesus, " What thou doest, do quickly. Now, no man at the table knew for what intent he spake this unto him. For some of them thought, because Judas had the bag, that Jesus had said unto him, Buy those things that we have need of against the feast ; or, that he should give something to the poor. He then, having received the sop," glided out, like a serpent, into the darkness ; " and it was night." f No wonder ! Judas had the effrontery, as he left, to take with him the treasures of the company ; he had the money, the whole of it. He could now make his last pay- ment for the land, if it had not already been paid for ; * Matt. xxvi. 25. t John xiii. 26-30. lOO THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. we suspect it had been ; he was not the man to run much in debt ; or he could now secure the adjoining lot — the ambition of every land-owner. But '' wliat shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul.?" The hour of mercy expired ; the Holy Ghost withdrew ; Satan triumphed ; and a professor of religion, a preacher, an apostle, one of the twelve, completed the climax of iniquity ; the deceiver, the hypocrite, the defaulter, and the traitor stands before us, possessed of the devil. Be not startled. This is not an extinct species of madness. Now, as of yore, the devil possesses men. It is a proud record of the church, that its members are so largely prevented from falling into this condi- tion, and from committing appalling crimes. The Knapps, Crowninshields, Greens, Websters, Evanses, and the like, were not professors of religion. Still, exceptions do appear. Deacon Samuel Andrews, the Kingston murderer, was an office-bearer in the church. Satan had worked much the same with him as with Judas. Andrews had for years tampered with vice. Hid in his house, concealed in his barn, buried in his cellar, were found various articles stolen from con- fiding neighbors. He had played the fatal game with his soul's enemy for small stakes, and had been per- mitted to \\k\. He was then allured on to greater risks. He walked in the cemetery with Holmes. He had, before this, brooded over crime. He had more than once dallied with thoughts of murder. Holmes, at that time, had money about him ; not much ; only six hundred dollars. But Andrews's blood was hot. It had been heating for the deed. THE DEFEAT. lOI There are twenty thousand more for him in the will. Why wait for natural death ? Passion became master. A strange fire gleamed from his eyes, a stranger mad- ness was enthroned in his heart. A stone at his feet was seized, a blow given, and all was over ; for the devil had taken possession of his victim. There are castles whose walls you partially descend by many steps. You reach a last one, followed, you naturally expect, by another, which you attempt to take ; but a sheer, smooth wall plunges you instantly into a stepless and deadly abyss below. " After I threw the first stone, which stunned him," says An- drews, " I knew nothing more until I found myself washing my hands in the brook." Such is the plunge down the castle wall. Thus confessed Green. Not unlike this was Webster's confession. The fiend long lures us on, step by step ; he watches for the ripened hour, and when it comes, he leaps to the will, and his murderous bidding is obeyed. Resistance at the first approach Js necessary, or everything is jeopardized. Great crimes are always the outgrowth of minor ones, though, in their results and bearings, there are no minor crimes. The notorious criminal always tlior- oughly paves his pathway, and childhood often places the first stones. It is the preliminary tampering with sin that does the mischief. The journey of trans- gression is dangerous from the start. The man who yields, though in a thing often regarded unimportant,' has stepped his foot upon a frightfully slippery place, and has taken a deadly serpent into his bosom. Facts show how often the crime of Judas has been repeated, though under a great variety of circum- I03 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. stances. Men who have been intrusted with the money of others are tempted to appropriate some portion of it to their own use ; it is to be thus em- ployed only for a time ; there is an honest intention of restoring it in full ; it is a hard spot to bridge over ; it is to help out from present difficulty some embar- rassed friend ; in the long run no one shall be wronged.* Cursed be such temptations ! One had better go half clothed, half fed, and half starved ; had better be the scorn of the more fashionable in commu- nity, rather than use, without the owner's consent or knowledge, one dollar or one farthing of his money. It is not so much the money, nor the use of the money ; the amount taken may be so trifling that no crisis will result either way ; but the amount cannot be so trifling that the character is not demoralized by the transaction. The man's self-respect receives thereby a deplorable shock. The key to the fortress is surrendered, and the devil will thereafter perplex and ruin the transgressor, if he can. A cunning, and a crafty, and a heartless wretch is Satan. Everything is allowed by him to go swimmingly prosperous for a * It is not difficult to imagine that the preliminary defal- cations of Judas were committed, not with reckless disregard of every consideration, but with much plausible reasoning. He may have only intended at first an investment for the corporation of which he was treasurer; or an investment for himself, with the intention of full restoration of the funds employed. Inability to do this, together with difficulty in meeting payments, may have led to continued thefts and false returns. At length, demoralized, and convinced of a speedy end to his Master's career, he was ripe for all the atrocities his history displayed. THE DEFEAT. IO3 time,* but he always deserts his victim when the rub comes ; he helps into, but never out from difficulties, except to plunge one into still greater difficulties. He watches for the hour of ripening with keener eye than the husbandman watches his maturing crojDS ; he knows when to assault his victim with multiplied temptations ; he knows when to employ every recruit and every auxiliary ; he knows how to hunt down and dog the guilty from place to place, until he ex- torts, if possible, unlimited compliance with his terms. As fire is a different thing when a servant upon the hearth and when lording it over our roof, so is Satan, when a suitor and when a tyrant. "Let no man trust the first false step of guilt; It hangs upon a precipice Whose steep descent in last perdition ends." The progress, too, after one has fairly set out in a course of sin, increases with alarming augmenta- tion. Thus, in the case of Judas, his cherished avari- ciousness was followed by unfaithfulness ; then, in quick succession, by embezzlement, treachery, be- * Psalm Ixxiii. There is a tree known as the Judas tree, which hap- pily illustrates the deceitful and alluring character of sin. The blossoms appear before the leaves, and are of brilliant crimson. The flaming beauty of the flowers attracts innu- merable insects, and the wandering bee is drawn to it to gather honey. But every bee that alights upon its blossoms imbibes a fatal opiate, and drops dead from among the crim- son flowers to the earth. Beneath this enticing tree, the earth is strewn with the victims of its fatal fascinations. I04 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. trayal, and Satanic possession. The truth is, that every man has within him elements of eternal kin- ship, and also unexplored mines of wrath and death ; that by which he may become little less than a God, on the one hand, or a baleful and everlasting wreck, upon the other. And mighty are the issues pending upon the start. There is no man of earnest soul, who does not, at times, actually feel himself trembling upon the appalling verge of remediless ruin ; and a single step, at the critical moment, often results in the inevitable plunge.* The fearful nature of crime, the startling capabili- ties of the human heart to commit crime, tlie treach- erous beginnings and shocking terminations of crime, therefore appeal, as with the voice of God, to every one whose face is in the least turned towards any form of transgression, to escape at once from the impending doom. Emerson somewhere remarks that " man, though in brothels, or jails, or on gibbets, is on his way to all that is good and true." One important condition is herein overlooked — cvc7'yihing depends upon uohich way the inan^ s face is turned. Nay, the deep undertone of the whole universe is a solid entreaty to the sinful to repent and accept super- natural strength, for every one needs strength more than natural to pave the way through tliesc perils of life up to a glorious immortality. ♦ Dr. SouLh's statetncntof this thought is forcible : " 'J'licre is no man breathing but carries about him a sleeping lion in his bosom, which God can and may, when he pleases, rouse up and let loose upon him, so as to tear and worry him, to that degree that he shall be glad to lake sanctuary in a quiet grave." THE DEFEAT. IO5 A few hours onl}^ intervene after the last words of our Saviour, — "What thou doest, do quickly," — before new scenes crowd upon us. The lights are out in the supper-hall, the Master and his companions are among the cypress trees at the foot of the Mount of Olives, in the garden of Gethsemane. They are under the triple shadows of mountain, city, and orna- mental trees. The traitor has, meantime, notified the rulers that everything is now in readiness. There are bustle and haste in the temple courts ; this thing must be done by night, and before the common people get wind of the transaction ; otherwise they will prevent it. The detachment guard of five hundred — the Roman cohort for the castle of Antonia — are ordered out. The captain of the temple, attended by the tem- ple police, with a few private but interested citizens, together with the priests, rulers, and servants not on temple duty, are drawn up in line of march. Silently, at that midnight hour, headed by the captain, who was arm in arm with Judas, they thread their way through the streets of Jerusalem.* Judas is familiar * Tlie account, as gathered from the different evangelists, is the following : — " When Jesus had spoken these words, he went forth with his disciples over the brook Cedron, where was a garden, into the which he entered, and his disciples. And Judas also, which betrayed him, knew the place; for Jesus ofttimes resorted thither with his disciples. Judas, then, having re- ceived a band of men and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, cometh thither with lanterns, and torches, and weapons. Jesus, therefore, knowing all things that should come upon him, went forth, and said unto them, Whom seek ye? They answered him, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus suith Io6 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. with the way, and with all the private resorts of his Master, and knows the spot where he would this night be found ; often had he visited it, in company with his Master. The troops now on the way are sufficient to surround it. This being silently done, their torches and lanterns are quickly lit, and their weapons drawn. Humanly speaking, escape is impossible. They ap- proach gradually, drawing in towards the centre. The Master and the eleven are thereby exposed to full view. " Now," says Matthew, " he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, unto them, I am he. And Judas also, which betrayed him, stood with them." John xviii. 1-5. "And while he yet spake, lo, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude, with swords and staves, from the chief priests and elders of the people. Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he; hold him fast. And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said. Hail, Master; and kissed him. And Jesus said unto him, Friend, wherefore art thou come.? Then came they, and laid hands on Jesus, and took him." Matt. xxvi. 47-50. "And immediately, while he yet spake, comcth Judas, one of the twelve, and with him a great multitude, with swords and staves, from the chief priests, and the scribes, and the elders. And he that betrayed him had given them a token, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he; take him, and lead him away safely. And as soon as he was come, he goeth straightway to him, and saith, Master, Master; and kissed him." Mark xiv. 43-45. "And while he yet spake, behold, a multitude, and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near unto Jesus, to kiss him. But Jesus said unto him, Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss.?" Luke xxii. 47, 48. THE DEFEAT. IO7 that same is he; hold him fast." "Hold him fast." Mark the words! Ill at ease is Judas. "And," con- tinues the narrative, " forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, Master ; and kissed him." Horrors ! Of a truth, the criminal capabilities of humanity are fiendish ; that kiss, which should have remained as a world-wide and pure symbol of love, is henceforth an efFaceless brand-mark upon the forehead of the race, indicative of lurking treachery and death. "Companion," said our Lord, — such is the origi- nal, — "why standest thou here?" This question seemed to be the first syllable that stirred the con- science of Judas to due comprehension of his guilt. Qiiickly followed another dreadful interrogation, which must have rolled like terrific thunder through the soul of the traitor — "Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss.^" For an instant their eyes met ; beaming from the face of the one was calm- ness, mingled with mercy ; stamped upon the face of the other was a rayless despair. The next instant, Jesus and his disciple separated, with a silent but eternal farewell. It is well nigh the hour of morning. The temple seems quite deserted. The Levites are in the guard room. The priests on duty are within the court of the Israelites. All are suddenly startled by a heavy footfall, and panting breath, such as they are unused to hearing. Why comes this intruder here? But no guard is able to arrest him. See him, his eyes blood- shot, and in his outstretched hand is a bag of silver. He rushes past the Levite watch, under the vine-clad I08 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. arch, into the sanctuary, into the court of the priests, even into the holy place (sv tw j'aw), where no com- mon Jew was allowed, and whence all Gentiles were interdicted, on penalty of death if they entered. But to this man the sanctity of the temple is nothing, the resentment of the priests is nothing ; everything, save one thing, is as nothing. Give way ! Stop him not! for a firebrand is in his bosom, and the avenger of blood is upon his track. O wretched man! who shall deliver him.? He tries to make restitution ; as a last resource of his hopeless misery, he comes to the priests ; God's min- isters will surely pity him ; he implores, and he begs, and he proffers the thirty pieces of silver, but they are like garments spotted with blood — nobody wants them. Alas for the thirty pieces of silver ! Had they been talents of gold, they were no relief or atone- ment. His agony is every moment intensified ; his conscience, which had suffered only an occasional twinge, now rises like an army with banners. " I have sinned, I have sinned," he exclaims, " in that I have betrayed innocent blood." '* And they said. What is that to us? See thou to that." Heartless monsters ! * Yes, they repel this ill-fated wretch ; * Often has this conduct heen repeated. Young men have been admitted into the society of those who pass for gentle- men ; they have lost everything upon the stake of a single throw, and being of no further service, have been spurned from the presence of those who but lately paid them every attention, and then have been kicked into the street, and told to go to the devil. That there is hoiH)r among thieves, and the like, is, oftcner than otherwise, merely a myth. THE DEFEAT. IO9 they gibe him with heartless language ; they heed not the remorse-stung victim whom, but shortly before, they had embraced ; they see his distress, but they had used him as long as they wanted anything of him, and now they bid him begone. " It is none of our business ; away, thou fool." The horror-stricken man deigns not a word in re- ply ; at the feet of the astonished priests he flings the accursed blood-money ; the chink of it, sounding like a death-knell, seems to startle anew the betrayer ; he flies to find rest in solitude, but fails in his search ; he dares stay on earth no longer, and he wiliy^^/, rather than longer Jear, the torments of the lost. He speeds onward, past the palace of Herod, away from the tower of Antonia, in the opposite direction from the garden of Gethsemane ; no course is more natural, and none more fatal ; onward, on- ward like a madman he rushes ; he thinks that they who loved Jesus are about to kill him ; like Cain, he feels that every man's hand is against him ; that his punishment is greater than he can bear. His de- jection becomes despair ; the pains of hell get hold upon him ; Satan tantalizes him, and aggravates every sin and mistake of his life ; the purity of Christ's life haunts and condemns him. '-'- Ltnocent blood ! " "innocent blood! ^' is before his eyes, and stains his hands. Had it been sinful blood, he could have washed it off'; tranquillized would have been his de- spair if one false step in that faultless life of Christ could have been recalled. " Blood, blood ! " ex- claimed Booth, the murderer of Lincoln. Indelible ever are the stains of innocent blood ; the waters of no THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. the "multitudinous seas" cannot wash them off.* iSIuider will out ! No nook nor corner in the whole universe of God can conceal a murderer. f No sooner does the horrified Judas plant his feet for the last time upon h.is intended future homestead, that charming spot purchased by money stolen from poor people and the bag, than he feels that every finger in Jerusalem is pointing him out, and that every voice, loaded with a curse, pronounces him thief ^ traitor^ and imwderer ! He tries to reason with himself: "I have done no murder ; the priests are the ones who are killing Je- sus ; and yet — I am an accomplice; nay, the prin- cipal. 'Tis my hand that struck the blow, my spear ran him through. Can I not pray? * What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brothers' blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Try what repentance can. What can it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul ! ' J What, is there no security here? Am I not upon my own soil?" Your own soil I That charming plot of ground has Ijecome the most frightful spot on God's earth. See ! The eyes of the betrayer start from tlicir sockets, his lips are pallid, he trembles like a scourged * Shakespeare. t Daniel Webster's plea at the trial of the Knapps for the murder of Captain White. See Appendix II. X Hamlet. THE DEFEAT. Ill slave ; on every hand he hears the groans of dying men ; the rusthng leaf is the breath of an enemy, and every sound is an avenger's footfall. All things mean mischief; every grape-vine conceals a dagger, poised and trembling to leap into his heart; every nook is crowded with murderers. " Have mercj, Jesu ! Soft; I did but dream. O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear.? Myself.? There's none else by: Is there a murderer here.? No; yes; I am. Then fly. What, from myself.? Great reason; why? Lest I revenge. What.? Myself on myself.? I love myself. Wherefore.? For any good That I myself have done unto myself.? O, no ; alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain ; yet I lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree, All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty, guilty! I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; And, if I die, no soul will pity me : Nay, wherefore should thej^.? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself.* Unfortunate and wretched man, did you think on that spot of ground to build a royal home.^ Did you * Richard III. 112 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. expect to hold some official position among your fel- low-citizens? Did you imagine that the noted men of the realm would visit you, and sup at your table, and praise your vines and wines? Did you intend there to pass your years with a queenly wife, and with happy children? How overwhelming the defeat you have met ! " Seeing that face, I could but fear the end; For death was in it, looking through his eyes, Nor could I follow, to arrest the fate, That drove him madly on with scorpion whip." Does the eye of any one who is securing property by gains and means which are questionable, fall upon this page? Is he fancying that the day will come when he can retire from the turmoil of business, and enjoy his ill-gotten possessions? God's providence, and an experience well nigh universal, thunder, " No, he sliall not." There is less happiness for him than for the honest savage in his jungle home. What makes voluntary suicide at once detestable and horrifying, is its embodiment of rebellion against God, and a defiant forth-stepping to his judgment bar. It is the natural expression of extreme self-condemna- tion, and also a tyjje of eternal C(jndemnat.I()n. It is not always the worst step in a man's life, but it i)oints back to a terrible declension in the w ay to ruin. From tliis frightful conditifju in which Judas found himself, he at once compleled iiis icsolve to lusii to perdition. Every facility was at hand. Tiie most THE DEFEAT. 1 13 probable facts are the following : * An overhanging limb of a tree, growing upon the edge of the de- clivity, was selected ; the strap which for three years had held the money bag was attached to the limb, and then adjusted about the neck ; a single bound, and the victim dangled for a moment in the air ; the well-worn strap snapped asunder ; the tree shook off the self- murderer ; his own soil spurned him ; he was hurled from one jagged point to another ; the strangled * The statements made are based upon the following Scrip- ture data : — " Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? See thou to that. And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself." Matt, xxvii. 3-5. " Now this man purchased a field with the reward of ini- quity; and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out. And it was known unto all the dwellers at Jerusalem ; insomuch as that field is called, in their proper tongue, Aceldama, that is to say, The field of blood." Acts i. 18, 19. Story's description of the discovery of the corpse is graphic : — "The sky was dark with heavy, lowering clouds; A lifeless, stifling air weighed on the world; A dreadful silence like a nightmare lay Crouched on its bosom, waiting, grim and gray, In horrible suspense of some dread thing. A creeping sense of death, a sickening smell, Infected the dull breathing of the wind. A thrill of ghosts went by me now and then, 8 114 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. wretch burst asunder in his descent ; and we turn to hide our eyes from the mangled and disgusting corpse that Hes below in the dark ravine, over which the evangelist has thrown a friendly mantle, in which are inwrought these simple but impressive words: " Gone to his own placed That mantle we will not attempt to lift, but may be permitted to add to the epitaph one word DEFEATED. And made mj flesh creep as I wandered on. At last I came to where a cedar stretched Its black arms out beneath a dusky rock, And, passing through its shadow, all at once I started; for against the dubious light A dark and heavy mass, that to and fro Swung slowly with its weight, before me grew. A sick, dread sense came over me ; I stopped — I could not stir. A cold and clammj'' sweat Oozed out all over me ; and all my limbs, Bending with tremulous weakness like a child's, Gave way beneath me. Then a sense of shame Aroused me. I advanced, stretched forth my hand, And pushed the shapeless mass; and at my touch It yielding swung — the branch above it creaked, And back returning, struck against my face. A human body! Was it dead, or not? Swiftly my sword I drew, and cut it down, And on the sand all heavily it dropped. I plucked the robes away, exposed the face — 'Twas Judas, as I feared, cold, stiff, and dead: That suffering heart of his had ceased to beat." THE TRIUMPH. Until the grave, the rod and cross will lie on us ; but then comes their end. Paul Gerhardt. Providence has a wild, rough, incalculable road to its end, and it is of no use to try to whitewash its huge, mixed instru- mentalities, or to dress up that terrific benefactor in a clean shirt and white neck-cloth of a student in divinity. Emerson. The eternal stars shine out as soon as it is dark enough. Carlyle. When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions. Shakespeare. Extraordinary afflictions are not always the punishment of extraordinary sins, but sometimes the trial of extraordinary graces. Matthew Henry. Affliction is a school or academy, wherein the best schol- ars are prepared for the commencement days of the Deity. Robert Burton. A virtuous and well-disposed person is like good metal, — the more he is fired the more he is fined ; the more he is op- posed, the more he is approved. Wrongs may well try him, and touch him, but they cannot imprint on him any false stamp. Richelieu. I consider how a man comes out of the furnace; gold will lie for a month in the furnace without losing a grain. Cecil. Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of the greatest minds. The purest ore is pro- duced from the hottest furnace, and the brightest thunder- bolt is elicited from the darkest storm. Colton. 117 Trial brings man face to face with God; the flimsy Vciil of bright cloud is blown away ; he feels that he is standing out- side the earth, with nothing between him and the Eternal Infinite. O, there is something in the sick bed, and the rest- lessness and the languor of shattered health, and the sorrow of aflections withered, and the stream of life poisoned at the fountain, and the cold, lonely feeling of utter sadness of the heart, — what is felt when God strikes home in earnest, — that forces a man to feel what is real and what is not. Robertson. Only one moment of weakness, think you? — one single moment more; . . . but that moment is the one selected by the tempter for a last trial, and in it you are about to ruin his hopes forever, or to give them fresh vigor. Courage, then! Stand firm! Give not back a single step! Falter not for a moment! Dispel every illusion of the enemy! Prove to him that with you he loses both his time and his trouble. And, by the reception which you give him, compel him to recognize in the disciple the Master who overcame him in the wilderness. Monod. What claim can that man have to courage who trembles at the frowns of fortune? True heroism consists in being superior to the ills of life, in whatever shape they may chal- lenge you to combat. Napoleon. ii8 THE TRIUMPH EACH man's life is both a fact and a symbol. Everybody has, therefore, both a real and a typical history. The actual and the typical history of Judas are before us ; he is found to be a type of defeated humanity in all ages. Mankind, likewise, has other phases of character, and special representa- tives of the same. The opposite of defeat is triumph. No one can fail of calling to mind one of the grandest types of trium- phant conflict w^hich history records, and every reader will justify careful analysis and application. While Abraham w^is living in Uz of the Chaldees, amid scenes of idolatry, while Greece was scarcely more than a frontier settlement, — such as the New England coast appeared upon the arrival of the Pil- grims, — and while Melchisedek, a noble priest and prince, was ruling the charming region of Salem, had we passed down the eastern slope of the mountains separating Palestine from Arabia, we should have traversed estates belonging to a man who was no less faithful than Abraham, no less a Christ-like prince than Melchisedek, and who, taken all in all, is one of 119 I20 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. the noblest and most faultless characters recorded in history. This man bears the name of Job.* Most modern scholars of note, it is well known, whether sceptical or orthodox, agree that tlie Book of Job, which records the trials of this patriarch, is one of the most ancient as well as one of the most sublime masterpieces among literary productions.! Some there arc, it is true, who have, in times past, looked upon Job, not as a real, but as a fictitious character ; still it is equally true that at the present time there exists comparatively little doubt that Job is the name of a real person, whose essential history is recorded in the book bearing his name, and that he is as really a person, as David, Paul, and Martin Luther are real nnd not fictitious characters. The * Appendix I. t '' I call our Book of Job, apart from all theories about it," says Carljle, " one of the grandest things ever written with pen. One feels, indeed, as if it were not Hebrew; such a noble universality, different from noble patriotism or secta- rianism, reigns in it. A noble book; all men's book! It is our first, oldest statement of the never-ending problem, man's destiny, and God's ways with him here on this earth. And all in such free flowing; grand in its sincerity, in its compli- city, in its epic melody, and repose of reconcilement. There is the seeing eye, the mildly understanding heart. So t?'ue, every way; true eyesight and vision for all things; material things no less than spiritual ; the horse, ' hast thou clothed his neck with tkuiider ? — he laughs at the shaking of the spear!' Such living likenesses were never seen drawn. Sublime sorrow, sublime reconciliation ; oldest choral melo- dy as of the heart of mankind; so soft and great; as the summer midnight, as the world with its seas and stars! There is nothing written, I think, in the Bible or out of it, of equal literary merit." THE TRIUMPH. 121 freedom of all early Hebrew writings from such like fictions ; the reference to Job, as an actual personage, in other and later parts of the Bible ; the numerous traditions in the East respecting the patriarch and his family ; * the improbability that a Hebrew would have invented a character so faultless, yet not belonging to his own race ; the remarkable consistency in the devel- opment of the various characters introduced ; and the singular air of truthfulness pervading the entire narra- tive, — contain a mass of accumulative evidence abso- lutely unanswerable, in favor of the reality of Job's ex- istence and history. Entertaining these opinions, we * The following scriptural references establish the fact of the high estimate placed upon Job, and likewise the reality of his existence : — " The word of the Lord came again to me, saying, Son of man, when the land sinneth against me bj trespassing griev- ously, then will I stretch out mine hand upon it, and will break the staff of the bread thereof and will send famine upon it, and will cut off man and beast from it. Though these three men, Noah, Daniel, and Job, were in it, they should deliver but their own souls by their righteousness, saith the Lord God." Ezekiel xiv. 12-14. " Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord ; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy." James v. 11. Traditions found in the Koran, also in D'Herbelot's Bibl. Orient, establish, beyond controversy, the fact that there was such a person as Job, who lived in the patriarchal age, and who, above all other men, was distinguished for his suffer- ings and his patience. Throughout Arabia, reverence for the name of Job has been very great, and continues thus to the present day. The noblest families claim that they are de- scended from this patriarch. 122 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. shall be the better prepared to review the life of Job, and gather therefrom some of the more important and representative lessons. Of his early life we have no data save those based upon questionable tradition.* We are, at the outset, introduced to a man whose wealth, consisting in part of rich and extensive lands, and in part of multitudes of flocks, was immense. Relatively, but few men, in modern times, would outrate him. In addition to this, his domestic relations seem to have been corre- spondingly felicitous ; his family was numerous and prosperous. He was, likewise, a man of refinement and culture, — refinement and culture, we mean, in the truest and broadest sense of these terms. His lands lay upon the great thoroughfares of merchants who passed between Temah, Sheba, and Egypt. He thereby had abundant and favorable opportunities for collecting all the varied information then known to the world ; of this he seems to have been master. The lofty tone pervading the speeches of Job shows that he was a sage, compared with which many in present times, who pretend much, but know little, are * Job, or Aiub, is reported by some of the Arabian histori- ans to have been descended from Ishmael : by others, his de- scent is traced from Isaac, through Esau, from ^vhom he was the third, or at most the fourth in succession. And in the history given by Khendemir, who distinguishes him by the title of The Patient^ it is stated that by his mother's side he was descended from Lot; that he had been commissioned by God to preach the faith to a people of Syria; that although no more than three had been converted by his preaching, he was, notwithstanding, rewarded for his zeal by immense pos- sessions, &c. THE TRIUMPH. 1 23 as dust in the balance. In fact, there is a solemnity, a solidity, a majesty and grandeur, in this Arabian hero, compared with which the frothiness of modern cant and mannerism shows in the most pitiable con- trast.* In addition to all this, Job was a man of high political rank ; he was a prince, alike successful in war and prosperous in peace. " He was the greatest of all the men in the East," says the Arabian proverb.f * Hengstenberg is right in his conclusion that for depth of religious knowledge Job stands even higher than Abraham, t This agrees with his description of himself. The trans- lation we follow throughout the discussion is that by Thom- as Wemjss. ** Then Job continued his discourse, and said, ' O that it were with me as in months that are past, In the days when God was my guardian! When his lamp shone over my head, And by his light I walked through darkness : As I was when in the prime of my life, When God guarded my tabernacle : When my vigor was still in me, And my family were round about me : When streams of milk flowed where I went, And the rock poured me out rivers of oil : When I walked early through the city, And a seat was set for me in the streets. The young men saw me and made way for me ; \ The aged ranged themselves around me. The rulers restrained themselves from talking, And laid their hand upon their mouth. The nobles observed silence, Their tongue cleaved to the roof of their mouth. When the ear heard me it blessed me; When the eye saw me it gave signs of approbation ; 124 "^^^ ARENA AND THE THRONE. United with all this was a reputation he had gained which was worth more than his money, his flocks, his merchandise, and his princely authority. He was known, far and near, as a man of faultless integrity. He was pronounced by the Lord himself as " a per- fect and an upright man, one that feareth God and escheweth evil." Fori delivered the poor when they implored assistance, And the orphan \vho had no defender. The blessing of him who was perishing came upon me, And I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. I put on equity, and clothed myself with it; My justice was as a robe and a diadem. I was eyes to the blind, I was feet to the lame ; I was a father to the destitute, And I inquired carefully into the cause of the stranger. I broke the jaws of the wicked, And plucked the prey out of his teeth. Then I said, I shall die in my nest, I shall multiply my days as the palm tree; My root shall spread out to the waters; The dew of night shall repose on my branches; My glory shall be unfading around me, And my bow continue fresh in my hand.' *' • To me men gave ear and attended ; They were silent at my admonition. After I had spoken they replied not, For my reasons dropped on them as dew. They waited for me as for a spring shower; They opened wide their mouths, as for the harvest-rain. If I smiled on them, they were gay. And rejoiced in my benignant aspect; If I frequented their society, I sat as a chief; I dwelt as a king among warriors. As one who comforteth the mourners.'" (Chap, xxix.) THE TRIUMPH. 125 In a word, his was a life of unalloyed prosperity, faultless piety, and unquestioned rectitude : he was honored of men and approved of God. In the further development of the narrative, strange as it may seem, we are admitted for a moment behind the veil which conceals the ordinarily hidden arrange- ments and assignments of Providence, and are per- mitted to look in upon the private council-chamber of Jehovah, and to see for once what things are some- times said and done therein. Typical as well as actual is this entire drama, and every man is, more or less, first or last, enrolled to play some part.* The divine nature, and the evil nature, and human nature, are much the same to-day they were four thousand years ago. Temptations come to every heart in some form, and gigantic, though unestimated, are the issues pending. One entered that council-chamber, of whom the Lord inquired if he had seen, in his wanderings, that model of human excellence in the person of the Ara- bian Job.-f He said he had, but added, in terms of * Other passages speak of the privy council of the Most High. Job XV. 8. Ps. Ixxxix. 7. Jer. xxiii. 18. i Kings xxii. 19. Dan. vii. 9, 10. t The presence of Satan in heaven may at first glance ap- pear surprising, but not upon second thought. For if pre-ex- istent humanity, in which the Logos embodied itself long be- fore coming to earth (John vi. 62 ; iii. 13; xvii. 5), was a higher type of creation than the angels, and if Satan was of the highest order of angelic creation, then, when pre-exist- ing humanity came into being and was placed upon the throne, there was an occasion for the origin of pride, jealousy, and rebellion on the part of Satan. And when the command 126 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. low insinuation, that this Job was serving God onl}' n2:)on the ground of some selfish policy. Job does not •was given, *'Let all the angels of God worship him" (Ileb. i. 6), the spirit of rebellion might manifest itself in open revolt. His prestige was gone. He should have submit- ted to God's will, but did not; he rebelled. Of the fact of this rebellion there can be no question. (Rev. xii. 7.) The thought of war in heaven seems not quite compati- ble with the consistency of things. But wars have just as much right in a probationary heaven as on the earth; they have no right anywhere. An enlarged viewof thi-ngs will find not much inconsistency in having the proud and ambitious wars of earth prefigured by those of the spiritual world ages past. Also, when historic humanity was created in the person of Adam, there was another occasion for the further exercise of jealousy and malignity on the part of Satan and his minions. But probably he did not, at that time, descend to the lowest degradation, or possibly below recovery. He had lost rank by his first transgression, but not to such extent as to exclude him from heaven. He was held in respect by the angels. (Judeg.) It will, doubtless, some time be revealed, that God has been merciful to the fallen angels as well as to fallen hu- manity. May not Satan have been left for a time upon pro- bation .? Mav not the opportunity for repentance given him have been like that given to mortals.-' There were elect (i Tim. V. 21), why not non-elect angels? In this connec- tion, " the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world " is significant. (Rev. xiii. 8.) But when the historic God-man appeared, then the old spirit of rebellion, which first showed itself in heaven against the pre-existent spiritual God-man, rose to its height, and in that mad and reckless endeavor to tempt and destroy the Son of God (Matt. iv. 1-12), Satan forfeited all claiins to mercy, and did irrepaial^le damage to his moral cliaractcr. 'J'hat was an act of blasphemj'. He then cominittcd, as it seems to us, the unpardonable sin, and fell, as lightning, from THE TRIUMPH. 1 27 serve God for nought, is the charge. It is profit Job is after. It is profit all your supposed good men are after. There is no reverence for God in all their show of piety. "You have blessed Job," Satan seems to say, " and he does w^ell to serve you. Who would not? But it is merely hypocrisy. Job is saying, ' Lord ! Lord ! ' while his heart is ftir from thee. Strip him now of his splen- did round of prosperity with which you have hedged him in ; touch his money, then see if he cares for thee. He will no longer serve thee ; he will mock thee and curse thee to thy face." It is not a little surprising that Jehovah allowed such insolence in his presence ; but then we know he per- mitted similar real or apparent insults, twenty centu- ries later, in the wilderness.* On the judgment day it will be wise for the Judge to have a clear case against Satan. When we better know the purpose which all present transactions are to subserve in the universe, we can much better answer the many per- plexing questions which almost daily confront us.-f It heaven (Luke x. 18), never again to enter it. The heavens could well rejoice; the accuser had gone from their midst (Rev. xii. 10) ; and the earth might wail for the woe that his abiding presence brought upon it. (Rev. xii. 12.) He was left, henceforth, until the end at least, to fill his cup brim full of iniquity, in preparation for his final banishment into perdition. See Outlines of Christian Theology, by the Author. * Matt. iv. 3-10. Luke iv. 1-13. t Hengstenberg makes a good note upon this thought. " The question put by a savage, ' Why, then, does not God strike Satan dead?' could only have been retailed as appar- ently ingenious, by men who stood spiritually on a level with the savages. Satan is a very important element in the 128 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. was this misrepresentation on the part of Satan which called forth from Jehovah the following language : " And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord," — and the sun went down at high noon. While Job was in the height of his prosperity, while his sons and his daughters, according to an Eastern custom, were feasting at the elder brother's house, while the oxen were ploughing in the field, while the fiocks were pasturing on the hill-side, and while the camels were en route with this prosperous man's merchandise, — everything was changed in a day. So has it been, so is it, and so will it be again. Tears often flood the face almost before the smile of the last moment has gone, and we hear sobs almost before the echo of the laugh dies out from the adjacent hall. Why hastens that servant of Job across the fields.'* Admit him ! " Sir ! " is his salutation. " Say on," is the reply. " The oxen were ploughing, and the asses feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell upon them, and took them away ; yea, they have slain the servants with the o^i^^o^ of the sword ; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee." Hard times are these for a good man, with no reason this side of heaven assigned for it. This vast source of income cut oif in a moment, must make even a divine economy. God needs him, and he therefore keeps him until he shall have no more use for him. Then will he be banished to his own place. The Scriptures call the wick- ed heathen tjrant Nebuchadnezzar a servant of God. Tliey might give Satan the same name." THE TRIUMPH. x2^ rich man feel poor. The opulent prince is less rich than he was at daybreak. But why hastens homeward this other servant, even before the first had ceased speaking? Have the oxen and the flocks been recaptured from those lawless freebooters? " Sir," is the salutation ; " Say on," the reply. " The fire of God is fallen from heaven, and hath burned up the sheep, and the servants, and consumed them ; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee." Surely evils never come single-handed. When it rains this kind of rain, it pours. It is ruin, not loss, which now glares into the face and eyes of the patriarch. But he has something left, and it is a long road that has no turn in it. The next servant will surely bring better tidings. Listen ! *' While the last was yet speaking," we read, " there came also another, and said. The Chal- deans made out three bands, and fell upon the cam- els, and have carried them away, yea, and slain the servants with the edge of the sword ; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee." Fearful is this accumulation of ills ! Darker and thicker comes the night apace. He is land-poor ; having land, but no use for it. God pity the man who is rich and poor the same day ; who is full, at ease, one day, but filled with trouble the next; who looks through golden avenues to-day, but to-morrow looks through avenues of red hot coals or gray ashes, or, what is worse, sees nought save a heaven and earth draped in weeds of mourning. It is the suddenness 9 130 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. and the painful precision of such like things which give the shock. A single misfortune may come, as ac- cident (some think), or in the natural order of events (as others infer), but this, blow on blow, swift, sudden, terrible, and, in such graduated climax, anguish upon anguish, this smiting a man when he is down, — there is no accident in this ; intelligence, — malignant or otherwise, — intelligence is the moving hand ; designed visitations are there, and nothing other.* * Kitto makes the following note upon Satan's method in Job's afflictions : — "The apostle assumes that we are not ignorant of Satan's devices (2 Cor. ii. 11), and among the sources of our knowl- edge respecting them, the history of Job and his trials is most conspicuous. An attentive consideration of the whole matter, in that point of view, would be most instructive. To track his various windings, dodges, and manoeuvres for the purpose of circumventing Job, and of bringing peril upon his soul, might be made a study of surpassing interest and high edifi- cation. Look, for instance, at his penetrating knowledge of man's heart, and his masterly generalship in working upon it, as evinced in the mere ardor and succession of his as- saults upon Job. After having, as he supposed, weakened and dispirited this good man by his previous attacks, he came with his most fierce and terrible charge last of all, con- fident that by this management the last stroke must over- whelm and destroy' him. This seems to be a favorite tactic with him, to come down upon us with his strongest assaults when he thinks we are the weakest. It is easy to perceive that if Satan had suffered Job to hear first of the death of his children, all the rest would have been of small account to him. Little would he have cared for the loss of his cattle after having heard that all his children had been crushed to death by the fall of tiie house. As when some one great sor- row falls upon us, the heart can find no joy in the good that THE TRIUMPH. I3I But still a man will endure many and severe losses in temporal things, bite his trembling lip, hold back his tears, force a smile, and stand erect, provided that he still has a happy and unbroken family circle to go to. It is the good home which affords the best an- chorage in storm time. Many a man has returned at nightfall, property gone, business disastrous ; but kneeling in prayer, he said, " Thank God, my wife and children are spared me." And he has encouraged them, and said, " Though we shall be a little pinched, still together we can build up again." Job's family was up to this time untouched ; he could bear much else and much more ; although that night would look upon a poor man, stripped of vast wealth, still he could sleep, for his children, of whom he was justly proud, wxre spared. But, what ! another messenger of ill ! It cannot be ; and yet, when things are going amiss, it seems as though there is no end or let up. " While the last was yet speaking," continues the narrative, " there came also another, and said. Thy sons and thy daughters at other times bestows delight, so also does one great evil swallow up all sense and feeling of lesser troubles. Here, therefore, we behold the wiliness of Satan. Lest Job should lose any of the smart of the lesser afflictions, lest they should all have been swallowed up in the greater, he lays them out in order, the lesser first, the greater last, that his victims may not lose one drop of the bitterness in the cup mixed by the lord of poisons for him. It reminds one of the continental executions of great criminals in the last age, when the con- demned was tortured, maimed, and broken before the coup de grace was given. Had this stroke been given at first, all else had been nothing." 132 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother's house : and behold there came a great wind from the wilderness, and smote the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young men, and they are dead ; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee." Horrors and madness ! Who can believe that God takes care of his children after this? Welcome athe- ism and infidelity ! Why not? What good does it do to serve God and be honest, if such are the returns? Who makes money in this world?" — none but good men? Nay, verily ! We should not wonder much if the godless man will make just as much money as the godly man, and hold it just as long. See this good man, stripped of property, bereft of children, blighted, ruined ! Shall he still believe in God? Will he not curse God and die? Hush! and hear what one of God's heroes can say : " Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped, and said. Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." The sublimest words of resignation that ever fell from the lips of mortal are these. And more than this, they announce to the world that the devil is con- quered at the hands of a vian. Satan had thorouglily planned his campaign ; he had things pretty much his own way ; he made the onslaught with every advan- tage in his favor, but he met his match, received the worst hurt possible, and then retreated from the field, to try, if permitted, again. Returning once more to the narrative, we read, THE TRIUMPH. 133 " Again there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them to present himself before the Lord. And the Lord said unto Satan, From whence comest thou? And Satan answered the Lord, and said. From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God and escheweth evil.? and still he holdeth fast his integrity, although thou movedst me against him, to destroy him with- out cause. And Satan answered the Lord, and said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life. But put forth thy hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face. And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, he is in thy hand ; but save his life." * A man may suffer much loss, yet if he has his health, he can recover much. Sound health is worth a fortune ; at least, many a man, who has it not, thinks so. But it turns out that he who had suffered enough to ruin most men was overtaken by a disease, the worst then or since known to mortals. It was a ter- rible type of the black leprosy of Syria. The ap- palling character of this malady is such as almost to preclude its description. It is a burning ulceration, covering the entire body. The hair falls off", the beard drops out, the eyelashes are lost, the eyes remam open * Job ii. 1-6. 134 '^^^^ ARENA AND THE THRONE. and fixed, the palms of the hands and soles of the feet swell out, and friends are compelled to fly from the sight of the victim. The mind of the sufferer is afford- ed only odd moments of sleep ; frightful dreams, de- spondency, and despair prompting to self-murder, are some of the attending symptoms. Satan's permission to attack the person of Job has resulted as we should expect. He selected the worst disease known, and wrought out its worst type. How much like the devil is such a course ! If a man falls into the hands of Satan, he may depend upon one thing at least — he will do his worst by him. Job's description of himself is graphic. " My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust, my skin is broken and become loathsome, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death. My bones are pierced in me in the night season, and my sinews take no rest. By the great force of my disease, my garments are changed. My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat. I am a brother to dragons and a compan- ion of owls. They that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock. They were viler than the earth. And now I am their song; yea, I am their by-word. They abhor me, tbey flee from me, and spare not to spit in my face. My acquaintance are verily es- tranged from me. My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me. They that (Kvcll in my house, and my- maids, count me for a stranger. I am an alien in their sight. 1 called my servant, and he gave me no answer ; I entreated him with my mouth. My bieath is strange to my wife, tiiougli I entieatcd THE TRIUMPH. 135 for the children's sake of mine own body. Yea, young children despised me ; I arose, and they spake against me. All my inward friends abhorred me ; and they whom I loved are turned against me. My bone cleav- eth to my skin and to my flesh, and I am escaped with the skin of my teeth. Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends, for the hand of God hath touched me." * Poor man, we pity thee, and would help thee if we could ; strange is it that God does not ! At this critical point in the narrative, a new charac- ter is introduced — Job's wife. It seems strange that Satan had not destroyed her with the children ; but perhaps he had some design in not doing so. He may have thought to use this woman as an instrument in accomplishing his ultimate purposes. He hoped, no doubt, that she would prove another Eve. It is possible that more than one very good man has had a very bad wife ; but that proves nothing in the present instance. Job's wife, we think, ought not to be blamed overmuch.f She showed some weakness in those seasons of affliction, and who would not? Look charitably at the case for a moment. The losses, we must bear in mind, were hers, as well as his. The property was gone ; the manly eldest born, and the tender younger born, liad fallen ; and her husband was almost worse than dead. These griefs * For fuller description consult Job ii. 7, 8; iii. 23-26; vi. 8-10; vii. 4, 5, 13-16; xix. 16-21; XXX. 17-31. t Spanheim calls Job's wife a second Xantippe. J. D. Michaelis thinks she was spared to Job to complete the meas- ure of his misfortune. 136 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. and calamities were hers to bear, as well as his. The woman was bewildered, and no wonder. Will not a wife sometimes allow her own name to be slandered, rather than suffer her husband to bear reproach.'' Stripped of his fortune, his children, for whom he had never forgotten to offer God a morning sacrifice, buried amid the ruins of their own dwelling, which the fierce tornado had levelled to the ground, " the best man in the world becoming the most miserable man in the world," presents a gloomy enough picture. His wife felt this. Can we blame her that the cloud of infidelity dimmed her eyesight for a moment.? Ay, who is the Almighty, that one should serve him, or what profit is tliere if we pray unto him? Do not the words almost rise to our own lips, as they must have weighed upon her consciousness.'* Could this series of evils happen without the will and pleas- ure of God? Could not he have prevented them.? Would not the woman almost escape our condem- nation, should she be left to say. What does integrity amount to.? Does righteousness protect a man against life's ills.? Why does it not protect you, my husband.? They lie who say your lite is not next to perfect. You are a just and perfect man. If God lives, and loves goodness and integrity better than vice and in- iquity, why steps he not forth to your rescue.? There is no God save Fate ; and Fate is no God. It was this overwhelming pressure upon the afflicted woman which left licr crushed-hearted, and which well nigh drove her on to machicss. Ilcr advice was terrible, but it docs not prove that slie was a sJircw. Satan seems to liave taken possession for a moment. THE TRIUMPH. I37 and prompted her to tempt Job with the very words he had predicted Job would employ when afflicted. " He will curse thee to thy face," said Satan. *' Curse God and die," said his wife.* Job, do you hear ! The universe listens to catch your answer. It breathlessly awaits the vital issue pending. You are a spectacle for the angels to look at. God's credit is staked upon what you say and do. Smarting under his accumulation of woes, his soul wrung with anguish, his face haggard with frightful anxiety, and ghastly under a wasting disease, pale, trembling, and almost hideous, he rose, rent his man- tle, and replied to his wife's temptation, — " Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil.''" Splendid, thou earth-born giant ! A gala day was that in heaven. The sons of God everywhere shouted for joy over the moral grandeur of this conquest. It was proved, on that day, that goodness can exist in this world, — the devil to the contrary, notwithstanding, — irrespective of earthly reward, and that man can fear and love God, when every induce- ment to selfishness is taken away. That is a victory, such, doubtless, as God would have every one achieve. The narrative next brings to our notice other char- * There seems to be some little confusion resulting from the different translations of the word barach ; "to bless" and " to curse" are both given by commentators. The pres- ent connection demands the latter, though usage perhaps equally justifies the former rendering. It involves, probably, in either case, a kind of parting salutation, as if she had said, God can do nothing for you. Bid him a farewell that will last forever. 138 THE ARENA AND THE THRONE. acters — the personal friends of Job. Their introduc- tion to us is very beautiful. There is in it a kind of poetic and majestic tenderness. " Now, when Job's three friends heard of all this evil that was come upon him, they came every one from his own place ; Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bil- dad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite : for they had made an appointment together to come to mourn with him and to comfort him. And when they lifted up their eyes afar otl, and knew him not, they lifted up their voice, and wept ; and they rent every one his mantle, and sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven. So they sat down with liim upon the ground, seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him : for they saw that his grief was very great." * Silence is indeed much better sometimes than spo- ken consolation. Job's friends were wise, knowing this fact, to act in the present instance accordingly. But their countenances, nevertheless, were expressive, and spoke a kind of language well known to Job. Often this language of the face is by far the loudest. Day after day, these princes and friends of Job kept more or less near the afflicted man, and at such times as the taking of food, rest, and sleep allowed, they con- tinued revolving in mind his misfortunes, investigating the causes producing tliem, and deciding upon the forms of speech with which they would adchcss him. '* Silence is a God," said the ancients, and terrible was it for Job to remain so long in his presence. The distressed features of his friends, their gestures, and * Job ii. 11-13. THE TRIUMPH. 139 their glances, were interpreted by Job as having a sig- nificance greater by far than was meant ; but they meant full enough. Unable to endure their silence longer, he broke it, and gave expression to the agony torturing him, in terms startling and passionate.* He execrated the day of his birth, and, in almost tragic interrogation, asked why Providence had not done otherwise.f * The following synopsis of the book of Job may be of service, especially in referring to the different addresses em- ployed : — Introductory narrative, . . . . Job's lament, First controversy between Eliphaz and Job, " " " Bildad " (( Zophar Second Eliphaz (( Bildad