{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_30202/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_30202","id":"gutenberg_30202","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30202","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Free thought"],"text":"FLOWERS OF FREETHOUGHT\n\n(First Series)\n\nG. W. FOOTE.\n\nLONDON\n\n1893.\n\n\n\nCONTENTS:\n\n     PREFACE.\n     OLD NICK.\n     FIRE!!!\n     SKY PILOTS.\n     DEVIL DODGERS.\n     FIGHTING SPOOKS.\n     DAMNED SINNERS.\n     WHERE IS HELL?\n     SPURGEON AND HELL.\n     IS SPURGEON IN HEAVEN?\n     GOD IN JAPAN.\n     STANLEY ON PROVIDENCE.\n     GONE TO GOD.\n     THANK GOD.\n     JUDGMENT DAY.\n     SHELLEY'S ATHEISM. *\n     LONG FACES.\n     OUR FATHER.\n     WAIT TILL YOU DIE.\n     DEAD THEOLOGY.\n     MR. GLADSTONE ON DEVILS.\n     HUXLEY'S MISTAKE.\n     THE GOSPEL OF FREETHOUGHT.\n     ON RIDICULE.\n     WHO ARE THE BLASPHEMERS?\n     CHRISTIANITY AND COMMON SENSE.\n     THE LORD OF LORDS. *\n     CONSECRATING THE COLORS\n     CHRISTMAS IN HOLLOWAY GAOL. *\n     WHO KILLED CHRIST?\n     DID JESUS ASCEND?\n     THE RISING SON.\n     ST. PAUL'S VERACITY.\n     NO FAITH WITH HERETICS.\n     THE LOGIC OF PERSECUTION.\n     LUTHER AND THE DEVIL.\n     BIBLE ENGLISH.\n     LIVING BY FAITH.\n     VICTOR HUGO. *\n     DESECRATING A CHURCH.\n     WALT WHITMAN. *\n     TENNYSON AND THE BIBLE. *\n     CHRIST'S OLD COAT.\n     CHRIST'S COAT, NUMBER TWO.\n     SCOTCHED, NOT SLAIN.\n     GOD-MAKING.\n     GOD AND THE WEATHER.\n     MIRACLES.\n     A REAL MIRACLE. *\n     JESUS ON WOMEN.\n     PAUL ON WOMEN.\n     MOTHER'S RELIGION.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nHeinrich Heine called himself a soldier in the army of human liberation.\nIt was a modest description of himself, for he was more; his position\nwas that of a leader, and his sword was like the mystic Excalibur,\nflashing with the hues of his genius, and dealing death to the enemies\nof freedom.\n\nHumbler fighters than Heine may count themselves as simple soldiers in\nthat great army, whose leaders' names are graven deep in the history of\nmodern Europe. I also venture to rank myself with them, and it is the\nsummit of my ambition. To be indeed a soldier in that army, however low\nand obscure, is not to have lived in vain; to persevere, to fight to the\nend, is to live (if unknown) in the future of humanity.\n\nIn the course of my service to \"the cause\" I have wielded tongue and pen\nas weapons. The spoken word has gone, like spilt water, except as it may\nhave made an impression on the listeners. The written word remains. Most\nof it, in truth, was only the week's work, done honestly, but under no\nspecial impulse. Some of the rest--as I have been told, and as in a few\ncases I feel--is of less doubtful value; having occasionally the merit\nof a free play of mind on subjects that are too often treated with\nignorance, timidity, or hypocrisy.\n\nThis is my reason for publishing in a separate and durable form the\narticles in this collection. Whether it is a sufficient reason the\nreader will judge for himself.\n\nNo serious attempt has been made at classification. Here and there\narticles have been placed in intended proximity, though written at\ndifferent intervals in the past ten years. Sometimes, for an obvious\nreason, the date of composition has been indicated. Otherwise there\nis no approach to systematic arrangement; and if this is a defect, the\nreader has on the other hand the benefit of variety.\n\nThe ambitious, and hardly excusable, thing about this collection is\nits title. But the selection of a label for such a miscellany was not\nan easy task, and I ask the reader's indulgence in consideration ef the\ndifficulty. The title I have chosen is at least a pretty one, and in a\nsense it is appropriate. These articles are flowers of _my_ Freethought;\nthe blossomings of my mind on particular occasions, after much\ninvestigation and pondering.\n\nWherever I have made a rash statement I shall be happy to be corrected;\nwherever I may have argued wrongly, I shall be happy to be set right.\nBut I am less amenable to appeals on the ground of \"taste.\" They are\nalmost invariably made by those who wish failure to one's propaganda. A\nfair controversialist will refrain from personalities. I have done this,\nand I will do no more. I believe in free thought and honest speech. In\nthe war of ideas there is neither treaty nor truce. To ask for quarter\nis to admit defeat; and to give it is treachery to Truth.\n\nApril, 1893. G. W. FOOTE.\n\n\n\n\n\nOLD NICK.\n\nThis gentleman is of very ancient descent. His lineage dwarfs that of\nthe proudest nobles and kings. English peers whose ancestors came in\nwith the Conqueror; the Guelphs, Hapsburgs, and Hohenzollens of our\nEuropean thrones; are things of yesterday compared with his Highness the\nDevil. The C\u00e6sars themselves, the more ancient rulers of Assyria, and\neven the Pharaohs of the first dynasty, are modern beside him. His\norigin is lost in the impenetrable obscurity of primitive times. Nay,\nthere have been sages who maintained his eternity, who made him coeval\nwith God, and placed upon his head the crown of a divided sovereignty of\nthe infinite universe.\n\nBut time and change are lords of all, and the most durable things come\nto an end. Celestial and infernal, like earthly, powers are subject to\nthe law of decay. Mutability touches them with her dissolving wand,\nand strong necessity, the lord of gods and men, brings them to\nthe inevitable stroke of Death. Senility falls on all beings and\ninstitutions--if they are allowed to perish naturally; and as our august\nMonarchy is the joke of wits, and our ancient House of Lords is an\nobject of popular derision, so the high and mighty Devil in his palsied\nold age is the laughing-stock of those who once trembled at the sound\nof his name. They omit the lofty titles he was once addressed by, and\nfearless of his feeble thunders and lightnings, they familiarly style\nhim Old Nick. Alas, how are the mighty fallen! The potentate who was\nmore terrible than an army with manners is now the sport of children\nand a common figure in melodrama. Even the genius of Milton, Goethe, and\nByron, has not been able to save him from this miserable fate.\n\nWhen this sobriquet of Old Nick first came into use is unknown.\nMacaulay, in his essay on Machiavelli, says that \"Out of his surname\nthey have coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian name\na synonym for the Devil.\" A couplet from _Hudibras_ is cited to support\nthis view.\n\nNick Machiavel had ne'er a trick Tho' he gave his name to our Old Nick.\n\n\"But we believe,\" adds Macaulay, \"there is a schism on this subject\namong the antiquaries.\" The learned Zachary Gray's edition of _Hudibras_\nshows that \"our English writers, before Machiavel's time, used the word\nOld Nick very commonly to signify the Devil,\" and that \"it came from\nour Saxon ancestors, who called him Old Nicka.\" No doubt Butler, whose\nlearning was so great that he \"knew everything,\" was well acquainted\nwith this fact. He probably meant the couplet as a broad stroke of\nhumor. But there was perhaps a chronological basis for the joke. Our\nSaxon ancestors did not speak of Old Nicka in a spirit of jest or\nlevity. The bantering sense of our modern sobriquet for the Devil\nappears to have crept in during the decline of witchcraft. That\nfrightful saturnalia of superstition was the Devil's heyday. He was\nalmost omnipotent and omnipresent. But as witchcraft died out, partly\nthrough the growth of knowledge, and partly through sheer weariness on\nthe part of its devotees, the Devil began to lose his power. His agency\nin human affairs was seen to be less potent than was imagined. People\ncalled him Old Nick playfully, as they might talk of a toothless old\nmastiff whose bark was worse than his bite. At length he was regarded as\na perfect fraud, and his sobriquet took a tinge of contempt. He is now\nutterly played out except in church and chapel, where the sky-pilots\nstill represent him as a roaring lion. Yet, as a curious relic of old\ntimes, it may be noted that in the law-courts, where conservatism reigns\nin the cumbrous wig on the judge's head, and in the cumbrous phraseology\nof indictments, criminals are still charged with being instigated by\nthe Devil. Nearly all the judges look upon this as so much nonsense, but\noccasionally there is a pious fossil who treats it seriously. We then\nhear a Judge North regret that a prisoner has devoted the abilities God\ngave him to the Devil's service, and give the renegade a year's leisure\nto reconsider which master he ought to serve.\n\nDuring the witch mania the world was treated to a great deal of curious\ninformation about Old Nick. What Robert Burns says of him in _Tam\nO'Shanter_ is only a faint reminiscence of the wealth of demonology\nwhich existed a few generations earlier. Old Nick used to appear at\nthe witches' Sabbaths in the form of a goat, or a brawny black man,\nwho courted all the pretty young witches and made them submit to his\nembraces. Some of these crazy creatures, under examination or torture,\ngave the most circumstantial accounts of their intercourse with Satan;\ntheir revelations being of such an obscene character that they must\nbe left under the veil of a dead tongue. It is, of course, absurd to\nsuppose that anything of the kind occurred. Religious hysteria and\nlubricity are closely allied, as every physician knows, and the filthy\nfancies of a lively witch deserve no more attention than those of many\nfemales in our lunatic asylums.\n\nBehind these tales of the Devil there was the pagan tradition of Pan,\nwhose upper part was that of a man and his lower part that of a goat.\nThe devils of one religion are generally the gods of its predecessor;\nand the great Pan, whose myth is so beautifully expounded by Bacon,\nwas degraded by Christianity into a fiend. Representing, as he did,\nthe nature which Christianity trampled under foot, he became a fit\nincarnation of the Devil. The horns and hooves and the goat thighs were\npreserved; and the emblems of strength, fecundity and wisdom in the god\nbecame the emblems of bestiality and cunning in the demon.\n\nHeine's magnificent _Gods in Exile_ shows how the deities of Olympus\navenged themselves for this ill-treatment. They haunted the mountains\nand forests, beguiling knights and travellers from their allegiance\nto Christ. Venus wooed the men who were taught by an ascetic creed to\ndespise sexual love; and Pan, appearing as the Devil, led the women a\nfrightful dance to hell.\n\nBut as the Christian superstition declined, the gods of Paganism also\ndisappeared. Their vengeance was completed, and they retired with the\nknowledge that the gods of Calvary were mortal like the gods of Olympus.\n\nDuring the last two centuries the Devil has gradually become a subject\nfor joking. In Shakespeare's plays he is still a serious personage,\nalthough we fancy that the mighty bard had no belief himself in any\nsuch being. But, as a dramatist, he was obliged to suit himself to the\ncurrent fashion of thought, and he refers to the Devil when it serves\nhis purpose just as he introduces ghosts and witches. His Satanic\nMajesty not being then a comic figure, he is spoken of or alluded to\nwith gravity. Even when Macbeth flies at the messenger in a towering\nrage, and cries \"the Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon,\" he\ndoes not lose his sense of the Devil's dignity. In Milton's great\nepic Satan is really the central figure, and he is always splendid\nand heroic. Shelley, in fact, complained in his preface to _Prometheus\nUnbound_ that \"the character of Satan engenders in the mind a pernicious\ncasuistry, which leads us to weigh his faults with his wrongs, and\nto excuse the former because the latter exceed all measure.\" Goethe's\nMephistopheles is less dignified than Milton's Satan, but he is full of\nenergy and intellect, and if Faust eventually escapes from his clutches\nit is only by a miracle. At any rate, Mephistopheles is not an object\nof derision; on the contrary, the laugh is generally on his own side.\nStill, Goethe is playing with the Devil all the time. He does not\nbelieve in the actual existence of the Prince of Evil, but simply uses\nthe familiar old figure to work out a psychological drama. The same is\ntrue of Byron. Satan, in the _Vision of Judgment_, is a superb presence,\nmoving with a princely splendor; but had it suited his purpose, Byron\ncould have made him a very different character.\n\nThe Devil is, indeed, treated with much greater levity by Coleridge and\nSouthey, and Shelley knocks him about a good deal in _Peter Bell the\nThird_--\n\n     The Devil, I safely can aver,\n     Has neither hoof, nor tail, nor sting;\n     Nor is he, as some sages swear,\n     A spirit, neither here nor there,\n     In nothing--yet in everything.\n     He is--what we are! for sometimes\n     The Devil is a gentleman;\n     At others a bard bartering rhymes\n     For sack; a statesman spinning crimes;\n     A swindler, living as he can.\n\nThese and many other verses show what liberties Shelley took with the\nonce formidable monarch of hell. The Devil's treatment by the pulpiteers\nis instructive. Take up an old sermon and you will find the Devil all\nover it. The smell of brimstone is on every page, and you see the whisk\nof his tail as you turn the leaf. But things are changed now. Satan is\nno longer a person, except in the vulgar circles of sheer illiteracy,\nwhere the preacher is as great an ignoramus as his congregation. If\nyou take up any reputable volume of sermons by a Church parson or a\nDissenting minister, you find the Devil either takes a back seat or\ndisappears altogether in a metaphysical cloud. None of these subtle\nresolvers of ancient riddles, however, approaches grand old Donne,\nwho said in one of his fine discourses that \"the Devil himself is only\nconcentrated stupidity.\" What a magnificent flash of insight! Yes,\nthe great enemy of mankind is stupidity; and, alas, against that,\nas Schiller said, the gods themselves fight in vain. Yet time fights\nagainst it, and time is greater than the gods; so there is hope after\nall.\n\nGradually the Devil has dropped, until he has at last peached the lowest\ndepth. He is now patronised by the Salvation Army. Booth exhibits him\nfor a living, and all the Salvation Army Captains and Hallelujah Lasses\nparade him about to the terror of a few fools and the amusement of\neveryone else. Poor Devil! Belisarius begging an obolus was nothing\nto this. Surely the Lord himself might take pity on his old rival, and\nassist him out of this miserable plight.\n\nOld Nick is now used to frighten children with, and by-and-bye he may\nbe employed like the old garden-god to frighten away the crows. Even his\nscriptural reputation cannot save him from such a fate, for the Bible\nitself is falling into disbelief and contempt, and his adventures from\nGenesis to Revelation are become a subject of merriment. Talking to Mrs.\nEve about apples in the form of a serpent; whispering in David's ear\nthat a census would be a good thing, while Jehovah whispers a similar\nsuggestion on the other side; asking Jesus to turn pebbles into penny\nloaves, lugging him through the air, perching him on a pinnacle, setting\nhim on the top of a mountain whence both squinted round the globe, and\nplaying for forty days and nights that preposterous pantomime of the\ntemptation in the desert; getting miraculously multiplied, bewildering\na herd of swine, and driving them into a watery grave; letting seven of\nhimself occupy one lady called Magdalen, and others inhabit the bodies\nof lunatics; going about like a roaring lion, and then appearing in\nthe new part of a dragon who lashes the stars with his tail; all\nthese metamorphoses are ineffably ludicrous, and calculated to excite\ninextinguishable laughter. His one serious appearance in the history of\nJob is overwhelmed by this multitude of comic situations.\n\nPoor Old Nick is on his last legs and cannot last much longer. May his\nend be peace! That is the least we can wish him. And when he is dead,\nlet us hope he will receive a decent burial. Those to whom he has been\nthe best friend should follow him to the grave. His obsequies, in that\ncase, would be graced by the presence of all the clergy, and the Burial\nService might be read by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Fancy them,\nburying their dear departed brother the Devil, in the sure and certain\nhope of a glorious resurrection!\n\n\n\n\nFIRE!!!\n\nDo not be alarmed, dear reader; there is no need to rush out into the\nstreet, like poor old Lot flying from the doomed Cities of the Plain.\nSit down and take it easy. Let your fire-insurance policy slumber in\nits nest. Lean back in your chair, stretch out your legs, and prepare\nto receive another dose of Free-thought physic--worth a guinea a bottle.\nSo! Are you ready? Very well then, let us begin.\n\nWhat would man be without fire? Would he not be a perfect barbarian? His\nvery food, even the meat, would have to be eaten raw, and as knives\nand forks would be unknown, it would have to be devoured with hands and\nteeth. We read that the Tartar horseman will put a beefsteak under his\nsaddle, and supple and cook it in a ten-mile ride; but we cannot all\nfollow his example, and many would think the game was not worth the\ncandle. But not only should we be obliged to eat our food uncooked;\nwe should enjoy none of the blessings and comforts bestowed upon us by\nscience, which absolutely depends on fire. Nay, our houses would be too\ncold to shelter us in the winter, and we should be compelled to burrow\nin the ground. The whole human race would have to live in tropical\ncountries; all the temperate regions would be deserted; and as it is\nin the temperate regions that civilisation reaches its highest and most\npermanent developments, the world would be reduced to a condition of\nbarbarism if not of savagery.\n\nNo wonder, then, that this mighty civiliser has figured so extensively\nin legend and mythology. \"Next to the worship of the sun,\" says Max\nM\u00fcller, \"there is probably no religious worship so widely diffused as\nthat of Fire.\" At bottom, indeed, the two were nearly identical. The\nflame of burning wood was felt to be akin to the rays of the sun, and\nits very upward motion seemed an aspiration to its source. Sun and fire\nalike gave warmth, which meant life and joy; without them there\nreigned sterility and death. Do we not still speak of the _sunshine_\nof prosperity, and of basking in the _rays_ of fortune? Do we not still\nspeak of the _fire_ of life, of inspiration, of love, of heroism? And\nthus when the tide of our being is at the flood, we instinctively think\nof our father the Sun, in whom, far more than in invisible gods, we live\nand move--for we are all his children.\n\nLike everything else in civilised existence, fire was a human discovery.\nBut superstitious ages imagined that so precious a thing must\nhave descended from above. Accordingly the Greeks (to take but one\nillustration) fabled that Prometheus stole Jove's fire from Heaven and\ngave it to mankind. And as the gods of early ages are not too friendly\nto human beings, it was also fabled that Prometheus incurred the fierce\nanger of Jove, who fastened him to a rock on Mount Caucasus, where\nhe was blistered by day and frozen by night, while Jove's vulture\neverlastingly preyed upon his vitals.\n\nThe sun himself, in oriental countries, shining down implacably in times\nof prolonged drought, became a terrible demon, and as Baal or Moloch was\nworshipped with cruel and bloody rites. The corruption of the best\nis the worst; beneficence changes to malignity. Thus fire, which is a\nsplendid servant, is an awful master. The very wild beasts dread it.\nFamishing lions and tigers will not approach the camp-fire to seize\ntheir prey. Men have something of the same instinctive apprehension. How\nsoon the nerves are disturbed by the smell of anything burning in the\nhouse. Raise the cry of \"Fire!\" in a crowded building, and at once\nthe old savage bursts through the veneer of civilisation. It is\nhelter-skelter, the Devil take the hindmost. The strong trample upon the\nweak. Men and women turn to devils. Even if the cry of \"Fire!\" be raised\nin a church--where a believer might wish to die, and where he might feel\nhimself booked through to glory--there is just the same stampede. People\nwho sit and listen complacently to the story of eternal roastings in an\neverlasting hell, will fight like maniacs to escape a singeing. Rather\nthan go to heaven in a chariot of fire they will plod for half a century\nin this miserable vale of tears.\n\nMan's dread of fire has been artfully seized upon by the priests. All\nover the world these gentlemen are in the same line of business--trading\nupon the credulous terrors of the multitude. They fill Hell with fire,\nbecause it frightens men easily, and the fuel costs nothing. If they\nhad to find the fuel themselves Hell would be cold in twenty-four hours.\n\"Flee from the wrath to come,\" they exclaim. \"What is it?\" ask the\npeople. \"Consuming fire,\" the priests exclaim, \"nay, not consuming; you\nwill burn in it without dying, without losing a particle of flesh, for\never and ever.\" Then the people want to get saved, and the priests issue\ninsurance policies, which are rendered void by change of opinion or\nfailure to pay the premium.\n\nBuddhist pictures of hell teach the eye the same lesson that is taught\nthe ear by Christian sermons. There are the poor damned wretches rolling\nin the fire; there are the devils shovelling in fuel, and other devils\nwith long toasting-forks thrusting back the victims that shove their\nnoses out of the flames.\n\nWherever the priests retain their old power over the people's minds they\nstill preach a hell of literal fire, and deliver twenty sermons on Hades\nto one on Paradise. Hell, in fact, is always as hot as the people will\nstand it. The priests reduce the temperature with natural reluctance.\nEvery degree lost is a sinking of their power and profit.\n\nEven in England--the land of Shakespeare and Shelley, Newton and Darwin,\nMill and Spencer--the cry of \"Fire!\" is still raised in thousands of\npulpits. Catholics bate no jot of their fiery damnation; Church of\nEngland clergymen hold forth on brimstone--with now and then a dash of\ntreacle--in the rural districts and small towns; it is not long\nsince the Wesleyans turned out a minister who was not cocksure about\neverlasting torment; Mr. Spurgeon preaches hell (hot, without sugar) in\nmercy to perishing souls; and General Booth, who caters for the silliest\nand most ignorant Christians, works hell into his trade-mark.\n\n\"Blood and Fire\" is a splendid summary of the orthodox faith. All who\nwould be saved must be washed in the Blood of the Lamb--a disgusting\nablution! All who are not saved fall into the Fire. A blood-bath or a\nsulphur-bath is the only alternative.\n\nHappily, however, the people are becoming more civilised and more\nhumane. Science and popular education are working wonders. Reason,\nself-reliance, and sympathy are rapidly developing. The old primitive\nterrors are losing their hold upon us, and the callous dogmas of savage\nreligion are growing impossible. Priests cannot frighten men who possess\na high sense of human dignity; and the doctrine of an angry God, who\nwill burn his own children in hell, is loathsome to those who will fight\nthe flames and smoke of a burning house to save the life of an unknown\nfellow creature.\n\nHow amusing, in these circumstances, are the wrigglings of the\n\"advanced\" Christians. Archdeacon Farrar, for instance, in despite of\ncommon sense and etymology, contends that \"everlasting\" fire only means\n\"eternal\" fire. What a comfort the distinction would be to a man in\nHell! Away with such temporising! Let the ghastly old dogma be defied.\nSensible people should simply laugh at the priests who still raise the\ncry of \"Fire!\"\n\n\n\n\nSKY PILOTS.\n\nThe authorship of the designation \"sky pilot\" is as unknown as that of\nthe four gospels. Yet its origin is recent. It has only been in use for\na few years, say ten, or at the outside twenty. Nobody knows, however,\nwho was the first man from whose lips it fell. Probably he was an\nAmerican, but his name and address are not ascertained. Surely this\nfact, which has thousands if not millions of parallels, should abate the\nimpudence of religionists who ask \"Who made the world?\" when they do not\nknow who made nine-tenths of the well-known things it contains.\n\nWhatever its origin, the designation is a happy one. It fits like a\nglove, Repeat it to the first man you meet, and though he never heard it\nbefore, he will knew that you mean a minister. For this very reason it\nmakes the men of God angry. They feel insulted, and let you see it. They\naccuse you of calling them names, and if you smile too sarcastically\nthey will indulge in some well-selected Bible language themselves.\n\nThere are some trades that will not bear honest designations, and the\nminister's is one of them. Call him what you please, except what he is,\nand he is not disquieted. But call him \"sky-pilot\" and he starts up like\nMacbeth at the ghost of Banquo, exclaiming \"Come in any other form but\nthat!\"\n\nGo down to the seaside and look at one of those bluff, weather-beaten,\nhonest fellows, who know all the rocks and shoals, and tides and\nchannels, for miles around. Call one of them a \"pilot,\" and he will not\nbe offended. The term is legitimate. It exactly denotes his business.\nHe is rather proud of it. His calling is honorable and useful. He pilots\nships through uncertain and dangerous waters to their destination.\nHe does his work, takes his pay, and feels satisfied; and if you cry\n\"pilot!\" he answers merrily with a \"what cheer?\"\n\nBut \"sky\" in front of \"pilot\" makes all the difference. It makes the man\nof God feel like having a cold shower bath; then the reaction sets in\nand he grows hot--sometimes as hot as H---- well, Hades.\n\n     We are not going to swear if the parson does,\n     But after all, he _is_ a \"pilot\" and a \"sky\" pilot.\n     He undertakes to pilot people to Heaven.\n\nLet him board your ship and take the helm, and he will guide you over\nthe Black Sea of Death to Port Felicity that, at least, is what he says\nin his trade circular, though it turns out very differently in practice,\nas we shall see presently.\n\nLet us first notice a great difference between the sea pilot and the\nsky pilot. The honest salt boards the ship, and takes her out to sea, or\nbrings her into port. When the work is over he presents his bill, or\nit is done for him. He does not ask for payment in advance. He neither\ntakes nor gives credit. But the sky pilot does take credit and he\ngives none. He is always paid beforehand. Every year he expects a\ngood retaining fee in the shape of a stipend or a benefice, or a good\npercentage of the pew rents and collections. But when his services are\nreally wanted he leaves you in the lurch. You do not need a pilot to\nHeaven until you come to die. Then your voyage begins in real earnest.\nBut the sky-pilot does not go with you. Oh dear no! That is no part of\n_his_ bargain. \"Ah my friend,\" he says, \"I must leave you now. You must\ndo the rest for yourself. I have coached you for years in celestial\nnavigation; if you remember my lessons you will have a prosperous\nvoyage. Good day, dear friend. I'm going to see another customer. But we\nshall meet again.\"\n\nNow this is not a fair contract. It is really obtaining money under\nfalse pretences. The sky pilot has never been to Heaven himself. He does\nnot know the way. Anyhow, there are hundreds of different routes, and\nthey cannot all lead to the same place. Certainly they all start from\nthis world, but that is all they have in common, and where they end is\na puzzle. To pay money in such circumstances is foolish and an\nencouragement to fraud. The best way to pay for goods is on delivery; in\nthe same way the sky pilot should be paid at the finish.\n\nBut how is that to be done? Well, easily. All you have to do is to\naddress the sky pilot in this fashion--\"Dearly beloved pilot to the land\nof bliss! let our contract be fair and mutual. Give me credit as I give\nyou credit. Don't ask for cash on account. I'll pay at the finish. Your\ndirections may be sound; they ought to be, for you are very dogmatic.\nStill, there is room for doubt, and I don't want to be diddled. You tell\nme to follow your rules of celestial navigation. Well, I will. You say\nwe shall meet at Port Felicity. Well, I hope so; and when we do meet\nI'll square up.\"\n\nOf course, it may be objected that this would starve the sky pilots. But\nwhy should it do anything of the kind? Have _they_ no faith! Must all\nthe faith be on _our_ side? Should they not practise a little of what\nthey preach? God tells them to _pray_ for their daily bread, and no\ndoubt he would add some cheese and butter. All they have to do is to\n_ask_ for it. \"Ask and ye shall receive,\" says the text, and it has many\nconfirmations. For forty years the Jews were among the unemployed, and\nJehovah sent them food daily. \"He rained down bread from heaven.\" The\nprophet Elijah, also, lived in the wilderness on the sandwiches God sent\nhim--bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the evening.\nThere was likewise the widow's cruse of oil and barrel of flour, which\nsupported her and the man of God day by day without diminishing. These\nthings actually happened. They are as true as the Bible. And they may\nhappen again. At any rate they _should_ happen. The sky-pilots should\nsubsist on the fruits of prayer. Let them live by faith--not _our_\nfaith, but _their_ own. This will prove their sincerity, and give\nus some trust in their teaching. And if they _should_ starve in the\nexperiment--well, it is worth making, and they will fall martyrs to\ntruth and human happiness. _One_ batch of martyrs will suffice. There\nwill be no need of what Gibbon calls \"an annual consumption.\"\n\nThe men of God pilot _us_ to Heaven, but they are very loth to go there\nthemselves. Heaven is their \"home,\" but they prefer exile, even in this\nmiserable vale of tears. When they fall ill, they do not welcome it as\na call from the Father. They do not sing \"Nearer my God to thee.\" We do\nnot find them going about saying \"I shall be home shortly.\" Oh no! They\nindulge freely in self-pity. Like a limpet to a rock do they cling to\nthis wretched, sinful world. Congregations are asked if they cannot \"do\nsomething,\" a subscription is got up, and the man of God rushes off\nto the seaside, where prayer, in co-operation with oxygen and ozone,\nrestore him to health, enable him to dodge \"going home,\" and qualify him\nfor another term of penal servitude on earth.\n\nIt appears to us that sky pilots, like other men, should be judged\nby their practice. If they show no belief in what they preach, we are\nfoolish to believe in it any more than they do. It also appears to us\nthat their profession is as fraudulent as fortune-telling. Many a poor\nold woman has been imprisoned for taking sixpence from a servant girl,\nafter promising her a tall, dark husband and eight fine children; but\nmen dressed in black coats and white chokers are allowed to take money\nfor promises of good fortune in the \"beautiful land above.\" It further\nappears to us that the sky pilots should be compelled to come to a\nreasonable agreement before their trade is licensed. They should settle\n_where Heaven_ is before they begin business. Better still, perhaps,\nevery applicant for a license should prove that _some_ human soul _has\nbeen_ piloted to Heaven. Until that is done, the profession is only\nrobbery and imposture.\n\n\n\n\nDEVIL DODGERS.\n\nMost people suppose this phrase to be a recent Americanism. It occurs,\nhowever, in the Memoirs of James Lackington, published in 1791. Speaking\nof certain ranting preachers, he says--\"These _devil-dodgers_ happened\nto be so very powerful that they soon sent John home, crying out, that\nhe should be damned.\"\n\nAdmitting the age of the phrase, some will ask, Is it respectable? Well,\nthat is a matter of taste. Is there any standard of respectability? Does\nit not vary with time, place, and circumstance? Some people hate wearing\ngloves, while other people feel half naked without them. A box hat is\na great sign of respectability; when a vestryman wears one he overawes\nphilosophers; yet some men would as soon wear the helmet of Don Quixote.\nFlannel suits are quite shocking in town; at the seaside they are the\nheight of fashion. And as it is with dress so it is with speech. The\n\"respectable\" classes are apt to rob language of its savor, clipping and\ntrimming it like the trees in a Dutch garden. You must go to the\ncommon, unrespectable classes for racy vigor of tongue. They avoid\ncircumlocutions, eschew diffuseness, go straight to the point, and\nprefer concrete to abstract expressions. They don't speak of a foolish\nman, they call him a fool; a cowardly talebearer they call a sneak; and\nso on to the end of the chapter. But is this really vulgar? Open your\nShakespeare, or any other dramatic poet, and you will find it is not so.\nA look, a gesture, is more expressive than words; and concrete language\ncarries more weight than the biggest abstractions.\n\nLet us break up the phrase, and see where the \"vulgarity\" comes\nin. There is nothing vulgar about the Devil. He is reputed to be a\nhighly-accomplished gentleman. Milton, Goethe, and Byron have even felt\nhis grandeur. And is not \"dodger\" clear as well as expressive? David\ndodged Saul's javelin. That was smart and proper. Afterwards he\nattempted a dodge on Uriah. That was mean and dirty. So that \"dodge\" may\nbe good, bad, or indifferent, like \"man\" or \"woman.\" There is nothing\nobjectionable about it _per se_. And if \"devil\" and \"dodger\" are\nrespectable in their single state, how do they become vulgar when they\nare married?\n\nOf course it is quite natural for the clergy and their thorough-paced\ndupes to cry out against plain language. The clerical trade is founded\non mystery, and \"behind every mystery there is a cheat.\" Calling things\nby their right names will always be ugly to impostors.\n\n\"Reverend\" sounds so much nicer than \"mystery-man,\" \"priest\" is\nmore dignified than \"fortuneteller,\" \"clergyman\" is pleasanter than\n\"sky-pilot,\" and \"minister\" is more soothing than \"devil-dodger.\" But\nplain speech is always wholesome if you keep within the bounds of truth.\nIt does us good to see ourselves occasionally as others see us. And if\nthis article should fall under the eyes of a Christian man of God, we\nbeg him to keep his temper and read on to the end.\n\nWe tell the men of God, of every denomination, that they are Devil\nDodgers, and when they cease to be that their occupation is going. Old\nNick, in some form or other, is the basis of every kind of Christianity.\nIndeed, the dread of evil, the terror of calamity, is at the bottom of\nall religion; while the science which gives us foresight and power, and\nenables us to protect ourselves and promote our comfort, is religion's\ndeadliest enemy. Science wars against evil practically; religion wars\nagainst it theoretically. Science sees the material causes that are at\nwork, and counteracts them; religion is too lazy and conceited to study\nthe causes, it takes the evil in a lump, personifies it, and christens\nit \"the Devil.\" Thus it keeps men off the real path of deliverance,\nand teaches them to fear the Bogie-Man, who is simply a phantom of\nsuperstition, and always vanishes at the first forward step of courage.\n\nWhat is the Christian scheme in a nutshell? God made man perfect--though\nsome people, after reading the life of Adam, say that God made him\na perfect fool. This perfect man was tackled by the Devil, a sort of\nspiritual Pasteur, who inoculated him with sin, which was transmitted\nto his posterity as _original_ sin. God desires man's welfare, but the\nDevil is too strong tor Omnipotence. Jesus Christ steps in with the Holy\nGhost and saves a few men and women, but the Devil bags all the rest,\nand Hell is thronged while Heaven is half empty; the one place having\nthree families on every flat, the other having leagues of spacious\nmansions \"to let.\"\n\nNow in every generation the Devil is after us. Without schools, or\nchurches, or armies of professional helpers, or even so much as an\noccasional collection, he carries on single-handed a most successful\nbusiness. The clergy tell us, as the Bible tells them, that he is\nmonstrously able, active and enterprising; never overlooking a single\ncustomer, and delivering damnation at the door, and even carrying it\nupstairs, without charging for carriage or waiting for his bill. All\nthat sort of thing he leaves to the opposition firm, whose agents are\nclamorous for payment, and contrive to accumulate immense sums of the\nfilthy lucre which they affect to despise.\n\nThis accommodating fiend is the _b\u00eate noir_ of the clergy. They are\nalways on his track, or rather he is on theirs. They help us to dodge\nhim, to get out of his way, to be from home when he calls, to escape his\nmeshes, to frustrate his wiles, to save our souls alive--O. \"Here you\nare,\" they say, \"he's coming down the street. We are just running an\nescape party. If you want to keep out of Hell, come and join us. Don't\nask questions. There's no time for that. Hurry up, or you'll be left\nbehind.\" And when the party turns the corner the clergy say, \"Ah, that\nwas a narrow escape. Some of you had a very close shave.\" And the next\nmorning a collector calls for a subscription for the gentleman who saved\nyou from the Devil.\n\nNearly fifty thousand gentlemen are engaged in this line of business,\nto say nothing of the Salvation Army. Fifty thousand Devil Dodgers! And\nthis in England alone. If we include Europe, America, South Africa, and\nAustralia, there are hundreds of thousands of them, maintained at the\nexpense of probably a hundred millions a year. Yet the Devil is not\noutwitted. Mr. Spurgeon says he is as successful as ever; and, to use\nMr. Stead's expression, Spurgeon has \"tips from God.\"\n\nBy their own confession, therefore, the Devil Dodgers are perfectly\nuseless. They take our money, but they do little else. Honesty would\nmake them disband. But they will never do that. They will have to be\ncashiered, or starved out by cutting off the supplies. The real truth\nis, they never _were_ useful. They were always parasites. They gained\ntheir livings by false pretences. They dodged an imaginary enemy. The\nDevil is played out in educated circles. Presently he will be laughed at\nby everybody. Then the people will dismiss the priests, and there will\nbe and end of Devil Dodgers.\n\n\n\n\nFIGHTING SPOOKS.\n\n\"Spooks\" means ghosts, sprites, goblins, and other such phantasms. The\nword is not yet endenizened in England, but it will probably take\nout letters of naturalisation here, settle down, and become a very\nrespectable member of the English vocabulary.\n\nTwelve months ago I met an American in London, who told me that he was a\nFreethinker, but he did not trouble himself about Freethought. His mind\nwas made up on the supernatural, and he did not care to spend his\ntime in \"fighting spooks.\" That is, being emancipated himself from\nsuperstition, he was indifferent about the matter, although millions of\nhis fellow men were still in bondage.\n\nThis American gentleman's remark shows how people can be misled by\nphrases. \"Fighting spooks\" is a pretty locution, and every Freethinker\nwould admit that fighting spooks is a most unprofitable business. But,\nin reality, it is not the aggressive Secularist or Atheist who fights\nthese imaginary beings. He fights those who do fight them--which is a\nvery different thing.\n\nLet the priests and preachers of all religions and denominations cease\nabusing the callow mind of childhood; let them refrain from teaching\ntheir fanciful conjectures about \"the unseen\"; let them desist from\na peopling the air with the wild creations of their own\nlawless imagination; let them tell no more than they know, and confine\ntheir tongues within the strict limits of honest speech; let them do\nthis, and Free-thought will be happy to expire in the blaze of its\ntriumph. There is no joy in fighting superstition, any more than there\nis joy in attacking disease. Each labor is beneficent and is attended by\na _relative_ satisfaction; but health is better than the best doctoring,\nand mental sanity than the subtlest cure.\n\nThe clergy are the fighters of spooks. They babble of gods, who get\nangry with us; of devils, who must be guarded against; of angels, who\nfly from heaven to earth, and earth to heaven; of saints, who can do us\na good turn if they are properly supplicated. But the chief spooks are\nof course the devils, headed by _the_ Devil, Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer,\nAbaddon, the Serpent--in short, Old Nick. \"We have an army of red\ncoats,\" said old Fox, \"to fight the French; and an army of black coats\nto fight the Devil--of whom he standeth not in awe.\"\n\nBefore the great procession of Humanity go the priests. \"Hush!\" they\ncry, \"the hedges are full of devils. Softly, gently, beloved! Do not\nrush into unspeakable danger. We will bear the brunt of it, out of our\nfatherly affection for you. See, we stand in front, on the perilous edge\nof battle. We dare the demons who lie in wait to catch your immortal\nsouls. We beat the bushes, and dislodge them from their hiding-places;\nstrong not in our own strength, but in the grace of God. And behold they\nfly! Did you not see them? Did you not perceive the flutter of their\nblack wings? Did you not smell their sulphurous taint? Beloved, the\nroad is now clear, the hedges are safe. Forward then! But forget not\nour loyal services. Remember, beloved, that the laborer is worthy of his\nhire, and--shell out!\"\n\nThe services of the black-coats are imaginary, and their payment should\nbe of the same description. Let them live on _their own_ faith, and\ntrust to him who fed Elijah in the desert with sandwiches brought by\nravens' beaks.\n\nClearly the belief in spooks is profitable to the clergy. Just as\nclearly it is expensive to the people. Whistling between the hedges is\nas good as keeping a parson. But that is not the priest's teaching. He\nsays the spooks are real, and he is the only person to keep them off.\nGrant the first point, and the second is sure to follow. But _are_ the\nspooks real? Can the clergy show a single live specimen? They cannot,\nand they know they cannot, either for love or money. Why then does\nthe business hold out? Because an imaginary spook is as good as a real\nspook, if the clergy can twist and prejudice the youthful mind in their\ndirection. If a showman never lifts the curtain, it does not matter\nwhether he has anything or nothing on the other side.\n\nThe belief in spooks is more than profitable to the priests. It\nenervates and paralyses the human mind. It is the parent of all sorts of\nmischief. It is our worst inheritance from our savage progenitors. The\nblack spirits that haunted the swamps and forests of primeval ages, and\nterrified the ape-man who lived in mystery and fear, are not suffered to\ndepart with the ignorance that gave them birth. They are cultivated by\npriests, and used to overawe the cradles and schools of civilisation.\n\nThe Freethinker does not fight spooks. He would not waste an ounce\nof powder upon them. He fights the fighters of spooks. He assails the\nsuperstition on which they flourish. He seeks to free the human mind\nfrom gratuitous fears. He dispels the shadows and deepens the sunshine\nof life.\n\nSurely this is a good work. Whoever takes part in it is giving the race\nan unmixed blessing. War with the army of enslavement! Down with the\nseducers of childhood--the spiritual profligates who debauch the youthful\nmind! Banish them, with their spooks, from the school, the college, the\ncourt of justice, the hall of legislation! Let us train generations of\nsound minds in sound bodies, full of rich blood, and nervous energy, and\nfrank inquiry, and dauntless courage, and starry hope; with faces that\nnever pale at truth, hearts that hold no terms with falsehood, knees\nthat never bend before power or mystery, heads that always keep a manly\npoise, and eyes that boldly challenge all things from height to depth.\n\n\n\n\nDAMNED SINNERS.\n\n     \"Thou shalt be brought unto the blood of sprinkling, as an\n     undone helpless, damned sinner.\"\n     --John Wesley, Sermon on \"Justification by Faith.\"\n\nPolite ears, which are often the longest, will be shocked at the title\nof this article. This is an age in which it is accounted vulgar to\nexpress plain doctrines in plain language. Spurgeon was the last doctor\nof a good old school. Their theology was hateful: an insult to man and\na blasphemy against God--if such a being exists; but they did not beat\nabout the bush, and if they thought you were booked for hell, as was\nmost likely, they took care to let you know it. They called a spade\na spade, not a common implement of agricultural industry. They were\nsteeped in Bible English, and did not scruple to use its striking\nsubstantives and adjectives. When they pronounced \"hell\" they aspirated\nthe \"h\" and gave the full weight of the two \"l's.\" \"Damn\" and\n\"damnation\" shot from their mouths full and round, like a cannon ball\nsped with a full blast of gunpowder.\n\nBut, alas, how are the mighty fallen! No longer do the men of God\nindulge in thunderous Saxon. They latinise their sermons and diminish\nthe effect of terrible teaching. You shall hear them designate\n\"hell\" with twenty roundabout euphemisms, and spin \"damnation\" into\n\"condemnation\" and \"damned\" into \"condemned,\" until it has not force\nenough to frighten a cat off a garden wall.\n\nLet us not be blamed, however, if we emulate the plain speech of the\nhonest old theologians, and of the English Bible which is still used in\nour public schools. We despise the hypocritical cry of \"vulgar!\" We\nare going to write, not on \"condemned transgressors,\" but on \"damned\nsinners.\" Yes, DAMNED SINNERS.\n\nNow, beloved reader, it behoves us to define and distinguish, as well as\namplify and expatiate. We must therefore separate the \"damned\" from the\n\"sinners.\" Not indeed in fact, for they are inseparable, being in truth\none and the same thing; for the adjective is the substantive, and\nthe substantive is the adjective, and the \"damned\" are \"sinners\" and\n\"sinners\" are the \"damned.\" The separation is merely _mental_, for\nreasons of _convenience_; just as we separate the inseparable, length\nfrom breadth, in our definition of a line. This is necessary to\nclear and coherent thought; man's mind being finite, and incapable of\noperating in all directions at once.\n\nWhat then are _sinners_? A simple question, but not so easy to answer.\n_All_ men are _sinners_. But what is a _man_? A featherless biped? So\nwas the plucked fowl of Diogenes. A man is--well a man; and a sinner\nis--well a sinner. And this is near enough for most people. But it does\nnot satisfy a rational investigator, to say nothing of your born critic,\nwho will go on splitting hairs till his head is as bare as a plate, and\nthen borrow materials from his neighbor's cranium.\n\nIn ancient Egypt it was a sin to kill a cat; in England cats are slain\nin myriads without a tremor of compunction. Among the Jews it is a sin\nto eat pork, but an English humorist writes you a delicious essay on\nRoast Pig. Bigamy is a sin in the whole of Europe but the south-eastern\ncorner, and there it is a virtue, sanctioned by the laws of religion.\nMarrying your deceased wife's sister is a sin in England; four thousand\nyears ago, in another part of the world, it was no sin at all; in fact,\na gentleman of remarkable piety, whom God is said to have loved, married\nhis wife's sister without waiting for a funeral. Did not Jacob take\nRachel and Leah together, and walk out with them, one on each arm?\n\nSin as a _fact_ changes with time and place. Sin as an _idea_ is\ndisobedience to the law of God; that is, to the doctrines of religion;\nthat is, to the teaching of priests. _Crime_ is quite another thing. It\nis far less heinous, and far more easily forgiven. Of course crime and\nsin may overlap; they may often be the same thing practically; but this\nis an accident, for there are crimes that are no sins, and sins that are\nno crimes. It is a crime, but not a sin, to torture a heretic; it is a\nsin, but not a crime, to eat meat on a Friday.\n\nA sinner is a person on bad terms with his God. But who, it may be\nasked, is on good terms with him? No one. According to Christianity, at\nany rate, we have all sinned; nay, we are all full of original sin; we\nderived it from our parents, who derived it from Adam, who caught it\nfrom Old Nick, who picked it up God knows where. Now every sinner is\na damned sinner. He may not know it, but he is so; and the great John\nWesley advises him to recognise it, and come as a \"damned sinner\" to\nGod, to be sprinkled or washed with the blood of Christ.\n\nWhat is _damned_ then? We take it that \"damned sinners,\" that is _all_\nsinners, are persons to whom God says \"Damn you!\" To whom does he say\nit? To all sinners; that is, to all men. And why does he say it? Because\nhe is wroth with them. And why is he wroth with them? Because they are\nsinners. And why are they sinners? Because they are men. And why are\nthey men? Because they cannot help it. They were born in sin and shapen\nin iniquity, and in sin did their mothers conceive them.\n\nEvery Christian admits this--theoretically. He goes to church and\nconfesses himself a \"miserable sinner,\" but if you called him so as he\ncame out of church he would call you something stronger.\n\nA sinner may be damned here, apparently, without being damned hereafter.\nHe is liable to hell until he dies, but after that event he is sometimes\nreprieved and sent to heaven. But the vast majority of the human race\nhave no share in the atoning blood of Christ. They were \"damned sinners\"\n_in posse_ before they were born, they are \"damned sinners\" _in esse_\nwhile they live, and they will be \"damned sinners\" for ever when they\nleap from this life into eternity, and join the immortal fry Of almost\neverybody born to die.\n\nThis is a very comfortable doctrine for the narrow, conceited, selfish\nelect. For other people--all the rest of us--it is calculated to provoke\nunparliamentary language. Why should God \"damn\" men? And how can men be\n\"sinners\"? Certainly they can sin against each other, because they can\ninjure each other. But how can they sin against God? Can they injure\nhim? He is unchangeable. Can they rob him? He is infinite. Can they\ndeceive him? He is omniscient.\n\nCan they limit his happiness? He is omnipotent. No, they _cannot_ sin\nagainst him, but he _can_ sin against them. And if he exists he _has_\nsinned against every one of them. Not one human being has ever been as\nstrong, healthy, wise, noble, and happy as God might have made him. Nor\nis man indebted to God for his creation. There cannot be a debt where\nthere is no contract. It is the creator and not the creature who is\nresponsible, and the theological doctrine of responsibility is the truth\nturned upside down.\n\nSuppose a man had the power of creating another thinking and feeling\nbeing. Suppose he could endow him with any qualities he chose. Suppose\nhe created him sickly, foolish, and vicious. Would he not be responsible\nfor the curse of that being's existence?\n\nMan is what he is because he is. He is practically without choice. The\ncards are dealt out to him, and he must take them as they come. Is it\njust to damn him for holding a bad hand? Is it honest to give him hell\nfor not winning the game?\n\nLet us use for a moment the cant language of theology. Let us imagine\nthe _vilest_ of \"damned sinners\" in Gehenna. Does not every scientist,\nand every philosopher, know that the orb of his fate was predetermined?\nWould not that \"lost soul\" have the right to curse his maker? Might he\nnot justly exclaim \"I am holier than thou\"?\n\nDo not imagine, reader, that this new reading of the book of fate has no\npractical significance. When we get rid of the idea of \"damned sinners,\"\nwhen we abolish the idea of \"sin\" altogether and its correlative\n\"punishment,\" and learn to regard man as a complicated effect in a\nuniverse of causation, we shall bring wisdom and humanity into our\ntreatment of the \"criminal classes,\" we shall look upon them as moral\nlunatics and deal with them accordingly. And this spirit will extend\nitself to all human relations. It will make us less impatient and angry\nwith each other. We shall see that \"to know all is to pardon all.\"\nThus will the overthrow of theology be the preparation for a new moral\ndevelopment. Another link of the old serpent of superstition will\nbe uncoiled from the life of humanity, leaving it freer to learn the\nsplendid truth, taught by that divine man Socrates, that wisdom and\nvirtue are one and indivisible.\n\n\n\n\nWHERE IS HELL?\n\nThis is a question of great importance, or at least of very great\ninterest. According to the Christian scheme of salvation, the vast\nmajority of us will have to spend eternity in \"sulphurous and tormenting\nflames,\" and we are naturally curious as to the situation of a place in\nwhich we shall experience such delightful sensations.\n\nBut there is hardly any subject on which we can obtain so little\ninformation. The clergy are becoming more and more reticent about it.\nWhat little they ever knew is being secreted in the depths of their\ninner consciousness. When they are pressed for particulars they look\ninjured. Sometimes they piteously exclaim \"Don't.\" At other times they\nwax wroth, and exclaim to the questioners about the situation of hell,\n\"Wait till you get there.\"\n\nJust as heaven used to be spoken of as \"up above,\" hell was referred to\nas \"down below.\" At one time, indeed, it was believed to be underground.\nMany dark caves were thought to lead to it, and some of them were called\n\"Hell Mouth.\" Volcanoes were regarded as entrances to the fiery regions,\nand when there was an eruption it was thought that hell was boiling\nover. Classic mythology, before the time of Christ, had its entrances to\nhell at Acherusia, in Bithynia; at Avernus, in Campania, where Ulysses\nbegan his journey to the grisly abodes; the Sibyl's cave at Cum\u00e6,\nin Argolis; at T\u00e6narus, in the southern Peloponnesus, where Hercules\ndescended, and dragged Cerberus up to the daylight; and the cave of\nTrophonius, in Lebadea, not to mention a dozen less noted places.\n\nThe Bible always speaks of hell as \"down,\" and the Apostles' Creed tells\nus that Christ \"descended\" into hell. Exercising his imagination on this\nbasis, the learned Faber discovered that after the Second Advent the\nsaints would dwell on the crust of the earth, a thousand miles thick,\nand the damned in a sea of liquid fire inside. Thus the saints would\ntread over the heads of sinners, and flowers would bloom over the lake\nof damnation.\n\nSir John Maundeville, a most engaging old liar, says he found a descent\ninto hell \"in a perilous vale\" in Abyssinia. According to the Celtic\nlegend of \"St. Brandon's Voyage,\" hell was not \"down below,\" but in\nthe moon, where the saint found Judas Iscariot suffering incredible\ntortures, but let off every Sunday to enjoy himself and prepare for a\nfresh week's agony. That master of bathos, Martin Tupper, finds this\nidea very suitable. He apostrophises the moon as \"the wakeful eye of\nhell.\" Bailey, the author of _Festus_, is somewhat vaguer. Hell,\nhe says, is in a world which rolls thief-like round the universe,\nimperceptible to human eyes:\n\n     A blind world, yet unlit by God,\n     Boiling around the extremest edge of light,\n     Where all things are disaster and decay.\n\nImaginations, of course, will differ. While Martin Tupper and other\ngentlemen look for hell in the direction of the moon, the Platonists,\naccording to Macrobus, reckoned as the infernal regions the whole space\nbetween the moon and the earth. Whiston thought the comet which appeared\nin his day was hell. An English clergyman, referred to by Alger,\nmaintained that hell was in the sun, whose spots were gatherings of the\ndamned.\n\nThe reader may take his choice, and it is a liberal one. He may regard\nhell as under the earth, or in the moon, or in the sun, or in a comet,\nor in some concealed body careering through infinite space. And if the\nchoice does not satisfy him, he is perfectly free to set up a theory of\nhis own.\n\nFather Pinamonti is the author of a little book called _Hell Open to\nChristians_, which is stamped with the authority of the Catholic Church,\nand issued for the special edification of children. This book declares\nthat hell is four thousand miles distant, but it does not indicate\nthe direction. Anyhow, the distance is so small that the priests might\neasily set up communication with the place. But perhaps it only exists\nin the geography or astronomy of faith.\n\nFather Pinamonti seems particularly well informed on this subject. He\nsays the walls of hell are \"more than four thousand miles thick.\" That\nis a great thickness. But is it quite as thick as the heads of the fools\nwho believe it?\n\nOur belief is that hell is far nearer than the clergy teach. Omar\nKhayyam, the grand old Persian poet, the \"large infidel,\" as Tennyson\ncalls him, wrote as follows--in the splendid rendering of Edward\nFitzgerald:--\n\nI sent my soul through the invisible, Some letter of that after-life to\nspell, And by and bye my soul returned to me, And answered, I myself am\nheaven and hell.\n\nHell, like heaven, is within us, and about us in the hearts of our\nfellow-men. Yes, hell is on earth. Man's ignorance, superstition,\nstupidity, and selfishness, make a hell for him in this life. Let us\ncease, then, to dread the fabled hell of the priests, and set ourselves\nto the task of abolishing the real hell of hunger, vice, and misery.\n\nThe very Churches are getting ashamed of their theological hell. They\nare becoming more and more secularised. They call on the disciples of\nChrist to remedy the evils of this life, and respond to the cry of the\npoor for a better share of the happiness of this world. Their methods\nare generally childish, for they overlook the causes of social evil, but\nit is gratifying to see them drifting from the old moorings, and little\nby little abandoning the old dogmas. Some of the clergy, like Archdeacon\nFarrar, go to the length of saying that \"hell is not a place.\" Precisely\nso, and that is the teaching of Secularism.\n\n\n\n\nSPURGEON AND HELL.\n\nCharles Lamb was one of the best men that ever lived. He had his\nfailings, but he never harmed anyone but himself. He was capable of\nastonishing generosity, and those acquainted with the inner tragedy\nof his life know that it was a long act of self-denial. He was also\nextremely modest but not utterly devoid of indignation; and if he could\nnot denounce bitterly, he could speed a shaft of satire into the breast\nof wickedness or cruelty. On one occasion, in the days of his youth,\nhe was justly annoyed by his friend Coleridge, whose character was\nvery inferior to his own, though he always assumed a tone of moral\nsuperiority. Lamb was so galled by Coleridge's air of virtue and piety,\nat a moment when the humorist was suffering terribly in consequence of\nhis sister's calamity, that he sent the transcendental poet a list of\nstinging questions. One of them asked whether one of the seraphim could\nfall, and another whether a man might not be damned without knowing it.\n\nThis last question suggests itself in the case of Mr. Spurgeon. Mrs.\nSpurgeon, Dr. Pierson, and other of the great preacher's friends, are\nall assuring us that he is in glory. Writing seven days after his death,\nMrs. Spurgeon said \"he has now been a week in heaven.\" It is natural\nthat she should think so, and we do not wish to rob her of any\nconsolation, nor do we suppose that this article will ever come under\nher notice. But is it not just possible that Spurgeon has gone to hell?\nAnd why should not the question be raised? We mean no personal offence;\nwe speak in the interest of justice and truth. Spurgeon was very glib in\npreaching about hell, and we do not know that he had a monopoly of that\nspecial line of business. He never blenched at the idea of millions\nof human beings writhing in everlasting torment; and why should it\nbe blasphemy, or even incivility, to wonder if he himself has gone to\nperdition?\n\nPredestination, as the Church of England article says, is wonderfully\ncomforting to the elect; that is, to those who imagine themselves to be\nso. But what if they are mistaken? What if a man, yea a fancied saint,\nmay be damned without knowing it? God Almighty has not published lists\nof the Sect. Many a Calvinistic Pharisee is perhaps a self-elected saint\nafter all, and at the finish of his journey may find that he has been\nwalking in the wrong direction.\n\nOne of Spurgeon's rooted notions was that unbelievers were _sure_ of\nhell. They bore the mark of predestinate damnation broad upon their\nfore-heads. Now at the bottom this means that a man may be damned\nfor believing wrongly. But how can anyone be sure that Spurgeon was\nabsolutely right? The Baptists are only one division of Christians.\nThere are scores of other divisions. All cannot be right, and all may be\nwrong. Even if one is entirely right, how do we know it is the Baptists?\nAccording to the law of probabilities, Spurgeon was very likely in the\nwrong; and if wrong belief, however sincere, entails damnation, it is\nquite possible that at 11.5 p.m. on Sunday, January 31, Spurgeon entered\nHell instead of Heaven. *\n\n     * The next article will explain this matter.\n\nFar be it from us to wish a fellow creature in Hell, but there is always\na certain pleasure in seeing the engineer hoist with his own petard. All\ntragedy has a touch of comedy. Fancy Spurgeon in Hades groaning \"I sent\nother people here by the million, and here I am myself.\"\n\nHow would this be worse than the groan of any other lost soul? Few\nmen are devils or angels. Most are neither black nor white, but grey.\nBetween the best and vilest how much difference is there in the eye of\ninfinite wisdom? And if God, the all-knowing and all-powerful, created\nmen as they are, strong and weak, wise and foolish, good, bad, and\nindifferent; there is no more injustice in Spurgeon's burning in Hell\nthan in the damnation of the worst wretch that ever cursed the world.\n\nSpurgeon used to preach hell with a certain gusto. Here is a hot and\nstrong passage from his sermon on the Resurrection of the Dead:\n\n\"When thou diest', thy soul will be tormented alone; that will be a hell\nfor it; but at the day of judgment thy body will join thy soul, and then\nthou wilt have twin-hells, thy soul sweating drops of blood, and thy\nbody suffused with agony. In fire exactly like that which we have on\nearth thy body will lie, asbestos-like, for ever unconsumed, all thy\nveins roads for the feet of pain to travel on, every nerve a string\non which the Devil shall for ever play his diabolical tune of Hell's\nUnutterable Lament.\"\n\nAfter preaching this awful doctrine a man should be ill for a fortnight.\nWould it not afflict a kind-hearted man unspeakably to think that\nmillions of his fellow beings, or hundreds, or even one, would suffer\nsuch a terrible fate? Would it not impair his sleep, and fill his\ndreams with terror? But it did not have this effect on Spurgeon. After\npreaching hell in that way, and rolling damnation over his tongue as a\ndainty morsel, he went home, dined with a good appetite, drank his wine,\nand smoked his cigar.\n\nThere was not the slightest doubt in Spurgeon's mind as to the endless\ndoom of the damned. Here is an extract from another sermon--\n\n\"Thou wilt look up there on the throne of God and it shall be written,\n'For ever!' When the damned jingle the burning irons of their torment\nthey shall say, 'For ever!' When they howl, echo cries, 'For ever!'\n\n     'For ever' is written on their racks,\n     'For ever' on their chains;\n     'For ever' burneth in the fire,\n     'For ever' ever reigns.\"\n\nHow bodies are to burn without consuming, how a fire could last\nfor ever, or how a good God could roast his own children in it, are\nquestions that Spurgeon did not stop to answer. He took the damnable\ndoctrine of damnation as he found it. He knew it was relished by myriads\nof callous, foolish people; and it gave such a pungent flavor to a\nlong sermon! His listeners were not terrified. Oh dear no! Smith, the\nNewington greengrocer, was not alarmed; he twirled his thumbs, and said\nto himself, \"Spurgeon's in fine form this morning!\"\n\nArchdeacon Farrar protests against the notion of a fiery, everlasting\nhell as the result of fear, superstition, ignorance, hate, and slavish\nletter-worship. He declares that he would resign all hope of immortality\nto save a single human soul from the hell of Mr. Spurgeon. But is not\nthe hell of Mr. Spurgeon the hell of the New Testament? Does not Jesus\nspeak of everlasting fire? Why seek to limit the duration of hell\nby some hocus-pocus of interpretation? It is idle to pretend that\n\"everlasting\" means something less than everlasting. If it means that in\nrelation to hell it must also mean it in relation to heaven. Dr. Farrar\ncannot have two different meanings for the same word in the same verse;\nand should he ever go to hell (he will pardon us the supposition), how\nmuch consolation would he derive from knowing that his doom was\nnot \"everlasting\" but only \"eternal\"? There was more honesty and\nstraightforwardness in Mr. Spurgeon. He preached what the Bible taught\nhim. He set forth a hateful creed in its true colors. His presentation\nof Christianity will continue to satisfy those who belong to the past,\nbut it will drive many others out of the fold of faith into the broad\npastures of Freethought.\n\n\n\n\nIS SPURGEON IN HEAVEN?\n\nWhen Mrs. Booth died, the wife of the famous \"General,\" the \"Army\"\nreported her as \"Promoted to Glory from Clacton-on-Sea.\" It was\nextremely funny. Clacton-on-Sea is such a prosaic anti-climax after\nGlory. One was reminded of Sir Horace Glendower:\n\nSprat. But the sense of humor is not acute in religious circles.\n\n\nMr. Spurgeon frequently gave expression to his dislike and mistrust of\nthe antics or the Salvation Army. He was far from prim himself, but he\nheld that if people were not \"won over to Christ\" by preaching, it was\nidle to bait the hook with mere sensationalism. Yet by a strange irony\nhis closest friends, in announcing his death to his flock, actually\nimproved on the extravagance of the Salvationists. Here is a copy of the\ntelegram that was affixed to the rails of the Metropolitan Tabernacle\nthe morning after his decease:\n\n     Mentone, 11.50.\n     Spurgeon's Tabernacle, London.\n\n     Our beloved pastor entered heaven 11.5 Sunday night.\n     Harrald.\n\nThis Harrald was Mr. Spurgeon's private secretary, but he writes like\nthe private secretary of God Almighty. A leading statesman once said he\nwished he was as cocksure of anything as Tom Macaulay was cocksure of\neverything; but what was Macaulay's cocksureness to the cocksureness of\nHarrald? The gentleman could not have spoken with more assurance if\nhe had been Saint Peter himself, and had opened the gate for Pastor\nSpurgeon.\n\nWe take it that Spurgeon expired at 11.5 on Sunday night. That is the\n_fact_. All the rest is conjecture.\n\nHow could his soul enter heaven at the very same moment? Is heaven in\nthe atmosphere? He who asserts it is a very bold speculator. Is it out\nin the ether? If so, where? And how is it our telescopes cannot detect\nit? If heaven is a place, as it must be if it exists at all, it cannot\nvery well be within the astronomical universe. Now the farthest stars\nare inconceivably remote. Our sun is more than 90,000,000 miles distant,\nand Sirius is more than 200,000 times farther off than the sun. There\nare stars so distant that their light takes more than a thousand\nyears to reach us, and light travels at the rate of nearly two hundred\nthousands miles per second!\n\nIt is difficult to imagine Spurgeon's soul travelling faster than that;\nand if heaven is somewhere out in the vast void, beyond the sweep of\ntelescopes or the register of the camera, Spurgeon's soul has so far\n_not_ \"entered heaven\" that its journey thither is only just begun. In\nanother thousand years, perhaps, it will be nearing the pearly gates.\n_Perhaps_, we say; for heaven may be a million times further off, and\nSpurgeon's soul may pull the bell and rouse Saint Peter long after the\nearth is a frozen ball, and not only the human race but all life has\ndisappeared from its surface. Nay, by the time he arrives, the earth may\nhave gone to pot, and the whole solar system may have vanished from the\nmap of the universe.\n\nWhat a terrible journey! Is it worth travelling so far to enter the\nBible heaven, and sing hymns with the menagerie of the Apocalypse?\nBesides, a poor soul might lose its way, and dash about the\nbillion-billion-miled universe like a lunatic meteor.\n\nIt appears to us, also, that Mr. Harrald and the rest of Mr. Spurgeon's\nfriends have forgotten his own teaching. He thoroughly believed in the\nbodily resurrection of the dead, and an ultimate day of judgment, when\nbodv and soul would join together, and share a common fate for eternity.\nHow is this reconcileable with the notion that Spurgeon's soul \"entered\nheaven at 11.5\" on Sunday evening, the thirty-first of January, 1892? Is\nit credible that the good man went to the New Jerusalem, will stay there\nin perfect felicity until the day of judgment, and will then have to\nreturn to this world, rejoin his old bodv, and stand his trial at the\ngreat assize, with the possibility of having to shift his quarters\nafterwards? Would not this be extremely unjust, nay dreadfully cruel?\nAnd even if Spurgeon, as one of the \"elect,\" only left heaven for\nform's sake at the day of judgment, to go through the farce of a\npredetermined trial, would it not be a gratuitous worry to snatch him\naway from unspeakable bliss to witness the trial of the human species,\nand the damnation of at least nine-tenths of all that ever breathed?\n\nAs a matter of fact, the Christian Church has never been able to make\nup its mind about the state or position of the soul immediately after\ndeath. Only a few weeks ago we saw that Sir G. G. Stokes, unconsciously\nfollowing in the wake of divines like Archbishop Whately, holds the view\nthat the soul on leaving the body will lie in absolute unconsciousness\nuntil the day when it has to wake up and stand in the dock. The\ncontroversies on this subject are infinite, and all sorts of ideas\nhave been maintained, but nothing has been authoritatively decided. Mr.\nSpurgeon's friends have simply _cut_ the Gordian knot; that is, they are\nonly dogmatising.\n\nLaying all such subtle disputes aside, we should like Mr. Harrald to\ntell us how he knows that Spurgeon has gone, is going, or ever will\ngo to heaven. What certainty can they have in the matter? Saint Paul\nhimself alluded to the possibility of his being \"a castaway.\" How can an\ninferior apostle be _sure_ of the kingdom of heaven?\n\nSaint Paul taught predestination, and so did Spurgeon. According to\nthis doctrine, God knew beforehand the exact number of human beings\nthat would live on this planet, though Omniscience itself must have been\ntaxed to decide where the anthropoid exactly shaded off into the man. He\nalso knew the exact number of the elect who would go to heaven, and\nthe exact number of the reprobate who would go to hell. The tally was\ndecided before the spirit of God brooded over the realm of Chaos and old\nNight. Every child born into the world bears the stamp of his destiny.\nBut the stamp is secret. No one can detect it. Lists of saved and damned\nare not published. If they were, it would save us a lot of anxiety. Some\nwould say, \"I'm all right.\" Others would say, \"I'm in for it; I'll keep\ncool while I can.\" But we must all die before we ascertain our fate.\nWe may feel confident of being in the right list, with the rest of the\nsheep; but confidence is not proof, and impressions are not facts.\nWhen we take the great leap we shall know. Until then no man has any\ncertitude; not even the most pious Christian that ever rolled his eyes\nin prayer to his Maker, or whined out the confession of his contemptible\nsins. All are in the same perplexity, and Spurgeon was no exception to\nthe rule.\n\nWhen predestination was really believed, the friends of the greatest\nsaint only _hoped_ he had gone to heaven. When they are _sure_ of it\npredestination is dead. Nay, hell itself is extinguished. Spurgeon's\nfriends think he has gone to heaven because they feel he was too good to\ngo to hell. They knew him personally, and it is hard to think that a\nman whose hand once lay in yours is howling in everlasting fire. Such\nexceptions prove a new rule. They show that the human heart has outgrown\nthe horrible doctrine of future torment, that the human mind has\noutgrown foolish creeds, that man is better than his God.\n\n\n\n\nGOD IN JAPAN.\n\nJapan has just been visited by a terrible earthquake. Without a moment's\nwarning it swept along, wrecking towns, killing people, and altering the\nvery shape of mountains. A vast tidal wave also rushed against the coast\nand deluged whole tracts of low-lying country. It is estimated that\n50,000 houses have been destroyed, and at least 5,000 men, women, and\nchildren. The first reports gave a total of 25,000 slain, but this is\nsaid to be an exaggeration. Nevertheless, as a hundred miles or so of\nrailway is torn to pieces, and it is difficult to convey relief to\nthe suffering survivors, the butcher's bill of this catastrophe may be\ndoubled before the finish.\n\nIf earthquakes are the work of blind, unconscious Nature, it is idle to\nspend our breath in discussion or recrimination. Even regret is foolish.\nWe have to take the world as we find it, with all its disadvantages,\n\nand make the best of a not too brilliant bargain. Instead of screaming\nwe must study; instead of wailing we must reflect; and eventually, as we\ngain a deeper knowledge of the secrets of Nature, and a greater mastery\nover her forces, we shall be better able to foresee the approach of evil\nand to take precautionary measures against it.\n\nBut the standard teaching of England, to say nothing of less civilised\nnations, is not Naturalism but Theism. We are told that there is a God\nover all, and that he doeth all things well. On the practical side this\ndeity is called Providence. It is Providence that sends fine weather,\nand Providence that sends bad weather; Providence that sends floods,\nand Providence that sends drought; Providence that favors us with a fine\nharvest, and Providence that blights the crops, reducing millions of\npeople, as in Russia at this moment, to the most desperate shifts of\nself-preservation. It is Providence that saves Smith's precious life in\na railway accident, and of course it is. Providence that smashes poor\nJones, Brown and Robinson.\n\nNow it will be observed that the favorable or adverse policy of\nProvidence is quite irrespective of human conduct, There is no moral\ndiscrimination. If Grace Darling and Jack the Ripper were travelling by\nthe same train, and it met with an accident, everybody knows that their\nchances of death are precisely equal. If there were any difference it\nwould be in favor of Jack, who seems very careful of his own safety, and\nwould probably take a seat in the least dangerous part of the train.\n\nSome people, of course, and especially parsons, will contend that\nProvidence does discriminate. They have already been heard to hint that\nthe Russian famine is on account of the persecution of the Jews. But\nthis act of brutality is the crime of the Government, and the famine\nfalls upon multitudes of peasants who never saw a Jew in their lives.\nThey have to suffer the pangs of hunger, but the Czar will not go\nwithout a single meal or a single bottle of champagne.\n\nNo doubt a pious idiot or two will go to the length of asserting or\ninsinuating that the earthquake in Japan is a divine warning to the\npeople, from the Mikado down to his meanest subject, that they are too\nslow in accepting Christianity. In fact there is a large collection\nof such pious idiots, only they are deterred by a wholesome fear of\nridicule. Hundreds of thousands of people have seen Mr. Wilson Barrett\nin _Claudian_, without being in the least astonished that an earthquake,\nwhich ruins a whole city, should be got up for the hero's spiritual\nedification.\n\nLet the pious idiots, however numerous, be swept aside, and let the\nChristian with a fair supply of brains in his skull consider Providence\nin the light of this earthquake. It is folly to pretend that the\nJapanese are particularly wicked at this moment. It is greater folly to\npretend that the earthquake killed the most flagitious sinners. It slew\nlike Jehovah's bandits in the land of Canaan, without regard to age,\nsex, or character. The terrible fact must be faced, that in a country\nnot specially wicked, and in a portion of it not inhabited by select\nsinners, the Lord sent an earthquake to slay man, woman, and child, and\nif possible to \"leave alive nothing that breatheth.\"\n\nLay your hand upon your heart, Christian, and honestly answer this\nquestion. Would you have done this deed? Of course not. Your cheek\nflames at the thought. You would rush to save the victims. You would\nsoothe the dying and reverently bury the dead. Why then do you worship a\nMoloch who laughs at the writhings of his victims and drinks their tears\nlike wine? See, they are working and playing; they are at business and\npleasure; one is toiling to support the loved ones at home; another is\nsitting with them in peace and joy; another is wooing the maiden who\nis dearer to him than life itself; another is pondering some benevolent\nproject; another is planning a law or a poem that shall be a blessing\nand a delight to posterity. And lo the mandate of Moloch goes forth, and\n\"his word shall not return unto him void.\" Swifter than thought calamity\nfalls upon the gay and busy scene. Hearts that throbbed with joy now\nquiver with agony. The husband folds his wife in a last embrace. The\nmother gathers her children like Niobe. The lover clasps in the midst of\nhorror the maiden no longer coy. Homes are shaken to dust, halls fall\nin ruins, the very temples of the gods are shattered. Brains are dashed\nout, blood flows in streams, limbs are twisted, bodies are pinned by\nfalling masonry, cries of anguish pierce the air, groans follow, and\nlastly silence. Moloch then retires to his inmost sanctuary, filled and\nsated with death and pain.\n\nIs it not better, Christian friend, to defy Moloch instead of\nworshipping him? Is it not still better to regard this deity as the\ncreation of fanciful ignorance? Is not existence a terror if Providence\nmay swoop upon us with inevitable talons and irresistible beak? And does\nnot life become sweeter when we see no cruel intelligence behind the\ncatastrophes of nature?\n\n\n\n\nSTANLEY ON PROVIDENCE.\n\nBuckle, the historian of Civilisation, points out that superstition is\nmost rampant where men are most oppressed by external nature. Wild and\nterrible surroundings breed fear and awe in the human mind. Those\nwho lead adventurous lives are subject to the same law. Sailors, for\ninstance, are proverbially superstitious, and military men are scarcely\nless so. The fighter is not always moral, but he is nearly always\nreligious.\n\nNo one acquainted with this truth will be surprised at the piety of\nexplorers. There is a striking exception in Sir Richard Burton, but we\ndo not remember another. From the days of Mungo Park down to our own\nage, they have been remarkable for their religious temperaments. Had\nthey remained at home, in quiet and safety, they might not have been\nconspicuous in this respect; but a life of constant adventure, of daily\nperil and hairbreadth escapes, developed their superstitious tendencies.\nIt is so natural to feel our helplessness in solitude and danger,\nand perhaps in sickness. It is so easy to feel that our escape from a\ncalamity that hemmed us in on every side was due to a providential hand.\n\nWhether Stanley, who is now the cynosure of all eyes, began with\nany considerable stock of piety, is a question we have no means of\ndetermining; but we can quite understand how a very little would go a\nvery long way in Africa, amid long and painful marches through unknown\nterritory, the haunting peril of strange enemies, and the oppressive\ngloom of interminable forests. Indeed, if the great explorer had become\nas superstitious as the natives themselves, we could have forgiven it\nas a frailty incident to human nature in such trying circumstances.\nBut when he brings his mental weakness home with him, and addresses\nEnglishmen in the language of ideas calculated for the latitude of\nequatorial Africa, it becomes necessary to utter a protest. Stanley has\nhad a good spell of rest in Egypt, and plenty of time to get rid of the\n\"creeps.\" He should, therefore, have returned to Europe clothed and in\nhis right mind. But instead of this he deliberately sits down and writes\nthe following rubbish for an American magazine, with one eye on God\nabove and the other on a handsome cheque below:\n\n\"Constrained at the darkest hour humbly to confess that without God's\nhelp I was helpless, I vowed a vow in the forest solitudes that I would\nconfess his aid before men. Silence, as of death, was round about me; it\nwas midnight; I was weakened by illness, prostrated by fatigue, and\nwan with anxiety for my white and black companions, whose fate was a\nmystery. In this physical and mental distress I besought God to give me\nback my people. Nine hours later we were exulting with a rapturous joy.\nIn full view of all was the crimson flag with the crescent, and beneath\nits waving folds was the long-lost rear column.\"\n\nDanger and grief are apt to make us selfish, and no one would be hard\non Stanley for showing weakness in such circumstances. But he rather\nglories in it. The danger is gone, and alas! the egotism remains. Others\nperished miserably, but he escaped. Omnipotence took care of him and\nlet them go to the Devil. No doubt they prayed in their extremity as\nheartily as he did, but their prayers were unheard or neglected. Stanley\nwas the lion of the party. Yes, and in parading his egotistic piety in\nthis way, he is in danger of becoming a _lion comique_.\n\nThere is something absolutely farcical in Stanley's logic. While he\nwas praying to God, millions of other persons were engaged in the same\noccupation. Agonised mothers were beseeching God to spare their dear\nchildren; wives were imploring him to restore the bread-winner of the\nfamily to health; entombed miners were praying in the dark depths of\ncoalpits, and slowly perishing of starvation; shipwrecked sailors were\nasking for the help that never came. Providence could not, apparently,\ntake on too much business at once, and while Stanley's fate trembled in\nthe balance the rest of mankind might shift for themselves.\n\nBut the farce does not end here. Stanley's attitude was much like\nJacob's. That smooth-skinned and smooth-tongued patriarch said that if\nGod would guarantee him a safe journey, feed him, clothe him, find him\npocket money, and bring him safe back again--well, then the Lord should\nbe his God. Stanley was not so exacting, but his attitude was similar.\nHe asked God to give him back his people (a few short, killed or\nstarved, did not matter), and promised in return to \"confess his aid\nbefore men.\" Give me the solid pudding, he says, and I will give you the\nempty praise. And now he is safe back in Europe he fulfils his part\nof the contract, and goes about trumpeting the praise of Omnipotence;\ntaking care, however, to get as much cash as possible for every note he\nblows on the instrument.\n\nEven this does not end the farce. Stanley's piety runs away with his\narithmetic. He reminds us of a Christian lady we heard of the other day.\nShe prayed one night, on going to bed, for news from her daughter, and\nearly the next morning a letter came bearing the Edinburgh post-mark.\nThis was clearly an answer to her prayer. But a sceptical friend showed\nher that the letter must have been posted at Edinburgh before she prayed\nfor it. Now Stanley reasons like that lady. Nine hours is no time in\ncentral Africa. The \"long-lost rear column\" must have been near, though\ninvisible, when Stanley struck his little bargain with the Almighty. Had\nit been two or three hundred miles off, and miraculously transported,\nthe hand of Providence would have been unmistakable; but in the\ncircumstances its arrival was natural, and the miracle is obviously the\ncreation of Stanley's heated brain. He was \"weakened by illness\" and\n\"prostrated by fatigue,\" and the absurdity was pardonable. We only\nprotest against his playing the child when he is well and strong.\n\n\n\n\nGONE TO GOD.\n\nStanley, the African traveller, is a man of piety. He seems to be on\npretty familiar terms with the \"one above.\" During his last expedition\nto relieve Emin--a sceptical gentleman, who gets along with less\nbloodshed than Stanley--he was troubled with \"traitors\"; that is, black\nfellows who thought they had a better right in Africa than the intrusive\nwhites, and acted upon that opinion. This put Stanley in a towering\nrage. He resolved to teach the \"traitors\" a lesson. One of them was\nsolemnly tried--by his executioners, and sentenced to be hung. A rope\nwas noosed round his neck, and he was taken under a tree, which was to\nbe his gallows. The poor devil screamed for mercy, but Stanley bent his\ninexorable brows, and cried, \"Send him to God!\"\n\n\"We were troubled with no more traitors,\" says Stanley. Very likely. But\nthe great man forgot to say what he meant by the exclamation, \"Send\nhim to God!\" Did he mean \"Send him to God for judgment?\" If so, it was\nrather rough to hang the prisoner before his proper trial. Did he mean,\n\"The fellow isn't fit for earth, so send him to heaven?\" If so, it was\na poor compliment to Paradise. Or did he simply use a pious, impressive\nform of speech to awe the spectators, and give them the notion that he\nhad as much traffic with God as any African mystery-man or Mohammedan\ndervish?\n\nThe middle one of these three theories fits in best with the general\nsentiment, or at any rate the working sentiment, of Christian England.\nSome brutal, drunken, or passionate wretch commits a murder. He is\ncarefully tried, solemnly sentenced, and religiously hanged. He\nis declared unfit to live on this planet. But he is still a likely\ncandidate for heaven, which apparently yawns to receive all the refuse\nof earth. He is sedulously taken in hand by the gaol chaplain, or some\nother spiritual guide to glory, and is generally brought to a better\nframe of mind. Finally, he expresses sorrow for his position, forgives\neverybody he has ever injured, delivers himself of a good deal of highly\nedifying advice, and then swings from the gallows clean into the Kingdom\nof Heaven.\n\nThe grotesque absurdity of all this is enough to wrinkle the face of a\ncab horse. Society and the murderer are both playing the hypocrite, and\nof course Society is the worse of the two, for it is acting deliberately\nand methodically, while the poor devil about to be hung is like a hunted\nthing in a corner, up to any shift to ease his last moments and make\npeace with the powers of the life to come. Society says he has killed\nsomebody, and he shall be killed; that he is not fit to live, but fit\nto die; that it must strangle him, and call him \"brother\" when the white\ncap is over his face, and God must save his soul; that he is too bad to\ndwell on earth, but it hopes to meet him in heaven.\n\nReligion does not generate sense, logic, or humaneness in the mind of\nSociety. Its effect on the doomed assassin is simply horrible. He is\nreally a more satisfactory figure when committing the murder than when\nhe is posing, and shuffling and twisting, and talking piously, and\nexhibiting the intense, unmitigated selfishness which is at the bottom\nof all religious sentiment. The essence of piety comes out in this\ntragi-comedy. Personal fear, personal hope, self, self, sell, is the\nbe-all and the end-all of this sorry exhibition.\n\nA case in point has just occurred at Leeds. James Stockwell was hung\nthere on Tuesday morning. While under sentence of death, the report\nsays, he slept well and ate heartily, so that remorse does not appear to\nhave injured his digestion or any other part of his physical apparatus.\nOn learning that he would not be reprieved, and must die, he became very\nattentive to the chaplain's ministrations; in fact, he took to preaching\nhimself, and wrote several letters to his relatives, giving them sound\nteetotal advice, and warning them against the evils of drink.\n\nBut the fellow lied all the time. His crime was particularly atrocious.\nHe outraged a poor servant girl, sixteen years of age, and then cut\nher throat. He was himself thirty-two years of age, with a wife and\none child, so that he had not even the miserable excuse of an unmated\nanimal. A plea of insanity was put forward on his behalf, but it did not\navail. When the wretched creature found he was not to be reprieved, and\ntook kindly to the chaplain's religion, he started a fresh theory to\ncover his crime. He said he was drunk when he committed it. Now this was\na lie. The porter's speech in _Macbeth_ will explain our meaning. James\nStockwell may have had a glass, but if he was really drunk, in the sense\nof not knowing what he was about, we believe it was simply impossible\nfor him to make outrage the prelude to murder. If he had merely drunk\nenough to bring out the beast in him, without deranging the motor\nnerves, he was certainly not _drunk_ in the proper sense of the word.\nHe knew what he was doing, and both in the crime and in his flight he\nshowed himself a perfect master of his actions.\n\nReligion, therefore, did not \"convict him of sin.\" It did not lay bare\nbefore him his awful wickedness. It simply made him hypocritical.\nIt induced or permitted him to save his _amour propre_ by a fresh\nfalsehood.\n\nJames Stockwell's last letter from gaol was written the day before his\nexecution. It was a comprehensive epistle, addressed to his father and\nmother and brothers and sisters. \"God\" and \"Christ\" appear in it like\nan eruption. The writer quotes the soothing text, \"Come unto me all\nyou that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.\" He was\nevidently familiar with Scripture, and thought this text especially\napplicable to himself. \"Many a prayer,\" he says, \"have I offered to God\nboth on behalf of you and myself,\" and he winds up by \"hoping to meet\nyou all hereafter.\"\n\nNot a word about his crime. Not a word about his injury to society. Not\na word about the poor girl he outraged and murdered. James Stockwell had\nno thought for her or her relatives. He did not trouble about what had\nbecome of Kate Dennis. He was careless whether she was in heaven or\nhell. Not once, apparently, did it cross his mind that he had destroyed\nher young life after nameless horror; that he had killed her in the\nbloom of maidenhood; that at one fell swoop he had extinguished all that\nshe might have been--perhaps a happy wife and mother, living to a white\nold age, with the prattle of grandchildren soothing her last steps to\nthe grave. Such reflections do not occur to gentlemen who are anxious\nabout their salvation, and in a hurry to get to heaven.\n\n\"I and mine\"--my fate, my mother, my father, my sisters, my\nbrothers--this was the sole concern of James Stockwell under the\nchaplain's ministrations. In this frame of mind, we presume, he has\nsailed to glory, and his family hope to meet him there snug in Abraham's\nbosom. Well, we don't. We hope to give the haunt of James Stockwell a\nwide berth. If he and others like him are in the upper circles, every\ndecent person would rather be in the pit.\n\nLet not the reader suppose that James Stockwell's case is uncommon. We\nhave made a point of reading the letters of condemned murderers,\nand thev all bear a family likeness. Religion simply stimulates and\nsanctifies selfishness. In selfishness it began and in selfishness it\nends. Extreme cases only show the principle in a glaring light; they do\nnot alter it, and the light is the light of truth.\n\nJames Stockwell has gone to God. No doubt the chaplain of Leeds gaol\nfeels sure of it. Probably the fellow's relatives are just as sure. But\nwhat of Kate Dennis. Is _she_ with God? What an awful farce it would\nbe if she were in hell. Perhaps she is. She had no time to prepare for\ndeath. She was cut off \"in her sins.\" But her murderer had three weeks\nto prepare for his freehold in New Jerusalem. He qualified himself for\na place with the sore-legged Lazarus. He dwells in the presence of the\nLamb. He drinks of the river of life. He twangs his hallelujah harp and\nblows his hallelujah trumpet. Maybe he looks over the battlements and\nsees Kate Dennis in Hades. The murderer in heaven, and the victim in\nhell! Nay more. It has been held that the bliss of the saved will be\nheightened by witnessing the tortures of the damned. In that case Kate\nDennis may burn to make James Stockwell's holiday. He will watch her\nwrithings with more than the relish of a sportsman who has hooked a\nlusty trout. \"Ha, ha,\" the worthy James may exclaim, \"I tortured her\nbefore I killed her, and now I shall enjoy her tortures for ever.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHANK GOD.\n\nThe peculiarly selfish character of religion is often exemplified, but\nwe do not remember a better illustration than the one which recently\noccurred at Folkestone. The twenty-seven seamen who were rescued from\nthe _Benvenue_ attended a thanksgiving service at the parish church,\nwhere the vicar delivered \"a short address suitable to the occasion.\"\nTheir captain and four of his crew were drowned, and the lucky survivors\nthanked the Lord for saving them, though he let the others perish in the\nyeasty waves.\n\nWe should like to see a copy of that vicar's suitable discourse. We\nsuspect it would be an interesting study to a cynic. No doubt the man of\nGod's chief motive was professional. The saving of those shipwrecked men\nwas a splendid piece of work, but it required to be rounded off. It was\nnot complete unless the parson blessed it and approved it with a text.\nHe came in at the finish when the danger was all over, and gave the\nperfecting touch in the shape of a cheap benediction. Probably the man\nof God put in a good word for Providence. The poor sailors had been\nsnatched from the jaws of death; their minds were therefore in a state\nof agitation, and at the very best they are not a logical or reflective\nrace of men. Very likely, therefore, they assented to the theory that\nthey owed their deliverance to the blessing of God, but a little quiet\nthought about the matter would possibly make them see it in a different\nlight.\n\nThe persons who visibly _did_ save them from drowning were gallant\nlifeboat-men, who put their own lives in deadly peril, fighting the\nstorm inch by inch in the hope of rescuing a number of unknown fellow\ncreatures. All honor to _them!_ We would sooner doff the hat to them\nthan to any prince in Christendom. Some of them, perhaps, take a drop\ntoo much occasionally, and their language may often be more vigorous\nthan polite. But all that is superficial. The real test of a man is what\nhe will do when he is put to it. When those rough fellows saw a brave\ntask before them, all the skin-deep blackguardism dropped away; the\nheroic came out in supreme majesty, and they were consecrated by it more\ntruly than any smug priest at his profitable altar. As they jumped into\nthe boat they proved the nobility of human nature, and the damnable\nfalsehood of the Christian doctrine of original sin.\n\nWhat share Providence had in the matter is not very apparent. Strong\narms and stout hearts were in the lifeboat, and that accounts for her\nreaching the wreck. Had the rowers the choice of a stimulus, we dare say\nthey would have taken a swig of brandy in preference to any quantity of\nthe Holy Spirit. What Providence _might_ have done if he, she, or it\nwas in the humor, was to keep the shipwrecked sailors safe until the\nlifeboat arrived. But this was _not_ done, Those who were lashed to the\nrigging were saved, while the captain and four others, less fortunately\nsituated, were lost. Where the _material_ means were efficacious there\nwas salvation, and where they failed there was disaster and death.\n\nSo much for the logical side of the matter. Now let us look at the moral\nside. Religion pretends to minister to the unselfish part of our nature.\nThat is the theory, but how does it work out in practice? Thanking God\nfor saving the survivors of a shipwreck implies that he could have saved\nthose who perished. It also implies that he did not choose to do so. It\nfurther implies that the saved are more worthy, or more important, than\nthe lost; at least, it implies that they are greater favorites in\nthe \"eye of heaven.\" Now this is a frightful piece of egotism, which\neveryone with a spark of manhood would be disgusted at if he saw it in\nits true colors.\n\nNor is this all. It is not even the worst. There is a viler aspect of\nthis \"thanksgiving\" business. One man is saved in a disaster and another\nis killed. When the first realises his good luck he congratulates\nhimself, This is natural and pardonable, but only for a moment. The\nleast disinterestedness, the least sympathy, the least imagination,\nwould make him think of his dead companion. \"Did he suffer much, poor\nfellow? What will his wife do? How will his little ones get on without\na father? After all, mightn't it have been better if he had been spared\ninstead of me? Who knows?\"\n\nIf these reflections did not occur under the stimulated instinct of\nself-preservation it would be bad enough. How much worse when the\nsurvivor keeps up the selfish attitude in cold blood, and deliberately\ngoes about thanking God for _his_ preservation! Ordinary reason and\nhumanity would cry shame on such egotism, but religion steps in and\nsanctifies it.\n\nSome of these days an honest man will be provoked into a bit of good\nstrong \"blasphemy.\" When he hears a fellow thanking Providence for _his_\nsafety, while others perished, this honest man will shrug his shoulders.\nAnd when the fellow cries \"Bless God!\" this honest man will exclaim\n\"Damn God!\"\n\nNo doubt the priests would burn that honest man alive if they had the\npower. But his logic and his feelings will be better than theirs. He\nwill abhor selfishness even in the disguise of piety, and he will argue\nthat if God is to be credited with the lives of those who are saved,\nhe should also be debited with the lives of those who are lost. And how\nwould the account stand then?\n\n\n\n\nJUDGMENT DAY.\n\nThe end of the world has been a fertile and profitable theme with pulpit\nmountebanks and pious adventurers. Ever since the primitive ages of\nChristianity it has served to frighten the credulous and feather the\nnests of their deceivers.\n\nIn the apostolic days the Second Coming of Christ was generally and\nconstantly expected. According to the twenty-fourth of Matthew, Jesus\npredicted that the end of all things would soon arrive. The sun and moon\nwere to be darkened; the stars were to fall from heaven; and the Son\nof Man was to come through the clouds with great power and glory, and\ngather the elect together from every quarter of the earth, According to\nthe twenty-fifth of Matthew, this wondrous scene was to be followed by\na Great Assize. All the nations were to be judged before the heavenly\nthrone, and divided into two lots, one destined for heaven and the other\nfor hell. And Jesus significantly added, \"Verily I say unto you, this\ngeneration shall not pass, till all these things be fulfilled.\"\n\nSt. Paul also, in the fourth chapter of the first of Thessalonians, said\nthat the Lord would \"descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of\nthe archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall\nrise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up\ntogether with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air.\"\n\nNothing of the sort has happened. There is no sign of the Lord's\ncoming, and he is already eighteen centuries behind date. \"Behold I come\nquickly\"--\"Surely I come quickly.\" Such was the announcement. But, like\nmany other divine promises, it has been falsified. The only orthodox way\nout of the difficulty is to say that the Lord does not reckon time as\nwe do; with him a day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as a\nday.\n\nThe general public, however, eighteen hundred years ago, did not\nknow how long the prophecy was to remain unfulfilled, and it had an\nextraordinary power over them. Being mostly very ignorant, and therefore\nvery credulous, they were easily terrified by the notion that the world\nwas to be burnt up speedily; and they as readily embraced the doctrine\nwhich promised to bring them safely through the catastrophe. From the\nway in which the game answers still with the Christian mob, after\nnearly two thousand years of exposure, we can understand what a splendid\ninstrument of proselytising it must have been in the hands of the\nfanatical preachers of the early Church. Combine with it the Millennium\npromised to the saints after the Second Coming of Christ, in which\nthey were to enjoy themselves royally, and you will feel the justice of\nGibbon's remark that \"it must have contributed in a very considerable\ndegree to the progress of the Christian faith.\" It was inculcated by a\nsuccession of Fathers, from Justin Martyr to Lactantius. But when it had\nserved its purpose it was allowed to drop. As Gibbon says, \"it was at\nfirst treated as a profound allegory, was considered by degrees as a\ndoubtful and useless opinion, and was at length rejected as the absurd\ninvention of heresy and fanaticism.\" The Millennium is stigmatised, in\nwhat once stood as the forty-first Article of the English Church, as \"a\nfable of Jewish dotage.\" We wonder whether the plain-spoken divines who\ndrew up that article included Jesus Christ, St. Paul, and St. John\namong the Jewish dotards.\n\nAt the end of the tenth century the doctrine of the Second Coming was\nrevived. The people were led to believe that the old serpent's thousand\nyears of bondage was nearly up, that he would be let loose about the\nyear 1,000, that Antichrist would then appear, and that the end of the\nworld would follow. Churches and houses were therefore left to decay,\nas they would cease to be wanted. Whenever an eclipse of the sun or moon\ntook place, the people ran into caverns and caves. Multitudes hurried\noff to Palestine, where they supposed Christ would make his descent.\nThey transferred their property to the priests, who could say with\nIago, \"thus do I ever make my fool my purse.\" Others not only gave their\nproperty to the priests, but actually became their slaves; hoping, says\nMosheim, that \"the supreme Judge would be more favorable to them if they\nmade themselves servants to _his_ servants.\"\n\nJortin justly observes that the priests industriously cherished the\ndelusion for the sake of filthy lucre. They accepted the gifts of their\npoor dupes, although earthly possessions would be as useless to them as\nto the laity if the last days were at hand. Donations to the Church were\ngiven by fools and received by knaves. The reason assigned for the gift\nis generally thus expressed: _Appropinquante mundi termino--The end of\nthe world being now at hand_.*\n\nWhen the tenth century ended without a sign of the Second Advent, people\nlooked at each other and said \"He is not come then.\" And the priests\nchuckled, \"No, he has not come, but your property is gone.\" There was no\nchance of bringing an action for obtaining money under false pretences,\nand Holy Mother Church never gives back a farthing of what she\nobtains, for what is once devoted to God can never be alienated without\nsacrilege.\n\nAlthough the delusion has been milder since then, it has always lurked\namong the ignorant, and occasionally become acute. Silly Christians\nstill shake their heads when a comet is visible, and regard it as a\nblazing portent. They even hint that one of these wanderers through\nspace may collide with our globe and cause the final smash; not knowing\nthat comets are quite harmless, and that hundreds of cubic miles of\ntheir tails would not outweigh a jar-ful of air.\n\nDr. Cumming foretold the grand collapse several times. His books were\nread by thousands of superstitious people. Finally, he was played out,\nand he went to his grave a discredited prophet. Had he been wiser he\nwould have fixed the event some time after he was likely to be buried.\nThen the game would have lasted his lifetime, and what does it matter if\nyou are found out when you are dead?\n\nHow far Gumming believed his own prophecies is a moot point. It is said\nthat he bought the lease of a house, which expired about twenty-five\nyears after his date for the day of judgment.\n\nProphet Baxter, of the _Christian Herald_, now runs the business. He\nwrote a book to prove that Louis Napoleon was Antichrist. Louis\nNapoleon is dead and nearly forgotten. Then he proved that Gambetta\nwas Antichrist. Gambetta is dead and not forgotten. Then he proved that\nPrince Jerome was Antichrist. Prince Jerome is nowhere, and Baxter is\nlooking out for a fresh Antichrist. Yet his paper is read by hundreds of\nthousands. As Heine said, the fool-crop is perennial.\n\nOver in America the Second Adventists are a numerous body. They watch\nand pray for the coming of Christ, and keep white robes ready for their\nascension. Some time ago they donned their linen in the expectation\nthat the Lord was coming that very night. But the Lord did not put in an\nappearance, and the robes were laid up in lavender again. A fat matron\ntrying to fly in that outfit would be a sight worth seeing. It would\ntake several angels to float some of them. Even the archangel Michael\nmight shrink from tackling twenty-stone.\n\nLike everything else in Christianity, except the accursed doctrine\nof salvation by faith, the idea of the end of the world and a day of\njudgment is derived from older sources.\n\nThe Hindu _Kalpas_, covering thousands of millions of years, are periods\nof creation and destruction, and each is called a day of Brahma. During\nthis enormous interval the universe begins and ends. Brahma wakes from\nhis slumbrous solitude, and his thoughts and emotions embody themselves\nin worlds and creatures. When he falls to rest again, the whole system\nof finite things vanishes like the baseless fabric of a vision.\n\nThe Stoics also believed in a periodical destruction and renovation of\nall things. They, as Alger says, \"conceived of God as a pure artistic\nforce or seed of universal energy, which exhibits its history in the\nevolution of the cosmos, and, on its completion, blossoms into fire and\nvanishes. The universal periodical conflagration destroys all evil, and\nleaves the indestructible God alone in his pure essence again.\"\n\nThe Persians entertained a similar conception, which more closely\nresembles the Christian doctrine. Ahura-Mazda creates all things\ngood, and the race of men happy and immortal. But Angra-Mainyas, his\nadversary, the old serpent, corrupts them, brings upon them misery and\ndeath, and leads their souls to his dark abode. Good and evil spirits\nfill all creation with their conflict. But at last Ahura-Mazda subdues\nAngra-Mainyas, nullifies all the mischief he has done by means of a\ngreat deliverer, who is sent to instruct and redeem mankind, raises\nthe dead, purifies the world with fire, and restores all nature to its\nparadisiacal condition.\n\nThe Scandinavians had their Ragnarok, or Twilight of the Gods, when all\nthe powers of good and evil join in battle. The horn sounds, the last\nday dawns in fire and splendor from the sky, in fog and venom from the\nabyss. Flames destroy the earth, the combatants mostly slay each other,\nbut Gimli, the heaven of the All-Father, is a refuge for the survivors,\nand the beginning of a new and fairer world.\n\nChiefly influenced by the Persian, and partly by other systems, the\nlater Jewish theology, as represented by the Pharisees, taught that\nJehovah would reappear in the last days; and the Day of the Lord, which\nin former ages meant any national calamity, became transformed into the\nDay of Judgment. What was to happen on that occasion is described in the\nBook of Enoch. This was written about a century before Christ, yet it is\nquoted in the Epistle of Jude as the work of old transported Enoch, the\nseventh from Adam; a fact which throws a singular light on the critical\nacumen of the early Christians. Jesus Christ, Paul, and especially the\nauthor of Revelation, are indebted to the Book of Enoch. It provided\nthem with nearly all the plot, dialogue and scenery of their judgment\ndrama.\n\nAs judges of the dead, the Greeks had Minos, who presided at the trial\nof souls from Europe; Rhada-mauthus, who examined those from Asia; and\n\u00c6acus, who tried those from Africa, America and Australia were then\nunknown, and souls from those continents were not provided with\ninspectors. Of course the dead who held communication with the living,\nnever told them more than they knew. The same thing continues to this\nday. All the messages from the departed given at all the Spiritist\n_s\u00e9ances_ have not added a single fragment to the world's stock of\ninformation.\n\nThe ancient Egyptians believed in \"after death the judgment.\" Souls were\ntried in the Hall of the two-Truths, or the double Justice. They were\nweighed in the balance. Thoth noted the result, and Osiris pronounced\nsentence. Before burial, also, the Egyptian dead underwent a saner\ntrial. The friends and relatives, the enemies and accusers of the\ndeceased, assembled around the sarcophagus before forty-two assessors.\nHe was put on his trial before them; and if justified, awarded an\nhonorable burial; but, if condemned, disgraced by the withholding of\nfuneral rites. Kings, as well as commoners, were apparently subject to\nthe same ordeal. Does this account for the beneficent character of their\ngovernment, and the prosperous-content of the people, which is reflected\nin the placid smile of their sphinxes?\n\nProbably the antique notion of a general Day of Judgment arose from the\nimposing trials, where the King sat in judgment, throned, jewelled, and\nguarded; where all were free to approach and claim justice; and where\nthe sentences were executed by the soldiers-directly they were passed.\nAdd to this scene a general _auto da f\u00e9_, in which Christ plays the part\nof Grand Inquisitor, the saints that of familiars, and the Devil; that\nof executioner, and you have a very fair idea of the Christian Day of\nJudgment.\n\n\"Day,\" we presume, must not be taken too literally. The Mohammedans\nbelieve the Great Assize will last thousands of years. In that case the\npeople who are fond of hearing trials will have a fine time, until their\nown turn comes. After all, even the Mohammedan computation seems\ntoo slender. To say nothing of the scientific antiquity of man, and\nreckoning according to the Bible chronology, about two hundred thousand\nmillion souls have passed into eternity already, and the Lord knows how\nmany more will join them. Imagination fails in conceiving the time it\nwould take to try all that multitude, especially if there are a good\nnumber of Tichborne cases. Besides, the whole thing seems unfair. Those\nwho get a ticket for heaven at the end of the Day will enjoy a few\nthousand years less of bliss than the more fortunate ones who came\nearly; and those who get a ticket for hell in the first hour will suffer\na few thousand years of torture more than those who are sentenced at the\nfinish.\n\nThe criterion at the Day of Judgment will be Faith. That is a difficult\nvirtue to wise men, and an easy one to fools. The ninnies, therefore,\nwill have the best chance. This must be very consoling to mankind if\nCarlyle's estimate of England's population--\"thirty millions, mostly\nfools\"--may be extended to the rest of the world.\n\nAll who have faith enough to secure a seat in heaven are called \"sheep,\"\nand they could not be labelled better. All the others are called\n\"goats,\" that is, lusty, strong-legged fellows who despise the game of\nfollow-my-leader, who object to walking along the road made for them,\nand are always leaping the fence to see what is on the other side. There\nwas war in heaven once, we are told, but that was before Satan and his\ncrew were kicked out. There will never be war in heaven again. Jesus\nChrist will easily be able to manage his sheep. But the Devil will have\na tougher job with his goats. There will always be a kingdom in heaven,\nbut ten to one there will be a republic in hell.\n\nChristianity says we are to be saved by faith. Our view is different.\nMen are saved by thinking and acting. While Christian monks were trying\nto degrade men below the level of brutes, some unknown Secularists\ninvented windmills and glass windows. While the Inquisition was\nexterminating heresy and purifying the faith, Galileo was inventing the\ntelescope. While Church of Englandism and Methodism were fighting over\nthe faith in England, Watt was discovering the use of steam. Faith never\nsaved men here, and why should it save them hereafter? God, if he exist,\nmust be too humane and sensible to judge men according to their belief;\nand if he endowed us with reason, he will never damn us for exercising\nit.\n\nWandering in an immense forest during the night, said Diderot, I have\nonly one little light to guide me. A stranger comes to me and says, \"My\nfriend, blow out your candle to find your way better.\" That light is\nreason, and that stranger is a theologian.\n\nScience, no less than common sense, dispels Christian superstition.\nEvolution destroys the idea of a general catastrophe. There was a time\nwhen life could not exist on the earth, and there will probably come\na time when it will cease to exist. Long before then man will have\ndisappeared. But the aeon of our race may extend to millions of years.\nIs not this time practically infinite? And do not those who make it\na cause for lamentation and despair resemble the man that Spinoza\nridicules, who refuses to eat his dinner to-day because he is not sure\nof a dinner for ever and ever? Sit down, you fool, and eat.\n\n\n\n\nSHELLEY'S ATHEISM. *\n\n     * On August 4, 1892, the centenary of Shelley's birth was\n     celebrated at Horsham, where it is intended to found a\n     Shelley Library, if not a Shelley Museum. The celebrants\n     were a motley collection. They were all concealing the\n     poet's principles and paying honor to a bogus Shelley. A\n     more honest celebration took place in the evening at the\n     Hall of Science, Old-street, London, E.C. Six or seven\n     hundred people were addressed by Dr. Furnivall, Gr. B. Shaw,\n     and G. W. Foote; and every pointed reference to Shelley's\n     religious, social, and political heresy was enthusiastically\n     applauded.\n\nCharles Darwin, the Newton of biology, was an Agnostic--which is only a\nrespectable synonym for an Atheist. The more he looked for God the\nless he could find him. Yet the corpse of this great \"infidel\" lies in\nWestminster Abbey, We need not wonder, therefore, that Christians and\neven parsons are on the Shelley Centenary committee, or that Mr.\nEdmund Gosse was chosen to officiate as high pontiff at the Horsham\ncelebration. Mr. Gosse is a young man with a promising past--to borrow a\nwitticism from Heine. In the old _Examiner_ days he hung about the army\nof revolt. Since then he has become a bit of a Philistine, though he\nstill affects a superior air, and retains a pretty way of turning a\nsentence. The selection of such a man to pronounce the eulogy on Shelley\nwas in keeping with the whole proceedings at Horsham, where everybody\nwas lauding a \"bogus Shelley,\" as Mr. Shaw remarked at the Hall of\nScience celebration.\n\nMr. Gosse was good enough to tell the Horsham celebrants that \"it\nwas not the poet who was attacked\" in Shelley's case, but \"the\nrevolutionist, the enemy of kings and priests, the extravagant\nand paradoxical humanitarian.\" Mr. Gosse generously called this an\n\"intelligent aversion,\" and in another sense than his it undoubtedly was\nso. The classes, interests, and abuses that were threatened by Shelley's\nprinciples, acted with the intelligence of self-preservation. They gave\nhim an ill name and would gladly have hung him. Yes, it was, beyond all\ndoubt, an \"intelligent aversion.\" Byron only dallied with the false and\nfoolish beliefs of his age, but Shelley meant mischief. This accounts\nfor the hatred shown towards him by orthodoxy and privilege.\n\nMr. Gosse himself appears to have an \"intelligent aversion\" to Shelley's\n_principles_. He professes a great admiration for Shelley's _poetry_;\nbut he regards it as a sort of beautiful landscape, which has no other\npurpose than gratifying the aesthetic taste of the spectator. For the\npoet's _teaching_ he feels or affects a lofty contempt. Shelley the\nsinger was a marvel of delicacy and power; but Shelley the thinker was\nat best a callow enthusiast. Had he lived as long as Mr. Gosse,\nand moved in the same dignified society, he would have acquired an\n\"intelligent aversion\" to the indiscretions of his youthful passion for\nreforming the world; but fate decided otherwise, and he is unfortunate\nenough to be the subject of Mr. Gosse's admonitions.\n\nShelley lived like a Spartan; a hunk of bread and a jug of water, dashed\nperhaps with milk, served him as a dinner. His income was spent on the\npoor, on struggling men of genius, and on necessitous friends. Now\nas the world goes, this is simply asinine; and Mr. Gosse plays to the\nPhilistine gallery by sneering at Shelley's vegetarianism, and playfully\ndescribing him as an \"eater of buns and raisins.\" It was also lamented\nby Mr. Gosse that Shelley, as a \"hater of kings,\" had an attraction for\n\"revolutionists,\" a set of persons with whom Mr. Gosse would have no\nsort of dealings except through the policeman. \"Social anarchists,\"\nlikewise, gathered \"around the husband of Godwin's daughter\"--a pregnant\ndenunciation, though it leaves us in doubt whether Shelley, Godwin, or\nMary was the anarch, or all three of them together; while the \"husband\"\nseems to imply that getting married was one of the gravest of Shelley's\noffences.\n\nBut the worst of all is to come: \"Those to whom the restraints of\nreligion were hateful marshalled themselves under the banner of the\nyouth who had rashly styled himself as an Atheist, forgetful of the\nfact that All his best writings attest that, whatever name he might\ncall himself, he, more than any other poet of the age, saw God in\neverything.\"\n\nWe beg to tell Mr. Gosse that he is libellous and impertinent. He knows\nlittle or nothing of Atheists if he thinks they are only repelled by the\n\"restraints of religion.\" They have restraints of their own, quite as\nnumerous and imperative as those of any religionist who fears his God.\nWhat is more, they have incentives which religion weakens. Mr. Gosse is\nperhaps in a state of ignorance on this matter. He probably speaks of\nthe moral condition of Atheists as a famous American humorist proposed\nto lecture on science, with an imagination untrammeled by the least\nacquaintance with the subject.\n\nSo much (it is quite enough) for the libel; and now for the\nimpertinence. Mr. Gosse pretends to know Shelley's mind better than\nhe knew it himself. Shelley called himself an Atheist; that is\nindisputable; but he did so \"rashly.\" He was mistaken about his own\nopinions; he knew a great many things, but he was ignorant of himself.\nBut the omniscient Mr. Gosse was born (or _was_ he born?) to rectify\nthe poet's blunder, and assure the world that he was a Theist without\nknowing it--in fact, a really God-intoxicated person.\n\nWhat wonder is it that Mr. Gosse became intoxicated in turn, and soared\nin a rapture of panegyric over a Shelley of his own construction? \"The\nperiod of prejudice is over,\" he exclaimed, \"and we are gathered here\nto-day under the auspices of the greatest poet our language has produced\nsince Shelley died, encouraged by universal public opinion and by\ndignitaries of all the professions--yea, even by prelates of our\nnational Church.\" Here the preacher's intoxication became maudlin, and\nthere should have been an interval for soda-water.\n\nCuriously enough, the very last page of Trelawny's _Records of Shelley\nand Byron_ contains a conversation between that gallant friend of the\ntwo poets and a \"prelate of our national Church.\"\n\n\"Some years ago, one of the most learned of the English Bishops\nquestioned me regarding Shelley; he expressed both admiration and\nastonishment at his learning and writings. I said to the Bishop, 'You\nknow he was an Atheist.' He said, 'Yes.' I answered: 'It is the key\nand the distinguishing quality of all he wrote. Now that people are\nbeginning to distinguish men by their works, and not creeds, the\ncritics, to bring him into vogue, are trying to make out that Shelley\nwas not an Atheist, that he was rather a religious man. Would it be\nright in me, or anyone who knew him, to aid or sanction such a fraud?'\nThe Bishop said: 'Certainly not, there is nothing righteous but truth.'\nAnd there our conversation ended.\"\n\nTrelawny's bishop was willing (outside church, and in private\nconversation) to deprecate prejudice and acknowledge the supremacy of\ntruth; and perhaps for that reason he allowed that Shelley _was_ an\nAtheist. Mr. Gosse's bishops will soon be converting him into a pillar\nof the Church.\n\nTrelawny knew Shelley a great deal better than Mr. Gosse. He enjoyed an\nintimate friendship with the poet, not in his callow days, but during\nthe last year or two of his life, when his intellect was mature, and his\ngenius was pouring forth the great works that secure his immortality.\nDuring that time Shelley professed the opinions he enunciated in _Queen\nMab_. He said that the matter of that poem was good; it was only the\ntreatment that was immature. Again and again he told Trelawny that he\nwas content to know nothing of the origin of the universe; that religion\nwas chiefly a means of deceiving and robbing the people; that it\nfomented hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness; and that it also\nfettered the intellect, deterring men from solving the problems of\nindividual and social life, as well as the problems of nature, out of\nregard for the supposed oracles of Omniscience, which were after all the\nteachings of bigoted and designing priests. Shelley called himself an\nAtheist; he wrote \"Atheist\" after his name on a famous occasion; and\nTrelawny says \"he never regretted having done this.\"\n\n\"The principal fault I have to find,\" wrote Trelawny, \"is that the\nShelleyan writers, being Christians themselves, seem to think that a man\nof genius cannot be an Atheist, and so they strain their own faculties\nto disprove what Shelley asserted from the earliest stage of his career\nto the last day of his life. He ignored all religions as superstitions.\"\n\nOn another occasion Shelley said to Trelawny--\"The knaves are the\ncleverest; they profess to know everything; the fools believe them, and\nso they govern the world.\" Which is a most sagacious observation. He\nsaid that \"Atheist!\" in the mouth of orthodoxy was \"a word of abuse to\nstop discussion, a painted devil to frighten the foolish, a threat to\nintimidate the wise and good.\"\n\nMr. Gosse may reply that Shelley's conversations with Trelawny are not\nabsolute evidence; that they were written down long afterwards, and that\nwe cannot be sure of Shelley's using the precise words attributed to\nhim. Very well then; be it so. Mr. Gosse has appealed to Shelley's\n\"writings,\" and to Shelley's writings we will go. True, the epithet\n\"best\" is inserted by Mr. Gosse as a saving qualification; but we shall\ndisregard it, partly because \"best\" is a disputable adjective, but more\nbecause _all_ Shelley's writings attest his Atheism.\n\nLet us first go to Shelley's prose, not because it is his \"best\" work\n(though some parts of it are exquisitely beautiful, often very powerful,\nand always chaste), but because prose is less open than verse to false\nconception and interpretation. In the fine fragment \"On Life\" he acutely\nobserves that \"Mind, as far as we have any experience of its properties,\nand beyond that experience how vain is argument! cannot create, it can\nonly perceive.\" And he concludes \"It is infinitely improbable that\nthe cause of mind, that is, of existence, is similar to mind.\" Be it\nobserved, however, that Shelley does not dogmatise. He simply cannot\nconceive that mind is the _basis_ of all things. The cause of life is\nstill obscure. \"All recorded generations of mankind,\" Shelley says,\n\"have wearily-busied themselves in inventing answers to this question;\nand the result has been--Religion.\"\n\nShelley's essay \"On a Future State\" follows the same line of reasoning\nas his essay \"On Life.\" He considers it highly probable that _thought_\nis \"no more than the relation between certain parts of that infinitely\nvaried mass, of which the rest of the universe is composed, and which\nceases to exist as soon as those parts change their positions with\nregard to each other.\" His conclusion is that \"the desire to be for ever\nas we are, the reluctance to a violent and unexperienced change,\" which\nis common to man and other living beings, is the \"secret persuasion\nwhich has given birth to the opinions of a future state.\"\n\nIf we turn to Shelley's published letters we shall find abundant\nexpressions of hostility to and contempt for religion. Those letters may\ndeserve the praise of Matthew Arnold or the censure of Mr. Swinburne;\nbut, in either case, they may be taken as honest documents, written\nto all sorts of private friends, and never intended for publication.\nByron's letters were passed about freely, and largely written for\neffect; Shelley's were written under ordinary conditions, and he\nunbosomed himself with freedom and sincerity.\n\nFrom one of his early letters we find that he contemplated a translation\nof the _System of Nature_, which is frequently quoted in the notes\nto _Queen Mob_. He couples Jehovah and Mammon together as fit for the\nworship of \"those who delight in wickedness and slavery.\" In a letter\nto Henry Reveley he pictures God as delighted with his creation of the\nearth, and seeing it spin round the sun; and imagines him taking out\n\"patents to supply all the suns in space with the same manufacture.\"\nWhen the poet was informed by Oilier that a certain gentleman (it was\nArchdeacon Hare) hoped he would humble his soul and \"receive the spirit\ninto him,\" Shelley replied: \"if you know him personally, pray ask him\nfrom me what he means by receiving the _spirit into me_; and (if really\nit is any good) how one is to get at it.\" He goes on to say: \"I was\nimmeasurably amused by the quotation from Schlegel about the way in\nwhich the popular faith is destroyed--first the Devil, then the Holy\nGhost, then God the Father. I had written a Lucianic essay to prove the\nsame thing.\" In the very year of his death, writing to John Gisborne, he\ngirds at the popular faith in God, and with reference to one of its most\nabhorrent doctrines he exclaims--\"As if, after sixty years' suffering\nhere, we were to be roasted alive for sixty million more in hell, or\ncharitably annihilated by a _coup de gr\u00e2ce_ of the bungler who brought\nus into existence at first.\"--A dozen other quotations from Shelley's\nletters might be given, all to pretty much the same effect, but the\nforegoing must suffice.\n\nA thorough analysis of Shelley's poetry, showing the essential Atheism\nwhich runs through it from beginning to end, would require more space\nthan we have at our command. We shall therefore simply point out, by\nmeans of instances, how indignantly or contemptuously he always refers\nto religion as the great despot and impostor of mankind.\n\nThe _Revolt of Islam_ stigmatises \"Faith\" as \"an obscene worm.\" The\nsonnet on the Fall of Bonaparte concludes with a reference to \"Bloody\nFaith, the foulest birth of time.\" Shelley frequently conceives Faith as\nserpentine and disgusting. In _Rosalind and Helen_ he writes--\n\n           Grey Power was seated\n     Safely on her ancestral throne;\n     And Faith, the Python, undefeated,\n     Even to its blood-stained steps dragged on\n     Her foul and wounded train.\n\n\nIn the great and splendid _Ode to Liberty_ the image undergoes a\nMiltonic sublimation.\n\n     Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves\n     Hung tyranny; beneath, sat deified\n     The sister-pest, congregator of slaves.\n\nInvariably does the poet class religion and oppression\ntogether--\"Religion veils her eyes: Oppression shrinks\naghast.\"--\"Destruction's sceptred slaves, and Folly's mitred\nbrood.\"--\"And laughter fills the Fane, and curses shake the Throne.\"\n\nMr. Herbert Spencer writes with learning and eloquence about the Power\nof the Universe and the Unknowable. Shelley pricked this bubble of\nspeculation in the following passage:\n\n                 What is that Power?\n     Some moonstruck sophist stood\n     Watching the shade from his own soul upthrown\n     Fill Heaven and darken Earth, and in such mood\n     The Form he saw and worshipped was his own,\n     His likeness in the world's vast mirror shown.\n\nIn one verse of the _Ode to Liberty_ the poet exclaims:\n\n     O that the free would stamp the impious name\n     Of ------ into the dust or write it there.\n\nWhat is the omitted word? Mr. Swinburne says the only possible word\nis--God. We agree with him. Anything else would be a ridiculous\nanti-climax, and quite inconsistent with the powerful description of--\n\n             This foul gordian word,\n     Which, weak itself as stubble, yet can bind\n     Into a mass, irrefragably firm,\n     The axes and the rods that awe mankind.\n\n\"Pope\" and \"Christ\" are alike impossible. With respect to \"mankind\" they\nare but local designations. The word must be universal. It is _God_.\n\nThe glorious speech of the Spirit of the Hour, which terminates the\nthird Act of _Prometheus Unbound_--that superb drama of emancipate\nHumanity--lumps together \"Thrones, altars, judgment seats, and prisons,\"\nas parts of one gigantic system of spiritual and temporal misrule. Man,\nwhen redeemed from falsehood and evil, rejects his books \"of reasoned\nwrong, glozed on by ignorance\"; and the veil is torn aside from all\n\"believed and hoped.\" And what is the result? Let the Spirit of the Hour\nanswer.\n\n     The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains\n     Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man\n     Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless,\n     Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king\n     Over himself; just, gentle, wise; but man\n     Passionless? no, yet free from guilt or pain,\n     Which were, for his will made or suffered them;\n     Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves,\n     From chance, and death, and mutability,\n     The clogs of that which else might oversoar\n     The loftiest star of unascended heaven,\n     Pinnacled dim in the intense inane.\n\nWhat a triumphant flight! The poet springs from earth and is speedily\naway beyond sight--almost beyond conception--like an elemental thing.\nBut his starting-point is definite enough. Man is exempt from awe and\nworship; from spiritual as well as political and social slavery; king\nover himself, ruling the anarchy of his own passions. And the same idea\nis sung by Demogorgon at the close of the fifth Act. The \"Earth-born's\nspell yawns for heaven's despotism,\" and \"Conquest is dragged captive\nthrough the deep.\"\n\n     Love, from its awful throne of patient power\n     In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour\n         Of dread endurance, from the slippery steep,\n     And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs\n     And folds over the world its healing wings.\n\n     Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and endurance,\n     These are the seals of that most firm assurance\n          Which bars the pit over Destruction's strength;\n     And if, with infirm hand, Eternity,\n     Mother of many acts and hours, should free\n          The serpent that would clasp her with his length,\n     These are the spells by which to re-assume\n     An empire o'er the disentangled doom.\n\n     To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;\n     To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;\n          To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;\n     To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates\n     From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;\n          Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;\n     This, like thy glory, Titan! is to be\n     Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;\n     This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory!\n\nThis is the Atheism of Shelley. Man is to conquer, by love and hope and\nthought and endurance, his birthright of happiness and dignity. Humanity\nis to take the place of God.\n\nIt has been argued that if Shelley had lived he would have repented\nthe \"indiscretions of his youth,\" and gravitated towards a more\n\"respectable\" philosophy. Well, it is easy to prophesy; and just\nas easy, and no less effectual, to meet the prophet with a flat\ncontradiction. \"Might have been\" is no better than \"might not have\nbeen.\" Was it not declared that Charles Bradlaugh would have become a\nChristian if he had lived long enough? Was not the same asserted of John\nStuart Mill? One was nearly sixty, the other nearly seventy; and we\nhave to wonder what is the real age of intellectual maturity. Only a\nfew weeks before his death, Shelley wrote of Christianity that \"no man of\nsense could think it true.\" That was his deliberate and final judgment.\nHad he lived long enough to lose his sense; had he fallen a victim to\nsome nervous malady, or softening of the brain; had he lingered on to\na more than ripe (a rotten) old age, in which senility may unsay the\nvirile words of manhood; it is conceivable that Shelley might have\nbecome a devotee of the faith he had despised. But none of these things\ndid happen. What Shelley _was_ is the only object of sane discussion.\nAnd what he was we know--an Atheist, a lover of Humanity.\n\n\n\n\nLONG FACES.\n\nEvery one who has turned over old volumes of sermons, adorned with\nthe authors' portraits, must have been struck with the length of their\nfaces. They seem to say--parodying the famous line of Dante--\"Abandon\njokes all ye who enter here.\" Those men preached a solemnly absurd\ncreed, and they looked absurdly solemn. Their faces seemed as devoid of\nmerriment as the faces of jackasses, and the heads above them were often\nas stupid. Justice forbid that I should run down a Hooker, a Barrow, a\nTaylor, or a South. They were men of _genius_, and all genius is of the\nblood royal. I read their writings with pleasure and profit, which\nis more than nine-tenths of the clergy can say with any approach to\nhonesty. But a single swallow does not make a summer, and a few men of\ngenius do not elevate a profession. I am perfectly convinced that\nthe great bulk of the preaching fraternity have cultivated a solemn\naspect--not perhaps deliberately, but at least instinctively--in order\nto impose on the ignorant and credulous multitude. The very tone of\nvoice in which they pray, give out hymns, and preach, is _artificial_;\nin keeping with their artificial ideas and artificial sentiments; which,\nif they were expressed in natural tones, would excite universal contempt\nand derision.\n\nNow this solemnity is the best trick in the priest's game. Gravity is\nalways mistaken by the multitude for wisdom. A round-faced merry fellow\nshall make a bright, sensible speech, and he will be voted frivolous;\nbut a long-faced, saturnine fellow shall utter a string of dull\nplatitudes, and he will be voted a Solon. This is well known to the\nclergy, who have developed a perfect art of dullness. They talk an\ninfinite deal of nothing, use a multitude of solemn words to hide an\nabsurdity or no meaning at all, and utter the inherited shibboleths of\ntheir craft like the august oracles of a recent revelation.\n\nConcede them the advantage of solemnity, or reverence, or whatever else\nit is called, and you give them the victory at the beginning of the\nbattle. If _you_ pull a long face over their nonsense, the spectators,\nafter all your arguments, will say, \"There _must_ be something in it,\nthough, for see how _serious_ he is.\" Whereas a light jest and a merry\nsmile will show you are heart-free, and beyond the range of clerical\nartillery.\n\nI do not pretend, however, that the efforts of Free-thought critics\nshould have no background of seriousness. Wit without reason, says\nHeine, is but a sneeze of the intelligence. But has not wit ever been\nthe keenest weapon of the great emancipators of the human mind? Not\nthe mere plaything of an idle mind in an idle hour, but the coruscating\nblade to pierce the weak places of folly and imposture. Aristophanes,\nLucian, Rabelais, Erasmus, and Voltaire--to take a few great\ninstances--were all serious in aim and intention. They valued truth,\ngoodness, and beauty, as much as the dreariest preachers. But they felt,\nbecause of their temperament, that while the dry light of the intellect\nis suited to the study of science, it is inadequate in the realm of\npolitical, social, and religious debate, where everything is steeped in\nfeeling, and hopes and fears strive together, and imagination kindles\nthe very senses into keener play.\n\n\nAfter all, perhaps, this word _temperament_ is a solution in itself.\nWhen Bishop South was taken to task by a brother bishop for his\nwitticisms, he replied, \"Do you mean to say that if God had given you\nany wit you would not have used it?\" Thus is wisdom justified of her\nchildren.\n\nMy friendly though severe critic, Dr. Coit, who recently discoursed at\nSouth-place Institute (or is it Chapel?) on the National Secular Society\nin general and myself in particular, could hardly deny that Voltaire\nwas a master of wit, sarcasm, irony, and ridicule. Well, now, let us\nsee what some serious writers have said of this nimble spirit. Robert\nBrowning, in _The Two Poets of Croisic_ thus salutes him:\n\n     Ay, sharpest shrewdest steel that ever stabbed\n     To death Imposture through the armor-joints!\n\nCarlyle says \"He gave the death-stab to modern superstition,\" and \"it\nwas a most weighty service.\" Buckle says he \"used ridicule, not as the\ntest of truth, but as the scourge of folly,\" and thus \"produced more\neffect than the gravest arguments could have done.\" \"Nor can any one\nsince the days of Luther be named,\" says Brougham, \"to whom the spirit\nof free inquiry, nay, the emancipation of the human mind from spiritual\ntyranny, owes a more lasting debt of gratitude.\"\n\nThere is a story of the manuscript of Harrington's _Oceana_ being\nfilched and given to Cromwell, and the sagacious \"usurper\" returned it\nsaying, \"My government is not to be overturned with paper pellets.\" But\nthe ironical pamphlet, _Killing no Murder_, produced a different effect.\nNor did the royal and imperial despots, and their priestly abettors,\nin the eighteenth century, dread the solemn lovers of freedom. But the\nwinged pen of Voltaire was a different matter. \"Bigots and tyrants,\"\nsays Macaulay, \"who had never been moved by the wailing and cursing of\nmillions, turned pale at his name.\"\n\nIf Dr. Coit imagines that Voltaire has lost his influence in France, I\nventure to say he is mistaken. The hand of Voltaire is on Renan, and on\ndozens of living soldiers in the French army of progress. And what man\nof letters in England--a country abounding in \"the oxen of the gods,\"\nstrong, slow, and stupid--is free from his influence? Carlyle's early\nessay on Voltaire is a mixture of hatred and admiration. But read the\nLife of Frederick, and see how the French snake fascinates the Scotch\nPuritan, until at last he flings every reservation aside, and hails with\nglowing panegyric the Savior of Calas.\n\nLet me refer Dr. Coit to the delightful preface of a delightful\nbook--Leland's introduction to his fine translation of Heine's\n_Reisebilder_. \"Woe to those who are standing near,\" says Leland,\n\"when a humorist of this stamp is turned loose upon the world. He\nknows nothing of your old laws,--like an Azrael-Napoleon he advances\nconscienceless, feeling nothing but an overpowering impulse, as of some\nhigher power which bids him strike and spare not.\" But, after all, the\nmain cause of progress is _agitation_, and though the agitation may be\n\"eminently disagreeable to many, even friends, who are brought within\nits immediate action, it will be eminently beneficial in the end.\"\n\nYes, the hard-bound human mind, like the hardbound soil, has to be\nploughed up. Let it shriek as it will, the work must be done, or the\nlight and air will never penetrate, and an ocean of seeds will lie\nbarren on the surface.\n\nDr. Coit need not fear that ridicule will excite apprehensions about the\nmultiplication table. Ridicule has a fine scent for its proper prey.\nIt must detect the _ridiculous_ before it couches and springs. Truth,\nhonor, consistency, disinterestedness, are invulnerable. What ridicule\ncan kill deserves to die.\n\nMr. George Meredith writes of \"that first-born of common-sense, the\nvigilant Comic, which is the genius of thoughtful laughter.\" Folly is\nthe natural prey of this hunter, and Folly is found in the churches\nas well as in the streets. Some men, however, are non-laughers by\nbirthright, and as men are apt to make a virtue of their deficiencies,\nit is not surprising if, as Mr. Meredith observes, the \"laughter-hater\nsoon learns to dignify this dislike as an objection in morality.\"\n\nPersons who have read the _Freethinker_ from the first do not need to\nbe assured of the earnest spirit of its conductors. They fight no less\nsternly for the iridescent jewels in their swords. But Dr. Coit appears\nto object to fighting altogether. He seems to bid us rest content with\nwhat we have won. That is, he bids us leave superstition, with all\nits brood of lies and wrongs, in possession of the schools, the\nuniversities, the churches, the hospitals, the workhouses, and every\nother institution. He bids us leave it with its large grasp on\nthe private and public life of the community, and go on with our\nconstructive work in face of all this overwhelming frustration. No doubt\nhe means well, but we are not foolish enough to take his advice. We tell\nDr. Coit that he does not understand the obstructive power of theology,\nand that he is thus unable to appreciate the work of the National\nSecular Society.\n\nBut let us return to the point of ridicule, and the point of\n\"blasphemy.\" Dr. Coit found two \"lessons for the day\" in my _Philosophy\nof Secularism_, and he spoke of my _Shadow of the Sword_ as \"a noble\nplea for peace.\" But he complained of my exposing the absurdities and\nimmoralities of the Bible--a book which is thrust into the hands of\nlittle children in our public schools. He also complained of my dragging\nto light the Crimes of Christianity. But his anger was most excited by\none of my \"Bible Romances\"--_A Virgin Mother_. Some fastidious persons\neven object to the title, thus showing their abysmal ignorance of\nChristian literature. The phrase is common in Catholic books of\ndevotion, like the Mother of God. It occurs in Milton's Ode on the\nNativity and in _Paradise Lost_. I have marked it a dozen times in\nProfessor Palgrave's collection of Sacred Songs. But Dr. Coit objects\nto my comparison of the Holy Ghost's \"overshadowing\" of the Virgin Mary\nwith the divine impregnations of earthly women by the gods of the Greek\npantheon. He regards the one as a \"mystery\" and the others as vulgar\namours. But this depends on your point of view. Lord Bacon found a\nmine of hidden wisdom in some of these \"amours,\" and Mr. Morris makes\nbeautiful poetry of the loves of Zeus and Danae, which is more than\nany one has ever succeeded in doing with the relations between the Holy\nGhost and Mary. I admit, however, that taste is not disputable; and\nI refer Dr. Coit to the passage of my _Virgin Mother_ in which I cite\nJustin Martyr as appealing to the Pagan not to mock at the Incarnation,\non the express ground that they also taught the same doctrine in their\nstories-of the demi-gods who were born of women after the embraces of\ndeities. Surely, then, it is idle to complain of _my_ disrespect of this\nChristian dogma. Nor is it just to say that my criticism of it cannot be\nread to a mixed audience. That is the fault of the _doctrine_. So far\nas my _words_ go, there is not a syllable to shock any but a prurient\nmodesty.\n\nWith respect to Dr. Coit's plea for bringing the kindness of social\nintercourse into the war of ideas, I have this to say--It is impossible.\nTimid persons have always sighed for this policy, but when the fight\nbegan they have found themselves \"between the fell incensed points\nof mighty opposites.\" Religion should be treated as freely as other\nsubjects. That is all I claim, and I will not be satisfied with less.\nI cannot consent to relinquish any weapon that is legitimate in other\nwarfare. Nor for the sake of temporary _feeling_ will I be false to\nthe permanent _interests_ of my species. I will laugh at folly, scorn\nhypocrisy, expose falsehood, and bathe my sword in the heart's blood of\nimposture. But I will not descend to personalities. I do not war with\n_persons_, but with _principles_.\n\nMy object is to destroy the Christian superstition and prepare the\nway for a more rational and humane condition of society. I shall adapt\nmyself, as well as I can, to the shifting conditions of the struggle. My\naim is to _succeed_. My policy, therefore, will never be determined by a\npersonal preference. I shall follow the path that promises victory.\nBut I do not, and will not, dictate to others. Within the scope of\nour principles there is room for many policies. Let each do his best,\naccording to his light and opportunity. Let Dr. Coit, too, go his way as\nI go mine. We travel by different routes, but perhaps we shall meet at\nthe goal.\n\n\n\n\nOUR FATHER.\n\n     God's in his heaven,\n     All's right with the world.\n     --R. Browning, Pippa Passes.\n\nThe Apostles' Creed, with which the Apostles never had anything to do,\nbegins with the words \"I believe in God the Father Almighty.\" The last\nword, \"Almighty,\" is an adjective which we owe to the metaphysical genius\nof Christian theologians; and the first words, \"I believe,\" are the\ncustomary shibboleth of the priests of every religion. For the rest,\nthis extract from the Creed is taken from the Lord's Prayer, which\nitself is a brief selection from common Jewish prayers before the days\nof Jesus. According to the evangelists--whoever _they_ were--Jesus\ntaught his disciples to pray to \"Our Father which art in Heaven for\na number of things which no one ever obtained by that process.\nNevertheless the petition is offered up, generation after generation, by\nmillions of Christians, whose hands are first folded in the gesture of\nprayer on their mothers' knees, and whose lips are taught at the same\ntime a form of words that clings to them for life.\n\n\"Our Father!\" The words are pretty and touching. When the child hears\nthem he thinks of some one like his own father, but immensely bigger and\nmore powerful; and as the child is taught that all the necessaries and\ncomforts of life he enjoys, at the expense of his parents' labor and\nloving care, are really gifts from the Father behind the scenes, it is\nno wonder that this mysterious being becomes the object of gratitude and\naffection.\n\n_Which art in Heaven!_ Up there in the region of dreams, beyond the\nsailing clouds, far away through the deep blue, where imagination builds\nits fairy palace of delight, and God sits on his golden throne, and\nswift, bright angels speed forth to execute his commands. Tell a child\nanything you please about that land of fancy and you will be believed,\nespecially if the tale comes from beloved lips, or from lips that bear\nthe glamor of authority. And what the child is to the adult, early or\nsavage man is to the civilisee. To the African negroes the highest god\nis the Sky; the great deity _Dyu_ of our Aryan ancestors was the Sky;\nthe Greek _Zeue_ and the Latin _Jupiter_ were both the Heaven-Father;\nand we still say \"Heaven forgive me!\" or \"Fear the vengeance of Heaven!\"\n\nThis Heaven, however, is no longer credible to any one with a tincture\nof science. Hard as the truth to a child or a savage, the sky is not a\nreality, but an optical illusion. For forty or forty-five miles from the\nearth's surface there is a belt of atmosphere, growing rarer and rarer\nas it approaches the infinite ocean of \u00e6ther. Gone for ever is the old\ndelusion of a solid Heaven overhead, with windows in it, through which\nGod and the angels looked down upon the earth and its inhabitants. And\nwhat site is there for Heaven out in the cold blackness of space?\n\nThat Heaven is gone, and where is Our Father? Science shows us a\nworld of absolute order, in which what we call the laws of nature--the\nobserved sequence and recurrence of phenomena--are never broken. The\nworld was not fashioned for man's dwelling, nor is it maintained for his\nbenefit. Towards the poles he freezes, towards the equator he burns. The\nrain nourishes his crops or rots them, without asking his pleasure; the\nsea bears him or drowns him, with equal unconcern; the lightning slays\nhim or spares him, whether good, bad or indifferent, as he happens to be\nin or out of the line of its dazzling flight; famine pinches his! cheeks\nif he cannot procure food; the pestilence seizes upon his nerves and\nblood unless he learns the antidote to its ravages. He stands amidst\nthe play of terrific forces, and only preserves himself by vigilance,\npatience, courage and industry. If he falls the enemy is upon him, and\nthe doom of the vanquished is death. Nature shows him no mercy. His\nmistakes are as fatal as his crimes.\n\n\"God\" has been in his \"Heaven\" for eternity, but all is _not_ right with\nthe world. Man is always endeavoring to improve it, but what assistance\ncomes from above? A Father in Heaven would be a glorious fact. But who\ncan believe it? \"Our Father\" is utterly careless of his children. The\ncelestial Rousseau sends all his offspring to the Foundling.\n\nThe late hard weather has thrown thousands of honest men out of\nemployment, and increased the death-rate alarmingly. Where is the wisdom\nof this? Where is the goodness? The worst of men would alter it if they\ncould. But God, they say, can do it, and he does not. Yet they still\nlook up and say \"Our Father.\" And the Father looks down with a face as\nblenchless as the Sphinx's, gazing forthright across the desert sands.\n\nWhat father would permit in his family the gross disparities we see in\nhuman life? One gorges and another starves; one is bloated and another\nis death's counterfeit; one is dressed in three-piled velvet and another\ngoes in looped and windowed rags; one is idle and another slaves; one\nis sated with pleasure and another is numbed with pain; one lolls in a\npalace and another shivers in a hovel. What human father would not be\nashamed to treat his children with such infamous partiality?\n\nLook at the physical and moral filth, and the mental abasement, in our\ngreat Christian cities, where new churches are constantly built for the\nworship of God, where Bibles are circulated by the million, and where\nhundreds of sleek gentlemen flourish on the spoils of philanthropy. Read\nMr. Rudyard Kipling's story of East-end life; read the lucubrations\nof General Booth; listen to the ever-swelling wail over the poverty,\nmisery, and degradation of hosts of our people; and then say if it\nis not high time to cease all this cant about Our Father which art in\nHeaven.\n\nMan has always been his own Savior. His instrument is science, his\nwisdom is self-help. His redemption begins when he turns his eyes from\nthe delusive Heaven and plucks up his heart from the fear of Hell.\nDespair vanishes before the steady gaze of instructed courage. Hope\nsprings as a flower in the path of endeavor.\n\n\n\n\nWAIT TILL YOU DIE.\n\nPascal remarked that, whether Christianity were true or false, the\nChristian was on the safe side; and Diderot replied that the priests and\napologists of Mohammedanism, or any other creed, could say the very same\nthing with equal force. The argument, if it be an argument, implies the\npossibility of error, and what applies to one religion applies to all.\nThe votaries of every creed may be mistaken if there is no absolute\ncertitude; or, if there should be one true religion among the multitude,\nand but one, only the devotees of that single faith can be on the safe\nside. But as no one knows _which_ is the only true religion, it follows,\naccording to the law of probabilities, that the odds are greatly against\nany particular religion being the right one. The Christian therefore\nwould have one chance of being right, and nine hundred and ninety-nine\nchances of being wrong. He has thus one chance in a thousand above the\nAtheist.\n\nBut, on the other hand, if all religions but one are certainly wrong,\nwhat is the chance of a single one being certainly right? Does not\nthe Christian's slight percentage of safety fade into something quite\ninappreciable in the light of this question? And is what is left--if\n_anything_ is left--an adequate price for the abnegation of manhood?\nWould it tempt an honest man, with a sense of human dignity, to play\nfast and loose with his intellect, and accept a creed because it appeals\nto his selfish hopes and fears? Could such a slender chance of profit in\nthe next life compensate for slavery in this life?\n\nIf belief is the safe side, the proper course is to believe\n_everything_. And it is useless to cry that this is impossible. Faith\nenables men to believe against reason, and one act of credulity is\nlittle easier than a thousand. He whose creed is determined by his fears\nshould give free scope to such emotions. If they are his guides let him\nfollow them. Why should he argue when argument may mislead? Why should\nhe stumble at trifles when he has surmounted the first great obstacle\nto credulity? Let him believe all the religions of the world at once.\nHe can do this as easily as he can believe in the Trinity. And having\nembraced all, he may rest satisfied that if there be a true religion he\nundoubtedly possesses it.\n\nWe do not suppose, however, that this reasoning will have any effect\non Christians, Buddhists, Brahmins, Mohammedans, or Jews. But that very\nfact shows the hollow character of the argument from which we started.\nWhen the Christian talks about the safe side he is only displaying the\nweakness of his faith, and appealing to timidity when he has no further\nappeal to reason.\n\nThe argument of \"the safe side\" would have no pertinency, even with the\nimbecile, if man were immortal. It seeks advantage from the fact that\nevery man must die. It tries to paralyse reason with the clutch of fear.\n\nHow frequent is the superstitionist's remark, \"Wait till you come to\ndie!\" He does not always use these very words, but this is the meaning\nof all his verbiage. He forgets, or does not know, that philosophy\ndestroys the terror of death. A rational man is aware of the truth\nexpressed by Mill, that death is but one incident in life, and often the\nleast important. He recognises with Bacon that we die daily. He knows\nthat every hour is a step towards death. He does not play, like an\nostrich, with the universal law of mortality; nor, on the other hand,\ndoes he allow the tomb to cast its chill obscurity over the business and\npleasure of life. He lives without hypocrisy, and when the time comes he\nwill die without fear. As Hamlet says, \"the readiness is all.\" Another\nword also comes from the wisest of men--\"Cowards do often taste of\ndeath; the valiant die but once.\"\n\nA belief that will do for life will do for death. The religionists\nprove this themselves. Whatever a man is confident of is sustaining. The\nChristian dies a Christian, and the Mohammedan a Mohammedan. The one\nhas dying visions of angels--or may be of devils; the other sees heaven\nburst open, and the black-eyed houris of paradise beckon him with rosy\nfingers. What they leaned on in life supports them in death. Its truth\nor falsity makes no difference at that moment.\n\nFreethinkers are sustained by _convictions_. Intellect and emotion\nconcur in their case. They have no visions of angels or devils, but dear\nloved faces are better than phantoms, and he who has done a little good\nin the world, however humbly and obscurely, may dream of the happier and\nnobler days to come, when true words and good deeds will have brought\nforth the glorious fruit of happiness for the children of men.\n\nWe do not mean to assert that no Freethinker, at any time, ever relapsed\non his death-bed. Such cases have apparently occurred during life, and\nwhile one particular religion is in the ascendant it is not difficult to\nunderstand them. The relapses are always to the creed a man finds about\nhim, or to the creed of his childhood. They simply prove the power of\nenvironment and early training, and that a man needs all his strength\nto stand against big majorities. At best they are cases of mental\npathology.\n\nGreat historic Freethinkers have always died true to their convictions.\nThey were used to standing alone. For ample proof of this the reader is\nreferred to my _Infidel Death Beds_. And when smaller Freethinkers are\nnumerous enough they avoid the greatest danger of physical weakness.\nIt is easy for Christian relatives or friends to pester a dying\nFreethinker; it is easy even, in the worst moments of weakness, to\nput words in his mouth. But if Freethought friends visit him, he feels\nstrengthened and relieved. Allies may well be needed, sometimes, in such\na battle with bigotry.\n\nAfter all, \"Wait till you die!\" is an argument of folly and cowardice.\nWhat can we conjecture of any other life except from our experience of\nthis? On this earth reason is the safe side, honesty is the safe side,\nhumanity is the safe side; and what is the safe side here is likely to\nbe the safe side elsewhere.\n\n\n\n\nDEAD THEOLOGY.\n\nThis is an age of \"series.\" Every publisher issues one, and the number\nof them is legion. As far as possible they are written by \"eminent\nhands,\" as old Jacob Tonson used to call his wretched scribblers in\nGrub-street garrets. But not every publisher can secure such an eminent\nhand as a live Archbishop, This has been achieved, however, by Messrs.\nSampson, Low, Marston, and Company. Having projected a series of\n\"Preachers of the Age,\" they were fortunate enough to enlist the\nArchbishop of Canterbury under their banner. His Grace, as it is\netiquette to call him, though his natural name is Edward White Benson,\nleads off the publishers' attack on the British public with a volume of\nsermons entitled _Living Theology_. It is well printed on good paper,\nthe binding is appropriate, and the price of three-and-sixpence puts it\nwithin the reach of the great middle-class public which cares for such\nthings. We are far from sharing the opinion of a carper who remarked\nthat, as sermons go, this volume is rather dear. Thirteen sermons by an\nArchbishop! Could any man in his senses expect them for less money?\nThe real wonder is that a man with \u00a315,000 a-year should condescend to\npublish at all. We ought to feel thankful that he does not charge us a\nguinea a volume.\n\nPrefixed to the thirteen sermons, at fourpence apiece, including the\nbinding, is an excellent photogravure portrait of the Archbishop. The\nface is keen and scholarly, and not unpleasant. A noticeable nose, a\nlarge fluent mouth, shrewd eyes, and a high well-shaped head, make on\nthe whole an agreeable picture. Something about the features shows the\npreacher, and something more the ecclesiastic. It is the type, and the\nbest type, of the learned priest. Nobody could look at this portrait and\ncall Edward White Benson a fool. But is any one in danger of doing so?\nWould not every one admit some ability in the unhereditary recipient\nof fifteen thousand a year? Parsons are not a brilliant body, but to\nwriggle, or climb, or rise to the top of the Black Army involves the\npossession of uncommon faculties.\n\nThe Archbishop is seldom eloquent, in the popular sense of the word;\nbut his style has a certain force and color, always within the limits of\nexquisite breeding. If he consigned you to Gehenna, he would do it with\nbland graciousness; and if he swore at all, he would swear in Latin. His\nlanguage in these sermons, as in another volume we noticed a year\nago, is pure and nervous, with an etymological reason for every word.\nSometimes he is quite felicitous. Now and then he uses metaphor with\nskill and illumination. The habitual concreteness of his style shows the\nclearness of his perceptions. Occasionally he is epigrammatic \"Strong\nenemies,\" he says in one place, \"are better to us than weak friends.\nThey show us our weak points.\" Finer and higher is another passage in\nthe same sermon--\"The yearning of multitudes is not in vain. After\nyearning comes impulse, volition, movement.\" It would be difficult, if\nnot impossible, to better this, unless a great poet cast it in the mould\nof a metaphor.\n\nWe confess that, on the whole, we have read the Archbishop's sermons\nwith some pleasure, as well as with much attention. It is to his credit\nthat he defies a superficial reading. We do not expect to find another\nvolume in the series at all comparable with his. Dr. Maclaren, who comes\nsecond, is on a lower level, and the next descent to Mr. Price Hughes is\na fall into a slough of incapable and reckless sentimentalism.\n\n_Living Theology_ is the title of the Archbishop's volume, but this is\na misnomer, for the title belongs only to the first sermon. It misled us\nin this general application, as it will probably mislead others. We took\nit to be a setting forth of so much theology as the Archbishop thought\n_living_, in contradistinction to what he allowed to be _dead_. But we\nfind a very miscellaneous lot of sermons, sometimes rather on Church\nwork than on Church teaching. The title, therefore, is what Walt Whitman\nwould call \"a suck and a sell.\" Yet it is hardly worth while to labor\nthe complaint, for titles are often better than the pages that follow\nthem. Sometimes, indeed, a writer puts all his head into the title, and\nthe rest of the book displays his imbecility. But this cannot be said of\nthe Archbishop.\n\nAnother difficulty is this. The Archbishop's sermons are hard for a\nFreethinker to criticise. He seldom expounds and rarely argues. He\naddresses an audience who take the fundamentals of Christianity for\ngranted. Yet he lays himself open here and there, and where he does so\nwe propose to meet him.\n\nIn the first sermon Dr. Benson is surely going beyond his actual belief\nin referring to \"the earliest race of man, with whom the whole race so\nnearly passed away.\" He can scarcely take the early chapters of Genesis\nliterally at this time of day. In the very next sermon he speaks\ncheerfully of the age of Evolution. That sermon was preached at St.\nMary's, Southampton, to the British Association in 1882. It is on \"The\nSpirit of Inquiry.\" \"The Spirit of Inquiry,\" he says, \"is God's spirit\nworking in capable men, to enlarge the measure and the fulness of\nman's capacity.\" But if _capable_ men are necessary, to say nothing\nof favorable conditions, the working of God's spirit seems lost in\nthe natural explanation. Still, it is pleasant to find the Archbishop\nwelcoming the Spirit of Inquiry, under any interpretation of its\nessence; and it may be hoped that he will vote accordingly when the\nLiberty of Bequest Bill reaches the Upper Chamber. It is also pleasant\nto read his admission that the Spirit of Inquiry (we keep his capitals)\n\"has made short work not only of the baser religions, but of the baser\nforms of ours\"--to wit, the Christian. Some of those \"baser forms\" are\nindicated in the following passage:\n\n\"I know not whether any stern or any sensuous religion of heathendom\nhas held up before men's astonished eyes features more appalling or\nmore repulsive than those of the vindictive father, or of the arbitrary\ndistributor of two eternities, or again of the easy compromiser of\noffences in return for houses and lands. Dreadful shadows under which,\nthousands have been reared.\"\n\nDreadful shadows indeed! And not thousands, but countless millions, have\nbeen reared under them. Those dreadful shadows were for centuries the\nuniversal objects of Christian worship. They still hover over Spurgeon's\ntabernacle and a host of other houses of God. But they are hateful to\nDr. Benson. To him the God of orthodoxy, the God of the Thirty-nine\nArticles, is dead. He dismisses Predestination, a vindictive God, and\nEverlasting Torment. He speaks of the very \"prison\" where Christ is\nsaid to have preached after his death, as a place \"where spirits surely\nunlearn many a bias, many a self-wrought blindness, many a heedless\nerror.\" Hell is therefore a place of purgation, which is certainly an\ninfinite improvement on the orthodox idea of eternal and irremediable\nwoe, however it fall(s) below the conception that the Creator has no\nright to punish his own failures.\n\nLet the reader note who makes these admissions of the intellectual\nand moral death of the \"baser forms\" of Christianity. It is not an\nirresponsible _franc-tireur_ of the Black Army, nor an expelled soldier\nlike Mr. Voysey, nor a resigned soldier like Dr. Momerie. It is the\nArchbishop of Canterbury, the highest dignitary of the Church of\nEngland.\n\nHis Grace does not reflect--he cannot afford to reflect--that as the\ndead theology of to-day was the living theology of the past, so the\nliving theology of to-day may be the dead theology of to-morrow.\n\nThe Archbishop still dogmatises, even in this sermon on the Spirit of\nInquiry. In opposition to the man of science who knows of no limits\nto nature, he declares that \"There is a _sum_ of created things, and\ntherefore a real end (however far off) to what can be known of them.\"\nIn a certain sense, truly, there _is_ an end to what can be known of\nnature, for human knowledge must ever be relative and not absolute. But\nthe Archbishop's limit is not qualitative in man; it is quantitative\nin the universe. Herein he goes beyond the bounds of knowledge, and\nindulges in the very dogmatism for which he reprehends the materialist.\n\nIt is dogmatism also to assert that \"the soul has every reason to\nbelieve itself absolutely eternal.\" Absolutely is a word of vast\nsignificance. How can it apply to \"the soul\"? Were \"the soul\" to subsist\neternally in the future, it could not be _absolutely_ eternal if it once\nbegan to be. \"Every reason\" is also too comprehensive. Dr. Benson may\nthink he has good reasons for \"the soul's\" immortality, but he must be\naware that divines of his own church have held the contrary doctrine.\n\nBefore the Spirit of Inquiry, says Dr. Benson, every other religion\nthan Christianity fades away; though he has admitted that some parts of\nChristianity, the \"baser forms,\" have shared the same fate. Every fresh\nconquest of the Spirit of Inquiry has \"brought out some trait in the\ncharacter, or some divine conception in the mind of Jesus of Nazareth.\"\nThis sweeping statement is supported by \"three very clearly marked\"\ninstances.\n\nThe first is that science shows us the unity of life. \"The latest\ndiscovered laws involve at least this, that the Life of man is one\nLife.\" And this is \"no more than the scientific verification of what was\nlong ago stated, and by Christians (at least for a while) acted on.\"\n\nIn support of the Christian idea of the Unity of Life the Archbishop\ncites St. Paul, who once asked in a callous way if God cared for oxen.\nHad the Archbishop appealed to Jesus he would have found the oracle\ndumb, or something worse; for the Nazarene distinctly told his apostles\nto preach only to the Jews, and leave the Samaritans and Gentiles in\ndarkness. St. Paul took a flight beyond this narrow patriotism. It was\nhe, and not the personal disciples of Jesus, who broke down the barriers\nbetween Jew and Gentile. It was he who scorned the idea that Jesus, to\nuse his own language, was only sent to the lost sheep of the house ot\nIsrael. It was he, and not Peter, or James, or John, who said that God\nhad made all nations of one blood; he who declared \"ye are all one in\nChrist.\" Yet it is easy to make too much of this; for St. Paul did not\ninclude the heathen and unbelievers within the fold of brotherhood;\nand when he asserted the fatherhood of God, he appealed to the previous\nutterance of a Greek poet, thus conceding his own want of originality.\n\nOne might imagine, too, that the old Jewish story of Creation--which in\nturn was not original--involved the common descent of the human race;\nand as this idea was almost, if not quite, universal, being based on the\nobvious generic resemblance of the various races of mankind, it seems\na stretch of fancy to put it forward as \"a Christian statement\" in some\nway connected with \"Jesus of Nazareth.\"\n\nThe Archbishop's second instance of the concurrence of modern progress\nwith the teaching of Jesus, is, to say the least of it, peculiar. \"From\nthe liberty to inquire,\" he says, \"comes the liberty to express the\nresults of inquiry. And this is the preamble of the Charter of Jesus\nChrist.\"\n\nWe defy Dr. Benson to find a single plain passage about freedom of\nthought in the teachings of Jesus. The Nazarene was fond of saying, \"He\nthat hath ears to hear let him hear.\" But it was reserved for Ingersoll\nto say, \"He that hath a brain to think let him think.\"\n\nThe Archbishop goes on to claim Darwin as \"our aged Master\"--Darwin, who\nrejected Christianity for forty years of his life! He quotes from Beale\nthe sentence, \"Intellectual work of every kind must be free.\" \"And the\nNew Testament,\" he adds, \"is still the one volume of books on religion\nwhich accepts thia whole statement.\"\n\nThis is a bold--some would say a brazen--assertion. If the New Testament\nteaches anything clearly, it teaches that belief is necessary to\nsalvation. That doctrine stifles free speech and extinguishes inquiry.\nWhy investigate if you may be damned for your conclusions? And why allow\ninvestigation if another man's errors may involve your perdition? These\nquestions have been answered logically enough by the Christian Church,\nand the \"Charter of Jesus Christ\" has been the worst of spiritual\noppressions. No religion has been so intolerant as the Christian.\nMohammedanism has been far less bigoted. Buddhism has the proud\ndistinction of never having persecuted one human being in twenty-four\ncenturies. The Archbishop's third instance is fantastic to the point of\ngrotesqueness. Both Christianity and the spirit of Inquiry, he says,\nare at one in \"the demand for fruit.\" Does he mean to imply that other\nreligions set their faces against \"fruit\"? Buddhism is quite imperative\nabout moral duties. Mohammedanism gets itself obeyed in matters of\nconduct, while Christianity is quite ineffectual. Drink, gambling, and\nprostitution abound in Christian countries; in the Mohammedan world\nthey have been sternly repressed. This is admitted by Dr. Benson in his\nvolume on _Christ and his Times_; admitted, and even emphasised; so that\nhe may, as it were, be confuted out of his own mouth.\n\nIf we take a leap to the penultimate sermon in the present volume, we\nfind Archbishop Benson indulging in the same kind of loose statement and\ninconsequential reasoning. Its title is \"Christ's Crucifixion, an All\nin All.\" The preacher scorns the Greek notion of the Crucifixion as \"the\nshocking martyrdom of a grand young moralist.\" Such a notion, he says,\nis \"quite inconsistent with the facts.\" Either we know not what Christ\ntaught, or else he was more than man. And the Archbishop sets about\nproving this by means of a series of leaps over logical chasms.\n\nAfter dilating on the innocence of Christ, who was certainly guilty\naccording to the Mosaic law, and deserving of death according to the\nexpress command of Jehovah, the Archbishop writes as follows:\n\n\"Then we look back through our eighteen centuries, and we see that\nbefore the age of three-and-thirty he had fashioned sayings, had\ncompacted thoughts, had expressed principles about duty, about the\nrelative worth of things, about life, about love, about intercourse\nwith God, about the formation of character, the relation of classes, the\nspirit of law, the essence of government, the unity of man, which had\nnot existed, or which were not formulated when he opened his lips, but\nwhich have been and are the basis of society from the time they were\nknown till now.\"\n\nThis is a tissue of false assumptions. The sayings, thoughts, and\nprinciples of Jesus _did_ exist before, and they _were_ formulated when\nhe opened his lips. Not one original utterance is ascribed to him in\nthe whole of the Gospels. It is idle to bandy generalisations; let\nthe Archbishop select specimens of Christ's teaching, and we will find\nparallels to them, sometimes better and more wisely expressed, in the\nutterances of his predecessors. Nor is it true that Christ's teachings\nhave been, or are, the basis of society. Society exists in defiance of\nthem. It is never based, and it never will be based, on any abstract\nteaching. Its basis is _self-interest_, ever increasing in complexity,\nand ever more and more illuminated by the growth of knowledge.\n\nTake the case of oaths. Jesus said plainly, \"Swear not at all.\" But\nwhen earthly potentates wanted their subjects to swear fidelity, the\nChristian priests discovered that Jesus meant, \"Swear only on special\noccasions.\" And it was reserved for an Atheist, in the nineteenth\ncentury, to pass an Act allowing Christians to obey Jesus Christ.\n\nTake the injunction, \"Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth.\"\nSociety could never exist upon such a basis, so the clergy find that\nJesus, like Polonius, spoke tropically. Every Christian is busy laying\nup treasures on earth, and Archbishop Benson is well to the front in the\ncompetition.\n\nHaving made ridiculous claims for Jesus Christ, the Archbishop proceeds\nin this wise: \"Next ask yourself whether a stainless, loving, sincere,\npenetrating person like that makes or enlarges on unfounded declarations\nas to matters of fact. Is it consistent with such a character?\" Now\nJesus speaks of \"the immense importance of his own person,\" he speaks\nof \"My flesh, My blood\" as of vital power, he says \"I and my Father\nare one.\" Could he have been deceived? Well, why not? Honesty does not\nguarantee us against error. The best of men have been mistaken, And\nsincere natures are most liable to be deceived by taking subjective\nimpressions for external realities.\n\nThere is another explanation which the Archbishop is too shrewd to pass\nover in silence. Perhaps others said those things for Jesus, perhaps\nthey \"attributed to him sayings which he did not utter.\" But this, the\nArchbishop says, only multiplies the difficulty and the astonishment;\nfor, to put it briefly, his biographers in that case were as good at\npredicting and inventing as himself. And why not? Do we not know that\nthe story of the woman taken in adultery, which is finely told, and has\nall along been thought to contain some of Christ's most characteristic\nteaching, does not exist in the earlier manuscripts? It was invented by\nan unknown writer. And if one unknown writer could (and did) invent this\nstory, other unknown writers may have invented every part of the Gospel\nnarratives.\n\nThe attempt to make Jesus sponsor for himself is the last refuge of\nhard-driven Christians. The frame of mind it evinces is seen in Dr.\nBenson's interpretation of the exclamation \"I thirst,\" ascribed to\nJesus on the cross. Crucifixion produced an intolerable thirst, and the\nexclamation is very natural; but Dr. Benson says that Jesus meant \"I\nthirst for souls,\" and and adds that \"no man can doubt\" it. Such are\nthe shifts to which Christians are reduced when they cling to faith in\ndefiance of reason.\n\nDr. Benson's \"living theology\" is dead theology. It is sentimentalism\nand make-believe. Perfectly scriptural doctrines are cast aside\nwhile others are arbitrary retained. Vague talk about \"Christ and him\ncrucified\" takes the place of time-honored dogmas, logically deduced\nfrom the \"Word of God,\" and stamped with the deliberate approval of\ncouncils and synods. Christianity, in short, is becoming a matter\nof personal taste and preference. The time is approaching when every\nChristian will have a Christianity of his own.\n\nThis is the moral of the Archbishop's volume. Had space permitted we\nshould have liked to notice other features of his sermons. In one place\nhe says that \"the so-called Secularist is the man who deprives things\nsecular of all power and meaning and beauty.\" We think that he deprives\nChristianity of all meaning, and that being gone its \"power\" and\n\"beauty\" are idle themes of wasted eloquence.\n\n\n\n\nMR. GLADSTONE ON DEVILS.\n\nWhen the Grand Old Man crossed swords with Professor Huxley on the\nmiracle of Gadara, he spent all his time in discussing whether the pigs\nbelonged to Jews or Gentiles. The more serious point, whether a legion\nof devils were actually cast out of one or two men and sent into a\nherd of swine, he sedulously avoided. Professor Huxley, however, is too\nwide-awake to be drawn off the scent; and while he disputed the points\nof geography and ethnology, he insisted upon the fact that their only\nimportance was their relation to a miraculous story, which marked the\nparting of the ways between Science and Christianity.\n\nThe demonic theory of disease, including insanity, is universal among\nsavages. For proof and illustration the reader has only to consult Dr.\nTylor's splendid work on _Primitive Culture_. There are special demons\nfor every malady, and the way to cure the disease is to cast out the\nevil spirit. Of course insanity is a striking disorder, and in default\nof the pathological explanation the savage regards the wild, wandering\nwords and inexplicable actions of the sufferer as the words and actions\nof a demon, who has taken possession of the man's body, and driven\nhis soul abroad or put it in abeyance. This theory of madness survived\nthrough all the centuries of Christian history until the advent of\nmodern science. Mad people were chained up, exhibited as objects of\nderision, and often beaten unmercifully. It was the _devil_ in them,\nas in the poor witches, that was treated in this fashion. And it was a\nrecognised part of a clergyman's business to cast out devils. The Church\nof England canon is still unrepealed which provides that the clergy,\nbefore engaging in this useful if not agreeable occupation, must obtain\nthe written authority of their bishops.\n\nLaugh or smile as we will at this superstition, it is an integral part\nof the New Testament. The demonic theory of disease is confessed in the\nstory of Jesus rebuking the fever of Peter's mother-in-law, so that it\nleft her instantaneously, flying out of the door or window, or up\nthe chimney. Jesus repeatedly cast out devils. He expelled seven,\nin succession or at one fell swoop, from Mary Magdalene. He turned a\nlegion--that is, several thousands--out of the possessed Gadarenes;\nthere being at least one apiece for the bedevilled swine who were\ndriven to destruction. Paul likewise cast out devils. Indeed, if demonic\npossession in the New Testament is explained away, there is no reason\nwhy every other miraculous element should not be dealt with in the same\nmanner.\n\nMr. Gladstone perceives this, although he does not commit himself in\nhis _Impregnable Rock of Holy Scripture_. \"I am afraid,\" he says, in\na letter to the Rev. J. W. Belcher, \"that the objections to demoniacal\npossession involve in germ the rejection of all belief in the\nsupernatural.\" This is wonderfully clear and straightforward for the\nGrand Old Man. Give up the belief that mad people may be tenanted by\ndevils, and you should immediately join the National Secular Society.\nYou have taken the first decisive step on the broad road of\n\"infidelity,\" and nothing but a want of logic or courage prevents you\nfrom hastening to the inevitable conclusion.\n\nArchbishop Trench, in his _Notes on the Miracles of Our Lord_, rejects\nthe theory that the \"demoniacs\" were simply insane. No doubt, he says,\nthere was \"a substratum of disease, which in many cases helped to\nlay open the sufferer to the deeper evil.\" But \"our Lord Himself uses\nlanguage which is not reconcileable\" with the naturalist theory. \"It\nmay well be a question moreover,\" says Trench, \"if an Apostle, or one\nwith apostolic discernment of spirits, were to enter now into one of\nour madhouses, how many of the sufferers there he might not recognise as\nthus having more immediately fallen under the tyranny of the powers of\ndarkness.\"\n\nDean Milman, the discreet, plausible, and polished historian of the\nChristian superstition, did not shrink from regarding the New Testament\ndemoniacs as merely insane; and \"nothing was more probable,\" he\nremarked, \"than that lunacy should take the turn and speak the language\nof the prevailing superstition of the times.\" Precisely so. But why did\nJesus imitate the lunatics? He addresses the evil spirit and not the\nmadman. \"Hold thy peace,\" he says, \"and come out of him.\" No doubt\nthe demoniacs were simply insane; but in that case Jesus himself was\nmistaken, or the evangelists put into his mouth words that he never\nused. The first alternative destroys the divinity of Jesus; the second\ndestroys the authority of the evangelists.\n\nMr. Gladstone's position is the only honest and logical one for a\nprofessed Christian. Demonic possession cannot be cut out of the New\nTestament without leaving a gap through which all the \"infidelity\" in\nthe world might pass freely. Devils are not confined to hell. They\nare commercial travellers in brimstone and mischief. They go home\noccasionally; the rest of the time they are abroad on business. When\nthey see a promising madman they get inside him, and find warmer\nquarters than the universal air. Very likely they have started\nTheosophy, in order to provide themselves with fresh residences.\n\nLittle devils of course involve the big Devil--Apollyon, Beelzebub,\nAbaddon, Satan, Lucifer, Old Nick. He commands the infernal armies, and\nis one of the deities in Mr. Gladstone's pantheon. He is even embedded\nin the revised version of the Lord's Prayer--like a fly in amber.\n\"Deliver us from evil\" now reads \"Deliver us from the Evil One.\" Thus\nthe Devil triumphs, and the first of living English statesmen is reduced\nby Christian superstition to the level of modern savages and ancient\nbarbarians. Mr. Gladstone is perhaps the highest type of the Christian\nstatesman. But how small and effeminate he appears, after all, in\ncomparison with a great Pagan statesman like Julius C\u00e6sar, whose brain\nwas free from all superstition! Were the \"mighty Julius\" to re-appear\non earth, and see a great statesman believing the story of devils being\nturned out of men into pigs, he would wonder what blight had fallen upon\nthe human intellect in two thousand years.\n\n\n\n\nHUXLEY'S MISTAKE.\n\nNo one will suspect us of any prejudice against Professor Huxley. We\nhave often praised his vigorous writings, and his admirable service to\nFreethought. We recognise him as a powerful fighter in the great battle\nbetween Reason and Faith. He is a born controversialist, he revels in\nthe vivisection of a theological opponent, and it is easy to understand\nhow the more placid Darwin could cry to him admiringly, \"What a man you\nare!\"\n\nBut for some reason or other it seems the fate of Professor Huxley, as\nit is the fate of Herbert Spencer, to be made use of by the enemies\nof Freethought; and it must be admitted that, to a certain extent, he\ngratuitously plays into their hands.\n\nMr. Herbert Spencer has been a perfect god-send to the Christians with\nhis \"Unknowable\"--the creation of which was the worst day's work he ever\naccomplished. It is only a big word, printed with a capital letter, to\nexpress the objective side of the relativity of human, knowledge. It\nconnotes all that we do not know. It is a mere confession of ignorance;\nit is hollowness, emptiness, a vacuum, a nothing. And this nothing,\nwhich Mr. Spencer adorns with endless quasi-scientific rhetoric, is used\nas a buttress to prop up tottering Churches.\n\nProfessor Huxley has been nearly as serviceable to the Churches with\nhis \"Agnosticism,\" which belongs to the same category of substantially\nmeaningless terms as the \"Unknowable.\" No doubt it serves the turn of a\ngood many feeble sceptics. It sounds less offensive than \"Atheism.\" An\nAgnostic may safely be invited to dinner, while an Atheist would pocket\nthe spoons. But this pandering to \"respectability\" is neither in the\ninterest of truth nor in the interest of character. An Atheist is\nwithout God; an Agnostic does not know anything about God, so he is\nwithout God too. They come to the same thing in the end. An Agnostic is\nsimply an Atheist with a tall hat on. Atheism carries its own name at\nthe Hall of Science; when it occupies a fine house at Eastbourne,\nand moves in good society, it calls itself Agnosticism. And then the\nChurches say, \"Ah, the true man of science shrinks from Atheism; he is\nonly an Agnostic; he stands reverently in the darkness, waiting for the\nlight.\"\n\nNor is this the only way in which Professor Huxley has helped \"the\nenemy.\" He is, for instance, far too fond of pressing the \"possibility\"\nof miracles. We have no right, he says, to declare that miracles are\nimpossible; it is asserting more than we know, besides begging the\nquestion at issue. Perfectly true. But Professor Huxley should remember\nthat he uses \"possibility\" in one sense and the theologians in another.\nHe uses it theoretically, and they use it practically. They use it where\nit has a meaning, and he uses it where it has no meaning at all, except\nin an _\u00e0 priori_ way, like a pair of brackets with nothing between them.\nWhen the Agnostic speaks of the \"possibility\" of miracles, he only means\nthat we cannot prove a universal negative.\n\nLet us take an instance. Suppose some one asserts that a man can jump\nover the moon. No one can demonstrate that the feat is impossible. It\nis _possible_, in the sense that _anything_ is possible. But this is\ntheoretical logic. According to practical logic it is impossible, in the\nsense that no rational man would take a ticket for the performance.\n\nWhy then does Professor Huxley press the \"possibility\" of miracles\nagainst his Freethinking friends? He is not advancing a step beyond\nDavid Hume. He is merely straining logical formul\u00e6 in the interest of\nthe Black Army.\n\nNow let us take another instance. In a recent letter to the _Times_,\nwith respect to the famous letter of the thirty-eight clergymen who\nhave given the Bible a fresh certificate, Professor Huxley is once more\ncareful to point out that science knows nothing of \"the primal origin\"\nof the universe. But who ever said that it did? Atheists, at any\nrate, are not aware that the universe ever _had_ an origin. As to\nthe \"ultimate cause of the evolutionary process,\" it seems to us\nmere metaphysical jargon, as intolerable as anything in the mounding\nphraseology of the theologians.\n\nBut this is not all. Professor Huxley delivers himself of the following\nutterance: \"In fact it requires some depth of philosophical incapacity\nto suppose that there is any logical antagonism between Theism and\nthe doctrine of Evolution.\" This is food and drink to a paper like\nthe _Christian World_. But what does it mean? Certainly there is no\nantagonism between the terms \"Theism\" and \"Evolution.\" They do not\nfight each other in the dictionary. But is there not antagonism between\nEvolution and any kind of Theism yet formulated? The word \"God\" means\nanything or nothing. Give your God attributes, and see if they are\nconsistent with Evolution. That is the only way to decide whether there\nis any \"logical antagonism\" between Evolution and Theism. The trouble\nbegins when you are \"logical\" enough to deal in definitions; and the\nonly definition of God that will stand the test of Evolution is \"a sort\nof a something.\"\n\nWe leave Professor Huxley to present that highly edifying Theistic\nconclusion to his old theological opponents, and, if he likes, to flaunt\nit in the faces of his Freethinking friends. But is it really worth\nwhile for Samson to grind chaff for the Philistines? We put the question\nto Professor Huxley with all seriousness. Let him teach truth and smite\nfalsehood, without spending so much time in showing that they harmonise\nwhen emptied of practical meaning. A sovereign and a feather fall with\nequal rapidity in a vacuum; and if you take away fact and experience,\none proposition is as \"possible\" as another. But why should a great man\nwaste his energies in propagating such a barren truism?\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOSPEL OF FREETHOUGHT.\n\nChristians are perpetually crying that we destroy and never build up.\nNothing could be more false, for all negation has a positive side, and\nwe cannot deny error without affirming truth. But even if it were true,\nit would not lessen the value of our work. You must clear the ground\nbefore you can build, and plough before you sow. Splendor gives no\nstrength to an edifice whose foundations are treacherous, nor can a\nharvest be reaped from fields unprepared for the seed.\n\nFreethought is, in this respect, like a skilful physician, whose\nfunction it is to expel disease and leave the patient sound and well. No\nsick man claims that the doctor shall supply him with something in place\nof his malady. It is enough that the enemy of his health is driven out.\nHe is then in a position to act for himself. He has legs to walk with,\na brain to devise, and hands to execute his will What more does he need?\nWhat more can he ask without declaring himself a weakling or a fool? So\nit is with superstition, the deadliest disease of the mind. Freethought\ncasts it out, with its blindness and its terrors, and leaves the mind\nclear and free. All nature is then before us to study and enjoy.\nTruth shines on us with celestial light, Goodness smiles on our best\nendeavors, and Beauty thrills our senses and kindles our imagination\nwith the subtle magic of her charms.\n\nWhat a boon it is to think freely, to let the intellect dart out in\nquest of truth at every point of the compass, to feel the delight of\nthe chase and the gladness of capture! What a noble privilege to pour\ntreasures of knowledge into the alembic of the brain, and separate the\ngold from the dross!\n\nThe Freethinker takes nothing on trust, if he can help it; he dissects,\nanalyses, and proves everything, Does this make him a barren sceptic?\nNot so. What he discards he knows to be worthless, and he also knows\nthe value of what he prizes. If one sweet vision turns out a mirage, how\ndoes it lessen our enjoyment at the true oasis, or shake our certitude\nof water and shade under the palm-trees by the well?\n\nThe masses of men do not think freely. They scarcely think at all out of\ntheir round of business; They are trained not to think. From the cradle\nto the grave orthodoxy has them in its clutches. Their religion is\nsettled by priests, and their political and social institutions by\ncustom. They look askance at the man who dares to question what is\nestablished, not reflecting that all orthodoxies were once heterodox,\nthat without innovation there could never have been any progress, and\nthat if inquisitive fellows had not gone prying about in forbidden\nquarters ages ago, the world would still be peopled by savages dressed\nin nakedness, war-paint, and feathers. The mental stultification which\nbegins in youth reaches ossification as men grow older. Lack of thought\nends in incapacity to think.\n\nReal Freethought is impossible without education. The mind cannot\noperate without means or construct without materials. Theology opposes\neducation: Freethought supports it. The poor as well as the rich should\nshare in its blessings. Education is a social capital which should be\nsupplied to all. It enriches and expands. It not only furnishes the\nmind, but strengthens its faculties. Knowledge is power. A race of\ngiants could not level the Alps; but ordinary men, equipped with\nscience, bore through their base, and make easy channels for the\nintercourse of divided nations.\n\nGrowth comes with use, and power with exercise, Education makes both\npossible. It puts the means of salvation at the service of all, and\nprevents the faculties from moving about _in vacuo_, and finally\nstanding still from sheer hopelessness. The educated man has a whole\nmagazine of appliances at his command, and his intellect is trained in\nusing them, while the uneducated man has nothing but his strength, and\nhis training is limited to its use.\n\nFreethought demands education for all. It claims a mental inheritance\nfor every child born into the world. Superstition demands ignorance,\nstupidity, and degradation. Wherever the schoolmaster is busy,\nFreethought prospers; where he is not found, superstition reigns supreme\nand levels the people in the dust.\n\nFree speech and Freethought go together. If one is hampered the other\nlanguishes. What is the use of thinking if I may not express my thought?\nWe claim equal liberty for all. The priest shall say what he believes\nand so shall the sceptic. No law shall protect the one and disfranchise\nthe other. If any man disapproves what I say, he need not hear me a\nsecond time. What more does he require? Let him listen to what he likes,\nand leave others to do the same. Let us have justice and fair play all\nround.\n\nFreethought is not only useful but laudable. It involves labor and\ntrouble. Ours is not a gospel for those who love the soft pillow of\nfaith. The Freethinker does not let his ship rot away in harbor; he\nspreads his canvas and sails the seas of thought. What though tempests\nbeat and billows roar? He is undaunted, and leaves the avoidance of\ndanger to the sluggard and the slave. He will not pay their price for\nease and safety. Away he sails with Vigilance at the prow and Wisdom at\nthe helm. He not only traverses the ocean highways, but skirts unmapped\ncoasts and ventures on uncharted seas. He gathers spoils in every zone,\nand returns with a rich freight that compensates for all hazards. Some\nday or other, you say, he will be shipwrecked and lost. Perhaps. All\nthings end somehow. But if he goes down he will die like a man and not\nlike a coward, and have for his requiem the psalm of the tempest and the\nanthem of the waves.\n\nDoubt is the beginning of wisdom. It means caution, independence,\nhonesty and veracity. Faith means negligence, serfdom, insincerity and\ndeception. The man who never doubts never thinks. He is like a straw\nin the wind or a waif on the sea. He is one of the helpless, docile,\nunquestioning millions, who keep the world in a state of stagnation,\nand serve as a fulcrum for the lever of despotism. The stupidity of the\npeople, says Whitman, is always inviting the insolence of power.\n\nBuckle has well said that scepticism is \"the necessary antecedent of\nall progress.\" Without it we should still be groping in the night of the\nDark Ages. The very foundations of modern science and philosophy were\nlaid on ground which was wrested from the Church, and every stone\nwas cemented with the blood of martyrs. As the edifice arose the\nsharpshooters of faith attacked the builders at every point, and they\nstill continue their old practice, although their missiles can hardly\nreach the towering heights where their enemies are now at work.\n\nAstronomy was opposed by the Church because it unsettled old notions of\nthe earth being the centre of the universe, and the sun, moon, and stars\nmere lights stuck in the solid firmament, and worked to and fro like\nsliding panels. Did not the Bible say that General Joshua commanded the\nsun to stand still, and how could this have happened unless it moved\nround the earth? And was not the earth certainly flat, as millions of\nflats believed it to be? The Catholic Inquisition forced Galileo to\nrecant, and Protestant Luther called Copernicus \"an old fool.\"\n\nChemistry was opposed as an impious prying into the secrets of God. It\nwas put in the same class with sorcery and witchcraft, and punished in\nthe same way. The early chemists were regarded as agents of the Devil,\nand their successors are still regarded as \"uncanny\" in the more\nignorant parts of Christendom. Roger Bacon was persecuted by his brother\nmonks; his testing fire was thought to have come from the pit, and the\nexplosion of his gunpowder was the Devil vanishing in smoke and smell.\nEven at the end of last century, the clergy-led mob of Birmingham who\nwrecked Priestley s house and destroyed his apparatus, no doubt felt\nthat there was a close connection between chemistry and infidelity.\n\nPhysiology and Medicine were opposed on similar grounds. We were all\nfearfully and wonderfully made, and the less the mystery was looked into\nthe better. Disease was sent by God for his own wise ends, and to resist\nit was as bad as blasphemy. Every discovery and every reform was decried\nas impious. Men now living can remember how the champions of faith\ndenounced the use of an\u00e6sthetics in painful labor as an interference\nwith God's curse on the daughters of Eve.\n\nGeology was opposed because it discredited Moses, as though that famous\nold Jew had watched the deposit of every stratum of the earth's crust.\nIt was even said that fossils had been put underground by God to puzzle\nthe wiseacres, and that the Devil had carried shells to the hill-tops\nfor the purpose of deluding men to infidelity and perdition. Geologists\nwere anathematised from the pulpits and railed at by tub-thumpers. They\nwere obliged to feel their way and go slowly. Sir Charles Lyell had to\nkeep back his strongest conclusions for at least a quarter of a century,\nand could not say all he thought until his head was whitened by old age\nand he looked into the face of Death.\n\nBiology was opposed tooth and nail as the worst of all infidelity. It\nexposed Genesis and put Moses out of court. It destroyed all special\ncreation, showed man's' kinship with other forms of life, reduced Adam\nand Eve to myths, and exploded the doctrine of the Fall. Darwin was for\nyears treated as Antichrist, and Huxley as the great beast. All that is\nbeing changed, thanks to the sceptical spirit. Darwin's corpse is buried\nin Westminster Abbey, but his ideas are undermining all the churches and\ncrumbling them into dust.\n\nThe gospel of Freethought brands persecution as the worst crime against\nhumanity. It stifles the spirit of progress and strangles its pioneers.\nIt eliminates the brave, the adventurous and the aspiring, and leaves\nonly the timid, the sluggish and the grovelling. It removes the lofty\nand spares the low. It levels all the hills of thought and makes an\nintellectual flatness. It drenches all the paths of freedom with blood\nand tears, and makes earth the vestibule of hell.\n\nPersecution is the right arm of priestcraft. The black militia of\ntheology are the sworn foes of Free-thought. They represent it as the\nsin against the Holy Ghost, for which there is no forgiveness in\nthis world or the next. When they speak of the Holy Ghost they mean\nthemselves. Freethought is a crime against _them_. It strips off the\nmystery that invests their craft, and shows them as they really are, a\nhorde of bandits who levy black mail on honest industry, and preach a\ndespot in heaven in order to maintain their own tyranny on earth.\n\nThe gospel of Freethought would destroy all priesthoods. Every man\nshould be his own priest. If a professional soul-doctor gives you wrong\nadvice and leads you to ruin, he will not be damned for you. He will see\nyou so first. We must take all responsibility, and we should also take\nthe power. Instead of putting our thinking out, as we put our washing,\nlet us do it at home. No man can do another's thinking for him. What is\nthought in the originator is only acquiescence in the man who takes it\nat secondhand.\n\nIf we do our own thinking in religion we shall do it in everything else.\nWe reject authority and act for ourselves. Spiritual and temporal power\nare brought under the same rule. They must justify themselves or go. The\nFreethinker is thus a politician and a social reformer. What a Christian\n_may_ be he _must_ be. Freethinkers are naturally Radicals. They are\nalmost to a man on the side of justice, freedom and progress. The Tories\nknow this, and hence they seek to suppress us by the violence of unjust\nlaw. They see that we are a growing danger to every kind of privilege, a\nmenace to all the idle classes who live in luxury on the sweat and labor\nof others--the devouring drones who live on the working bees.\n\nThe gospel of Freethought teaches us to distinguish between the knowable\nand the unknowable. We cannot fathom the infinite \"mystery of the\nuniverse\" with our finite plummet, nor see aught behind the veil of\ndeath. Here is our appointed province:\n\n     This world which is the world\n     Of all of us, and where in the end\n     We find our happiness or not at all.\n\nLet us make the best of this world and take our chance of any other. If\nthere is a heaven, we dare say it will hold all honest men. If it will\nnot, those who go elsewhere will at least be in good company.\n\nOur salvation is here and now. It is certain and not contingent. We need\nnot die before we realise it Ours is a gospel, and the only gospel, for\nthis side of the grave. The promises of theology cannot be made good\ntill after death; ours are all redeemable in this life.\n\nWe ask men to acknowledge realities and dismiss fictions. When you have\nsifted all the learned sermons ever preached, you will find very little\ngood grain. Theology deals with dreams and phantasies, and gives no\nguidance to practical men. The whole truth or life may be summed up in\na few words. Happiness is the only good, suffering the only evil, and\nselfishness the only sin. And the whole duty of man may be expressed\nin one sentence, slightly altered from Voltaire--Learn what is true in\norder to do what is right. If a man can tell you anything about these\nmatters, listen to him; if not, turn a deaf ear, and let him preach to\nthe wind.\n\nThe only noble things in this world are great hearts and great brains.\nThere is no virtue in a starveling piety which turns all beauty into\nugliness and shrivels up every natural affection. Let the heart beat\nhigh with courage and enterprise, and throb with warm passion. Let the\nbrain be an active engine of thought, imagination and will. The gospel\nof sorrow has had its day; the time has come for the gospel of gladness.\nLet us live out our lives to the full, radiating joy on all in our own\ncircle, and diffusing happiness through the grander circle of humanity,\nuntil at last we retire from the banquet of life, as others have done\nbefore us, and sink in eternal repose.\n\n\n\n\nON RIDICULE.\n\nGoldsmith said there are two classes of people who dread\nridicule--priests and fools. They cry out that it is no argument, but\nthey know it is. It has been found the most potent form of argument.\nEuclid used it in his immortal Geometry; for what else is the _reductio\nad absurdum_ which he sometimes employs? Elijah used it against the\npriests of Baal. The Christian fathers found it effective against the\nPagan superstitions, and in turn it was adopted as the best weapon of\nattack on _them_ by Lucian and Celsus. Ridicule has been used by Bruno,\nErasmus, Luther, Rabelais, Swift, and Voltaire, by nearly all the great\nemancipators of the human mind.\n\nAll these men used it for a serious purpose. They were not comedians\nwho amused the public for pence. They wielded ridicule as a keen rapier,\nmore swift and fatal than the heaviest battle-axe. Terrible as was the\nlevin-brand of their denunciation, it was less dreaded than the Greek\nfire of their sarcasm. I repeat that they were men of serious aims, and\nindeed how could they have been otherwise? All true and lasting wit is\nfounded on a basis of seriousness; or else, as Heine said, it is nothing\nbut a sneeze of the reason. Hood felt the same thing when he proposed\nfor his epitaph: \"Here lies one who made more puns, and spat more blood,\nthan any other man of his time.\"\n\nBuckle well says, in his fine vindication of Voltaire, that he \"used\nridicule, not as the test of truth, but as the scourge of folly.\" And he\nadds--\n\n\"His irony, his wit, his pungent and telling sarcasms, produced more\neffect than the gravest arguments could have done; and there can be no\ndoubt that he was fully justified in using those great resources\nwith which nature had endowed him, since by their aid he advanced the\ninterests of truth, and relieved men from some of their most inveterate\nprejudices.\"\n\nVictor Hugo puts it much better in his grandiose way, when he says of\nVoltaire that \"he was irony incarnate for the salvation of mankind.\"\n\nVoltaire's opponents, as Buckle points out, had a foolish reverence for\nantiquity, and they were impervious to reason. To compare great things\nwith small, our opponents are of the same character. Grave argument\nis lost upon them; it runs off them like water from a duck. When we\napproach the mysteries of their faith in a spirit of reverence, we\nyield them half the battle. We must concede them nothing. What they call\nreverence is only conventional prejudice. It must be stripped away from\nthe subject, and if argument will not remove the veil, ridicule will.\nAway with the insane notion that absurdity is reverend because it is\nancient! If it is thousands of years old, treat it exactly as if it were\ntold the first time to-day. Science recognises nothing in space and time\nto invalidate the laws of nature. They prevailed in the past as well as\nin the present, in Jerusalem as well as in London. That is how Science\nregards everything; and at bottom Science and common-sense are one and\nthe same.\n\nProfessor Huxley, in his admirable little book on Hume, after pointing\nout the improbability of centaurs, says that judged by the canons of\nscience all \"miracles\" are centaurs. He also considers what would happen\nif he were told by the greatest anatomist of the age that he had seen a\ncentaur. He admits that the weight of such authority would stagger him,\nbut it would scarcely make him believe. \"I could get no further,\" says\nHuxley, \"than a suspension of judgment.\"\n\nNow I venture to say that if Johannes M\u00fcller had told Huxley any such\nthing, he would have at once concluded that the great anatomist was\njoking or suffering from hallucination. As a matter of fact trained\ninvestigators do not see these incredible monstrosities, and Huxley's\nhypothetical case goes far beyond every attested miracle. But I do say\nthat if Johannes Muller, or anyone else, alleged that he had seen a\ncentaur, Huxley would never think of investigating the absurdity.\n\nYet the allegation of, a great anatomist on such a matter is infinitely\nmore plausible than any miraculous story of the Christian religion. The\n\"centaurs\" of faith were seen centuries ago by superstitious people; and\nwhat is more, the relation of them was never made by the witnesses, but\nalways by other people, who generally lived a few generations at least\nafter the time.\n\nWhat on earth are we to do with people who believe in \"centaurs\" on\nsuch evidence, who make laws to protect their superstition, and appoint\npriests at the public cost to teach the \"centaur\" science? The way to\nanswer this question is to ask another. How should we treat people who\nbelieved that centaurs could be seen now? Why, of course, we should\nlaugh at them.\n\nAnd that is how we should treat people who believe that men-horses ever\nexisted at all.\n\nDoes anybody ask that I shall seriously discuss whether an old woman\nwith a divining-rod can detect hidden treasures; whether Mr. Home\nfloated in the air or Mrs. Guppy sailed from house to house; whether\ncripples are cured at Lourdes or all manner of diseases at Winifred's\nWell? Must I patiently reason with a man who tells me that he saw water\nturned into wine, or a few loaves and fishes turned into a feast for\nmultitudes, or dead men rise up from their graves? Surely not. I do what\nevery sensible man does. I recognise no obligation to reason with such\nhallucinate mortals; I simply treat them with ridicule.\n\nSo with the past. Its delusions are no more entitled to respect than\nthose of to-day. Jesus Christ as a miracle-worker is just as absurd\nas any modern pretender. Whether in the Bible, the Koran, the Arabian\nNights, Monte Christo, or Baron Munchausen, a tremendous \"walker\" is the\nfit subject of a good laugh. And Freethinkers mean to enjoy their laugh,\nas some consolation for the wickedness of superstition. The Christian\nfaith is such that it makes us laugh or cry. Are we wrong in preferring\nto laugh?\n\nThere is an old story of a man who was plagued by the Devil. The fiend\nwas always dropping in at inconvenient times, and making the poor\nfellow's life a hell on earth. He sprinkled holy water on the floor, but\nby-and-bye the \"old 'un\" hopped about successfully on the dry spots. He\nflung things at him, but all in vain. At last he resolved on desperate\nmeasures. He plucked up his courage, looked the Devil straight in the\nface, and laughed at him. That ended the battle. The Devil could not\nstand laughter. He fled that moment and never returned.\n\nSuperstition is the Devil. Treat him to a hearty wholesome laugh. It is\nthe surest exorcism, and you will find laughter medicinal for mind and\nbody too. Ridicule, and again ridicule, and ever ridicule!\n\n\n\n\nWHO ARE THE BLASPHEMERS?\n\nAtheists are often charged with blasphemy, but it is a crime they cannot\ncommit. God is to them merely a word, expressing all sorts of ideas, and\nnot a person. It is, properly speaking, a general term, which includes\nall that there is in common among the various deities of the world. The\nidea of the supernatural embodies itself in a thousand ways. Truth is\nalways simple and the same, but error is infinitely diverse. Jupiter,\nJehovah, and Mumbo-Jumbo are alike creations of human fancy, the\nproducts of ignorance and wonder. Which is _the_ God is not yet settled.\nWhen the sects have decided this point, the question may take a fresh\nturn; but until then _god_ must be considered as a generic term, like\n_tree_ or _horse or man_; with just this difference, however, that while\nthe words tree, horse, and man express the general qualities of visible\nobjects, the word god expresses only the imagined qualities of something\nthat nobody has ever seen.\n\nWhen the Atheist examines, denounces, or satirises the gods, he is not\ndealing with persons but with ideas. He is incapable of insulting God,\nfor he does not admit the existence of any such being.\n\nIdeas of god may be good or bad, beautiful or ugly; and according as\nhe finds them the Atheist treats them. If we lived in Turkey, we should\ndeal with the god of the Koran; but as we live in England, we deal\nwith the god of the Bible. We speak of that god as a being, just for\nconvenience sake, and not from conviction. At bottom, we admit nothing\nbut the mass of contradictory notions between Genesis and Revelation.\nWe attack not a person but a belief, not a being but an idea, not a fact\nbut a fancy.\n\nLord Brougham long ago pointed out, in his _Life of Voltaire_, that\nthe great French heretic was not guilty of blasphemy, as his enemies\nalleged; since he had no belief in the actual existence of tne god he\ndissected, analysed, and laughed at. Mr. Ruskin very eloquently defends\nByron from the same charge. In _Cain_ and elsewhere, the great poet does\nnot impeach God; he merely impeaches the orthodox creed. We may sum up\nthe whole matter briefly. No man satirises the god he believes in, and\nno man believes in the god he satirises.\n\nWe shall not, therefore, be deterred by the cry of \"blasphemy!\" which is\nexactly what the Jewish priests shouted against Jesus Christ. If there\nis a God, he cannot be half such a fool and blackguard as the Bible\ndeclares. In destroying the counterfeit we do not harm the reality. And\nas it is better, in the words of Plutarch, to have no notion of the gods\nthan to have notions which dishonor them, we are satisfied that the Lord\n(if he exist) will never burn us in hell for denying a few lies told in\nhis name.\n\nThe real blasphemers are those who believe in God and blacken his\ncharacter; who credit him with less knowledge than a child, and less\nintelligence than an idiot; who make him quibble, deceive, and lie; who\nrepresent him as indecent, cruel, and revengeful; who give him the heart\nof a savage and the brain of a fool. These are the blasphemers.\n\nWhen the priest steps between husband and wife, with the name of God on\nhis lips, he blasphemes. When, in the name of God, he resists education\nand science, he blasphemes. When, in the name of God, he opposes freedom\nof thought and liberty of conscience, he blasphemes. When, in the name\nof God, he robs, tortures, and kills those who differ from him, he\nblasphemes. When, in the name of God, he opposes the equal rights of\nall, he blasphemes. When, in the name of God, he preaches content to the\npoor and oppressed, flatters the rich and powerful, and makes religious\ntyranny the handmaiden of political privilege, he blasphemes. And\nwhen he takes the Bible in his hand, and says it was written by the\ninspiration of God, he blasphemes almost beyond forgiveness.\n\nWho are the blasphemers? Not we who preach freedom and progress for all\nmen; but those who try to bind the world with chains of dogma, to burden\nit, in God's name, with all the foul superstitions of its ignorant past.\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTIANITY AND COMMON SENSE.\n\nThere are two things in the world that can never get on\ntogether--religion and common sense. Religion deals with the next life,\ncommon sense with this; religion points to the sky, common sense to the\nearth; religion is all imagination, common sense all reason; religion\ndeals with what nobody can understand, common sense with what everybody\ncan understand; religion gives us no return for our investments but\nflash notes on the bank of expectation, common sense gives us good\ninterest and full security for our capital. They are as opposite as\ntwo things can possibly be, and they are always at strife. Religion\nis always trying to fill the world with delusions, and common sense is\nalways trying to drive them away. Religion says Live for the next world,\nand common sense says Live for this.\n\nIt is in the very nature of things that religion and common sense\nshould hate and oppose each other. They are rivals for the same\nprize--aspirants to the same throne. In every age a conflict has been\ngoing on between them; and although common sense is fast getting the\nupper hand to-day, the war is far from ended, and we may see some fierce\nstruggles before the combat closes. There can, however, be no doubt as\nto the issue; for science has appeared on the scene with the most deadly\nweapons of destruction, and science is the sworn ally of common sense.\nNay, is not Science the mighty child of common sense--the fruit of\nReason from the lusty embrace of Nature?\n\nCommon sense is primitive logic. It does not depend on books, and it is\nsuperior to culture. It is the perception of analogy--the instinct\nof causation. It guides the savage through trackless forests, and the\nastronomer through infinite space. It makes the burnt child dread the\nfire, and a Darwin see in a few obvious facts the solution of a mystery.\nIt built the first hut and the last palace; the first canoe and the last\nocean steamer. It constructed docks, and laid down railways, applied\nsteam to machinery and locomotion, prompted every mechanical discovery,\ninstigated all material progress, and transformed an ape-like beast into\na civilised man.\n\nEven the highest art is full of common sense. Sanity and simplicity are\nthe distinguishing marks of the loftiest genius, which may be described\nas inspired common sense. The great artist never loses touch of fact; he\nmay let his imagination soar as high as the stars, but he keeps his feet\nfirm-planted on the ground. All the world recognises the sublimity of\nGreek sculpture and Shakespeare's plays, because they are both true to\nnature and fact and coincident with everlasting laws. The true sublime\nis not fantastic; it is solid and satisfying, like a mighty Alp,\ndeep-rooted first of all in the steadfast earth, and then towering up\nwith its vineyards, its pastures, its pine-forests, its glaciers, its\nprecipices, and last of all the silence of infinitude brooding over its\neternal snows.\n\nCommon sense, the civiliser, has had an especially hard fight with that\nparticular form of religion known as Christianity. When Tertullian said\nthat Christianity was to be believed because it was incredible, he spoke\nin the true spirit of faith; just as old Sir Thomas Browne did when he\nfound the marvels of religion too weak for his credulity, David Hume\nexpressed the same truth ironically at the conclusion of his _Essay\non Miracles_, when he said that it was not reason that persuaded any\nChristian of the truth of his creed, which was established on the higher\nground of faith, and could not be accepted without a miracle.\n\nCommon sense is blasphemy. It is the thing which religion dreads most,\nand which the priests most mortally hate. Common sense dispenses with\nlearned disquisitions, and tries everything with simple mother wit. If,\nfor instance, it hears that a whale swallowed a man, and vomited him\nup safe and sound three days after, it does not want to know all the\nphysiology of men and whales before deciding if the story is true;\nit just indulges in a hearty laugh and blows the story to Hades.\nMiracle-mongers are quite helpless when a man turns round and says, \"My\ndear sir, that story's just a trifle too thin.\" They see his case is a\nhopeless one, and leave him to the tender mercies of the Lord of Hosts.\n\nLearning is all very well in its way, but common sense is a great deal\nbetter. It is infinitely the best weapon to use against Christianity.\nWithout a knowledge of history, without being acquainted with any\nscience but that of daily life, without a command of Hebrew, Latin and\nGreek, or any other language than his own, a plain man can take the\nBible in his hand and easily satisfy himself it is not the word of\nGod. Common sense tells him not to believe in contradictory statements;\ncommon sense tells him that a man could not have found a wife in a land\nwhere there were no women; common sense tells him that three millions of\npeople never marched out of any country in one night; common sense tells\nhim that Jesus Christ could not have \"gone up\" from two places at once;\ncommon sense tells him that turning devils out of men into pigs is a\nfable not half as good as the poorest of \u00c6sop's; common sense tells him\nthat nobody but a skunk would consent to be saved from the penalty of\nhis own misdeeds by the sufferings of an innocent man; common sense\ntells him that while men object to having their pockets picked and\ntheir throats cut, they want no divine command against theft and murder;\ncommon sense tells him that God never ordered the committal of such\natrocities as those ascribed to him in the Bible; and common sense tells\nhim that a God of mercy never made a hell.\n\nYes, all this is perfectly clear, and the priests know it. That is\nwhy they cry out Blasphemy! every time they meet it. But that is also\nprecisely the reason why we should employ it against them. The best\nantidote to superstition, the worst enemy of priestcraft, and the best\nfriend of man, is (to parody Danton's famous formula) Common Sense, and\nagain Common Sense, and for ever Common Sense.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LORD OF LORDS. *\n\n     * Written in August, 1884.\n\nWe are in the midst of a political crisis. The House of Lords opposes a\nreform unanimously voted by the House of Commons. Great demonstrations\nare being held all over the country, to insist on the popular will\nbeing carried into effect, and there is a growing cry of \"Down with the\nLords.\" A spectator from another planet might wonder at all the fuss.\nHe might marvel how forty millions of people needed to stamp and\ngesticulate against a handful of obstructives. He might imagine that\nthey had only to decree a thing and it would immediately be; that all\nopposition to their sovereign will would melt away the moment they\ndeclared it. This traveller, however, would soon be undeceived. A little\nstudy would show him that the people are kept in check by faith and\ncustom. He would learn that the nation is tied down like Gulliver was,\nby ligatures springing from its own head. Behind the King there is a\nKing of Kings; behind the Lords there is a Lord of Lords. Behind every\nearthly despotism there is a heavenly one. The rulers of mankind overawe\nthe people by religious terrors. They keep a body of men in their pay,\nthe black army of theology, whose business it is to frighten people from\ntheir rights by means of a ghost behind the curtain. Nobody has ever\nseen the bogie, but we are taught to believe in it from our infancy, and\nfaith supplies the deficiencies of sight. Thus we are enslaved by our\nown consent. Our will is suborned against our interests. We wear no\nchains to remind us of our servitude, but our liberty is restrained by\nthe subtle web of superstition, which is so fine as to be imperceptible\nexcept to keen and well-practised eyes, and elastic enough to cheat us\nwith a false sense of freedom.\n\nYes, we must seek in religion the secret of all political tyranny and\nsocial injustice. Not only does history show us the bearing of religion\non politics--we see it to-day wherever we cast our gaze. Party feeling\nis so embittered in France because the sharp line of division in\npolitics corresponds with the sharp line of division in religion. On\nthe one side there is Freethought and Republicanism, and on the other\nCatholicism and Monarchy. Even in England, which at present knows less\nof the naked despotism of the Catholic Church than any other European\ncountry, we are gradually approximating to a similar state of things.\nFreethougnt is appearing upon the public stage, and will play its\npeculiar part as naturally as religion does. Those who fancy that\ntheology and politics have no necessary relations, that you may operate\nin the one without affecting the other, and that they can and should be\nkept distinct, are grossly mistaken. Cardinal Newman has well shown how\nit is the nature of ideas to assimilate to themselves whatever agrees\nwith them, and to destroy whatever disagrees. When once an idea enters\nthe human mind it acts according to the necessary laws of thought. It\nchanges to its own complexion all its mental surroundings, and through\nevery mental and moral channel influences the world of practice outside.\nThe real sovereigns of mankind, who sway its destinies with irresistible\npower, are not the czars, emperors, kings and lords, nor even the\nstatesmen who enact laws when public sentiment is ripe; they are the\ngreat thinkers who mould opinion, the discoverers and enunciators\nof Truth, the men of genius who pour the leaven of their ideas and\nenthusiasm into the sluggish brain of humanity.\n\nEven in this crisis it is easy to see how Religion and Freethought are\nat variance. The Liberal party is not pledged to the abolition of\nthe House of Lords, but the Radical party is. Orthodox Liberalism\nis Christian, only a little less so than orthodox Conservatism; but\nRadicalism is very largely sceptical. It would surprise the dullards\nof both parties to learn how great a portion of the working energy of\nRadicalism is supplied by Freethinkers. True, many of them are unavowed\nFreethinkers, yet they are of our party although they do not wear our\ncolors. But setting all these aside, I assert that Radicalism would be\nimmensely weakened by the withdrawal of declared Freethinkers from its\nranks. No one in the least acquainted with political organisation would\nthink of disputing this.\n\nBelief in God is the source and principle of all tyranny. This lies in\nthe very nature of things. For what is God? All definitions of religion\nfrom Johnson's down to that of the latest dictionary agree on this one\npoint, that it is concerned with man's relations to _the unknown_.\nYes, God is the Unknown, and theology is the science of ignorance. Earl\nBeaconsfield, in his impish way, once said that where our knowledge ends\nour religion begins. A truer word was never spoken.\n\nNow the unknown is the terrible. We become fearful the moment we\nconfront the incalculable. Go through the history of religions, consult\nthe various accounts of savage and barbarous faiths at present extant,\nand you will find that the principle of terror, springing from the\nunknown, is the essential feature in which they all agree. This terror\ninevitably begets slavishness. We cannot be cowardly in this respect\nwithout its affecting our courage in others. The mental serf is a bodily\nserf too, and spiritual fetters are the agencies of political thraldom.\nThe man who worships a tyrant in heaven naturally submits his neck to\nthe yoke of tyrants on earth. He who bows his intellect to a priest\nwill yield his manhood to a king. Everywhere on earth we find the same\nceremonies attending every form of dependence. The worshipper who now\nkneels in prayer to God, like the courtier who backs from the presence\nof the monarch, is performing an apology for the act of prostration\nwhich took place alike before the altar and the throne. In both cases it\nwas the adoration of fear, the debasement of the weak before the seat of\nirresponsible power.\n\nAuthority is still the principle of our most refined creeds. The\nmajority of Christians believe in salvation by faith; and what is the\nGod of that dogma but a capricious tyrant, who saves or damns according\nto his personal whim? The ministers of Protestantism, like the priests\nof Catholicism, recognise this practically in their efforts to regulate\npublic education. They dare not trust to the effect of persuasion on\nthe unprejudiced mind; they must bias the minds of children by means of\ndogmatic teaching. They bend the twig in order to warp the tree.\n\nNow God is the supreme principle of authority as he is the essence\nof the unknown. He is thus the head, front and symbol of terror and\nslavery, and as such must be assailed by every true soldier of Progress.\nWe shall never enfranchise the world without touching people's\nsuperstitions; and even if we abolish the House of Lords we shall still\ndwell in the house of bondage unless we abolish the Lord of Lords; for\nthe evil principle will remain as a germ to develop into new forms of\noppression.\n\nFreethought is the real Savior. When we make a man a Freethinker, we\nneed not trouble greatly about his politics. He is sure to go right in\nthe main. He may mistake here or falter there, but his tendency will\nalways be sound. Thus it is that Freethinkers always vote, work and\nfight for the popular cause. They have discarded the principle of\nauthority in the heavens above and on the earth beneath, and left it to\nthe Conservative party, to which all religionists belong precisely in\nproportion to the orthodoxy of their faith. Freethought goes to the\nroot. It reaches the intellect and the conscience, and does not merely\nwork at haphazard on the surface of our material interests and party\nstruggles. It aims at the destruction of all tyranny and injustice by\nthe sure methods of investigation and discussion, and the free play of\nmind on every subject. It loves Truth and Freedom. It turns away from\nthe false and sterile ideas of the Kingdom of God and faces the true and\nfruitful idea of the Republic of Man.\n\n\n\n\nCONSECRATING THE COLORS\n\nThe Queen has recently presented new colors to the first battalion of\nthe Seaforth Highlanders. There was a great parade at Osborne, half the\nroyal family being present to witness her Majesty perform the one piece\nof business to which she takes kindly in her old age. She has long been,\nas Lord Beaconsfield said, physically and morally unfit for her many\nduties; but she is always ready to inspect her troops, to pin a medal\nor a cross on the breast of that cheap form of valor which excites\nsuch admiration in feminine minds, or to thank her brave warriors for\nexhibiting their heroism on foreign fields against naked savages and\nhalf-naked barbarians. The ruling passion holds out strong to the last,\nand the respectable old lady who is allowed to occupy the English throne\nbecause of her harmlessness can still sing, like the Grand Duchess in\nOffenbach's opera, \"Oh, I dote on the military.\"\n\nBut the Queen is not my game. I am \"going for\" the priests behind her,\nthe mystery-men who give the sanction of religion to all the humbug and\nhypocrisy, as well as to all the plunder and oppression, that obtain\namongst us. Those new colors were consecrated (that is the word) by the\nDean of Windsor. The old colors were consecrated forty-two years ago by\nthe Venerable Dr. Vernon Harcourt, Archbishop of York, who was probably\na near relative of our pious Home Secretary, the fat member for Derby.\nIf I were a courtier, a sycophant, or an ordinary journalist, I might\nspend some time in hunting up the actual relationship between these\ntwo Harcourts; but being neither, and not caring a straw one way or the\nother, I content myself, as I shall probably content my readers, with\nhazarding a conjecture.\n\nConsecrating the colors! What does that mean? First of all it implies\nthe alliance between the soldier and the priest, who are the two arms\nof tyranny. One holds and the other strikes; one guards and the other\nattacks; one overawes with terror and delusion, and the other smites\nwith material weapons when the spiritual restraints fail. The black and\nthe red armies are both retainers in the service of Privilege, and they\npreach or fight exactly as they are bidden. It makes no real difference\nthat the soldier's orders are clear and explicit, while the priest's\nare mysteriously conveyed through secret channels. They alike obey the\nmandate of their employers, and take their wages for the work.\n\nIn the next place it shows the intimate relation between religion and\nwar. Both belong to the age of faith. When the age of reason has fairly\ndawned both will be despised and finally forgotten. They are always\nand everywhere founded on ignorance and stupidity, although they are\ndecorated with all sorts of fine names. The man of sense sees through\nall these fine disguises. He knows that the most ignorant people are\nthe most credulous, and that the most stupid are the most pugnacious.\nEducated and thoughtful men shrink alike from the dogmas of religion and\nthe brutalities of war.\n\nFurther, this consecration of the colors reminds us that the Christian\ndeity is still the lord of hosts, the god of battles. His eyes delight\nto look over a purple sea of blood, and his devotees never invoke\nhis name so-much as when they are about to emulate his sanguinary\ncharacteristics. The Dean of Windsor does not shock, he only gratifies,\nthe feelings of the orthodox world, when he blesses the flag which is to\nfloat over scenes of carnage, and flame like a fiend's tongue over the\nhell of battle, where brothers of the same human family, without a\nquarrel in the world, but set at variance bv thieves and tricksters,\nmaim and mangle and kill each other with fractricidal hands, which ought\nto have been clasped in friendship and brotherhood. Yet these hireling\npriests, who consecrate the banners of war, dare to prate that God is\na loving father and that we are all his children. What monstrous\nabsurdity! What disgusting hypocrisy I Surely the parent of mankind,\ninstead of allowing his ministers to mouth his name over the symbols of\nslaughter, would command them to preach \"peace, peace!\"\n\n     Until the war-drums beat no longer and the battle-flags are furled\n     In the parliament of man, the federation of the world.\n\nOf course there is a comic side to this, as to almost everything else.\nThe priests of the various nations consecrate rival banners, pray for\nvictory for their own side, and swear that God Almighty is sure to give\nit them if they trust in him. Now what is the Lord to do when they go on\nin this way on opposite sides? He is sure to disappoint one party, and\nhe is likely to get devilish little thanks from the other. A wise God\nwould remain neutral, and say, \"My comical little fellows, if you will\ngo knocking out each other's brains because they are not strong enough\nto settle your differences by peaceful means, by all means get through\nthe beastly business as soon as possible; but pray don't trouble me with\nyour petitions for assistance; both sides are fools, and I wash my hands\nof the whole affair.\"\n\nI have heard of an old Dutch commander who actually prayed the Lord to\nremain neutral, although from a different motive. On the eve of battle\nhe addressed the deity in this fashion: \"O Lord, we are ten thousand,\nand they are ten thousand, but we are a darned sight better soldiers\nthan they, and, O Lord, do thou but keep out of it, and well give them\nthe soundest thrashing they ever had.\"\n\nOur Prayer Book pays a very poor compliment to the god of battles. \"Give\npeace in our time, O Lord,\" says the preacher. \"Because there is\nnone other that fighteth for us but only thou O God,\" responds the\ncongregation. The compilers of the Prayer Book evidently blundered,\nunless they secretly felt that the Lord of hosts was used up, and not\nworth a keg of gunpowder or an old musket.\n\nConsecrating colors, like consecrating graveyards, is after all only\na trick of trade. The Dean of Windsor only practises the arts of\nhis profession, and probably laughs in his sleeve at his own public\nperformance. Perhaps he knows that God, as Napoleon said, is on the side\nof the big battalions; just as, probably, every bishop knows that\nChurch corpses rot exactly like Dissenting corpses, although they lie in\nconsecrated ground. Priestly mummeries will last as long as there is\na demand for them. It is of little use to quarrel with this supply.\nThe Freethinker's duty is to lessen the demand.\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS IN HOLLOWAY GAOL. *\n\n     * I was imprisoned there for \"blasphemy\" from February 1883\n     to February 1884, by sentence of a Roman Catholic judge, Mr.\n     Justice North.\n\nThe dullest Christmas I ever spent was in her Majesty's hotel in North\nLondon. The place was spacious, but not commodious; it was magnificent\nin the mass, but very petty in detail; it was designed with extreme\ncare for the safety of its many guests, but with a complete disregard\nof their comfort; and it soon palled upon the taste, despite the\nunremitting attentions of a host of liveried servants. How I longed for\na change of scene, if what I constantly gazed upon may be so described;\nbut I was like a knight in some enchanted castle, surrounded with\nattendants, yet not at liberty to walk out. The hospitality of my\nresidence, however, was by no means sumptuous. The table did not groan\nbeneath a weight of viands, or gleam with glowing wines. Its poverty was\nsuch that a red-herring would have been a glorious treat, and a dose of\nphysic an agreeable variety. Why then, you may ask, did I not quit this\ninhospitable hotel, and put up at another establishment? Because I was\ninvited by her Majesty, and her Majesty's invitations are commands.\n\nSpeaking by the card, Christmas-day in Holloway was treated as a Sunday.\nThere was no work and no play then, the dinner was the poorest and\nworst cooked in the whole week, and the only diversion was a morning\nor afternoon visit to chapel, where we had the satisfaction of learning\nthat heaven was an eternal Sunday.\n\nThe fibre put into my cell to be picked by my industrious fingers had\nall been removed the previous evening, lest I should desecrate the\nsacred day by pursuing my ordinary avocation. My apartment was therefore\nclean and tidy, and by the aid of a bit of dubbin I managed to give\nan air of newness to my well-worn shoes. The attendants had, however,\nomitted to provide me with a Sunday suit, so I was obliged to don\nmy working clothes, in which graceless costume I had to perform my\nreligious devotions in the house of God, where an ill-dressed person is\nalways regarded as an exceptionally bad sinner, and expected to show\nan extraordinary amount of humility and contrition. Linen was never a\nburning question in Holloway Hotel, and cuffs and collars were unknown,\nexcept when a short guest wore a long shirt. My toilet was therefore\neasily completed; and with a good wash, and the energetic use of a\nthree-inch comb, I was soon ready for the festivities of the season.\n\nAt eight o'clock I received the first instalment of my Christmas fare,\nin the shape of three-quarters of a pint of tea and eight ounces of\ndry bread. Whether the price of groceries was affected by the Christmas\ndemand, or whether the kitchen was demoralised by the holiday, I am\nunable to decide; but I noticed that the decoction was more innocuous\nthan usual, although I had thought its customary strength could not be\nweakened without a miracle. My breakfast being devised on the plainest\nvegetarian principles, there was no occasion for grace before meat, so I\nsipped the tea and munched the bread (eight ounces straight off requires\na great deal of mastication) without breathing a word of thanks to the\ngiver of all good things.\n\nAfter a remarkably short hour's tramp round the exercise ring in a\nthieves' procession, doing the rogue's march without the music, I\nreturned to my cell, and sitting down on my little three-legged stool, I\nwas soon lost in thought. I wondered what my wife was doing, how she was\nspending the auspicious day. What a \"merry Christmas\" for a woman with\nher husband eating his heart out in gaol! But \"that way madness lies,\"\nand I had fought down the demon too long to give way then. Springing to\nmy feet, I sped up and down my cell like a caged animal, and after many\nmaledictions on \"the accursed creed,\" I succeeded in stilling the tumult\nof my emotions. A great calm followed this storm, and resuming my seat\nand leaning my back against the plank-bed, I took a scornful retrospect\nof my prosecution and trial. How insignificant looked the Tylers,\nGiffards, Norths and Harcourts! How noble the friends and the party\nwho had stood by me in the dark hour of defeat! A few short weeks, and I\nshould be free again to join their ranks and strike hard in the thickest\nof the battle, under the grand old flag of Freethought.\n\nThe chapel-bell roused me from phantasy. The other half of the prison\ndisgorged its inmates, and I could hear the sound of their tramping to\nthe sanctuary. While they were engaged there I read a chapter of Gibbon;\nafter which I heard the \"miserable sinners\" return from the chapel to\ntheir cells.\n\nAt twelve o'clock came mv second instalment of Christmas fare: six\nounces of potatoes, eight ounces of bread and a mutton chop. Being\non hospital diet, I had this trinity for my dinner every day for nine\nmonths, and words cannot describe the nauseous monotony of the _menu_.\nThe other prisoners had the regular Sunday's diet: bread, potatoes and\nsuet-pudding. After dinner I went for another short hour's tramp in the\nyard. The officers seemed to relax their usual rigor, and many of the\nprisoners exchanged greetings. \"How did yer like the figgy duff?\" \"Did\nthe beef stick in yer stomach?\" Such were the flowers of conversation\nthat afternoon. From the talk around me, I gathered that under the old\nmanagement, before the Government took over the prison, all the inmates\nhad a \"blow out\" on Christmas-day, consisting of beef, vegetables,\nplum-pudding and a pint of beer. Some of the \"old hands\" bitterly\nbewailed the decadence in prison hospitality. Their lamentations were\nworthy of a Conservative orator at a rural meeting. The present was a\npoor thing compared with the past, and they sighed for \"the tender grace\nof a day that is dead.\"\n\nAfter exercise I went to chapel. The schoolmaster, who was a very\npleasant gentleman, had drilled the singing class into a fair state\nof efficiency, and they sang one or two Christmas hymns in pretty good\nstyle; but the effect of their efforts was considerably marred by the\nrest of the congregation, whose unmusical voices, bad sense of time, and\nignorance of the tune, more than once nearly brought the performance\nto an untimely end. Parson Playford followed with a seasonable sermon,\nwhich would have been more heartily relished on a fuller stomach. He\ntold us what a blessed time Christmas was, and how people did well to be\njoyous on the anniversary of their Savior's birth; after which I presume\nhe returned to the bosom of his family, and celebrated the birth of\nChrist with liberal doses of turkey, goose, beef, pudding, and communion\nwine. Before dismissing us with his blessing to our \"little rooms,\"\nwhich was his habitual euphemism for our cells, he said that he could\nnot wish us a happy Christmas in our unhappy condition, but would wish\nus a peaceful Christmas; and he ventured to promise us that boon, if\nafter leaving chapel, we fell on our knees, and besought pardon for our\nsins. Most of the prisoners received this advice with a grin, for their\ncell-floors were black-leaded, and practising genuflexions in their\n\"little-rooms\" gave too much kneecap to their trousers.\n\nAt six o'clock I had my third instalment of Christmas fare, consisting\nof another eight ounces of bread and three quarters of a pint of tea.\nThe last mouthfuls were consumed to the accompaniment of church bells.\nThe neighboring gospel-shops were announcing their evening performance,\nand the sound penetrated into my cell through the open ventilator. The\ntrue believers were wending their way to God's house, and the heretic,\nwho had dared to deride their creed and denounce their hypocrisy,\nwas regaling himself on dry bread and warm water in one of their\nprison-cells. And the bells rang out against each other from the many\nsteeples with a wild glee as I paced up and down my narrow dungeon. They\nseemed mad with the intoxication of victory; they mocked me with their\nbacchanalian frenzy of triumph. But I smiled grimly, for their clamor\nwas no more than the ancient fool's-shout, \"Great is Diana of the\nEphesians.\" Great Christ has had his day since, but he in turn is dead;\ndead in man's intellect, dead in man's heart, dead in man's life; a mere\nphantom, flitting about the aisles of churches where priestly mummers go\nthrough the rites of a phantom creed.\n\nI took my Bible and read the story of Christ's birth in Matthew and\nLuke. What an incongruous jumble of absurdities! A poor fairy tale\nof the world's childhood, utterly insignificant beside the stupendous\nwonders which science has revealed to its manhood. From the fanciful\nlittle story of the Magi following a star, to Shelley's \"Worlds on\nworlds are rolling ever,\" what an advance! As I retired to sleep upon\nmy plank-bed my mind was full of these reflections. And when the gas was\nturned out, and I was left alone in darkness and silence, I felt serene\nand almost happy.\n\n\n\n\nWHO KILLED CHRIST?\n\nWithout committing ourselves to a full acceptance of the Gospel story of\nChrist's death, with all its monstrous miracles and absurd defiance of\nRoman and Jewish legal procedure, we propose to take the story as it\nstands for the purpose of discussing the question at the top of this\narticle.\n\nThe ordinary Christian will exclaim that Jesus was murdered by those\ninfernal Jews. Ever since they had the power of persecuting the\nJews--that is, ever since the days of Constantino--the Christians have\nacted on the assumption that the countrymen of Jesus did actually cry\nout before Pilate, \"His blood be on our heads!\" and that they and\ntheir posterity deserved any amount of robbery and outrage until they\nunanimously confessed their sin and worshipped him whom they crucified.\nIt made no difference that the contemporaries of Jesus Christ could\nnot transmit their guilt to their offspring. The Christians continued,\ncentury after century, to act in the spirit of the sailor in the story.\nComing ashore after a long voyage, Jack attended church and heard a\npathetic sermon on the Crucifixion. On the following day he looked into\nthe window of a print-shop, and saw a picture of Jesus on the cross.\nJust then a Jew came and looked into the window; whereupon the\nsailor, pointing to the picture, asked the Hebrew gentleman whether he\nrecognised it. \"That's Jesus,\" said the Jew, and the sailor immediately\nknocked him down. Surprised at this treatment, the Hebrew gentleman\ninquired the reason. \"Why,\" said the sailor, \"didn't you infernal Jews\ncrucify him?\" The poor son of Abraham admitted the fact, but explained\nthat it happened nearly two thousand years ago. \"No matter,\" said the\nsailor, \"I only heard of it yesterday.\"\n\nNow it is perfectly clear, according to the Gospels, that the Jews did\n_not_ kill Jesus. Unless they lynched him they had no power to put him\nto death. Jud\u00e6a was then a Roman province, and in every part of the\nEmpire the extreme penalty of the law was only inflicted by the Roman\ngovernor. Nevertheless it maybe argued that the Jews _really_ killed\nhim, although they did not actually shed his blood, as they clamored for\nhis death and terrorised Pontius Pilate into ordering a judicial murder.\nBut suppose we take this view of the case: does it therefore follow\nthat they acted without justification? Was not Jesus, in their judgment,\nguilty of blasphemy, and was not that a deadly crime under the Mosaic\nlaw? \"He that blasphemeth the name of the Lord,\" says Leviticus xxiv.\n16, \"shall surely be put to death.\" Were not the Jews, then, carrying\nout the plain commandment of Jehovah?\n\nNor was this their only justification. In another part of the Mosaic\nlaw (Deut. xiii. 6-10), the Jews were ordered to kill anyone, whether\nmother, son, daughter, husband, or wife, who should entice them to\nworship other gods. Now it is expressly maintained by the overwhelming\nmajority of divines that Jesus asserted his own godhead, he is reported\nas saying, \"I and my father are one,\" and, as St, Paul says, \"He thought\nit no robbery to be equal to God.\" Were not the Jews, then, bound to\nkill him if they could?\n\nLet it not be supposed that _we_ would have killed him. We are not\nexcusing the Jews as men, but as observers of the Mosaic law and\nworshippers of Jehovah. Their God is responsible for the death of Jesus,\nand if Jesus was a portion of that very deity, he was responsible for\nhis own death. His worshippers had learnt the lesson so well that they\nkilled their own God when he came in disguise.\n\nIt is contended by some Christians that Pontius Pilate killed Jesus.\nAccording to these arguers, Pilate knew that Jesus was innocent, and the\nexecution was therefore a murder. But is it not perfectly obvious from\nthe Gospel story that Pilate tried to save Jesus? Did not the obstinate\nprisoner plead guilty to what was really a charge of sedition? Did he\nattempt any defence? Did he call any witnesses? Was he not contumacious?\nAnd had Pilate any alternative to sentencing him to the legal punishment\nof his crime?\n\nOther friends of Jesus lay the blame of his death on Judas Iscariot, But\nthe whole story of his \"betrayal\" of Jesus is a downright absurdity. How\ncould he _sell_ his master when the commodity was common? What sense\nis there in his being paid to indicate the best-known man in Jerusalem?\nEven if the story were true, it appears that Jesus knew what Judas was\ndoing, and as he could easily have returned to Galilee, he was accessory\nto his own fate. It may also be pointed out that Judas only killed Jesus\nif the tragedy would not have occurred without him; in which case he was\nthe proximate cause of the Crucifixion, and consequently a benefactor\nto all who are saved by the blood of Christ. Instead of execration,\ntherefore, he deserves praise, and even the statue which Disraeli\nsuggested as his proper reward.\n\nWho killed Christ? Why himself. His brain gave way. He was demented. His\nconduct at Jerusalem was that of a maniac. His very language showed a\nloss of balance. Whipping the dove-sellers and moneychangers, not out\nof the Temple, but out of its unsanctified precincts, was lunatic\nviolence. Those merchants were fulfilling a necessary, reputable\nfunction; selling doves to women who required them as burnt offerings,\nand exchanging the current Roman money for the sacred Jewish coins\nwhich alone were accepted by the Temple priests. It is easy to call them\nthieves, but they were not tried, and their evidence is unheard. If they\ncheated, they must have been remarkably clever, for all their customers\nwere Jews. Besides, there were proper tribunals for the correction of\nsuch offences, and no one who was not beside himself would think of\ngoing into a market and indiscriminately whipping the traders and\ndashing down their stalls. Certainly any man who did it now would\nbe arrested, if he were not lynched on the spot, and would either be\nimprisoned or detained at Her Majesty's pleasure.\n\nQuite in keeping with these displays of temper was the conduct of Jesus\nbefore Pilate. A modicum of common sense would have saved him. He\nwas not required to tell a lie or renounce a conviction. All that was\nnecessary to his release was to plead not guilty and defend himself\nagainst the charge of sedition. His death, therefore, was rather a\nsuicide than a martyrdom. Unfortunately the jurisprudence of that\nage was less scientific than the one which now prevails; the finer\ndifferences between sanity and insanity were not discriminated;\notherwise Jesus would have been remanded for inquiries into his mental\ncondition.\n\nAs a man Jesus died because he had not the sense to live. As a God he\nmust have died voluntarily. In either case it is an idle, gratuitous,\nenervating indulgence in \"the luxury of woe\" to be always afflicting\nourselves with the story of his doom. Great and good men have suffered\nand died since, and other lessons are needed than any that may be learnt\nat the foot of the Cross.\n\n\n\n\nDID JESUS ASCEND?\n\nThe story of the Ascension of Jesus Christ is as absurd as the story\nof his Resurrection. Both, in fact, are the products of an age prone\nto believe in the wonderful. So prevalent was the popular belief in the\nsupernatural character of great men, that the comparatively cultivated\nRomans accepted a monstrous fable about Julius Caesar. \"The enthusiasm\nof the multitude,\" says Mr. Froude, \"refused to believe that he was\ndead. He was supposed to have ascended into heaven, not in adulatory\nmetaphor, but in literal and prosaic fact.\"\n\nSimilarly the enthusiasm of the first followers of Jesus, and especially\nof hysterical ladies like Mary Magdalene, refused to believe that _he_\nwas dead. The fable of his resurrection was gradually developed, and\nhis ascension was devised to round off the story. Whoever will read St.\nPaul's epistles first, and the Gospels and the Acts afterwards, will see\nhow the Christ myth grew from vagueness to precision under the shaping\nimagination of the Church of the first century after the age of the\nApostles.\n\nIt is a significant fact that the appearances of Jesus after his\nResurrection were all made to the faithful, and his ascension took place\nbefore them, without a single impartial person being allowed to witness\nan event of which it was of the utmost importance for the world to have\npositive assurance.\n\nWhen we turn to the Gospels and the Acts, five documents whose\nauthorship is absolutely unknown, we find the most contradictory\naccounts of what happened after the Resurrection. It may safely be\naffirmed that five such witnesses would damn any case in a legal court\nwhere the laws of evidence are respected.\n\nThese witnesses cannot even agree as to whether the risen Jesus was a\nman or a ghost. Now he comes through a closed door, and anon he eats\nbroiled fish and honeycomb; now he vanishes, after walking and talking\nwith his disciples, and anon he allows the sceptical Thomas to examine\nthe wounds of his crucifixion as a proof that he was not a spirit, but\nsolid flesh and blood.\n\nAccording to Matthew's account, Jesus first appeared to the women--as\nis very probable! Mark says his first appearance was to Mary Magdalene\nalone; Luke says it was two of the disciples on the road to Emmaus.\n\nHis subsequent appearances are recorded with the same harmony. While\nMatthew makes him appear but once, Mark makes him appear three times--to\nthe women, to the two disciples going to Emmaus, and to the eleven\napostles. Luke makes him appear but twice, and John four times--to Mary\nMagdalene alone, to the disciples in a room without Thomas, to the same\nagain with Thomas, and to the same once more at Tiberias. John is the\nonly one who tells the pretty story about Thomas, and John of course\nis the only one who mentions the spear-thrust in Christ's side at the\ncrucifixion, because he wanted a hole for Thomas to put his hand into,\nand the other evangelists had no need of such a provision. Matthew and\nMark relate that the disciples were told by an angel to go to Galilee,\nwhile Luke keeps them in the Holy City, and Acts declares that Jesus\nexpressly \"commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem.\"\n\nThe ascension itself, which involved the last appearance of Jesus, as\nwell as his disappearance, is not related by Matthew, nor is it related\nby John. Now Matthew and John are _supposed_ to have been apostles. If\nthe ascension happened they must have witnessed it; but both of them are\nsilent, and the story of the ascension comes from three writers who were\n_not present_.\n\nNor do these three writers agree with each other. Luke informs us that\nJesus ascended from Bethany, a short distance from Jerusalem, on the\nvery day of the Resurrection, or at the latest the next morning; while\nMark, without any precision as to time, distinctly affirms that Jesus\nascended from Galilee, which was at least sixty miles from Jerusalem.\nNow the ascension could not have occurred at two different places, and,\nin the absence of corroborative testimony, Mark and Luke destroy each\nother as witnesses. The author of Acts agrees with Mark as to the place,\nbut differs both from Mark and Luke as to the time. He declares that\nJesus spent forty days (off and on) with his disciples before\nlevitating. This constitutes another difficulty. Mark, Luke, and the\nauthor of Acts must all leave the court in disgrace, for it is too late\nfor them to patch up a more harmonious story.\n\nAccording to the detailed account in Acts, Jesus ascended in the\npresence of his apostles, including Matthew and John, who appear to have\nmistrusted their eyesight. After making a speech he was \"taken up, and a\ncloud received him out of their sight.\" He was in a cloud, and they were\nin a cloud, and the millions who believe them are in a cloud.\n\nThe time of the year is seasonable for an examination of the story of\nthe Ascension. Would that the opportunity were taken by Christians,\nwho believe what they have been taught with scarcely a moment's\ninvestigation, and read the Bible as lazily as they smoke their pipes.\nWe do not ask them to take our word for anything. Let them examine for\nthemselves. If they will do this, we have no fear as to the result.\nA belief in the New Testament story of the supernatural Christ is\nimpossible to any man who candidly sifts and honestly weighs the\nevidence.\n\nIf Christians would pursue their investigations still further they\nwould soon satisfy themselves that the life, death, resurrection, and\nascension of Jesus Christ are largely, if not entirely, mythical. Now,\nfor instance, when they are preparing to celebrate the ascension of\nChrist, they are welcoming the ascension of the Sun. The great luminary\nis (apparently) rising higher and higher in the heaven, shedding his\nwarmer beams on the earth, and gladdening the hearts of man. And there\nis more connection between the Son and the Sun than ordinary Christians\nimagine.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RISING SON.\n\nYou are requested to read the above title carefully. Notice the spelling\nof the last word. It is _son_, not _sun_. The difference to the eye is\nonly in one letter. The substantial difference is very great. Yet in the\nend the distinction between the Son and the Sun vanishes. Originally\nthey were one and the same thing, and they will be so again when\nChristianity is properly understood.\n\nSupposing that Jesus of Nazareth ever lived, it is impossible to know,\nwith any approach to accuracy, what he really was. With the exception of\nfour epistles by Saint Paul--in which we find a highly mystical Christ,\nand not a portrait or even a sketch of an actual man--we have no\nmaterials for a biography of Jesus written within a hundred years of\nhis death. Undoubtedly _some_ documents existed before the Canonical and\nApocryphal Gospels, but they were lost through neglect or suppression,\nand what we have is simply the concoction of older materials by an\nunscrupulous Church.\n\nDuring the interval between the real or supposed death of Jesus and the\ndate of the gospels, there was plenty of time for the accumulation of\nany quantity of mythology. The east was full of such material, only\nwaiting, after the destruction of the old national religions under the\nsway of Rome, to be woven into the texture of a non-national system as\nwide as the limits of the Empire.\n\nProtestants are able to recognise a vast deal of Paganism in the\nteaching and ritual of the Roman Catholic Church. On that side they keep\nan open eye. On the other side their eye is shut. If they opened it they\nwould see plenty of Paganism in the gospels.\n\nThe only fixed date in the career of Jesus is his birthday. This is\nknown by every scholar to be fictitious. The primitive Church was\nignorant of the day on which Jesus was born. But what was unknown to\nthe apostles, one of whom is said to have been his very brother, was\nopportunely discovered by the Church three hundred years afterwards.\nFor some time the nativity of Jesus had been celebrated on all sorts\nof days, but the Church brought about uniformity by establishing the\ntwenty-fifth of December. This was the Pagan festival of the nativity of\nthe Sun. The Church simply appropriated it, in order to bring over the\nPagan population by a change of doctrine without a change or rites and\ncustoms.\n\nIt may be objected that the primitive Church did not inquire as to\nthe birthday of Jesus until it was too late to ascertain it. But this\nobjection cannot possibly apply to the resurrection, the date of which\nis involved in equal uncertainty, although one would expect it to\nbe precisely known and regularly commemorated. For many ages the\ncelebration was irregular. Different Sundays were kept, and sometimes\nother days, in various weeks of March and April. Finally, after fierce\ndisputes and excommunications, the present system was imposed upon the\nwhole Catholic world.\n\nEaster is, in fact, decided astronomically, by a process in which\nsun-worship and moon-worship are both conciliated. The starting point is\nthe vernal equinox, which was the time of a common Pagan festival. The\nvery name of Easter is of heathen origin. All its customs are bequeathed\nto us from far-off Pagan ancestors. Easter eggs, symbolising the life of\nthe universe, have been traced back to the Romans, Greeks, Persians, and\nEgyptians.\n\nWhen the Christians celebrate the resurrection of Christ they are\nimitating the ancient \"heathen,\" who at the same time of the year\ncommemorated the resurrection of the Sun, and his manifest triumph over\nthe powers of darkness. And when the moderns prepare to celebrate the\nascension of Christ, they are really welcoming the ascension of the\nSun. The great luminary--father of light and lord of life--is then\n(apparently) rising higher and higher in heaven, shedding his warmer\nbeams on the earth, and gladdening the hearts of men.\n\nChurches and altars are decked with vegetation, which is another relic\nof nature-worship. Life is once more bursting forth under the kindling\nrays of the sun. Hope springs afresh in the heart of man. His fancy\nsees the pastures covered with flocks and herds, the corn waving in the\nbreeze, and the grapes plumping in the golden sunshine, big with the\nblood of earth and the fire of heaven.\n\nAccording to the Apostles' Creed, Jesus descended into hell between his\ndeath and resurrection. That is also a relic of sun-worship. During the\ndark, cold winter the sun descended into the underworld, which is\nthe real meaning of Hades. Misunderstanding this circumstance, or\ndeliberately perverting it, the early Church fabricated the monstrous\nfable that Jesus \"preached unto the spirits in prison,\" as we read in\nthe first epistle of Peter. One of the apocryphal gospels gives a lively\naccount of how he harried the realm of Old Harry, emptying the place\nwholesale, and robbing the poor Devil of all his illustrious subjects,\nfrom Adam to John the Baptist.\n\nA volume might be filled with illustrations of the mythology of the\nResurrection. Our present space is limited, and we must let the above\nsuffice. Anyone who reads the gospel story of the resurrection and\nascension of Jesus Christ, with a careful eye and a critical mind, will\nsee that it is not historical. Such witnesses, so loose in statement and\nso contradictory of each other, would collapse in a few minutes in\nany court of law. They do not write as spectators, and they were not\nspectators. What they give us is the legendary and mythical story\nthat had taken possession of the Christian mind long after all the\ncontemporaries of Jesus were dead.\n\nOur belief, in conclusion, is that the Rising Sun will outlast the\nRising Son. The latter is gradually, but very surely, perishing. Even\nprofessed Christians are giving up the miraculous elements of the\ngospels. But who would give up the Sun, which has warmed, lighted, and\nfertilised the earth for millions of years, and will do so for millions\nof years after the death of Christianity?\n\n\n\n\nST. PAUL'S VERACITY.\n\nA very pretty storm has been raised (and settled) by the _Independent\nand Nonconformist_. It raged around the Apostle Paul and Mr. Herbert\nSpencer, who both come out of it apparently not a penny the worse. Mr.\nSpencer has a chapter on Veracity in his recently published _Principles\nof Ethics_, wherein he cites Paul as a violator of this virtue, and\nremarks that \"apparently piquing himself on his craft and guile,\" he\n\"elsewhere defends his acts by contending that 'the truth of God hath\nmore abounded through my lie unto his glory.'\" This roused the ire of\nthe _Independent_, and Mr. Spencer was informed that his extraordinary\naspersion on the Apostle's character was wholly without justification.\nWhereupon the great Evolutionist replied that two days before receiving\nthe _Independent_ he had \"sent to the printer the copy of a cancel to be\nsubstituted for the page in which there occurs the error you point out.\"\nMr. Spencer goes on to say that he had trusted to assistants, and been\nmisled on this particular point as on a few others.\n\n\"The inductions contained in the _Principles of Sociology_ and in Part\nII. of the _Principles of Ethics_ are based mainly, though not wholly,\nupon the classified materials contained in _The Descriptive Sociology_,\ncompiled between 1867 and 1881 by three University men I engaged for\nthe purpose. When using this compilation of facts concerning sixty-eight\ndifferent societies I have habitually trusted to the compilers. For\neven had I been in good health, it would have been impossible for me to\nverify all their extracts from multitudinous books. In some cases, where\nthe work was at hand, I have referred for verification; and have usually\ndone so in the case of extracts from the Bible; now and then, as I\nremember, rejecting the extracts given to me as being not justified\nby the context. But in the case in point it seems that I had not been\nsufficiently careful. It is only after reading the preceding chapter\nthat it becomes clear that the passage I quoted must be taken as part of\nan argument with an imaginary interlocutor, rather than as expressive\nof St. Paul's own sentiment. It must, I think, be admitted that the\npresentation of the thought is a good deal complicated, and, in the\nabsence of the light thrown upon it by the preceding chapter, is liable\nto be misunderstood. I regret that I misunderstood it.\"\n\nThis explanation and apology are, of course, most satisfactory. Saint\nPaul is cleared by Mr. Spencer's certificate, and the _Independent_\nremarks that this is \"a noble codicil to Mr. Spencer's chapter on\nVeracity.\" Nay, it professes high \"admiration\" for him as the \"greatest\nliving philosopher of the English-speaking race.\" Thus the \"Comedy of\nErrors\" is followed by \"All's Well that Ends Well,\" and the curtain\nfalls on compliments and embraces.\n\nIt really seems a shame to disturb this pleasant harmony, but we feel\ncompelled to say something to the _Independent_ and to Mr. Herbert\nSpencer about the Apostle Paul.\n\nIn the first place we must observe that Mr. Spencer's \"erroneous\"\nstatement about the great apostle, while it may be an _aspersion_,\nis certainly not _extraordinary_. It has repeatedly been made by the\napostle's adverse critics, and even by some of his admirers. Without\nciting a long list of them, we will give two--both English, and both\njudicial. Jeremy Bentham, the great reformer of our jurisprudence, wrote\na work entitled _Not Paul, but Jesus_, in which he contends through four\nhundred pages that Paul was mercenary, ambitious, and an unscrupulous\nliar. To cull a single passage from Bentham's book is like picking one\nraisin from a rich plum-pudding. Every sentence is an indictment. And\nsurely after Bentham's trenchant performance it is idle for an English\njournal to pretend that there is anything \"extraordinary\" in Mr.\nSpencer's \"erroneous\" accusation. The other judicial writer, also\nbelonging to the English race, is Sir Richard David Hanson, who was for\nsome time Chief Justice of South Australia. In his able work on _The\nApostle Paul_ there is an admirable summing-up of the hero's character.\nAfter admitting Paul's ability, persistence, courage, and other virtues,\nhe remarks--\"But these are accompanied by what in an uninspired\nman would be called pride, jealousy, disdain, invective, sophistry,\ntime-serving and intolerance.\" This is pretty strong; and \"sophistry\"\nand \"time-serving\" are only euphemisms for lying in preaching and\npractice.\n\nSo much for the Independent, and now for Mr. Spencer. It must be\nobserved that one part of his \"erroneous\" statement _cannot_ be\nrepudiated. The apostle distinctly says, \"being crafty, I caught you\nwith guile\" (2 Uor. xii. 16), so that \"piquing himself on his craft and\nguile\" must stand while this text remains in the Epistle. Mr. Spencer\nallows that, in the third of Romans, the \"presentation of the thought is\na good deal complicated,\" and \"liable to be misunderstood\"; but, if read\nin the light of the preceding chapter, the passage about lying to the\nglory of God \"must be taken as part of an argument with an imaginary\ninterlocutor.\" Perhaps so; but _which_ is speaking in the seventh verse?\nPaul or his opponent? Mr. Spencer does not say. Yet this is the real\npoint. To us it seems that _Paul_ is speaking. Of course it may be\nurged that he is speaking ironically. But this is not Mr. Spencer's\ncontention. It is not clear what he _does_ mean; in fact, he seems to\nhave caught a little of Paul's confusion.\n\nWe have no objection to reading the seventh verse of the third of Romans\nin the light of the preceding chapter. But should it not also be read in\nthe light of Christian history? Have honest openness and strict veracity\nbeen _ever_ regarded as essential virtues in the propagation of\nthe gospel? And why is it likely that Paul, of all men, escaped the\ncontagion of fraud, which has always disgraced the Christian Church? The\nordinary Protestant imagines, or pretends, that the Catholic Church has\nbeen the great impostor; but this is nonsense to the student of early\nChristianity. Mosheim remarks that the \"pernicious maxim\" that \"those\nwho make it their business to deceive with a view of promoting the cause\nof truth were deserving rather of commendation than of censure,\" was\n\"_very early_ recognised by the Christians.\" Bishop Ellicott similarly\nobserves that \"history forces upon us the recognition of pious fraud as\na principle which was by no means inoperative in the _earliest ages_\nof Christianity.\" Middleton likewise reflects that the bold defiance of\nhonesty and truth displayed by the Fathers of the fourth century \"could\nnot have been acquired, or become general at once, but must have been\ncarried gradually to that height, by custom and the example of former\ntimes, and a long experience of what the credulity and superstition or\nthe multitude would bear.\" So far, indeed, were the \"earlier ages\" from\nbeing remarkable for integrity, that Middleton says there never was \"any\nperiod of time\" in which fraud and forgery more abounded. The learned\nCasaubon also complains that it was in \"the _earliest times_ of the\nChurch\" that it was \"considered a capital exploit to lend to heavenly\ntruth the help of invention, in order that the new doctrine might be\nmore readily allowed by the wise among the Gentiles.\" Mosheim even finds\nthat the period of fraud began \"not long after Christ's ascension.\" And\nit continued, without a blush of shame on Christian cheeks; not growing\nworse, for that was impossible; until Eusebius, in the fourth century,\nremarked as a matter of course that he had written what redounded to the\nglory, and suppressed whatever tended to the disgrace of religion.\n\nNow if fraud was practised as a pious principle in the very earliest\nages of Christianity; if it continued for as many centuries as it could\npass with impunity; if it was so systematic and prolonged, and carried\nto such a height, that Herder declared \"Christian veracity\" fit to rank\nwith \"Punic Faith\"; what right has anyone--even a Christian editor--to\nplace Paul above suspicion, or to find a \"monstrous\" blunder in his\nbeing accused of lying, especially when the historic practice of his\nco-religionists seems to many persons to be more than half countenanced\nby his own language?\n\nWe are not concerned to _press_ the charge of lying against St. Paul.\nThere have been so many liars in the Christian Church that one more or\nless makes very little difference. On the other hand, we cannot accept\nMr. Spencer's certificate without reservation. He admits that Paul's\nlanguage is obscure; and perhaps a little obscurity is to be expected\nwhen a man is replying to an accusation which he is not wholly able to\nrebut.\n\n\n\n\nNO FAITH WITH HERETICS.\n\nDuring the Crusades, when the Christians were wantonly fighting\nagainst their superiors in civilisation and humanity, the doctrine, was\npromulgated and obeyed that no faith should be kept with infidels,\nand this was subsequently put in force against heretics. Thousands of\nMohammedan prisoners were butchered in cold blood, although their safety\nhad been confirmed by an oath; and this infamous practice was afterwards\npursued with respect to the \"heretical\" sects when the Papal troops\ndesolated some of the fairest parts of Europe. Not only was there\nno salvation outside the Church, but even the ordinary laws of human\nsociety were held to be abrogated. This wickedness, perhaps, reached\nits culmination in the Spanish conquest of America. Few Christians were\ncivilised enough to condemn these purjured banditti, but Montaigne in\nFrance, and Raleigh in England, were glorious exceptions, and both of\nthem were under a just suspicion of heterodoxy.\n\nProtestants as well as Catholics were infected with this infamous\nbigotry. Luther himself was not free from taint, and Calvin's treachery\nagainst Servetus is an eternal blot on his character.\n\n\"No faith with heretics\" took a new form when the downright violation of\nan oath became too dissonant to the spirit of an improved civilisation.\nIt found expression in robbing the heretic of political and social\nrights, and above all in treating him as outside the pale of honor.\nSlandering him was no libel. Every bigot claimed the right to say\nanything against his character, for the purpose of bringing his opinions\ninto hatred and contempt. All the dictates of charity were cast aside;\nhis good actions were misrepresented, and his failings maliciously\nexaggerated. If Voltaire spent thousands in charity, he did it for\nnotoriety; if he wrote odes to beautiful or accomplished ladies, he was\na wretched debauchee. If Thomas Paine made sacrifices for liberty,\nhe did it because he had a private grudge against authority; if he\nbefriended the wife and family of a distressed Republican, he only\nsought to gratify his lust; if he spent a convivial hour with a friend,\nhe was an inveterate drunkard; and if he contracted a malignant abscess\nby lying for months in a damp, unwholesome dungeon, his sufferings were\nthe nemesis of a wicked, profligate life.\n\nAn English precursor of Voltaire and Paine wrote _A Discourse on\nFreethinking_. His name was Anthony Collins, and in a certain sense he\nwas the father of English Freethought. He was a man of exemplary life\nand manners, yet the saintly Bishop Berkeley said he \"deserved to\nbe denied the common benefit of air and water.\" One of Collins's\nantagonists was the famous Dr. Bentley; and although Collins was a\nman of fortune, the ridiculous calumny was started that he sought and\nobtained Bentley's assistance in adversity. The author of this calumny\nwas Richard Cumberland, a grandson of Bentley, and in other respects an\nestimable man. His mistake was pointed out by Isaac D'Israeli, who told\nhim the person he meant was _Arthur_ Collins, the historical compiler.\nBut Cumberland perpetuated the calumny, remarking that \"it should stand,\nbecause it could do no harm to any but to Anthony Collins, whom he\nconsidered little short of an Atheist.\"\n\nAnother story about Collins, which has frequently done duty in Christian\npublications, is that a visitor found him reading the New Testament,\nand that he remarked, \"I have but one book, but that is the best.\"\nFortunately I am able to give the origin of this story. It is told of\n_William_ Collins, the poet, by Dr. Johnson, and may be found in the\nsecond volume (p. 239) of that writer's \"Miscellaneous and Fugitive\nPieces,\" published by Davies in Johnson's lifetime. It was not Anthony\nCollins, therefore; but what does that matter? It was a gentleman named\n_Collins_; his other name is indifferent. Besides, the story is so much\nmore affecting when told of _Anthony_.\n\nLook at the lying stories of infidel death-beds; glance at the\nscurrilities of an outcast minister which are gratuitously circulated\nby the enemies of Colonel Ingersoll; observe on how many platforms Mr.\nBrad-laugh has pulled out his watch and given the Almighty five minutes\nto strike him dead; listen to the grotesque libels on every leading\nFreethinker which are solemnly circulated by Christian malice; and\nyou will behold the last fruit of a very old tree, which is slowly but\nsurely perishing. It once bore scaffolds, stakes, prisons and torture\nrooms; it now bears but libels and insinuations.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOGIC OF PERSECUTION.\n\nNeither the cruelty of tyrants, nor the ambition of conquerors, has\nwrought so much mischief and suffering, as the principle of persecution.\nThe crimes of a Nero, the ravages of an Attila, afflict the world for a\nseason, and then cease and are forgotten, or only linger in the memory\nof history. But persecution operates incessantly like a natural force.\nWith the universality of light, it radiates in every direction. The\npalace is not too proud for its entrance, nor is the cottage too humble.\nIt affects every relationship of life. Its action is exhibited in public\nthrough imprisonment, torture, and bloodshed, and in private through the\ntears of misery and the groans of despair.\n\nBut worse remains. Bodies starve and hearts break, but at last there\ncomes \"the poppied sleep, the end of all.\" Grief is buried in the grave,\nNature covers it with a mantle of grass and flowers, and the feet of joy\ntrip merrily over the paths once trodden by heavy-footed care. Yet the\nmore subtle effects of persecution remain with the living. _They_ are\nnot screwed down in the coffin and buried with the dead. They become\npart of the pestilential atmosphere of cowardice and hypocrisy which\nsaps the intellectual manhood of society, so that bright-eyed inquiry\nsinks into blear-eyed faith, and the rich vitality of active honest\nthought falls into the decrepitude of timid and slothful acquiescence.\n\nWhat is this principle of persecution, and how is it generated and\ndeveloped in the human mind? Now that it is falling into discredit,\nthere is a tendency on the part of Christian apologists to ascribe it\nto our natural hatred of contradiction. Men argue and quarrel, and if\nintellectual differences excite hostility in an age like this, how easy\nit was for them to excite the bitterest animosity in more ignorant and\nbarbarous ages! Such is the plea now frequently advanced. No doubt it\nwears a certain plausibility, but a little investigation will show\nits fallacy. Men and women are so various in their minds, characters,\ncircumstances, and interests, that if left to themselves they inevitably\nform a multiplicity of ever-shifting parties, sects, fashions and\nopinions; and while each might resent the impertinence of disagreement\nfrom its own standard, the very multiformity of the whole mass must\npreserve a general balance of fair play, since every single sect with an\nitch for persecuting would be confronted by an overwhelming majority\nof dissidents. It is obvious, therefore, that persecution can only be\nindulged in when some particular form of opinion is in the ascendant:\nand if this form is artificially developed; if it is the result, not of\nknowledge and reflection, but of custom and training; if, in short, it\nis rather a superstition than a belief; you have a condition of things\nhighly favorable to the forcible suppression of heresy. Now,\nthroughout history, there is one great form of opinion which _has been_\nartificially developed, which has been accepted through faith and not\nthrough study, which has always been concerned with alleged occurrences\nin the remote past or the inaccessible future, and which has also\nbeen systematically maintained in its \"pristine purity\" by an army of\nteachers who have pledged themselves to inculcate the ancient faith\nwithout any admixture of their own intelligence.\n\nThat form of opinion is Religion. Accordingly we should expect to find\nits career always attended with persecution, and the expectation is\namply justified by a cursory glance at the history of every faith. There\nis, indeed, one great exception; but, to use a popular though inaccurate\nphrase, it is an exception which proves the rule. Buddhism has never\npersecuted But Buddhism is rather a philosophy than a religion; or, if\na religion, it is not a theology, and that is the sense attached to\n_religion_ in this article.\n\nAll such religions have persecuted, do persecute, and will persecute\nwhile they exist. Let it not be supposed, however, that they punish\nheretics on the open ground that the majority must be right and the\nminority must be wrong, or that some people have a right to think while\nothers have only the right to acquiesce. No, that is too shameless an\navowal; nor would it, indeed, be the real truth. There is a principle in\nreligions which has always been the sanction of persecution, and if it\nbe true, persecution is more than right, it is a duty. That principle is\nSalvation by Faith.\n\nIf a certain belief is necessary to salvation, if to reject it is to\nmerit damnation, and to undermine it is to imperil the eternal welfare\nof others, there is only one course open to its adherents; they must\ntreat the heretic as they would treat a viper. He is a poisonous\ncreature to be swiftly extinguished.\n\nBut not _too_ swiftly, for he has a soul that may still be saved.\nAccordingly he is sequestered to prevent further harm, an effort is made\nto convert him, then he is punished, and the rest is left with God. That\nhis conversion is attempted by torture, either physical or mental, is\nnot an absurdity; it is consonant to the doctrine of salvation by faith.\nFor if God punishes or rewards us according to our possession or lack\nof faith, it follows that faith is within the power of will. Accordingly\nthe heretic, to use Dr. Martineau's expression, is reminded not of\narguments but of motives, not of evidence but of fear, not of proofs\nbut of perils, not of reasons but of ruin. When we recognise that the\nunderstanding acts independently of volition, and that the threat of\npunishment, while it may produce silence or hypocrisy, _cannot_ alter\nbelief, this method of procedure strikes us as a monstrous imbecility;\nbut, given a belief in the doctrine of salvation by faith, it must\nnecessarily appear both logical and just. If the heretic _will_ not\nbelieve, he is clearly wicked, for he rejects the truth and insults God.\nHe has deliberately chosen the path to hell, and does it matter whether\nhe travel slowly or swiftly to his destination? But does it _not_ matter\nwhether he go alone or drag down others with him to perdition? Such\nwas the logic of the Inquisitors, and although their cruelties must be\ndetested their consistency must be allowed.\n\nCatholics have an infallible Church, and the Protestants an infallible\nBible. Yet as the teaching of the Bible becomes a question of\ninterpretation, the infallibility of each Church resolves itself into\nthe infallibility of its priesthood. Each asserts that _some_ belief is\nnecessary to salvation. Religious liberty, therefore, has never entered\ninto the imagination of either. The Protestants who revolted against the\nPapacy openly avowed the principle of persecution. Luther, Beza, Calvin,\nand Melancthon, were probably more intolerant than any Pope of their\nage; and if the Protestant persecutions were not, on the whole, so\nsanguinary as those of the Roman Catholic Church, it was simply due to\nthe fact that Catholicism passed through a dark and ferocious period\nof history, while Protestantism emerged in an age of greater light and\nhumanity. Persecution cannot always be bloody, but it always inflicts\non heretics as much suffering as the sentiment of the community will\ntolerate.\n\nThe doctrine of salvation by faith has been more mischievous than all\nother delusions of theology combined. How true are the words of Pascal:\n\"_Jamais on ne fait le mal si pleinement et si gaiement que quand oh le\nfait par un faux principe de conscience_.\" Fortunately a nobler day\nis breaking. The light of truth succeeds the darkness of error. Right\nbelief is infinitely important, but it cannot be forced. Belief is\nindependent of will. But character is not, and therefore the philosopher\napproves or condemns actions instead of censuring beliefs. Theology,\nhowever, consistently clings to its old habits. \"Infidels\" must not be\nargued with but threatened, not convinced but libelled; and when these\nweapons are futile there ensues the persecution of silence. That serves\nfor a time, but only for a time; it may obstruct, but it cannot prevent,\nthe spread of unbelief. It is like a veil against the light. It may\nobscure the dawn to the dull-eyed and the uninquisitive, but presently\nthe blindest sluggards in the penfolds of faith will see that the sun\nhas risen.\n\n\n\n\nLUTHER AND THE DEVIL.\n\n\"Luther,\" says Heine, \"was not only the greatest, but also the most\nthoroughly German, hero of our history.\" Carlyle says that \"no more\nvaliant man, no mortal heart to be called _braver_, ever lived in that\nTeutonic kindred, whose character is valor.\" Michelet calls him \"the\nArminius of modern Germany.\" Twenty tributes to Luther's greatness might\nbe added, all more or less memorable; but these, from three very diverse\nmen, will suffice for our present purpose. Martin Luther _was_ a great\nman. Whoever questions it must appeal to new definitions.\n\nA great difference lay between the cold, saturnine Pope of Geneva and\nthe frank, exuberant hero of the German Reformation. Their doctrines\nwere similar; there was a likeness between their mistakes; but what\na diversity in their natures! Calvin was the perfect type of the\ntheological pedant--vain, meagre, and arid; while Luther had in him,\nas Heine remarks, \"something aboriginal\"; and the world has, after all,\nprofited by \"the God-like brutality of Brother Martin.\"\n\nThe nature of this great man was suited to his task. It required no\ngreat intellectual power to see through the tricks of Papal priestcraft,\nwhich had, indeed, been the jest of the educated and thoughtful for\ngenerations. But it required gigantic courage to become the spokesman\nof discontent, to attack an imposture which was supported by universal\npopular credulity, by a well-nigh omnipotent Church, and by the\nkeen-edged, merciless swords of kings and emperors. Still more, it\nrequired an indisputable elevation of nature to attack the imposture\nwhere, as in the sale of indulgences, it threatened the very essence of\npersonal and social morality. Hundreds of persons may be hatching a\nnew truth in unknown concert, but when a battle for humanity has to be\nfought, someone must begin, and begin decisively. Luther stepped out as\nprotagonist in the great struggle of his time; and Freethought is not\nso barren in great names that it need envy Brother Martin his righteous\napplause. Indeed, it seems to me that Freethinkers are in a position to\nesteem Luther more justly than Christians. Seeing what was his task,\nand how it demanded a stormy, impetuous nature, we can thank Luther for\naccomplishing it, while recognising his great defects, his faults of\ntemper and the narrowness of his views; defects, I would add, which it\nwere unnecessary to dwell on if Protestants did not magnify them\ninto virtues, or if they did not illustrate the inherent vices of\nChristianity itself.\n\nStrong for his life-task, Luther was weak in other respects. Like Dr.\nJohnson, there were strange depths in his character, but none in his\nintellect. He emitted many flashes of genius in writing and talking, but\nthey all came from the heart, and chiefly from the domestic affections.\nHe broke away from the Papacy, but he only abandoned Catholicism so far\nas it conflicted with the most obvious morality. He retained all its\ncapital superstitions. Mr. Froude puts the case very mildly when he says\nthat \"Erasmus knew many things which it would have been well for Luther\nto have known.\" Erasmus would not have called Copernicus \"an old fool,\"\nor have answered him by appealing to Joshua. Erasmus would not have seen\na special providence in the most trifling accidents. Erasmus would not\nhave allowed devils to worry him. Above all, Erasmus would not have\npursued those who were heretics to _his_ doctrine with all the animosity\nof a Papal bigot. Such differences induced Mr. Matthew Arnold to call\nLuther a Philistine of genius; just as they led Goethe to say that\nLuther threw back the intellectual progress of mankind for centuries.\nAnother poet, Shelley, seems to me to have hit the precise truth in his\n\"Ode to Liberty\":\n\n     Luther caught thy wakening glance:\n     Like lightning from his leaden lance\n     Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the trance\n     In which, as in a tomb, the nations lay.\n\nShelley's epithet is perfect. Luther's lance was big and potent.\nIt wrought terrible havoc among the enemy. But it was _leaden_. It\noverthrew, but it did not transfix.\n\nThis is not the place to relate how Luther played the Pope in his own\nway; how he persecuted the Zwinglians because they went farther than\nhimself on the subject of the real presence; how he barked at the Swiss\nreformers, how he pursued Andreas Bodenstein for a difference on infant\nbaptism; how he treated M\u00fcnzer and the Anabaptists; how he hounded on\nthe nobles to suppress the peasant revolt and \"stab, kill, and strangle\nthem without mercy\"; or how he was for handing over to the executioner\nall who denied a single article which rested on the Scripture or the\nauthority of the universal teaching of the Church. My purpose is to show\nLuther's attitude towards the Devil, witches, apparitions, and all the\nrest of that ghostly tribe; and in doing so I have no wish to indulge in\n\"the most small sneer\" which Carlyle reprobates; although I do think\nit a great pity that such a man as Luther should have been a slave to\nsuperstitions which Erasmus would have met with a wholesome jest.\n\nNeither Jews nor witches fared any the better for the Reformation, until\nit had far outgrown the intention of its founders. Brother Martin hated\nthe Jews, thought many of them sorcerers, and praised the Duke of Saxony\nfor killing a Jew in testing a talisman. As for witches, he said,\n\"I would have no compassion on them--I would burn them all.\" Poor\ncreatures! Yet Luther was naturally compassionate. It was the fatal\nsuperstition which steeled his heart. Still there are dainty sceptics\nwho tell us not to attack superstition. I point them to Martin Luther\nburning witches.\n\nBrother Martin lived in God's presence, but they were generally three,\nfor the Devil was seldom absent. His Satanic Majesty plagued the poor\nReformer's life till he wished himself safe in heaven. Sometimes\nthe fiend suggested impious doubts, and at ether times suicide. He\nattributed his chronic vertigo to the Devil, because the physic he took\ndid him no good. So familiar did the Devil become that Luther, hearing\nhim walk overhead at night, would say \"Oh, is it you?\" and go to sleep\nagain. Once, when he was marrying-an aristocratic couple, the wedding\nring slipped out of his fingers at a critical moment. He was frightened,\nbut, recovering himself, he exclaimed, \"Listen, Devil, it is not your\nbusiness, you are wasting your time.\" The famous scene in which Luther\nthrew an inkstand at the Devil is legendary, though Coleridge, Carlyle\nand others have made it the theme of their eloquence; and the ink-stain\nstill shown on the wall at Wartburg is like the stain of Rizzio's blood\nin Holyrood Palace.\n\nLuther's own visions were largely due to dyspepsia and an active\nimagination. He said that the Devil troubled him less at night when he\ntook a good \"nightcap,\" which made him sleep soundly. He found that the\nDevil could not stand music, being a sad and sombre personage; just as,\nlong before, music was found a sovereign recipe for the melancholia of\nKing Saul. But the surest specific was railing and derision. When Luther\ncalled him names, or laughed at him, the Devil vanished in a huff.\nBrother Martin was plain-spoken at the best of times, but on these\noccasions he was too-downright for quotation. Michelet gives a choice\nsample; but though the French language allows more licence than ours,\nhe is obliged to give but the first letter of one of Luther's vigorous\nsubstantives. Brother Martin displayed a sly humor in one of his stories\nabout Satan. A possessed person was taken into a monastery, and\nthe devil in him said to the monks, \"O my people, what have I\ndone?\"--\"_Popule meus, quid feci tibi?_\"\n\nAccording to Luther, fair and foul winds were caused by good and evil\nspirits. He spoke of a terrible lake in Switzerland, haunted by the\nDevil, and said there was a similar one in his own country. If a stone\nwas thrown into it, a frightful storm shook the whole locality. The\nDevil made people idiots, cripples, blind, deaf and dumb; and Luther\ndeclared that the doctors who treated such infirmities as natural had\na great deal to learn in demonology. One or two of his stories of\npossession are extremely gruesome. With his own lusty love of life,\nLuther could not understand suicide, so he attributed that also to the\nDevil. Satan made the suicides think they were doing something else;\neven praying, and thus he killed them. Brother Martin, indeed, sometimes\nfeared the Devil would twist his neck or press his skull into his\nbrains. Nor did he shrink from the darkest developments of this\nsuperstition. He held that the Devil could assume the form of a man or\na woman, cohabit with human beings of the opposite sex, and become a\nfather or a mother. \"Eight years ago,\" said Luther, \"I saw and touched\nmyself at Dessau a child who had no parents, and was born of the Devil.\nHe was twelve years old, and shaped like an ordinary child. He did\nnothing but eat, and ate as much as three peasants or threshers. When he\nwas touched he cried out like one possessed; if any unfortunate accident\nhappened in the house, he rejoiced and laughed; if, on the contrary, all\nwent well, he wept continually. I said to the princes of Anhalt, with\nwhom I then was: If I commanded here I would have that child thrown into\nthe Moldau, at the risk of being its murderer. But the Elector of Saxony\nand the princes were not of my opinion.\"\n\nHere is a case in which the Doctor of Divinity, though naturally a\nkind man, is quite ready to take human life at the behest of a\ndevilish superstition, while the less fanatical laymen shrink from\nsuch inhumanity. The only devil in this story is the devil of fearful\nignorance and misbelief in Brother Martin. He it was who needed the\nexorcist, although the truth would have greatly surprised him. Carlyle\nmay use his snarling muscles at the \"apothecary's apprentice\" who is\nable to give a scientific explanation of Luther's visions; but, after\nall, the unfortunate persons whom Luther would have murdered by mistake\nmight be pardoned for preferring the apothecary's apprentice to the\nProtestant Pope. The fact is, the doctrine of devils, of demoniacal\npossession, of incubi and succubi, and of sorcery and witchcraft, was\nnot fostered by laymen so much as by the clergy. Lecky remarks that\n\"almost all the great works written in favor of the executions were\nwritten by ecclesiastics,\" and Tylor asserts that \"the guilt of thus\nbringing down Europe intellectually and morally to the level of\nnegro Africa\" lies mainly upon the Church, Protestant being as bad as\nCatholic, for they vied in outraging and killing those who were doomed,\nby the ghastliest of superstitions, to be \"for life and death of all\ncreatures the most wretched.\" Eternal honor to Luther for the heroism\nwhich sent him to Worms, and made him exclaim to his dissuaders: \"I will\ngo if there are as many devils in Worms as there are tiles upon the\nroofs of the houses.\" But eternal hatred and contempt for the Creed\nwhich degraded heroes into Jack the Rippers. I say _the Creed_; for\nChristianity cannot be exculpated. Witchcraft, possession, and sexual\nintercourse between human and superhuman beings, are distinctly taught\nin the Bible; and if there were no other indictment of Christianity, the\nawful massacre and torture of millions of helpless women and children\nwould suffice to damn it everlastingly.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLE ENGLISH.\n\nTurning over the pages of Coleridge's \"Table Talk\" recently, my\nattention was arrested oy several passages I had marked, many years ago,\nin that suggestive book. Two or three of these, referring to the _style_\nof the Bible, resuscitated some reflections I made on the first reading,\nand which I now venture to express: with all deference, let me add, to\nColeridge's ethereal genius and magical mastery of words.\n\n\"Intense study of the Bible,\" he says, \"will keep any writer from being\n_vulgar_, in point of style.\" Granted; and the sacred scriptures of any\npeople and any creed would have the some influence. Vulgarity, unless\nit is bestial, is monkeyish. Obviously this is a characteristic alien to\nreligion, which is based on the sense of wonder, and deals chiefly with\nthe sublime. While the mind is absorbed by the unseen, imagination is\ncalled into play; and imagination is the antithesis of vulgarity. The\nunknown is also the terrible, and when the mind is alarmed there is no\nroom for the _puerilities_ of egotism. Any exaltation of feeling serves\nthe same purpose. The most vulgar woman, in terror at a danger to her\nchild, is lifted into the sphere of tragedy, and becomes a subject for\nart; nor could the lowest wretch exhibit vulgarity when committing\na murder under the influence of passion. Vulgarity, in short, is\nself-consciousness, or at least only compatible with it; and displays\nitself in self-assertion at the expense of others, or in disregard or\nin defiance of their feelings. Now Monotheism, such as the Bible in its\nsublimest parts is pregnant with, naturally banishes this disposition,\njust in proportion as it is real. It may tolerate, and even cherish,\nmany other evils, but not that; for vulgarity, as I understand it,\nis absolutely inconsistent with awe. How then do I account for the\nvulgarities of the Salvation Army? Simply by the fact that these\npeople have _no_ awe; they show the absurdities of religion without its\nsentiments. They are _townspeople_, used to music-halls, public-houses,\nstreet-fights, and frivolous crowds. Their antics would be impish to\nreligionists whose awe was nurtured by hills and forests, the rising and\nsetting sun, and the majesty of night.\n\nNot only do we find the same austere simplicity in the Vedas, the\nKur\u00e2n, and other sacred scriptures; we find it in most of the old\nworld literature. The characteristic of modern writings is subtlety and\ndexterity; that of the ancient, massiveness and directness; and the\nsame difference holds good in a comparison of the various stages of our\nliterature. The simplicity of the Elizabethan lyrics, to say nothing\nof Chaucer, is only to be emulated in later ages, whose life is so\nmuch more complex, by a recluse visionary like Blake. Even when Shelley\napproaches it, in such songs as that of Beatrice in the last act of\nthe \"The Cenci,\" we feel that stream of music is crossed and shaken by\nsubtle under-currents.\n\nWhat Coleridge claims for the Bible may be claimed for all imaginative\nand passionate literature. \u00c6schylus, Lucretius, Dante, Milton; how does\nthe Bible excel these in that respect? When we come to Shakespeare we\nfind a sublimity which transcends that of Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Job, with\na pathos, a humor, and a wit, such as no Hebrew writer ever imagined.\nAnd Shakepeare's superb style triumphs easily in all these fields.\nColeridge recommends the Bible as an antidote to vulgarity. I would\nrecommend Milton as much, Dante more, and Shakespeare beyond all.\n\n\"Our version of the Bible,\" Coleridge elsewhere says, \"has preserved\na purity of meaning to many terms of natural objects. Without this\nholdfast, our vitiated imaginations would refine away language to mere\nabstractions.\" This is merely saying that our Bible, designed for common\npeople centuries ago, is a monument of Saxon English. Clearly that is an\naccident of our translation, and not an essence of the Bible itself. As\nmuch may be said for all our ancient standards.\n\nColeridge admits that our New Testament is less elegant and correct than\nthe Old, and contains \"slovenly phrases which would never have come\nfrom Ben Jonson, or any other good prose writer of the day.\" Yet our New\nTestament, according to Mr. Swinburne (and there is no better judge),\nis translated from canine Greek into divine English. The truth is, the\n_style_ of our Bible is owing to the translators. They lived before\nthe hurry of our cheap periodical press, when men wrote leisurely\nfor leisured readers. There was also no great accumulation of native\nliterature, and scholars studied almost exclusively the masterpieces of\nGreece and Rome. Their sense of style was therefore superior. Read\nthe Dedication to King James in our authorised version, then the\nintroduction to our revised version, and see what an immense difference\nthere is between the styles. Or read Paul's noble praise of charity in\nthe two versions. By substituting _love_ for _charity_, the revisers\nhave vitiated the sense, and destroyed the balance of the style. Their\nmincing monosyllable is too weak to bear the structural weight of the\nclauses. A closer analysis shows that they have spoiled the passage\nthroughout. They had no ear: in other words, no style. The old\ntranslators _had_ ears, and knew other people had. Their work was meant\nto be read aloud, and it bears the test. That test is the supreme one,\nand goes deeper than hearing. Flaubert, a great master of style, always\nread his manuscript aloud; holding that phrases are right when they\ncorrespond to all the necessities of respiration, while ill-written\nphrases oppress the chest, disturb the beatings of the heart,\nand contravene the conditions of life. Shakespeare bears this\ntest triumphantly. In his great passages, respiration is easy and\npronunciation simple; the language is a splendid and mellifluous stream.\n\nI venture to say in conclusion: Consult the revised version of the Bible\nfor meaning, but read the old one for style. It is a treasury of musical\nand vigorous Saxon, a well of strong English undefiled; although Hebrew\nis a poor language, and the Greek of the New Testament is perhaps the\nworst ever written. But do not think, as Macaulay pretended, that the\nlanguage of the Bible is sufficient for every purpose. It sustained the\ngenius of Bunyan, but the mightier genius of Shakespeare had to draw\nfrom other sources to support its flight. Our English Bible contains six\nthousand words; Shakespeare's vocabulary contains nine thousand more.\n\n\n\n\nLIVING BY FAITH.\n\nWhat is Faith? Faith, said Paul, \"is the substance of things hoped for,\nthe evidence of things not seen.\" This is a faith that sensible\nmen avoid. The man of reason may have faith, but it will be a faith\naccording to knowledge, and not a faith that dispenses with knowledge.\nHe believes that the sun will rise to-morrow, that the ground will\nremain firm under his feet, that the seasons will succeed each other in\ndue course, and that if he tills the ground he will reap the harvest.\nBut his belief in these things is based upon experience; his imagination\nextends the past into the future, and his expectations are determined by\nhis knowledge. The future cannot indeed be demonstrated; it can only be\npredicted, and prediction can never amount to an absolute certitude; yet\nit may amount to a height of probability which is practically the same\nthing. Religious faith, however, is something very different. It is not\nbelief based on evidence, but the evidence and the belief in one. The\nresult is that persons who are full of faith always regard a demand for\nevidence as at once a heresy and an insult. Their faith seems to them,\nin the language of Paul, the very _substance_ of their hopes; and they\noften talk of the existence of God and the divinity of Christ as being\nno less certain than their own existence.\n\nProperly speaking, faith is trust. This involves a wide latitude beyond\nour knowledge. If we trust a friend, we have faith in him, and we act\nupon that sentiment. But we are sometimes deceived, and this shows that\nour faith was in excess of our knowledge. Sometimes, indeed, it is\nquite independent of knowledge. We trust people because we like them,\nor because they like us. This infirmity is well known to sharpers and\nadventurers, who invariably cultivate a pleasing manner, and generally\npractise the arts of flattery. The same principle holds good in\nreligion. It was sagaciously remarked by Hume that we ought to suspect\nevery agreeable belief. The mass of mankind, however, are not so\nfastidious or discriminating. On the contrary, they frequently believe a\nthing because it _is_ pleasant, and for no other reason. How often have\nwe heard Christian advocates prove the immortality of the soul to the\ncomplete satisfaction of their auditors by simply harping on man's\ndesire to live for ever! Nay, there have been many great \"philosophers\"\nwho have demonstrated the same doctrine by exactly the same means.\n\nReligious faith, to borrow a definition from _Chambers's Dictionary_,\nis usually \"belief in the statement of another.\" There are a few mystics\nwho profess to hold personal intercourse with God, but the majority, of\nmankind take their religion on trust. They believe it because they\nwere taught it, and those who taught them believed it for the very same\nreason. When you trace back the revelation to its beginning, you always\nfind that it is derived from men who lived a long time ago, or who\nperhaps never lived at all. Mohammed vouches for the Koran. Yes, but who\nwill vouch for Mohammed?\n\nThomas Paine well said that what is revelation to the man who receives\nit, is only hearsay to the man who gets it at secondhand. If anyone\ncomes to you with a message from God, first button your pockets, and\nthen ask him for his credentials. You will find that he has none. He\ncan only tell you what someone else told him. If you meet the original\nmessenger, he can only cry \"thus saith the Lord,\" and bid you believe or\nbe damned. To such a haughty prophet one might well reply, \"My dear sir,\nwhat you say may be true, but it is very strange. Return to the being\nwho sent you and ask him to give you better credentials. His word may\nbe proof to you, but yours is no proof to me; and it seems reasonable\nto suppose that, if God had anything to tell to me, he could communicate\npersonally to me as well as to you.\"\n\nIn ancient times the prophets who were thus accosted worked miracles\nin attestation of their mission; but our modern prophets have no such\npower, and therefore they can scarcely claim our belief. If they ask us\nwhy we reject what they tell us on the authority of the ancient prophets\nwho possessed greater powers, we reply that what is a miracle to those\nwho see it is only a story to those who hear it, and that we prefer to\nsee the miracle ourselves. Telling us that a man rose from the dead is\nno reason why we should believe that three times one are one; it is only\nproving one wonder by another, and making a fresh draft on our credulity\nat every step in the demonstration.\n\nThere are men who tell us that we should live by faith. But that is\nimpossible for all of us. The clergy live by faith, yet how could they\ndo so if there were not others to support them? Knaves cannot exist\nwithout dupes, nor the Church without subscribers.\n\nLiving _by_ faith is an easy profession. Living _on_ faith, however, is\nmore arduous and precarious. Elijah is said to have subsisted on food\nwhich was brought him by inspired ravens, but there are few of God's\nministers willing to follow his example. They ask God to give them their\ndaily bread, yet they would all shrink with horror from depending on\nwhat he sends them.\n\n\n\n\nVICTOR HUGO. *\n\n     * May 31,1885.\n\nTwo years and a half ago France was mourning the death of Gambetta.\nEvery hostile voice was hushed, and the whole nation bent tearfully over\nthe bier, where a once mighty heart and fervent brain lay cold and still\nin death. Never, perhaps, since Mirabeau burned out the last of his\ngreat life had Paris been so profoundly moved. Gambetta was carried to\nhis grave by a million of men, and in all that tremendous procession no\npriest figured, nor in all the funeral ceremony was there a word of God.\nFor the first time in history a nation buried her hero without a shred\nof religious rites or a whisper of any other immortality than the\nimmortality of fame.\n\nFrance now mourns the death of Victor Hugo, the great poet of the\nRepublic, as Gambetta was its great orator and statesman. These two,\nin their several ways, did the most to demolish the empire. Gambetta\norganised and led the Republican opposition, and when the _d\u00e9ch\u00e9ance_\ncame, he played deep for the Republic in the game of life and death,\nmaking the restoration of the empire an impossibility. But long before\nthe young orator challenged the empire, it was arraigned before the bar\nof liberty and humanity by the great poet. From his lonely channel rock,\nin the bitter grandeur of exile, Victor Hugo hurled the lightnings and\nthunders of his denunciation at the political burglar of France and his\nparasitical minions. Practical people laughed at him, not knowing that\nhe was more practical than they. They saw nothing but the petty present,\nand judged everything by its immediate success. He was nourished by\nsovereign principles, rooted in the depths of the human heart and\nblossoming in its loftiest aspirations. He was a prophet who chanted his\nown inspiration to the world, knowing that few would listen at first,\nbut assured that the message would kindle some hearts, and that the\nliving flame would leap from breast to breast till all were wrapt in\nits divine blaze. He scorned the base successful lie and reverenced the\nnoble outcast truth, and he had unfaltering faith in the response which\nmankind would ultimately make to the voice of their rightful lord. Great\nhe was as a poet, a romancer and a dramatist, but he was greatest as\na prophet. He lived to see his message justified and his principles\ntriumphant, and died at the ripe old age of eighty-three, amid the love\nand reverence of the civilised world. We are not blind to his failings;\nhe had, as the French say, the defects of his qualities. But they do not\nobscure his glory. His failings were those of other men; his greatness\nwas his own.\n\nVictor Hugo, like Gambetta, was a Freethinker. We know he professed a\nbelief in God, but he had no theology. His God was Nature, suffused with\npassion and ideality; and his conviction of \"Some far-off divine event,\nTo which the whole creation moves,\" was only his faith in progress,\nextended into the remotest future. He was a true Freethinker in his\ngrand assertion of the majesty of reason and conscience. He appealed\nto the native dignity of the individual, and hated priestcraft with a\nperfect hatred. Lacking humor himself, and brilliant without wit, he\ncould recognise these qualities in others, and he thought them as valid\nas his own weapons against the dogmas of superstition. How fine was\nhis great word about Voltaire--\"Irony incarnate for the salvation of\nmankind.\" Like Gambetta, Victor Hugo is to be buried without religious\nrites, according to his will. No priest is to profane the sanctity of\ndeath by mumbling idle words over his grave concerning what he is\nas ignorant of as the corpse at his feet. In death, as in life, the\nFreethinker would confront the universe alone from the impregnable rock\nof his manhood, convinced that\n\n     There is no danger to a man that knows\n     What life and death is: there's not any law\n     Exceeds his knowledge: neither is it lawful\n     That he should stoop to any other law.\n\nNot only did Victor Hugo will that no priest should officiate at his\nburial, he ordered that none should approach his bed. But the carrion\ncrows of the death-chamber were not to be deterred by his well-known\nwishes. The Archbishop of Paris offered to visit the dying heretic\nand administer to him the supreme unction on behalf of the Church.\nM. Lockroy, the poet's son-in-law, politely declined the offer. Our\nnewspapers, especially the orthodox ones, regard the Archbishop's\nmessage as a compliment. In our opinion it was a brazen insult. Suppose\nMr. Bradlaugh wrote to say that he would gladly attend the sickbed\nof Canon Wilberforce for the purpose of receiving his confession of\nAtheism; would the orthodox regard it as a compliment or an insult?\nWe fail to see any difference in the two cases, and we know not why\nimpertinence in an Atheist becomes civility in a Christian. Fortunately,\nVictor Hugo's death-chamber was not intruded upon by impudent\npriests. His relatives respected his convictions the more as they were\nFreethinkers themselves. No priest will consecrate his grave, but it\nwill be hallowed by his greatness; and what pilgrim, as he bends over\nthe master's tomb, will hear in the breeze, or see in the grass and\nflowers, any sign that a priest's benison is wanting to his repose?\n\n\n\n\nDESECRATING A CHURCH.\n\nThere was a Pantheon at Rome, which was a monument of the religious\ntolerance of the Empire. It was dedicated, as appears from the\ninscription on the portico, by Agrippa, son-in-law to the great\nAugustus, to Jupiter and all the other gods, with the same generosity\nthat prompted the Athenians to erect an altar to the gods that might\nbe unknown. A niche was afforded within its walls to every deity of the\nprovinces whose devotees were willing to accept the hospitality; and\nChrist himself might have figured with the rest, if his worshippers did\nnot scorn all other gods but their own.\n\nThe old Pantheon still exists, and bears the name of the Rotunda. But\nit is no longer a Pagan temple. It was re-dedicated by Pope Boniface\nthe Fourth, in A.D. 608, to the Virgin Mary and all the saints. Another\nPope, a thousand years later, despoiled it of its ornaments, which had\nbeen spared by so many barbarian conquerors. He cast some into cannon,\nand with the rest formed a high altar for the Church of St. Peter.\n\nThese alterations were of course justifiable. They were all made in\nthe interest of Christianity. What could be more proper than the\ntransformation of Pagan temples into Christian churches? What more\nadmirable than devoting to the worship of Christ the edifice which had\nechoed to the tread of the priests of Jupiter? What more pious than\nsinging the praises of Mary and all the saints in a temple where\nidolaters had celebrated the glories of all the gods and goddesses of\nOlympus?\n\nSuch is Christian logic. But if the temples of one faith may be so\ntransformed, why may not those of another? If Christianity had the right\nto devote the temples of Paganism to its own uses, why has not modern\ncivilisation the right to devote the temples of Christianity to Secular\npurposes?\n\nThe Church thinks otherwise. It is at present denouncing the\nsecularisation of the Church of St. Genevi\u00e8ve, in order that Victor\nHugo, who died a Freethinker and was buried without religious rites,\nmight repose in an unconsecrated place. This building is the French\nPantheon. It was secularised during the Revolution, and dedicated by\nthe Republic, not to the gods of religion, but to the heroes of liberty.\nWhen the monarchy was restored it was re-consecrated, and purged of the\nluciferous taint of Voltaire's dust. But now the Republic is once\nmore established on the ruins of monarchy and imperialism, it again\nsecularises the Church of St. Genevi\u00e8ve as a tomb for its mighty dead.\nThe Church is naturally indignant, but its anathemas are powerless. God\ndoes not interpose, and the Republic is too strong. Nay, there is even a\nrumor that the Roman Pantheon may be secularised also, and changed\ninto a national mausoleum, where the youth of Italy may bend reverently\nbefore the tombs of such glorious soldiers of progress as Mazzini and\nGaribaldi, instead of honoring the very counterfeit presentment of\nfabulous old saints, chiefly renowned for their laziness and dirt.\n\nThe Church of St. Genevi\u00e8ve is desecrated, cries the Archbishop of\nParis, and special prayers are offered up to that ancient lady in heaven\nto avert her wrath from the infidel city which has so insulted her.\nIn one sense the Archbishop is right. The Church is desecrated in the\nstrict etymological meaning of the word. It has been converted from\nsacred to secular uses. But in the secondary meaning of the word the\nbuilding is not desecrated, but honored, by being made a fit receptacle\nfor the mortal remains of Victor Hugo.\n\nA government decree and the removal of the cross on top of the church\nwere the only steps necessary to its desecration. The consecrated\ncharacter of the temple is gone. To the carnal eye the structure remains\nunchanged, within and without, except for the loss of a crucifix; but\nit is quite possible that a priestly nose would be able to scent the\nabsence of the Spirit. The Holy Ghost has fled, angels no more haunt\nthe nave and aisles, and St. Genevi\u00e8ve hides her poor head in grief and\nhumiliation. No doubt; yet we dare say the building will stand none the\nless firmly, and if it should ever be pulled down, its materials would\nfetch as much in the market as if they were saturated with divinity.\n\nConsecration is, after all, nothing but a priestly trick. What sensible\nman believes that the Holy Ghost, if such a being exist, is at the beck\nand call of every Catholic or Protestant bishop? Can the \"universal\nspirit\" dwell exclusively in certain places? Can the third person of the\nTrinity have sunk into such an abject state as to dodge in and out of\nbuildings, according as he is wanted or not? Is there any difference\nthat the nose, or any other sensitive organ, can detect between a\nconsecrated church and an unconsecrated chapel? Can the geologist or\nthe chemist discern any difference between the consecrated and the\nunconsecrated division in a cemetery? Is the earth affected by priestly\nmutterings? Do the corpses lie any more peacefully, or decompose any\nmore slowly, for the words pronounced over the mould that covers them?\nOr is there any appreciable virtue in the consecrated water, with which\nthe Protestant and Catholic are alike baptised, and with which the\nlatter sprinkles himself periodically as a preservative against evil?\nSeason finds no difference; it is perceived only by Faith, which may be\ndefined as the faculty which enables a man to see what does not exist.\n\n\n\n\nWALT WHITMAN. *\n\n     * April, 1892.\n\nWalt Whitman's death can have taken no one by surprise. For years he had\nbeen at the brink of the grave, and the end comes as a relief. A great\nsoul may be cheerful, or at least serene, in all circumstances; but\nthere is neither pleasure nor dignity in living on as the ghost of one's\nself.\n\nFew superber specimens of physical manhood than Walt Whitman's have\nappeared on this planet. \"He looks like a man,\" said Abraham Lincoln,\nas his gaze followed the poet past a window of the White House. Whitman\nstood six feet two, his limbs and torso were splendid, and his head was\nmagnificently proportioned. His vitality must have been wonderful, and\nhis health was absolutely perfect until after the War, during which he\ntoo assiduously nursed the sick and wounded, to the lasting detriment of\nhis phenomenal constitution. The flame of his life burnt on for another\nthirty years, but his strength was seriously undermined, and he is far\nbetter entitled to be called a martyr than many who have more cheaply\nearned the distinction.\n\nWalt Whitman's great personality can hardly be disputed. He impressed\nhimself as something colossal on all who came into close contact with\nhim. The magnetism of his presence in the military hospitals was more\nsanative than the doctors' physic. Men, women, and children felt glad\nand satisfied in his company. His large, frank, healthy nature radiated\na perpetual benediction. One who knew him intimately has said that he\nnever saw upon Whitman's features any trace of mean or evil passions.\nThe man was thoroughly wholesome. Even his occasionally free utterances\non sexuality are only sins against decorum. They do not violate nature.\nHe never spoke on this subject with the slobbery grin of the voluptuary,\nor the leer of prurience. He was at such moments simply unreticent.\nMeaning no harm, he suspected none. In this respect he belonged to a\nless self-conscious antiquity, when nothing pertaining to man was common\nor unclean, and even the worship of the powers of generation was not\nwithout dignity and solemnity.\n\nSome of the foremost Englishmen of our time have acknowledged Whitman's\ngreatness and sanity--notably Carlyle, Ruskin, and Tennyson. Mr.\nSwinburne is the only one who has unsaid his praise.\n\nTennyson's intimacy with Whitman--always through correspondence--was\nsimply beautiful. A superficial reader of human nature might have\ninquired what they had in common--the rough, amorphous American poet,\nand the exquisite English poet, a flower of millenniums of culture. But\nthere is something deeper than form. It is substance. There is something\ndeeper than language. It is manhood. And on the common ground of the\ndeeper things of life, the American and English poets--otherwise so\ndiverse--clasped hands, as it were, across the sundering ocean.\n\nWhitman's claim to be considered a great poet, or even a poet at all,\nhas been the subject of hot dispute. But such questions are not\nso settled. Only give time enough, and every writer falls by mere\ngravitation into his proper place, from which all the controversies in\nthe world can never shift him. Where the evidence is largely subjective,\nas it must be in appraising genius, there is sure to be much in our\njudgment that is incommunicable. The logic of events, as we say in\npolitics; or the proof of the pudding, as we say in the vernacular; is\nnot so brilliant as logical sword-play, but it has the merit of being\ndecisive.\n\nWhitman's poetry looks strange to a reader accustomed to conventional\nmodels. It positively offends his eyesight. The ear may detect a certain\nrhythm, but where are the set lengths of orthodox versification? Here,\nhowever, there lurks a fallacy. Poetry is not the antithesis of prose.\nThe antithesis of prose is verse. Some of the finest and noblest poetry\nin the world's literature is not cast in rhyme, though rhythm--often\nsubtler than all possible rules--is indispensable. Yet there is\nsomething precious in poetical form; ay, and something durable. Many an\nexquisite lyric, with no great depth of feeling or reach of thought, has\ncome down the stream of time, and will float upon it for ever. No\ndoubt Dr. Johnson was right in calling it a waste of time to carve\ncherrystones, but precious stones are the more valued and admired for\nthe art of the lapidary. Whitman did not cultivate versification. He\nalmost despised it. He sneered at \"dulcet rhymes.\" Yet this may hinder\nhis access to posterity. Mr. Meredith hints as much in his sonnet\nentitled \"An Orson of the Muse,\" which surely refers to Whitman. He\nallows him to be the Muse's son, though he will not wear her livery.\n\n     Him, whom he blows of Earth, and Man, and Fate,\n     The Muse will hearken to with graver ear\n     Than many of her train can waken: him\n     Would fain have taught what fruitful things and dear\n     Must sink beneath the tidewaves, of their weight,\n     If  in no vessel built for sea they swim.\n\nThat Whitman, however, could do great things with rhythm, and without\nrhyme, is proved by his \"Funeral Hymn of President Lincoln,\" which James\nThomson ranked with Shelley's \"Adonais,\" and Mr. Swinburne called \"the\nmost sublime nocturne ever chanted in the cathedral of the world.\" That\nthis is a great poem, and will live, we have not the slightest doubt.\nSome other of Whitman's poems will doubtless live with it, but whole\nmasses of his poetry will probably sink to the bottom--not, however,\nbefore doing their work and delivering their message.\n\nBecause of his want of form, Whitman suffers more than other poets in\nextracts. We shall make none, but refer the reader to the whole body of\nhis poetry, Some of it is almost wearisome; the rest will repay study.\nIt contains the utterance of a great soul, full of love and friendship,\npatriotism and humanity, brooding over the everlasting problems of\nlife and death. Untrammelled by schools and systems, Whitman was a\ntrue Freethinker. Cosmopolitan as he was, he preached the gospel of\nindividuality.\n\n\"This is what you shall do: love the earth and the sun and the animals,\ndespise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid\nand the crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants,\nargue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence towards the\npeople, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man or\nnumber of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the\nyoung and mothers of families, re-examine all you have been told at\nschool or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul;\nand your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency,\nnot only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and\nbetween the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your\nbody.\"\n\nWhitman appealed to the brotherhood of all and the dignity of each. He\ndeclared he would have nothing which every other man might not have on\nequal terms. The business of the great poet was \"to cheer up slaves and\nhorrify despots.\" Men, too, should keep in close communion with\nNature, yet always feel that they could \"be good or grand only of the\nconsciousness of the supremacy within them.\"\n\n\"What do you think is the grandeur of storms and dismemberments, and the\ndeadliest battles and wrecks, and the wildest fury of the elements, and\nthe power of the sea, and the motion of nature, and of the throes of\nhuman desires, and dignity and hate and love? It is that something\nin the soul which says-Rage on, whirl on, I tread master here and\neverywhere; master of the spasms of the sky and of the shatter of the\nsea, of all terror and all pain.\"\n\nAmerica, perhaps even more than England, has need of Whitman's teaching\nas the poet of Democracy. He derided \"the mania of owning things,\"\nhe scorned distinctions of caste and class, he sang the divineness\nof comradeship--and, what is more, he practised it. Full-blooded,\nstrong-limbed, rich-brained, large-hearted men and women are a nation's\nbest products, and if a nation does not yield them, its wealth will only\nhasten its doom and pollute its grave.\n\n\n\n\nTENNYSON AND THE BIBLE. *\n\n     * October, 1892.\n\nWe owe no apology for speaking of the dead poet as \"Tennyson.\" This is\nhow he will be known by posterity. The rank is but the guinea's stamp,\nand in this case it was not requisite. A true poet's gold can neither be\nmade more precious nor more current by empty titles. In our opinion, it\nis a degradation, instead of an honor, for one of nature's aristocrats\nto herd with the artificial nobility of an hereditary peerage. We\nalso take the opportunity of regretting that Tennyson ever became Poet\nLaureate. The court poet should not survive the court dwarf and\nthe court jester. It is painful to see a great writer grinding out\nprofessional odes, and bestowing the excrements of his genius on royal\nnonentities. The preposterous office of Poet Laureate should now be\nabolished. No poet should write for a clique or a coterie; he should\nappeal directly to the heart of the nation.\n\nTennyson's funeral took place at Westminster Abbey. The heads of that\nestablishment, following the example set by Dean Stanley, now act as\nbody-snatchers. They appropriate the corpses of distinguished men,\nwhether they believed or disbelieved the doctrines of the service read\nover their coffins. Charles Darwin's body is buried there--the great\nAgnostic, who repudiated Christianity; Robert Browning's too--the poet\nwho said \"I am no Christian\" to Robert Buchanan. Carlyle took care that\nhis corpse should not join the museum. Tennyson's, however, is now in\nthe catalogue; and, it must be admitted, with more plausibility than in\nthe case of Browning--with far more than in the case of Darwin.\n\nChristian pulpiteers, all over the country, have been shouting their\npraises of Tennyson as a Christian poet. They are justified in making\nthe most of a man of genius when they possess one. We do not quarrel\nwith them. We only beg to remark that they have overdone it. The\nChristianity of Tennyson is a very different thing from the Christianity\nthey vend to the credulous multitude.\n\nThere is no real evidence that Tennyson accepted the legendary part of\nChristianity. Even in \"In Memoriam,\" which was published forty-three\nyears ago, the thought is often extremely Pantheistic. It is nearly\nalways so in the later poems. God, not Christ, became more and more the\nobject of the poet's adoration, \"Strong Son of God, immortal Love\"--the\nfirst line of tne earlier poem--does not necessarily mean Christ; while\nthe exclamation, \"Ring in the Christ that is to be,\" is more symbolic\nthan personal. There is also a strong hope, rather than the certitude,\nof a future life. No thoroughly convinced Christian could have written\nof\n\n     The Shadow cloaked from head to foot,\n     Who keeps the keys of all the creeds.\n\nNay, the very deity of Christ is held loosely, if at all, in the\nthirty-third section, where he\n\n     Whose faith has centre everywhere,\n     Nor cares to fix itself to form.\n\nis bidden to leave his sister undisturbed when she prays; the poet\nexclaiming\n\n     Oh, sacred be the flesh and blood\n     To which she links a truth divine!\n\nIn the last line of the next stanza this \"sacred flesh and blood\"\nof Christ (it is to be presumed) is called \"a type\"--which is a wide\ndeparture from orthodox Christianity. And what shall we say of the final\nlines of the whole poem?\n\n     One God, one law, one element,\n     And one far-off divine event,\n     To which the whole creation  moves.\n\nLike other passages of \"In Memoriam,\" it is a distinct anticipation of\nthe thought of \"The Higher Pantheism,\" \"Flower in the Crannied Wall,\"\n\"De Profundus,\" and \"The Ancient Sage.\"\n\nMuch has been made of the \"Pilot\" in one of Tennyson's last poems,\n\"Crossing the Bar.\"\n\n     I hope to see my Pilot face to face\n     When I have crossed the bar.\n\nThis has been treated as a reference to Christ; but a friend of\nTennyson's, writing in the _Athen\u00e6um_, says that the reference was\nreally to the poet's son, Lionel Tennyson, who \"crossed the bar\" of\ndeath some years previously. How much more natural and human is the\nreference in the light of this explanation! Yet it appears, after all,\nfrom a later letter to the press by Tennyson's surviving son, that he\n_did_ mean Christ. This is not, however, a confession of orthodoxy. The\nsentiment might be shared by men like the venerable Dr. Martineau, who\ndeny the deity of Christ and strongly dissent from many time-honored\nChristian teachings.\n\nTennyson most assuredly revolted against the brutalities of\nChristianity; which, by the way, are countenanced by very explicit texts\nin the New Testament. He did not approve the text, \"Great is your reward\nin heaven.\" He was above such huckstering. He sang of Virtue--\n\n     She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just,\n     To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky.\n     Give her the wages of going on, and not to die.\n\nA noble petition! though in the teeth of a too patent destiny.\n\nThe doctrine of eternal Hell he first turned from, then denounced, and\nfinally despised. It was for wavering as to this hideous dogma that the\nRev. F. D. Maurice got into trouble with his College. He was godfather\nto Tennyson's little boy, and the poet invited him, in exquisitely\ncharming verse, to share his hospitality.\n\n     For, being of that honest few,\n     Who give the Fiend himself his due,\n     Should eighty-thousand college-councils\n     Thunder \"Anathema,\" friend, at you;\n\n     Should all our churchmen foam in spite\n     At you, so careful of the right,\n     Yet one lay-hearth would give you welcome\n     (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight.\n\nTennyson had already, in \"In Memoriam,\" proclaimed himself a\nUniversalist, as Browning did afterwards in his powerful lines on the\nold Morgue at Paris. He had expressed the hope\n\n     That nothing walks with aimless feet;\n     That not one life should be destroyed,\n     Or cast as rubbish to the void,\n     When God hath made the pile complete;\n     That not a worm is cloven in vain;\n     That not a moth with vain desire\n     Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire,\n     Or but subserves another's gain.\n\nSuch, a poet could never see the divinity of the wicked, awful words,\n\"Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.\" He denounced it in\n\"Despair,\" a poem of his old age. Well does he make the Agnostic cry out\nto the minister--\n\n  What! I should call on that\n  Infinite Love that has served us so well?\n  Infinite cruelty rather that made everlasting Hell,\n  Made us, foreknew us, foredoomed us, and does what he will with his own;\n  Better our dead brute mother who never has heard us groan!\n\nThis is fierce denunciation, but it pales before the attack on Hell in\n\"Rizpah\"; that splendid poem, which is perhaps the very noblest effort\nof Tennyson's genius; outweighing hundreds of Balaclava charges and\nsea-fights; outshining the flawless perfection of \"Maud\":--a poem\nwritten in heart's blood and immortal tears, with a wondrously potent\nand subtle imagination, and a fire of humanity to burn up whole\nmountains of brutal superstitions.\n\nThe passionate words of the poor old dying mother, full of a deathless\nlove for her boy who was hung, go straight as an arrow to its mark,\nthrough all the conventions of society and all the teachings of the\nChurch.\n\n    Election, Election and Reprobation--it's all very well,\n    But I go to-night to my boy, and I shall not find him in Hell.\n\n    And if he be lost--but to save my soul, that is all your desire;\n    Do you think that I care for my soul if my boy be gone to the fire?\n\nTennyson gives the very essence of the moral revolt against Hell. Human\nnature has so developed in sympathy that the sufferings of others,\nthough out of sight, afflict our imaginations. We loathe the spectacle\nof Abraham and Lazarus gazing complacently on the torture of Dives.\nOnce it was not so. Those who were \"saved\" had little or no care for the\n\"damned.\" But the best men and women of to-day do not want to be saved\nalone. They want a common salvation or none. And the mother's heart,\nwhich the creeds have trampled upon, hates the thought of any happiness\nin Heaven while son or daughter is agonising in Hell.\n\nIt is perfectly clear that Tennyson was far from an orthodox Christian.\nQuite as certainly he was not a Bibliolator. He read the Bible, of\ncourse; and so did Shelley. There are fine things in it, amidst its\nfalsehoods and barbarities; and the English version is a monument of our\nliterature. We regard as apocryphal, however, the story of Tennyson's\ntelling a boy, \"Read the Bible and Shakespeare; the one will teach you\nhow to speak to God, and the other how to speak to your fellow-men.\"\nAnyhow, when the poet came to die, he did not ask for the Bible and he\ndid ask for Shakespeare. The copy he habitually used was handed to him;\nhe opened it at \"Cymbeline,\" one of the most pagan of Shakespeare's\nplays; he read a little, and then held the book until Death came with\nthe fall of \"tired eyelids upon tired eyes.\"\n\nIt was a poetic death, and a pagan death. There lay the aged,\nworld-weary poet; artificial light was withdrawn, and the moonlight\nstreamed through the window upon his noble figure. Wife and son, doctors\nand nurses, were silent around him. And as Death put the last cold touch\non the once passionate heart, it found him still clasping the book of\nthe mighty magician. * Let it be also noted that no Christian priest was\nat his bedside. He needed not the mum-lings of a smaller soul to aid him\nin his last extremity. Hope he may have had, but no fear. His life ended\nlike a long summer day, slowly dying into night.\n\n     * The present Lord Tennyson wrote as follows to Sir Arthur\n     Hodgson, Chairman of the Shakespeare's Birthplace Trustees:\n     \"I beg to convey from my mother and myself our grateful\n     acknowledgment to the Executive Committee of Shakespeare's\n     Birthplace for their most kind expression of sympathy and\n     for their beautiful wreath. My father was reading 'King\n     Lear,' 'Troilus and Cressida,' and 'Cymbeline' through the\n     last days of his life. On Wednesday he asked for\n     Shakespeare. I gave him the book, but said, 'You must not\n     try to read.' He answered, 'I have opened the book.' I\n     looked at the book at midnight when I was sitting by him,\n     lying dead on the Thursday, and found he had opened on one\n     of the passages which he had called the tenderest in\n     Shakespeare. We could not part with this volume, but buried\n     a Shakespeare with him. We had the book enclosed in a metal\n     box and laid by his side.\n     --Yours faithfully, Hallam Tennyson.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHRIST'S OLD COAT.\n\nThe little town of Trier (Treves) will soon wear a festive appearance.\nPilgrims will be flocking to it from all parts of Germany, and God knows\nfrom where besides. Its handful of inhabitants have obtained licenses to\nopen hotels and restaurants; every inch of available space has been let,\nso that whirligigs, panoramas, and menageries have to be refused the\nsites they apply for; every room in the town is to be let, more or less\nfurnished; and not only is the tram company doubling its line, but the\nrailway company is constructing special stations for special trains.\n\nAll this excitement springs from a superstitious source. After an\ninterval of several years the Church will once more exhibit an old rag,\nwhich it calls the Holy Coat, and which it pretends is the very garment\nwe read of in the Gospels. Such a precious relic is, of course, endowed\nwith supernatural qualities. It will heal the sick, cure cripples, and,\nlet us hope, put brains into idiotic heads. Hence the contemplated rush\nto Trier, where more people will congregate to see Christ's coat than\never assembled to hear him preach or see him crucified.\n\nThe pilgrims will not be allowed to examine the Holy Coat. Few of them,\nperhaps, would be inclined to do so. Thev have the faith which removes\nmountains, and swallowing a coat is but a trifle. Nor would the Church\nallow a close inspection of this curious relic, any more than it\nwould allow a chemist to examine the bottle in which the blood of St.\nJanuarius annually liquefies. The Holy Coat will be held up by priests\nat a discreet and convenient distance; the multitude of fools will fall\nbefore it in ecstatic adoration; and the result will be the usual one in\nsuch cases, a lightening of the devotees' pockets to the profit of Holy\nMother Church.\n\nAccording to the Gospels, the Prophet of Nazareth had a seamless\novercoat. Perhaps it was presented to him by one of the rich women who\nministered unto him of their substance. Perhaps it was a birthday gift\nfrom Joseph of Arimathaea. Anyhow he had it, unless the Gospels lie;\nand, with the rest of his clothes, it became the property of his\nexecutioners. Those gentlemen raffled for it. Which of them won it we\nare not informed. Nor are we told what he did with it. It would be a\nuseless garment to a Roman soldier, and perhaps the warrior who won the\nraffle sold it to a second-hand clothes-dealer. This, however, is merely\na conjecture. Nothing is known with certainty. The seamless overcoat\ndisappeared from view as decisively as the person who wore it.\n\nFor many hundreds of years it was supposed to have gone the way of other\ncoats. No one thought it would ever be preserved in a Church museum. But\nsomehow it turned up again, and the Church got possession of it, though\nthe Church could not tell now and when it was found, or where it\nhad been while it was lost. One coat disappeared; hundreds of years\nafterwards another coat was found; and it suited the Church to declare\nthem the same.\n\nAt that time the Church was \"discovering\" relics with extraordinary\nsuccess and rapidity. Almost everything Christ ever used (or didn't use)\ncame to light. His baby linen, samples of his hair and teeth, and the\nmilk he drew from Mary's breast, the shoes he wore into Jerusalem,\nfragments of the twelve baskets' full of food after the miracle of\nthe loaves and fishes, the dish from which he ate the last supper, the\nthorns that crowned his brow, the sponge put to his lips on the cross,\npieces of the cross itself--these and a host of other relics were\ntreasured at varions churches in Europe, and exhibited with unblushing\neffrontery. Even the prepuce of Jesus, amputated at his circumcision,\nwas kept at Rome.\n\nSeveral churches boasted the same articles. John the Baptist's body was\nin dozens of different places, and the finger with which he pointed to\nJesus as his successor was shown, in a fine state of preservation, at\nBesancon, Toulouse, Lyons, Bourges, Macon, and many other towns.\n\nJohn Calvin pointed out, in his grim _Treatise on Relics_, that the Holy\nCoat of Christ was kept in several churches. In our own time, a book on\nthis subject has been written by H. von Sybel, who proves that the Trier\ncoat is only one of twenty that were exhibited. All were authentic, and\nall were guaranteed by the same authority. Holy Mother Church lied and\ncheated without a twinge of compunction.\n\nNineteen Holy Coats have gone. The twentieth is the last of the tribe.\nWhile it _pays_ it will be exhibited. When it ceases to pay, the Church\nwill quietly drop it. By and bye the Church will swear it never kept\nsuch an article in stock.\n\nSuperstition dies hard, and it always dies viciously. The ruling passion\nis strong in death. A journalist has just been sent to prison for\ncasting a doubt on the authenticity of this Holy Coat. Give the Catholic\nChurch its old power again, and all who laughed at its wretched humbug\nwould be choked with blood.\n\nProtestants, as well as Freethinkers, laugh at Catholic relics. Were\nwe to quote from some of the old English \"Reformers,\" who carried on a\nvigorous polemic against Catholic \"idolatry,\" we should be reproached\nfor soiling our pages unnecessarily. John Calvin himself, the Genevan\npope, declared that so many samples of the Virgin Mary's milk were\nexhibited in Europe that \"one might suppose she was a wet nurse or a\ncow.\"\n\nFreethinkers, however, laugh at the miracles of Protestantism, as\nwell as those of the Catholic Church. They are all of a piece, in the\nultimate analysis. It is just as credible that Christ's Coat would work\nmiracles, as that Elisha's bones restored a corpse to life, or that\nPaul's handkerchiefs cured the sick and diseased. All such things belong\nto the same realm of pious imagination. Thus, while the Protestant\nlaughs at the Catholic, the Freethinker laughs at both.\n\n\n\n\nCHRIST'S COAT, NUMBER TWO.\n\nJesus Christ is urgently required on earth again, to settle the pious\ndispute between Treves and Argenteuil as to which possesses the real\nseamless coat that was taken from him at the Crucifixion and raffled\nfor by the Roman soldiers. No one but the second person of the Trinity,\nunless it be the first or third person of that three-headed monstrosity,\nis adequate to the settlement of this distracting quarrel. Even the\nPapacy, which represents the Holy Trinity on earth, is at variance with\nitself. Pope Leo favors Treves, and the wicked pilgrims who visit that\nlittle old town are to obtain absolution, if they do not forget to \"pray\nfor the extirpation of erroneous doctrines.\" Pope Pius, his predecessor,\nhowever, favored Argenteuil. A portion of the Holy Coat treasured in\nthe church there was sent to him, and in return for the precious gift he\nforwarded a well-blessed and marvellously-decorated wax taper, which is\nstill on show in a fine state of preservation.\n\nWhen Popes differ, ordinary people, like pious Christians, and even\nthe editors of Freethought journals, may be excused if they hesitate to\ncommit themselves. One of these coats _may_ be the true one, though the\nevidence is all against it, being in fact of such a shaky nature that it\nwould hardly suffice to substantiate a claim to a bunch of radishes. But\n_both_ of them _cannot_ be authentic, and the problem is, which is the\nvery coat that Jesus wore? Now it is obvious that no one--barring his\ntwo colleagues aforesaid--can possibly determine this question but\nhimself. His re-appearance on earth is therefore most desirable; nay,\nit is absolutely necessary, unless a lot of people who would fain bow\nbefore the cast-off clothes of their Redeemer are either to stay at home\nin a state of dubiety or to incur the risk of kneeling before a\nmouldy old rag that perchance belonged to a Moorish slave or a Syrian\nwater-carrier--in any case, to a dog of an infidel who spat at the very\nname of Christ, for such raiment was never worn by the worshippers of\nthe Nazarene.\n\nIf Christ is coming to decide this great and grave problem, he will have\nto make haste, for Argenteuil is already on the war-path. Its Holy Coat\nis being exhibited before that of Treves, and thousands of pilgrims\nare giving Number Two the preference. Presently the Treves relic will\nattract its thousands, and the spectacle will be positively scandalous.\nTwo Richmonds in the field were nothing to two Christ's Coats, each\npretending to be the real article, and each blessed by a Pope. For the\nsake of decency as well as truth, Christ should peremptorily interfere.\nIt is difficult to see how he can refrain. The Second Advent may\ntherefore be expected before the date assigned by Prophet Baxter, and\nwe shall probably soon hear the faithful singing \"Lo he comes in clouds\ndescending.\"\n\nWhy should he not come? we may ask the Catholics. His mother has\noften appeared, if we may believe the solemn affidavits of priests and\nbishops, backed up by the Holy See. Why should he not come? we may also\nask the Protestants. His second coming is an article of their faith; it\nis plainly taught in the New Testament, and was recently propounded by\nMr. Spurgeon as part of the irreducible minimum of the Christian faith.\nThat he will come, then, may be taken for granted; and what better\nopportunity could be desired than the present? Surely the faithful, all\nover Europe--ay, and in America, to say nothing of Asia, Africa, and\nAustralia--will cry like one man, \"Come Lord Jesus, quickly come! Tell\nus, oh tell us, which of these mouldy old rags did once grace thy holy\nshoulders? Save us, oh save us, from the pain, the ignominy of adoring\na dirty relic of some unknown sinner, who perhaps blasphemed thy holy\nname. Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord!\" Meanwhile we may\npoint out that, if Christ does not come and adjudicate between Treves\nand Argenteuil, a multitude of Christians will certainly go on a fool's\nerrand. Our private opinion is that all will do so who visit either or\nthese places. Nevertheless they will no doubt congratulate themselves,\nif they go to Treves, on winning absolution. The Holy Father at Rome,\nwho has a supernatural dispensing power, promises to wipe out the record\nof their sins. Liars, cheats, seducers, adulterers, and undetected\nassassins, may take a trip, perform genuflexions before something in\na glass case, and return home with a clean record. Who can conceive an\neasier method of avoiding the consequences of wickedness? As for the\nprayer which the pilgrims are to offer up for \"the extirpation of\nerroneous doctrines,\" it will cost them very little effort, for sinners\nwho are washed clean with such delightful celerity are not likely to be\nin love with \"erroneous doctrines\" that declare the Pope's dispensing\npower a sham, and sternly tell men that the consequences of action,\nwhether good or bad, are inevitable. We very much doubt, however, if\n\"erroneous doctrines\" will disappear through the prayers of the\npilgrims or the curses of the Pope. Scepticism will probably gain by the\nspectacle of two rival Coats of Christ, both exhibited at the same\ntime, both attracting crowds of devotees, and both enjoying the Papal\nblessing. It will bring superstition into still further contempt, and\npromote the rejection of a creed which has ever traded on ignorance and\ncredulity.\n\n\n\n\nSCOTCHED, NOT SLAIN.\n\nThose who have read the foregoing articles on the Holy Coat exhibitions\nat Treves and Argenteuil may think that enough space has been devoted\nto such a ridiculous subject. It is possible, however, that the present\narticle will induce them to alter that opinion.\n\nHitherto we have treated this outburst of Christian superstition\nwith jocosity, but there is a serious aspect of it which must not be\nneglected. Christianity has often made Freethinkers laugh, but not\nunfrequently it has made them weep tears of blood. Absurdity is not\nalways a laughing matter. There was a comic side to the orthodox\npersecution of Charles Bradlaugh--but it killed him. Bigotry and\nsuperstition are fit subjects for jest and ridicule; when they gain\npower, however, they are apt to substitute agony for laughter. Celsus\nridiculed Christianity in the second century; in the fourth his writings\nwere absolutely destroyed, and those who shared his opinions, and dared\nto express them, were on the high road to the prison and the stake.\n\nMore recent events teach the same lesson. Thomas Paine treated\nChristianity not only with trenchant argument, but also with brilliant\nderision. For this he suffered ostracism and calumny, and for publishing\nthe _Age of Reason_ Richard Carlile, his wife, his sister, and his\nshopmen rotted in English gaols. The _Freethinker_ derided Christian\nabsurdities, and its conductors were sent to herd with criminals in a\nChristian prison. Nearly everyone thought, as Sir James Stephen declared\nin a legal text-book, that the Blasphemy Laws were obsolete; but it was\nproved by the inexorable logic of fact that laws are never obsolete\nuntil they are repealed. While the Blasphemy Laws exist they are always\nliable to enforcement. They are the standing menace of an absurd creed\nto those who smile at it too ostentatiously.\n\nLet us extend the same line of reflection to this Holy Coat business.\nContemptible as it is to the eye of reason, it excites the piety of\nmillions of persons who never reasoned on religion in the whole course\nof their lives. Hundreds of thousands of men and women will visit\nthese sham relics of a Savior whose own existence is open to dispute.\nSuperstition will be stirred to its depths. The bestial instinct of\nspiritual slavery inherited from ancient semi-human progenitors will be\nintensely stimulated. The sacred function of priests will be heightened\nand intensified. Nor must it be forgotten that the pecuniary offerings\nof the pilgrims will fill the coffers of Holy Mother Church, who\npromises heaven to her dupes and seizes wealth and power for herself on\nearth.\n\nSuperstition is scotched, but not slain. It has life enough to be a\nperil to civilisation. The faith which wrecked \"the grandeur that was\nGreece and the glory that was Rome\"--the faith which buried the science,\nart, philosophy and literature of antiquity under a monstrous heap of\nbrutal rubbish, out of which they were slowly and painfully excavated\nafter the lapse of a thousand years--this same faith is still a danger\nto the highest welfare of mankind; to its reason, its conscience, its\nsense of dignity, and its spirit of brotherhood; above all, to freedom\nof thought, which is the sole guarantee of real and durable progress.\n\nIf we turn to Russia, we see at a single glance the fruits of\nsuperstition and its twin-sister tyranny. The Czar is the head of the\nChurch and the head of the State; not like Queen Victoria, whose sacred\nfunction is only indicated in Latin on our coinage, but in literal,\nprosaic fact. By means of a swarm of ignorant, and often drunken\nand immoral priests, the masses of the people are kept in wretched\nsubjection--hewers of wood and drawers of water, toilers for the huge\narmy of officials, aristocrats, and princes--and conscripts for the\narmy; while the best and noblest, in whom there still throbs the pulse\nof freedom, blacken the highways to the mines of Siberia, where hell is\nmore than realised on earth, and the dreams of sour-blooded theologians\nare outdone in misery and horror. *\n\nOver the rest of Europe, even in France, the secular State is often as\ninsecure as the footsteps of travellers over thin crusts of volcanic\nsoil. Bismarck, the Titan, whose great work, with all its defects\nand failings, may appeal from the clamorous passing hour to the quiet\nverdict of history, only kept the Catholic Church and its Jesuits in\ncheck for a generation. He could not impair its vitality nor diminish\nits latent power. It is in Germany that the Coat of Christ is being\nexhibited, with priests and professors joining hands at the brazen\nceremony of imposture; in Germany that myriads of pilgrims are wending\ntheir way to the shrine of an idolatry as ignominious as anything that\nChristianity ever supplanted.\n\nEven in France the one great danger to the Republic is Christian\nsuperstition. It is the Church, her priests and her devotees, that\nfurnish the real strength of every reactionary movement. That consummate\ncharlatan, General Boulanger, took to going to church and cultivating\northodoxy when at the height of his aspiration for power. Happily he was\ndefeated by the men of light and leading. Happily, too, the ablest\nand most trusted leaders of public life in France are on the side of\nFreethought. It is this, more than anything else, that makes the\ncountry of Voltaire the beacon of civilisation as well as the \"martyr of\ndemocracy.\"\n\nCharles Bradlaugh, on a very solemn occasion, warned the Freethought\nparty that even in England their great fight would ultimately be with\nthe Catholic Church. He knew that superstition was scotched, but he\nalso knew it was far from slain. While Freethinkers are laughing at this\nexhibition of old rags, called the Coat of Christ, they should pause for\na moment to consider the serious meaning of such a grotesque display of\nsuperstition in the land of Goethe and Heine, and in the age of Darwin.\nLet us jest round our camp-fires, but let us grip our sword-hilts as we\nhear the cries, the jingle of weapons, and the tramp of men in the camp\nof our enemy.\n\n\n\n\nGOD-MAKING.\n\n\"Man is certainly stark mad; he cannot make a flea, and yet he will\nbe making gods by dozens.\" So wrote honest Montaigne, the first great\nsceptic in modern history, who was so far in advance of his age that\nhe surprised the world by venturing to doubt whether it was after all\na just and sensible thing to burn a man alive for differing from his\nneighbors.\n\nThe history of that mental aberration which is called religion, and a\nsurvey of the present state of the world, from the fetish worshipper of\ncentral Africa to the super-subtle Theist of educated Europe, furnish\nus with countless illustrations of the truth of Montaigne's exclamation.\nGod-making has always been a prevalent pastime, although it has less\nattraction for the modern than for the ancient mind. It was a recreation\nin which everyone could indulge, whether learned or illiterate, young\nor old, rich or poor. All the material needed to fashion gods of was\nignorance, and there was always an unlimited stock of that article.\nThe artificer was imagination, a glorious faculty, which is the highest\ndower of the creative artist and the scientific discoverer, and in their\nservice is fruitful in usefulness and beauty, but which in the service\nof theology is a frightful curse, filling the mental world with\nfantastic monsters who waylay and devour.\n\nCommon people, however, who did the work of the world, were not able\nto do much god-making. Their leisure and ability were both limited. But\nthey had a large capacity for admiring the productions of others, and\ntheir deficiencies were supplied by a special class of men, called\npriests, who were set apart for the manufacture of deities, and who\ndevoted their time and their powers to the holy trade. This pious\ndivision of labor, this specialisation of function, still continues.\nCarpenters and tailors, grocers and butchers, who are immersed all the\nweek in labor or business, have no opportunity for long excursions in\nthe field of divinity; and therefore they take their religion at second\nhand from the priest on Sunday. It was not the multitude, but the\nsacred specialists, who built up the gigantic and elaborate edifice of\ntheology, which is a purely arbitrary construction, deriving all its\ndesign and coherence from the instinctive logic of the human mind, that\noperates alike in a fairy tale and in a syllogism.\n\nPrimitive man used conveniently-shaped flints before he fashioned flint\ninstruments; discovery always preceding invention. In like manner he\nfound gods before he made them. A charm resides in some natural object,\nsuch as a fish's tooth, a queer-shaped pebble, or a jewel, and it is\nworn as an amulet to favor and protect. This is fetishism. By-and-bve\ncounterfeits are made of animals and men, or amalgams of both, and the\nfetishistic sentiment is transferred to these. This is the beginning of\npolytheism. And how far it extends even into civilised periods, let the\nsuperstitions of Europe attest. The nun who tells her beads, and the\nlady who wears an ornamental crucifix, are to some extent fetishists;\nwhile the Catholic worship of saints is only polytheism in disguise.\n\nReading the Bible with clear eyes, we see that the ancient Jews\nworshipped gods of their own making, which were handed down as family\nrelics. When Jacob made tracks after sucking his uncle dry, Rachel\ncarried off the poor old fellow's teraphim, and left him without even\na god to worship. Jahveh himself, who has since developed into God the\nFather, was originally nothing but an image in an ark. Micah, in the\nbook of Judges, makes himself a houseful of gods, and hires a Levite as\nhis domestic chaplain. How long the practice persisted we may judge from\nthe royal scorn which Isaiah pours on the image-mongers, who hewed down\ncedars and cypresses, oaks and ashes, some for fuel and some for idols.\nLet us hear the great prophet: \"He burneth part thereof in the fire;\nwith part thereof he eateth flesh; he roasteth roast, and is satisfied:\nyea, he warmeth himself, and saith, Aha, I am warm, I have seen the\nfire: And the residue thereof he maketh a god, even his graven image:\nhe falleth down unto it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and\nsaith, Deliver me, for thou art my god.\"\n\nTwenty-six centuries have elapsed since Isaiah wrote that biting satire,\nyet image-worship still prevails over three-fourths of the world; and\neven in Christian countries, to use Browning's phrase, we \"see God made\nand eaten every day.\" A wave of the hand and a muttered spell, change\nbread or wafer and port-wine into the body and blood of Christ, which\nare joyously consumed by his cannibal worshippers.\n\nNot even the higher divinities of the greater faiths are exempt from\nthe universal law. They are not creatures of man's hand, yet they are\ncreatures of his brain. What are they but his own fancies, brooded\non till they become facts of memory, and seem to possess an objective\nexistence? The process is natural and easy. A figment of the imagination\nmay become intensely real. Have we not a clearer idea of Hamlet and\nOthello than of half our closest acquaintances? Feuerbach went straight\nto the mark when he aimed to prove \"that the powers before which man\ncrouches are the creatures of his own limited, ignorant, uncultured and\ntimorous mind, and that in especial the being whom man sets over against\nhimself as a separate supernatural existence in his own being.\"\n\nYes, all theology is anthropomorphism--the making of gods in man's\nimage. What is the God of our own theology, as Matthew Arnold puts\nit, but a magnified man? We cannot transcend our own natures, even in\nimagination; we can only interpret the universe in the terms of our own\nconsciousness, nor can we endow our gods with any other attributes than\nwe possess ourselves. When we seek to penetrate the \"mystery of the\ninfinite,\" we see nothing but our own shadow and hear nothing but the\necho of our own voice.\n\nAs we are so are our gods, and what man worships is what he himself\nwould be. The placid Egyptian nature smiles on the face of the sphinx.\nThe gods of India reflect the terror of its heat and its beasts and\nserpents, the fertility of its soil, and the exuberance of its people's\nimagination. The glorious Pantheon of Greece--\n\n     Praxitelean shapes, whose marble smiles\n     Fill the hashed air with everlasting love--\n\nembodies the wise and graceful fancies of the noblest race that ever\nadorned the earth, compared with whose mythology the Christian system is\na hideous nightmare. The Roman gods wear a sterner look, befitting their\npractical and imperial worshippers, and Jove himself is the ideal genius\nof the eternal city. The deities of the old Scandinavians, whose blood\ntinges our English veins, were fierce and warlike as themselves, with\nstrong hands, supple wrists, mighty thews, lofty stature, grey-blue eyes\nand tawny hair. Thus has it ever been. So Man created god in his own\nimage, in the image of Man created he him; male and female created he\nthem.\n\n\n\n\nGOD AND THE WEATHER.\n\nWith characteristic inconsistency the Christian will exclaim \"Here\nis another blasphemous title. What has God to do with the weather?\"\nEverything, sir. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without his\nknowledge, and do you think he fails to regulate the clouds? The\nhairs of your head are numbered, and do you think he cannot count the\nrain-drops? Besides, your clergy pray for a change in the weather when\nthey find it necessary; and to whom do they pray but God? True, they are\ngetting chary of such requests, but the theory is not disavowed, nor can\nit be unless the Bible is 'discarded as waste-paper; and the forms of\nsupplication for rain and fine weather still remain in the Prayer Book,\nalthough many parsons must feel like the parish clerk who asked \"What's\nthe use of praying for rain with the wind in that quarter?\"\n\nWe might also observe that as God is omnipotent he does everything, or\nat least everything which is not left (as parsons would say) to man's\nfreewill, and clearly the weather is not included in that list. God is\nalso omniscient, and what he foresees and does not alter is virtually\nhis own work. Even if a tile drops on a man's head in a gale of wind, it\nfalls, like the sparrow, by a divine rule; and it is really the Lord who\nbatters the poor fellow's skull. An action for assault would undoubtedly\nlie, if there were any court in which the case could be pleaded. What\na frightful total of damages would be run up against the defendant if\nevery plaintiff got a proper verdict! For, besides all the injuries\ninflicted on mankind by \"accident,\" which only means the Lord's malice\nor neglect, it is a solemn fact (on the Theist's hypothesis) that God\nhas killed every man, woman, and child that ever died since the human\nrace began. We are born here without being consulted, and hurried away\nwithout the least regard to our convenience.\n\nBut let us keep to the weather. A gentleman who was feeding the fish at\nsea heard a sailor singing \"Britannia rules the waves.\" \"Does she?\" he\ngroaned, \"Then I wish she'd rule them straighter.\" Most of us might as\nfervently wish that the Lord ruled the weather better. Some parts of\nthe world are parched and others flooded. In some places the crops are\nspoiled with too much sun, and in others with too little. Some people\nsigh for the sight of a cloud, and others people see nothing else.\nOccasionally a famine occurs in India which might have been averted by\nhalf our superfluity of water. Even at home the weather is always more\nor less of a plague. Its variation is so great that it is always a safe\ntopic of conversation. You may go out in the morning with a light heart,\ntempted by the sunshine to leave your overcoat and umbrella at home; and\nin the evening you may return wet through, with a sensation in the nose\nthat prognosticates a doctor's bill. You may enter a theatre, or a hall,\nwith dry feet, and walk home through a deluge. In the morning a south\nwind breathes like zephyr on your cheeks, and in the evening your face\nis pinched with a vile and freezing northeaster.\n\n\"Oh,\" say the pious, \"it would be hard to please everybody, and foolish\nto try it. Remember the old man and his ass.\" Perhaps so, but the Lord\nshould have thought of that before he made us; and if he cannot give us\nall we want, he might show us a little consideration now and then. But\ninstead of occasionally accommodating the weather to us, he invariably\nmakes us accommodate ourselves to the weather. That is, if we can. But\nwe cannot, at any rate in a climate like this. Men cannot be walking\nalmanacks, nor carry about a wardrobe to suit all contingencies. In the\nlong run the weather gets the better of the wisest and toughest, and\nwhen the doctors have done with us we head our own funeral procession.\nThe doctor's certificate says asthma, bronchitis, pulmonary consumption,\nor something of that sort. But the document ought to read \"Died of the\nweather.\"\n\nPoets have sung the glory of snowy landscapes, and there is no prettier\nsight than the earth covered with a virgin mantle, on which the trees\ngleam like silver jewels. But what an abomination snow is in cities. The\nslush seems all the blacker for its whiteness, and the pure flakes turn\ninto the vilest mud. Men and horses are in a purgatory. Gloom sits\non every face. Pedestrians trudge along, glaring at each other with\nmurderous eyes; and the amount of swearing done is enough to prove the\nwhole thing a beastly mistake.\n\nIt seems perfectly clear that when the Lord designed the weather, two or\nthree hundred million years ago, he forgot that men would build cities.\nHe continues to treat us as agriculturalists, even in a manufacturing\nand commercial country like this. \"Why should people get drenched\nin Fleet-street while the Buckinghamshire farmers want rain? The\narrangement is obviously stupid. God Almighty ought to drop the rain\nand snow in the country, and only turn on enough water in the cities\nto flush the sewers. He ought also to let the rain fall in the night.\nDuring the daytime we want the world for our business and pleasure, and\nthe Rain Department should operate when we are snug in bed. This is\na reforming age. Gods, as well as men, must move on. It is really\nridiculous for the Clerk of the Weather to be acting on the old lines\nwhen everybody down below can see they are behind the time. If he does\nnot improve we shall have to agitate on the subject Home Rule is the\norder of the day. We need Home for the globe, and we cannot afford to\nlet the weather be included in the imperial functions. It is a domestic\naffair. And as the Lord has considerably mismanaged it, he had better\nhand it over to us, with full power to arrange it as we please.\"\n\n\n\n\nMIRACLES.\n\nWhat is a miracle? Some people would reply, an act of God. But this\ndefinition is far too wide. In the theistic sense, it would include\neverything that happens; and in the sense of our archaic bills of\nlading, it would include fire and shipwreck.\n\nOthers would reply, a miracle is a wonder. But this definition would\ninclude every new, or at least every surprising new fact. A black swan\nwould have been a wonder before Australia was discovered, but it would\nhave been no miracle. Railways, telegraphs, telephones, electric light,\nand even gas light, would be wonders to savages, yet neither are they\nmiracles. One of the Mahdi's followers was astonished by an English\nofficer, who pulled out his false eye, tossed it in the air, caught it,\nand replaced it; after which he asked the flabbergasted Arab whether his\nmiraculous Mahdi could do that. It was a greater wonder than the Mahdi\ncould perform; still it was not a miracle. Ice was so great a wonder to\nthe King of Siam that he refused to credit its existence. Yet it was\nnot miraculous, but a natural product, existing in practically unlimited\nquantities in the polar regions. We might multiply these illustrations\n_ad infinitum_, but what we have given will suffice. If not, let the\nreader spend an evening at Maskelyne and Cooke's, where he will see\nplenty of startling wonders and not a miracle amongst them.\n\nHume's definition of a miracle as a violation of a law of nature, is the\nbest ever given, and it really is as perfect as such a definition can\nbe. It has been carped at by Christian scribblers, and criticised by\nsuperior theologians like Mozley. But, to use Mr. Gladstone's phrase, it\nkeeps the field. Even the criticisms of Mill and Huxley leave its merit\nunimpaired. The ground taken by these is, that to say a miracle is a\nviolation of a law of nature is to prejudge the question, and to rule\nout all future facts in the interest of a prepossession. Mill, however,\nallows that a miracle is a violation of a valid induction, and as a law\nof nature means nothing more it is difficult to understand why he takes\nany exception to Hume's statement of the case. It is perfectly obvious\nthat Hume's argument is not metaphysical, but practical. He does not\ndiscuss the _possibility_ but the _probability_ of miracles. He reduces\nthe dispute to a single point, namely, whether the person who relates\na miracle (for to the world at large the question is necessarily one of\ntestimony) is deceived or deceiving, or whether the otherwise universal\nexperience of mankind is to be disbelieved; in other words, whether he\nor the rest of the world is mistaken. One man may, of course, be right,\nand all the human race opposed to him wrong, but time will settle the\ndifference between them. That _time_, however, simply means general\nexperience through long ages; and that is precisely the tribunal which\nHume s argument appeals to.\n\nQuarrelling with Hume's definition is really giving up miracles\naltogether, for, except as supernatural evidence, they are no more\nimportant than shooting stars. The very nature of a miracle, in whatever\nformula it may be expressed, is superhuman, and having a purpose, it\nis also supernatural; in other words, it is a special manifestation\nof divine power for a particular object. Whether, being so, it is a\nviolation, a contravention, or a suspension of the laws of nature, is a\nmere question about words.\n\nWe may say that a miracle has three elements. It is first a fact,\nunaccountable by science; secondly, it requires a conscious agent; and\nthirdly, it results from the exercise of a power which that agent does\nnot naturally possess.\n\nLet us descend to illustration. Huxley takes the following case. Suppose\nthe greatest physiologist in Europe alleged that he had seen a centaur,\na fabulous animal, half man and half horse. The presumption would be\nthat he was laboring under hallucination; but if he persisted in the\nstatement he would have to submit to the most rigorous criticism by his\nscientific colleagues before it could be believed; and everybody\nwould feel sure beforehand that he would never pass through the ordeal\nsuccessfully. The common experience, and therefore the common sense, of\nsociety would be dead against him, and probably he would be refused\nthe honor of examination even by the most fervid believers in ancient\nmiracles.\n\nBut after all the centaur, even if it existed, would not be a miracle,\nbut a monstrosity. It does not contain the three elements we have\nindicated. Real miracles would be of a different character. Plenty may\nbe found in the Bible, and we may make a selection to illustrate our\nargument. Jesus Christ was once at a marriage feast, when the wine ran\nshort, which was perhaps no uncommon occurrence. Being of a benevolent\nturn of mind, and anxious that the guests should remember the occasion,\nhe turned a large quantity of cold water into fermented juice of the\ngrape. Now water contains oxygen and hydrogen in definite proportions,\nand nothing else, while wine contains in addition to these, carbon and\nother elements, being in fact a very complex liquid. Jesus Christ must,\ntherefore, in turning water into wine, have created something, and\nthat transcends human power. Here, then, we have a complete miracle,\naccording to Hume's definition and our own theory.\n\nWe do not say the miracle never occurred, although we no more believe in\nit than we believe the moon is made of green cheese. We are willing to\nregard it as susceptible of proof. But does the proof exist? To answer\nthis we must inquire what kind of proof is necessary. An extraordinary\nstory should be supported by extraordinary evidence. It requires the\nconcurrent and overwhelming testimony of eye-witnesses. We must be\npersuaded that there is no collusion between them, that none of them\nhas anything to gain by deception, that they had no previous tendency\nto expect such a thing, and that it was practically impossible that they\ncould be deluded. Now let any man or any Christian seriously ask himself\nwhether the evidence for Jesus Christ's miracle is of this character.\nFour evangelists write his life, and only one mentions the occurrence.\nEven he was certainly not an eye-witness, nor does he pretend to be, and\nthe weight of evidence is against his gospel having been written till\nlong after the first disciples of Jesus were dead. But even if the\nwriter distinctly declared himself an eye-witness, and if it were\nundeniable that he lived on the spot at the time, his single unsupported\ntestimony would be absurdly inadequate to establish the truth of the\nmiracle. Every reader will at once see that the established rules of\nevidence are not conformed to, and whoever accepts the miracle must eke\nout reason with faith.\n\nSo much for the evidence of miracles. Their intellectual or moral value\nis simply nil. The greatest miracle could not really convince a man of\nwhat his reason condemned; and if a prophet could turn water into wine,\nit would not necessarily follow that all he said was true. In fact,\ntruth does not require the support of miracles; it flourishes better\nwithout their assistance. Universal history shows that miracles\nhave always been employed to support falsehood and fraud, to promote\nsuperstition, and to enhance the profit and power of priests.\n\n\n\n\nA REAL MIRACLE. *\n\n     * May, 1891.\n\nIt is a common belief among Protestants, though not among Catholics,\nthat the age of miracles is past. For a long time it has been very\ndifficult to find a real case of special providence. There are stories\nafloat of wonderful faith-cures, and the followers of John Wesley,\nas well as the followers of William Booth, often shake their heads\nmysteriously, and affect to trace the hand of God in certain episodes of\ntheir experience. But such cases are too personal, and too subjective,\nto challenge criticism or inquiry. Investigating them is like exploring\na cloud. There is nothing tangible for the mind to seize, nothing to\nstand by as the basis of discussion. What is wanted is a real objective\nmiracle, a positive _fact_. Happily such a miracle has come to the aid\nof a distressed Christianity; it is worth tons of learned apologetics,\nand will give \"the dying creed\" a fresh lease of life.\n\nUnfortunately the world at large is in gross ignorance of this\nastonishing event. Like the earthquake, the eclipse, and the wholesale\nresurrection of saints at the crucifixion of Christ, it has excited very\nlittle public attention. But this dense apathy, or Satanic conspiracy of\nsilence, must not be allowed to hide a precious truth. We therefore do\nour best to give it publicity, although in doing so we are blasting our\nown foundations; for we belong to a party which boasts that it seeks\nfor truth, and we are ready to exclaim, \"Let truth prevail though the\nheavens fall.\"\n\nMost of our readers will remember the late accident on the Brighton line\nat Norwood. A bridge collapsed, and only the driver's presence of mind\naverted a great loss of life. Of course the driver did his obvious duty,\nand presence of mind is not uncommon enough to be miraculous. But that\ndoes not exhaust the matter. The driver (Hargraves) is perfectly sure he\nreceived divine assistance. He is a man of pious habits. He never\nleaves his house without kneeling down with his wife and imploring\nGod's protection. He never steps on the engine without breathing another\nprayer. On the morning of the accident his piety was in a state of\nunusual excitation. He begged his wife to \"pray all that day\"--which\nwe presume she did, with intervals for refreshment; and he knelt down\nhimself in the passage before opening his front door. When the accident\nhappened he put the brake on and cried \"Lord, save us,\" and according to\nthe _Christian World_ \"it has since been stated by expert engineers that\nno train was ever before pulled up in such a short distance.\"\n\nA carping critic might presume to ask the names and addresses of these\n\"expert engineers.\" He might also have the temerity to inquire the\nprecise distance in which the train was pulled up, the shortest distance\nin which other trains have been pulled up, and the weight and velocity\nof the train in each case. He might also meanly suggest that putting\non the brake left as little as possible to Providence. For our part,\nhowever, we will not pursue such hyper-criticism. It is applying to a\nmiracle a test which it is not fitted to stand. Something must be\nleft to faith, something must be reserved from reason, or the stoutest\nmiracle would soon fall into a galloping consumption. The man in whom\na pious disposition counteracts the restless play of thought, will not\ndemand absolute proof; he will only require an encouraging amount of\nevidence; and he will dutifully lift his face and hands to heaven,\nexclaiming, \"Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief.\"\n\nThe line we shall follow is a different one. Without questioning the\nmiracle, we venture to ask why it was not more complete. Lives were\nsaved, but several persons were injured. Was this due to the fact that\nHargraves' prayer was not sufficiently above proof? Did the Lord answer\nthe prayer according to its insensity? Was there a sceptic in the train\nwho partially neutralised its effect? Or did the Lord proceed on\nthe method favored by priests, preventing the miracle from being too\nobvious, but giving the incident a slightly supernatural appearance, in\norder to confirm the faith of believers without convincing the callous\nsceptics, whose deep sin of incredulity places them beyond \"the means of\ngrace and the hope of glory?\"\n\nNor are these questions exhaustive. Very much remains to be said. It\nappears that the Norwood bridge collapsed through a secret flaw in\nthe ironwork. Could not the Lord, therefore, in answer to Hargraves'\nprayers--which surely extended to the interests of his employers--have\ninspired one of the Company's engineers with the notion of some\nunsoundness in the structure? This would have saved a good deal of\nproperty, and many passengers from suffering a shock whose effects may\nhaunt them for years, and perhaps send them to untimely graves? Might\nnot the Lord have cleared the roadway below, knocked down the bridge\nin the night, and brought some one to see the collapse who could have\ncarried the tidings to the signalmen? Certainly there seems a remarkable\nwant of subtlety in the ways of Providence. It looks as though the Deity\nheard a prayer now and then, and jerked out a bit of miracle in a more\nor less promiscuous manner.\n\nWhat has happened to Providence since the Bible days? Miracles then\nwere clear, convincing, and artistically rounded. You could not possibly\nmistake them for anything else. Baalam's ass, for instance, was not a\nperforming \"moke\"; it does not appear to have known a single trick; and\nwhen it opened its mouth and talked in good Moabitish, the miracle was\ncertain and triumphant. In the same way, the Norwood miracle might have\nbeen unadultterated with the usual operations of nature. The bridge\nmight have collapsed as the train approached, driver Hargraves might\nhave said his prayer, the train might have leapt across the chasm,\npicked up the connection on the other side, and pursued its way to\nBrighton as if nothing had happened. But as the case stands, Providence\nand the safety-brake act together, and it is difficult to decide their\nshares in the enterprise. Further, the miracle is sadly mixed. Any human\nbeing would have planned it better, and made it stand out clearly and\nfirmly.\n\nThis Norwood miracle, however, seems the best obtainable in these days.\nIt is a minute return for all the prayers of the clergy, to say nothing\nof pious engine-drivers; a miserable dividend on the gigantic investment\nin supernaturalism. We pity the poor shareholders, though we must\ncongratulate the directors on the large salaries they draw from the\nbusiness. We also pity poor old Providence, who seems almost played\nout. Once upon a time he was in fine form; miracles were as common as\nblackberries; Nature seldom got an innings, and Jehovah was all over\nthe field. But nowadays Nature seems to have got the better of him. She\nscarcely leaves him a corner for his operations, and what little he does\n(if he does anything) has to be done in obscurity. Poor old Providence,\nwe fancy, has had his day. His vigor is gone, his lively fancy\nhas degenerated into moping ineptitude, the shouts of millions of\nworshippers cannot stimulate his sluggishness into any more effective\ndisplay than this Norwood miracle. Most sincerely we offer him our\ncondolence as the sleeping partner in the business of religion. By and\nbye we may offer our condolence to the active partners, the priests of\nall denominations, who still flourish on a prospectus which, if once\ntrue, is now clearly fraudulent. When their business dwindles, in\nconsequence of a failing supply of good supernatural articles, they will\nonly live on the price of actual deliveries, and a Norwood miracle will\nhardly afford six of them a mouthful apiece.\n\n\n\n\nJESUS ON WOMEN.\n\n\"For religions,\" says Michelet, \"woman is mother, tender guardian, and\nfaithful nurse. The gods are like men; they are reared, and they die,\nupon her bosom.\" Truer words were never uttered. Michelet showed in _La\nSorci\u00e8re_, from which this extract is taken, as well as in many other\nwritings, that he fully understood the fulcrum of priestcraft and the\nsecret of superstition. Women are everywhere the chief, and in\nsome places the only, supporters of religion. Even in Paris, where\nFreethinkers abound, the women go to church and favor the priest.\nNaturally, they impress their own views on the children, for while the\nfather's influence is fitful through his absence from home, the mother's\nis constant and therefore permanent. Again and again the clergy have\nrestored their broken power by the hold upon that sex which men pretend\nto think the weaker, although they are obviously the sovereigns of every\ngeneration. Men may resolve to go where they please, but if they cannot\ntake the women with them they will never make the journey. Women do\nnot resist progress, they simply stand still, and by their real,\nthough disguised, rule over the family, they keep the world with them.\nFreethinkers should look this fact in the face. Blinking it is futile.\nWhoever does that imitates the hunted ostrich, who does not escape his\ndoom by hiding his head. The whole question lies in a nutshell. Where\none sex is, the other will be; and there is a terrible, yet withal a\nbeautiful, truth in the upshot of Mill's argument, that if men do not\nlift women up, women will drag men down. In the education and elevation\nof women, then, lies the great hope of the future. Leading Freethinkers\nhave always seen this. Shelley's great cry, \"Can man be free if woman be\na slave?\" is one witness, and Mill's great essay on _The Subjection of\nWomen_ is another.\n\nGo where you will, you find the priests courting the women. They act\nthus, not because they despise men, or fear them, but because they\n(often unconsciously) feel that when they have captured the \"weaker\"\nsex, the other becomes a speedy prey. Perhaps a dim perception of this\ntruth hovered in the minds of those who composed the story of the Fall.\nThe serpent does not bother about Adam. He just makes sure of Eve, and\nshe settles her \"stronger\" half. Milton makes Adam reluct and wrangle,\nbut it is easy to see he will succumb to his wife's persuasions. He\nswears he won't eat, but Eve draws him all the time with a silken\nstring, mightier than the biggest cable.\n\nWhen the Christian monks were proselytising at Rome, they were hated,\nsays Jortin, \"as beggarly impostors and hungry Greeks who seduced ladies\nof fortune and quality.\" Hated, yes; but what did the hatred avail?\nThe women were won, and the game was over. Men growled, but they had to\nyield. The same holds good to-day. Watch the congregations streaming\nout of church, count ten bonnets to one hat, and you might fancy\nChristianity played out because the men stay at home and neglect its\nministrations. Nothing of the sort. Men may desert the churches as they\nlike, but while the women go the clergy are safe. Examine the church\nand chapel organisations closely, and you will see how nine-tenths of\neverything is designed for women and children. Yes, the bonnet is the\npriest's talisman. Like Constantine's legendary cross, it bears the sign\n_By this Conquer_.\n\nOn the other hand, the clergy never fail to remind women that religion\nis their best friend. Without our doctrines and our holy Church, they\nsay, there would be social chaos; the wild passions of men would spurn\ncontrol, marriage would be despised, wives would become mistresses,\nhomes would disappear, and children would be treated as encumbrances.\nThere is not a grain of truth in this, for religion has fomented,\ncountenanced, or cloaked, more sensuality and selfishness than it has\never repressed. But it is a powerful appeal to woman's healthy domestic\nsentiment. She feels, if she does not know, that marriage is her\nsheet-anchor, and the home an ark on a weltering flood. When the priest\ntells her that religion is the surety of both, he plucks at her heart,\nwhich vibrates to its depths, and she regards him as her savior.\n\nHistorically, the Christian religion, at least, has never been woman's\nreal friend. It claims credit for everything; but what has it achieved?\nMonogamy was practised by the rude Teutons before Christianity\n\"converted\" them by fraud and force, and it was the law in pagan Greece\nand Rome before the Christian era. Yet in the Bible there is not a\nword against polygamy. God's favorites had as many wives as they could\nmanage, and Solomon had enough to manage _him_. In the New Testament\nthere is only one man who is told to be \"the husband of one wife,\" and\nthat is a bishop. Even in _his_ case, a facetious sceptic hints, and the\nMormons argue, that the command only means that he must have _one wife\nat least_.\n\nThere are two supreme figures in the New Testament, Paul and Jesus.\nWhat Paul says about women I will deal with presently. For the moment\nI confine myself to Jesus. Let the reader remember that Christianity\ncannot transcend the Bible, any more than a stream can rise above its\nsource.\n\nLike most revivalists and popular preachers, Jesus had a number of\nwomen dangling at his heels, but his teaching on the subject in hand is\nbarren, or worse. As a child, he gave his mother the slip at Jerusalem,\nand caused her much anxiety. During his ministry, when his mother and his\nbrethren wished to speak with him, he forgot the natural ties of blood,\nand coolly remarked that his family were those who believed his gospel.\nOn another occasion he roughly said to Mary, \"Woman, what have I to do\nwith thee?\" These examples are not very edifying. If Christ is our great\nexemplar, the fashion he set of treating his nearest relatives is \"more\nhonored in the breach than in the observance.\"\n\nJesus appears to have despised the union of the sexes, therefore\nmarriage, and therefore the home. He taught that in heaven, where all\nare perfect, there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage; the\nsaints being like angels, probably of the neuter gender. In Matthew\nxix. 12 he appears to recommend emasculation, praising those who make\nthemselves \"eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake.\" This doctrine\nis too high for flesh and blood, but Origen and other early Christians\npractised it literally. We may be sure that those who trample on manhood\nhave no real respect for womanhood. Hence the Romish Church has always\npraised up virginity, which is simply an abnegation of sex. Cruden\nshrinks from the literal sense of Christ's words, and says that the\n\"eunuchs\" he refers to are those who \"upon some religious motive do\nabstain from marriage and the use of all carnal pleasures; that they\nmay be less encumbered with the cares of the world, and may devote\nthemselves more closely to the service of God.\" Moonshine! Origen was a\nbetter judge than Cruden. If Jesus did not mean what he said, why did he\ntake the trouble to speak? His doctrine is that of the anchorite. It led\nnaturally to the filthy wretches, called monks, who dreaded the sight of\na woman, and hoped to please God by stultifying nature. It also led to\nthe Church law forbidding women to touch the sacrament with their naked\nhands, lest they should pollute it. Only women who relish that infamous\nlaw can feel any respect for the teaching of Jesus.\n\n\n\n\nPAUL ON WOMEN.\n\nChristianity, as the centuries have revealed its practical character,\nowes more to Paul than to Jesus. Its dogmas are mostly derived from the\nepistles of the great apostle. Many a true believer thinks he is\nobeying the carpenter's son, when all the time he is obeying the Tarsus\ntent-maker. The Christian road to heaven was laid out and paved, not\nby Jesus himself, but by the gentleman he (or a sunstroke) converted\noutside Damascus.\n\nPaul was in some respects a better teacher than Jesus. He was more\npractical, and with all his misty metaphysics he had a firmer hold on\nthe realities of life. But with respect to women, he follows dutifully\nin his Savior's wake, and elaborates, rather than supplements, the\nsexual injunctions we have already dealt with. Like his Master, he looks\ndown upon marriage, and is evidently of opinion that if men should not\nmake themselves eunuchs they should live as such, The American Shakers\nare only carrying out his policy in this respect. If all the world\nimitated them the human race would soon expire. It would then be\nimpossible to adopt the children of outsiders, families would be\ngradually extinguished, and the second coming of Christ would be\nprematurely hastened.\n\nPaul was a bachelor, and a crusty one. According to tradition or\ncalumny, he was jilted by a Jewish woman, and this may account for his\npeevish attitude towards the sex. In the seventh chapter of the first\nof Corinthians he gives vent to a great deal of nasty nonsense. \"It is\ngood,\" he says, \"for a man not to touch a woman,\" If he had meant by\nthis that men were not to thrash their wives we should have thoroughly\nagreed with him. But what he means is that there should be no sexual\nintercourse. He was especially severe on young widows who contemplated\na second marriage. No doubt if he had seen a young widow whose weeds,\nas is generally the case, were arranged coquettishly, he would have\nmuttered \"Anathema Maranatha.\" As his own constitution was liable to\noccasional weaknesses, he might have added, \"Get thee behind me, Satan.\"\n\nA few verses later he expresses himself with greater clearness than\nJesus Christ ever attained to: \"I say therefore to the unmarried and\nwidows, It is good for them if they abide even as I. But if they cannot\ncontain, let them marry; for it is better to marry than to burn.\" Paul\nwished the same end as Jesus. He desired to see every person celibate,\nbut having a little more common sense than Jesus, he saw that such\npreaching would never be extensively practised (especially by young\nwidows) and he was obliged to make a concession to human frailty. The\nvery fact, however, shows that his view of the question was radically\nwrong. Marriage is not an excusable weakness, but the normal condition\nof mankind. Physiologically, mentally, and morally this truth holds\ngood. Even the highest virtues have never sprung from monasteries and\nconvents, but from the rude rough world of toiling and suffering men and\nwomen outside.\n\nAccording to Paul, although marriage was lawful, virginity was a higher\nstate; that is, to be perfect, a woman must stultify her nature and\ntrample upon her maternal instincts. It also implies that she is\nessentially impure, and that she can only please God by abnegating her\nsex. This is the deepest disrespect of womanhood, as every healthy wife\nand mother would admit if such stuff were taught by another than Paul.\n\nThe great apostle troubled his poor head about the heads of women. If he\nlived now when the ladies affect short hair he would go raving mad. It\nwas a subject on which he felt profoundly. To his mind a woman losing\nher long hair, was like an angel falling from glory. He warns the whole\nsex against meddling with their tresses. Men, however, are recommended\nto crop close, long hair being \"shameful.\" We have a shrewd suspicion\nthat Paul was bald. Perhaps if hair restorer had been then invented a\nsuccessful trial might have considerably changed his views upon this\nsubject.\n\nMan was not created for woman, says Paul, but woman for man. He is of\ncourse alluding to the old Rib Story. But a similar observation would\nhave been as sensible about the two halves of a pair of scissors. When\nthey meet what does it matter which was made for the other? Consistently\nwith this view he says, \"Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands\nas unto the Lord... as the Church is subject unto Christ so let the\nwives be to their husbands in everything.\" Some men have tried this with\nno great success, and many a man thinks he is having his own way\n\"in everything\" when he is sweetly and beautifully led by the nose.\nObedience is a hateful word in marriage. Its introduction makes the wife\na legalised concubine. Besides, if there _must_ be obedience, Paul's\nrule is ridiculously sweeping, for some women have more sense and\njudgment than their husbands. Every afflicted woman who applies to the\nmagistrate for relief from the sot who curses her home is flying in\nthe face of Paul. \"My dear woman,\" the magistrate _should_ say, \"your\nrequest is very reasonable, but it is very unorthodox. Go home and read\nthe fifth chapter of Ephesians, where you will see that wives must obey\ntheir husbands in _everything_.\"\n\nPaul (1 Cor. xiv. 34, 35; Tim. ii. 11, 12) warns women to keep silence\nin church, for \"it is not permitted unto them to speak.\" Having written\nthis line, Paul must have got up and strutted round the room like a\nruffled cock. \"Let the woman,\" he says, \"learn in silence with all\nsubjection. I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over\nthe man, but to be in silence.\" Hear, hear! from the males in the body\nof the synagogue. Evidently Paul could bray on occasion as lustily\nas Balaam's ass. If the women \"will learn anything,\" which he clearly\nthought problematical, \"let them ask their husbands at home.\" Fancy some\nwomen with no other sources of information!\n\nThe reason Paul gives for woman's inferiority is that Mrs. Eve was first\ntempted by the serpent. And a capital thing too! If Mrs. Eve had not\neaten that apple the human race would still number two, or else, if none\nof them died, they would be thicker than barrelled herrings.\n\nOur Church of England marriage service follows the teaching of Paul.\nWhile the husband promises to-love the wife, the wife promises to love,\nhonor and obey the husband. Many ladies say these words at the altar\nwith a mental reservation. When they are obliged to do this they tacitly\nadmit that Paul and the Church are wrong. But if so the Bible is wrong.\nThe fact is that the \"blessed book,\" instead of being woman's best\nfriend, is her worst enemy. The Tenth Commandment makes her domestic\nproperty, and Paul winds up by telling her that her sole duty is to play\nsecond fiddle in a minor key.\n\n\n\n\nMOTHER'S RELIGION.\n\nReligion is the feminine element in human nature. Science is the\nmasculine. One accepts, the other inquires; one believes, the other\nproves; one loves the old, the other the new; one submits, the other\ndares; one is conservative, and the other progressive.\n\nI say this with no disrespect to women. Evolution has made them what\nthey are, and evolution will remake them. Nor do I slight the noble band\nof advanced women, the vanguard of their sex, who have shed a lustre on\nour century. I merely take a convenient metaphor, which crystallises\na profound truth, though fully conscious of its shortcomings and\nexclusions.\n\nWoman is still the citadel of religion. Thither the priest flies from\nthe attacks of scepticism. There he finds an inviolable refuge. The\nmother, the wife, the sister, shield him and his creed; and their white\narms and soft eyes are a better guard than all the weapons in the armory\nof his faith. His are the coward's tactics, but all creatures--even\npriests--plead the necessity of living, and have the artful instinct of\nself-preservation.\n\nReligious by inheritance and training, woman rears her children for the\nChurch. Spiritual as well as bodily perils shake her prophetic soul as\nshe peers into the future through the eyes of the child upon her knee.\nShe whispers of God with accents of awe, that fall solemnly on the\nlittle one's mind. She trains the knee to bend, the hands to meet in\nprayer, and the eyes to look upward. She wields the mighty spell of\nlove, and peoples the air of life with phantoms. Infantile logic knows\nthose dear lips cannot lie, and all is truth for all is love. Alas!\nthe lesson has to come that the logic is faulty, that goodness may be\nleagued with lies, that a twisted brain may top the sweetest heart.\n\nBut long ere the lesson is learnt--if it _is_ learnt--the mischief has\nbeen wrought. The child has been moulded for the priest, and is duly\nburnished with catechisms and stamped with dogmas. And how often, when\nthe strong mind grows and bursts its bonds, when the mental eyes wax\nstrong and see the falsehood, the mother's hand, through the child's\ntraining, plucks the life back from the fulfilment of its promise. How\noften, also, when the vigorous manhood has swept aside all illusions,\nthere comes at length the hour of lassitude, and as the mother's voice\nsteals through the caverns of memory the spectres of faith are startled\nfrom their repose.\n\nPriests are always warning men against deserting the creed of their\nmothers. And even a _savant_, like Professor Gazzia, who writes on\nGiordano Bruno, knows the trick of touching this facile cord of the\nhuman heart. Speaking of Bruno's philosophy, he says: \"I call it plainly\nthe Negation of God, of that God, I mean, of whom I first heard _at my\nmother's knee_.\"\n\nBut Freethinking mothers--and happily there are such--will use their\npower more wisely; and, above all, will not shrink from their duty. They\nhave the fashioning of the young life--a transcendent privilege, with\nan awful responsibility. They will see that love nurtures the affections\nwithout suborning the intellect; that the young mind is encouraged to\nthink, instead of being stuffed with conclusions; and they will some day\nfind their exceeding rich reward. Their children, trained in the school\nof self-respect and toleration, will be wiser than the pupils of faith;\nand the bonds of love will be all the tenderer and stronger for the\nperception that the free individuality of the child's life was never\nsacrificed to the parent's authority.","title":"Flowers of Freethought (First Series)","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":68913}