FLOWERS OF FREETHOUGHT

(First Series)

G. W. FOOTE. 

LONDON

1893. 

CONTENTS:

 PREFACE. OLD NICK. FIRE!!! SKY PILOTS. DEVIL DODGERS. FIGHTING SPOOKS. DAMNED SINNERS. WHERE IS HELL? SPURGEON AND HELL. IS SPURGEON IN HEAVEN? GOD IN JAPAN. STANLEY ON PROVIDENCE. GONE TO GOD. THANK GOD. JUDGMENT DAY. SHELLEY'S ATHEISM. * LONG FACES. OUR FATHER. WAIT TILL YOU DIE. DEAD THEOLOGY. MR. GLADSTONE ON DEVILS. HUXLEY'S MISTAKE. THE GOSPEL OF FREETHOUGHT. ON RIDICULE. WHO ARE THE BLASPHEMERS? CHRISTIANITY AND COMMON SENSE. THE LORD OF LORDS. * CONSECRATING THE COLORS CHRISTMAS IN HOLLOWAY GAOL. * WHO KILLED CHRIST? DID JESUS ASCEND? THE RISING SON. ST. PAUL'S VERACITY. NO FAITH WITH HERETICS. THE LOGIC OF PERSECUTION. LUTHER AND THE DEVIL. BIBLE ENGLISH. LIVING BY FAITH. VICTOR HUGO. * DESECRATING A CHURCH. WALT WHITMAN. * TENNYSON AND THE BIBLE. * CHRIST'S OLD COAT. CHRIST'S COAT, NUMBER TWO. SCOTCHED, NOT SLAIN. GOD-MAKING. GOD AND THE WEATHER. MIRACLES. A REAL MIRACLE. * JESUS ON WOMEN. PAUL ON WOMEN. MOTHER'S RELIGION. 

PREFACE. 

Heinrich Heine called himself a soldier in the army of human liberation. It was a modest description of himself, for he was more; his positionwas that of a leader, and his sword was like the mystic Excalibur, flashing with the hues of his genius, and dealing death to the enemiesof freedom. 

Humbler fighters than Heine may count themselves as simple soldiers inthat great army, whose leaders' names are graven deep in the history ofmodern Europe. I also venture to rank myself with them, and it is thesummit of my ambition. To be indeed a soldier in that army, however lowand obscure, is not to have lived in vain; to persevere, to fight to theend, is to live (if unknown) in the future of humanity. 

In the course of my service to "the cause" I have wielded tongue and penas weapons. The spoken word has gone, like spilt water, except as it mayhave made an impression on the listeners. The written word remains. Mostof it, in truth, was only the week's work, done honestly, but under nospecial impulse. Some of the rest--as I have been told, and as in a fewcases I feel--is of less doubtful value; having occasionally the meritof a free play of mind on subjects that are too often treated withignorance, timidity, or hypocrisy. 

This is my reason for publishing in a separate and durable form thearticles in this collection. Whether it is a sufficient reason thereader will judge for himself. 

No serious attempt has been made at classification. Here and therearticles have been placed in intended proximity, though written atdifferent intervals in the past ten years. Sometimes, for an obviousreason, the date of composition has been indicated. Otherwise thereis no approach to systematic arrangement; and if this is a defect, thereader has on the other hand the benefit of variety. 

The ambitious, and hardly excusable, thing about this collection isits title. But the selection of a label for such a miscellany was notan easy task, and I ask the reader's indulgence in consideration ef thedifficulty. The title I have chosen is at least a pretty one, and in asense it is appropriate. These articles are flowers of _my_ Freethought;the blossomings of my mind on particular occasions, after muchinvestigation and pondering. 

Wherever I have made a rash statement I shall be happy to be corrected;wherever I may have argued wrongly, I shall be happy to be set right. But I am less amenable to appeals on the ground of "taste. " They arealmost invariably made by those who wish failure to one's propaganda. Afair controversialist will refrain from personalities. I have done this, and I will do no more. I believe in free thought and honest speech. Inthe war of ideas there is neither treaty nor truce. To ask for quarteris to admit defeat; and to give it is treachery to Truth. 

April, 1893. G. W. FOOTE. 

OLD NICK. 

This gentleman is of very ancient descent. His lineage dwarfs that ofthe proudest nobles and kings. English peers whose ancestors came inwith the Conqueror; the Guelphs, Hapsburgs, and Hohenzollens of ourEuropean thrones; are things of yesterday compared with his Highness theDevil. The Cæsars themselves, the more ancient rulers of Assyria, andeven the Pharaohs of the first dynasty, are modern beside him. Hisorigin is lost in the impenetrable obscurity of primitive times. Nay, there have been sages who maintained his eternity, who made him coevalwith God, and placed upon his head the crown of a divided sovereignty ofthe infinite universe. 

But time and change are lords of all, and the most durable things cometo an end. Celestial and infernal, like earthly, powers are subject tothe law of decay. Mutability touches them with her dissolving wand, and strong necessity, the lord of gods and men, brings them tothe inevitable stroke of Death. Senility falls on all beings andinstitutions--if they are allowed to perish naturally; and as our augustMonarchy is the joke of wits, and our ancient House of Lords is anobject of popular derision, so the high and mighty Devil in his palsiedold age is the laughing-stock of those who once trembled at the soundof his name. They omit the lofty titles he was once addressed by, andfearless of his feeble thunders and lightnings, they familiarly stylehim Old Nick. Alas, how are the mighty fallen! The potentate who wasmore terrible than an army with manners is now the sport of childrenand a common figure in melodrama. Even the genius of Milton, Goethe, andByron, has not been able to save him from this miserable fate. 

When this sobriquet of Old Nick first came into use is unknown. Macaulay, in his essay on Machiavelli, says that "Out of his surnamethey have coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian namea synonym for the Devil. " A couplet from _Hudibras_ is cited to supportthis view. 

Nick Machiavel had ne'er a trick Tho' he gave his name to our Old Nick. 

"But we believe, " adds Macaulay, "there is a schism on this subjectamong the antiquaries. " The learned Zachary Gray's edition of _Hudibras_shows that "our English writers, before Machiavel's time, used the wordOld Nick very commonly to signify the Devil, " and that "it came fromour Saxon ancestors, who called him Old Nicka. " No doubt Butler, whoselearning was so great that he "knew everything, " was well acquaintedwith this fact. He probably meant the couplet as a broad stroke ofhumor. But there was perhaps a chronological basis for the joke. OurSaxon ancestors did not speak of Old Nicka in a spirit of jest orlevity. The bantering sense of our modern sobriquet for the Devilappears to have crept in during the decline of witchcraft. Thatfrightful saturnalia of superstition was the Devil's heyday. He wasalmost omnipotent and omnipresent. But as witchcraft died out, partlythrough the growth of knowledge, and partly through sheer weariness onthe part of its devotees, the Devil began to lose his power. His agencyin human affairs was seen to be less potent than was imagined. Peoplecalled him Old Nick playfully, as they might talk of a toothless oldmastiff whose bark was worse than his bite. At length he was regarded asa perfect fraud, and his sobriquet took a tinge of contempt. He is nowutterly played out except in church and chapel, where the sky-pilotsstill represent him as a roaring lion. Yet, as a curious relic of oldtimes, it may be noted that in the law-courts, where conservatism reignsin the cumbrous wig on the judge's head, and in the cumbrous phraseologyof indictments, criminals are still charged with being instigated bythe Devil. Nearly all the judges look upon this as so much nonsense, butoccasionally there is a pious fossil who treats it seriously. We thenhear a Judge North regret that a prisoner has devoted the abilities Godgave him to the Devil's service, and give the renegade a year's leisureto reconsider which master he ought to serve. 

During the witch mania the world was treated to a great deal of curiousinformation about Old Nick. What Robert Burns says of him in _TamO'Shanter_ is only a faint reminiscence of the wealth of demonologywhich existed a few generations earlier. Old Nick used to appear atthe witches' Sabbaths in the form of a goat, or a brawny black man, who courted all the pretty young witches and made them submit to hisembraces. Some of these crazy creatures, under examination or torture, gave the most circumstantial accounts of their intercourse with Satan;their revelations being of such an obscene character that they mustbe left under the veil of a dead tongue. It is, of course, absurd tosuppose that anything of the kind occurred. Religious hysteria andlubricity are closely allied, as every physician knows, and the filthyfancies of a lively witch deserve no more attention than those of manyfemales in our lunatic asylums. 

Behind these tales of the Devil there was the pagan tradition of Pan, whose upper part was that of a man and his lower part that of a goat. The devils of one religion are generally the gods of its predecessor;and the great Pan, whose myth is so beautifully expounded by Bacon, was degraded by Christianity into a fiend. Representing, as he did, the nature which Christianity trampled under foot, he became a fitincarnation of the Devil. The horns and hooves and the goat thighs werepreserved; and the emblems of strength, fecundity and wisdom in the godbecame the emblems of bestiality and cunning in the demon. 

Heine's magnificent _Gods in Exile_ shows how the deities of Olympusavenged themselves for this ill-treatment. They haunted the mountainsand forests, beguiling knights and travellers from their allegianceto Christ. Venus wooed the men who were taught by an ascetic creed todespise sexual love; and Pan, appearing as the Devil, led the women afrightful dance to hell. 

But as the Christian superstition declined, the gods of Paganism alsodisappeared. Their vengeance was completed, and they retired with theknowledge that the gods of Calvary were mortal like the gods of Olympus. 

During the last two centuries the Devil has gradually become a subjectfor joking. In Shakespeare's plays he is still a serious personage, although we fancy that the mighty bard had no belief himself in anysuch being. But, as a dramatist, he was obliged to suit himself to thecurrent fashion of thought, and he refers to the Devil when it serveshis purpose just as he introduces ghosts and witches. His SatanicMajesty not being then a comic figure, he is spoken of or alluded towith gravity. Even when Macbeth flies at the messenger in a toweringrage, and cries "the Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon, " hedoes not lose his sense of the Devil's dignity. In Milton's greatepic Satan is really the central figure, and he is always splendidand heroic. Shelley, in fact, complained in his preface to _PrometheusUnbound_ that "the character of Satan engenders in the mind a perniciouscasuistry, which leads us to weigh his faults with his wrongs, andto excuse the former because the latter exceed all measure. " Goethe'sMephistopheles is less dignified than Milton's Satan, but he is full ofenergy and intellect, and if Faust eventually escapes from his clutchesit is only by a miracle. At any rate, Mephistopheles is not an objectof derision; on the contrary, the laugh is generally on his own side. Still, Goethe is playing with the Devil all the time. He does notbelieve in the actual existence of the Prince of Evil, but simply usesthe familiar old figure to work out a psychological drama. The same istrue of Byron. Satan, in the _Vision of Judgment_, is a superb presence, moving with a princely splendor; but had it suited his purpose, Byroncould have made him a very different character. 

The Devil is, indeed, treated with much greater levity by Coleridge andSouthey, and Shelley knocks him about a good deal in _Peter Bell theThird_--

 The Devil, I safely can aver, Has neither hoof, nor tail, nor sting; Nor is he, as some sages swear, A spirit, neither here nor there, In nothing--yet in everything. He is--what we are! for sometimes The Devil is a gentleman; At others a bard bartering rhymes For sack; a statesman spinning crimes; A swindler, living as he can. 

These and many other verses show what liberties Shelley took with theonce formidable monarch of hell. The Devil's treatment by the pulpiteersis instructive. Take up an old sermon and you will find the Devil allover it. The smell of brimstone is on every page, and you see the whiskof his tail as you turn the leaf. But things are changed now. Satan isno longer a person, except in the vulgar circles of sheer illiteracy, where the preacher is as great an ignoramus as his congregation. Ifyou take up any reputable volume of sermons by a Church parson or aDissenting minister, you find the Devil either takes a back seat ordisappears altogether in a metaphysical cloud. None of these subtleresolvers of ancient riddles, however, approaches grand old Donne, who said in one of his fine discourses that "the Devil himself is onlyconcentrated stupidity. " What a magnificent flash of insight! Yes, the great enemy of mankind is stupidity; and, alas, against that, as Schiller said, the gods themselves fight in vain. Yet time fightsagainst it, and time is greater than the gods; so there is hope afterall. 

Gradually the Devil has dropped, until he has at last peached the lowestdepth. He is now patronised by the Salvation Army. Booth exhibits himfor a living, and all the Salvation Army Captains and Hallelujah Lassesparade him about to the terror of a few fools and the amusement ofeveryone else. Poor Devil! Belisarius begging an obolus was nothingto this. Surely the Lord himself might take pity on his old rival, andassist him out of this miserable plight. 

Old Nick is now used to frighten children with, and by-and-bye he maybe employed like the old garden-god to frighten away the crows. Even hisscriptural reputation cannot save him from such a fate, for the Bibleitself is falling into disbelief and contempt, and his adventures fromGenesis to Revelation are become a subject of merriment. Talking to Mrs. Eve about apples in the form of a serpent; whispering in David's earthat a census would be a good thing, while Jehovah whispers a similarsuggestion on the other side; asking Jesus to turn pebbles into pennyloaves, lugging him through the air, perching him on a pinnacle, settinghim on the top of a mountain whence both squinted round the globe, andplaying for forty days and nights that preposterous pantomime of thetemptation in the desert; getting miraculously multiplied, bewilderinga herd of swine, and driving them into a watery grave; letting seven ofhimself occupy one lady called Magdalen, and others inhabit the bodiesof lunatics; going about like a roaring lion, and then appearing inthe new part of a dragon who lashes the stars with his tail; allthese metamorphoses are ineffably ludicrous, and calculated to exciteinextinguishable laughter. His one serious appearance in the history ofJob is overwhelmed by this multitude of comic situations. 

Poor Old Nick is on his last legs and cannot last much longer. May hisend be peace! That is the least we can wish him. And when he is dead, let us hope he will receive a decent burial. Those to whom he has beenthe best friend should follow him to the grave. His obsequies, in thatcase, would be graced by the presence of all the clergy, and the BurialService might be read by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Fancy them, burying their dear departed brother the Devil, in the sure and certainhope of a glorious resurrection!

FIRE!!!

Do not be alarmed, dear reader; there is no need to rush out into thestreet, like poor old Lot flying from the doomed Cities of the Plain. Sit down and take it easy. Let your fire-insurance policy slumber inits nest. Lean back in your chair, stretch out your legs, and prepareto receive another dose of Free-thought physic--worth a guinea a bottle. So! Are you ready? Very well then, let us begin. 

What would man be without fire? Would he not be a perfect barbarian? Hisvery food, even the meat, would have to be eaten raw, and as knivesand forks would be unknown, it would have to be devoured with hands andteeth. We read that the Tartar horseman will put a beefsteak under hissaddle, and supple and cook it in a ten-mile ride; but we cannot allfollow his example, and many would think the game was not worth thecandle. But not only should we be obliged to eat our food uncooked;we should enjoy none of the blessings and comforts bestowed upon us byscience, which absolutely depends on fire. Nay, our houses would be toocold to shelter us in the winter, and we should be compelled to burrowin the ground. The whole human race would have to live in tropicalcountries; all the temperate regions would be deserted; and as it isin the temperate regions that civilisation reaches its highest and mostpermanent developments, the world would be reduced to a condition ofbarbarism if not of savagery. 

No wonder, then, that this mighty civiliser has figured so extensivelyin legend and mythology. "Next to the worship of the sun, " says MaxMüller, "there is probably no religious worship so widely diffused asthat of Fire. " At bottom, indeed, the two were nearly identical. Theflame of burning wood was felt to be akin to the rays of the sun, andits very upward motion seemed an aspiration to its source. Sun and firealike gave warmth, which meant life and joy; without them therereigned sterility and death. Do we not still speak of the _sunshine_of prosperity, and of basking in the _rays_ of fortune? Do we not stillspeak of the _fire_ of life, of inspiration, of love, of heroism? Andthus when the tide of our being is at the flood, we instinctively thinkof our father the Sun, in whom, far more than in invisible gods, we liveand move--for we are all his children. 

Like everything else in civilised existence, fire was a human discovery. But superstitious ages imagined that so precious a thing musthave descended from above. Accordingly the Greeks (to take but oneillustration) fabled that Prometheus stole Jove's fire from Heaven andgave it to mankind. And as the gods of early ages are not too friendlyto human beings, it was also fabled that Prometheus incurred the fierceanger of Jove, who fastened him to a rock on Mount Caucasus, wherehe was blistered by day and frozen by night, while Jove's vultureeverlastingly preyed upon his vitals. 

The sun himself, in oriental countries, shining down implacably in timesof prolonged drought, became a terrible demon, and as Baal or Moloch wasworshipped with cruel and bloody rites. The corruption of the bestis the worst; beneficence changes to malignity. Thus fire, which is asplendid servant, is an awful master. The very wild beasts dread it. Famishing lions and tigers will not approach the camp-fire to seizetheir prey. Men have something of the same instinctive apprehension. Howsoon the nerves are disturbed by the smell of anything burning in thehouse. Raise the cry of "Fire!" in a crowded building, and at oncethe old savage bursts through the veneer of civilisation. It ishelter-skelter, the Devil take the hindmost. The strong trample upon theweak. Men and women turn to devils. Even if the cry of "Fire!" be raisedin a church--where a believer might wish to die, and where he might feelhimself booked through to glory--there is just the same stampede. Peoplewho sit and listen complacently to the story of eternal roastings in aneverlasting hell, will fight like maniacs to escape a singeing. Ratherthan go to heaven in a chariot of fire they will plod for half a centuryin this miserable vale of tears. 

Man's dread of fire has been artfully seized upon by the priests. Allover the world these gentlemen are in the same line of business--tradingupon the credulous terrors of the multitude. They fill Hell with fire, because it frightens men easily, and the fuel costs nothing. If theyhad to find the fuel themselves Hell would be cold in twenty-four hours. "Flee from the wrath to come, " they exclaim. "What is it?" ask thepeople. "Consuming fire, " the priests exclaim, "nay, not consuming; youwill burn in it without dying, without losing a particle of flesh, forever and ever. " Then the people want to get saved, and the priests issueinsurance policies, which are rendered void by change of opinion orfailure to pay the premium. 

Buddhist pictures of hell teach the eye the same lesson that is taughtthe ear by Christian sermons. There are the poor damned wretches rollingin the fire; there are the devils shovelling in fuel, and other devilswith long toasting-forks thrusting back the victims that shove theirnoses out of the flames. 

Wherever the priests retain their old power over the people's minds theystill preach a hell of literal fire, and deliver twenty sermons on Hadesto one on Paradise. Hell, in fact, is always as hot as the people willstand it. The priests reduce the temperature with natural reluctance. Every degree lost is a sinking of their power and profit. 

Even in England--the land of Shakespeare and Shelley, Newton and Darwin, Mill and Spencer--the cry of "Fire!" is still raised in thousands ofpulpits. Catholics bate no jot of their fiery damnation; Church ofEngland clergymen hold forth on brimstone--with now and then a dash oftreacle--in the rural districts and small towns; it is not longsince the Wesleyans turned out a minister who was not cocksure abouteverlasting torment; Mr. Spurgeon preaches hell (hot, without sugar) inmercy to perishing souls; and General Booth, who caters for the silliestand most ignorant Christians, works hell into his trade-mark. 

"Blood and Fire" is a splendid summary of the orthodox faith. All whowould be saved must be washed in the Blood of the Lamb--a disgustingablution! All who are not saved fall into the Fire. A blood-bath or asulphur-bath is the only alternative. 

Happily, however, the people are becoming more civilised and morehumane. Science and popular education are working wonders. Reason, self-reliance, and sympathy are rapidly developing. The old primitiveterrors are losing their hold upon us, and the callous dogmas of savagereligion are growing impossible. Priests cannot frighten men who possessa high sense of human dignity; and the doctrine of an angry God, whowill burn his own children in hell, is loathsome to those who will fightthe flames and smoke of a burning house to save the life of an unknownfellow creature. 

How amusing, in these circumstances, are the wrigglings of the"advanced" Christians. Archdeacon Farrar, for instance, in despite ofcommon sense and etymology, contends that "everlasting" fire only means"eternal" fire. What a comfort the distinction would be to a man inHell! Away with such temporising! Let the ghastly old dogma be defied. Sensible people should simply laugh at the priests who still raise thecry of "Fire!"

SKY PILOTS. 

The authorship of the designation "sky pilot" is as unknown as that ofthe four gospels. Yet its origin is recent. It has only been in use fora few years, say ten, or at the outside twenty. Nobody knows, however, who was the first man from whose lips it fell. Probably he was anAmerican, but his name and address are not ascertained. Surely thisfact, which has thousands if not millions of parallels, should abate theimpudence of religionists who ask "Who made the world?" when they do notknow who made nine-tenths of the well-known things it contains. 

Whatever its origin, the designation is a happy one. It fits like aglove, Repeat it to the first man you meet, and though he never heard itbefore, he will knew that you mean a minister. For this very reason itmakes the men of God angry. They feel insulted, and let you see it. Theyaccuse you of calling them names, and if you smile too sarcasticallythey will indulge in some well-selected Bible language themselves. 

There are some trades that will not bear honest designations, and theminister's is one of them. Call him what you please, except what he is, and he is not disquieted. But call him "sky-pilot" and he starts up likeMacbeth at the ghost of Banquo, exclaiming "Come in any other form butthat!"

Go down to the seaside and look at one of those bluff, weather-beaten, honest fellows, who know all the rocks and shoals, and tides andchannels, for miles around. Call one of them a "pilot, " and he will notbe offended. The term is legitimate. It exactly denotes his business. He is rather proud of it. His calling is honorable and useful. He pilotsships through uncertain and dangerous waters to their destination. He does his work, takes his pay, and feels satisfied; and if you cry"pilot!" he answers merrily with a "what cheer?"

But "sky" in front of "pilot" makes all the difference. It makes the manof God feel like having a cold shower bath; then the reaction sets inand he grows hot--sometimes as hot as H---- well, Hades. 

 We are not going to swear if the parson does, But after all, he _is_ a "pilot" and a "sky" pilot. He undertakes to pilot people to Heaven. 

Let him board your ship and take the helm, and he will guide you overthe Black Sea of Death to Port Felicity that, at least, is what he saysin his trade circular, though it turns out very differently in practice, as we shall see presently. 

Let us first notice a great difference between the sea pilot and thesky pilot. The honest salt boards the ship, and takes her out to sea, orbrings her into port. When the work is over he presents his bill, orit is done for him. He does not ask for payment in advance. He neithertakes nor gives credit. But the sky pilot does take credit and hegives none. He is always paid beforehand. Every year he expects agood retaining fee in the shape of a stipend or a benefice, or a goodpercentage of the pew rents and collections. But when his services arereally wanted he leaves you in the lurch. You do not need a pilot toHeaven until you come to die. Then your voyage begins in real earnest. But the sky-pilot does not go with you. Oh dear no! That is no part of_his_ bargain. "Ah my friend, " he says, "I must leave you now. You mustdo the rest for yourself. I have coached you for years in celestialnavigation; if you remember my lessons you will have a prosperousvoyage. Good day, dear friend. I'm going to see another customer. But weshall meet again. "

Now this is not a fair contract. It is really obtaining money underfalse pretences. The sky pilot has never been to Heaven himself. He doesnot know the way. Anyhow, there are hundreds of different routes, andthey cannot all lead to the same place. Certainly they all start fromthis world, but that is all they have in common, and where they end isa puzzle. To pay money in such circumstances is foolish and anencouragement to fraud. The best way to pay for goods is on delivery; inthe same way the sky pilot should be paid at the finish. 

But how is that to be done? Well, easily. All you have to do is toaddress the sky pilot in this fashion--"Dearly beloved pilot to the landof bliss! let our contract be fair and mutual. Give me credit as I giveyou credit. Don't ask for cash on account. I'll pay at the finish. Yourdirections may be sound; they ought to be, for you are very dogmatic. Still, there is room for doubt, and I don't want to be diddled. You tellme to follow your rules of celestial navigation. Well, I will. You saywe shall meet at Port Felicity. Well, I hope so; and when we do meetI'll square up. "

Of course, it may be objected that this would starve the sky pilots. Butwhy should it do anything of the kind? Have _they_ no faith! Must allthe faith be on _our_ side? Should they not practise a little of whatthey preach? God tells them to _pray_ for their daily bread, and nodoubt he would add some cheese and butter. All they have to do is to_ask_ for it. "Ask and ye shall receive, " says the text, and it has manyconfirmations. For forty years the Jews were among the unemployed, andJehovah sent them food daily. "He rained down bread from heaven. " Theprophet Elijah, also, lived in the wilderness on the sandwiches God senthim--bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the evening. There was likewise the widow's cruse of oil and barrel of flour, whichsupported her and the man of God day by day without diminishing. Thesethings actually happened. They are as true as the Bible. And they mayhappen again. At any rate they _should_ happen. The sky-pilots shouldsubsist on the fruits of prayer. Let them live by faith--not _our_faith, but _their_ own. This will prove their sincerity, and giveus some trust in their teaching. And if they _should_ starve in theexperiment--well, it is worth making, and they will fall martyrs totruth and human happiness. _One_ batch of martyrs will suffice. Therewill be no need of what Gibbon calls "an annual consumption. "

The men of God pilot _us_ to Heaven, but they are very loth to go therethemselves. Heaven is their "home, " but they prefer exile, even in thismiserable vale of tears. When they fall ill, they do not welcome it asa call from the Father. They do not sing "Nearer my God to thee. " We donot find them going about saying "I shall be home shortly. " Oh no! Theyindulge freely in self-pity. Like a limpet to a rock do they cling tothis wretched, sinful world. Congregations are asked if they cannot "dosomething, " a subscription is got up, and the man of God rushes offto the seaside, where prayer, in co-operation with oxygen and ozone, restore him to health, enable him to dodge "going home, " and qualify himfor another term of penal servitude on earth. 

It appears to us that sky pilots, like other men, should be judgedby their practice. If they show no belief in what they preach, we arefoolish to believe in it any more than they do. It also appears to usthat their profession is as fraudulent as fortune-telling. Many a poorold woman has been imprisoned for taking sixpence from a servant girl, after promising her a tall, dark husband and eight fine children; butmen dressed in black coats and white chokers are allowed to take moneyfor promises of good fortune in the "beautiful land above. " It furtherappears to us that the sky pilots should be compelled to come to areasonable agreement before their trade is licensed. They should settle_where Heaven_ is before they begin business. Better still, perhaps, every applicant for a license should prove that _some_ human soul _hasbeen_ piloted to Heaven. Until that is done, the profession is onlyrobbery and imposture. 

DEVIL DODGERS. 

Most people suppose this phrase to be a recent Americanism. It occurs, however, in the Memoirs of James Lackington, published in 1791. Speakingof certain ranting preachers, he says--"These _devil-dodgers_ happenedto be so very powerful that they soon sent John home, crying out, thathe should be damned. "

Admitting the age of the phrase, some will ask, Is it respectable? Well, that is a matter of taste. Is there any standard of respectability? Doesit not vary with time, place, and circumstance? Some people hate wearinggloves, while other people feel half naked without them. A box hat isa great sign of respectability; when a vestryman wears one he overawesphilosophers; yet some men would as soon wear the helmet of Don Quixote. Flannel suits are quite shocking in town; at the seaside they are theheight of fashion. And as it is with dress so it is with speech. The"respectable" classes are apt to rob language of its savor, clipping andtrimming it like the trees in a Dutch garden. You must go to thecommon, unrespectable classes for racy vigor of tongue. They avoidcircumlocutions, eschew diffuseness, go straight to the point, andprefer concrete to abstract expressions. They don't speak of a foolishman, they call him a fool; a cowardly talebearer they call a sneak; andso on to the end of the chapter. But is this really vulgar? Open yourShakespeare, or any other dramatic poet, and you will find it is not so. A look, a gesture, is more expressive than words; and concrete languagecarries more weight than the biggest abstractions. 

Let us break up the phrase, and see where the "vulgarity" comesin. There is nothing vulgar about the Devil. He is reputed to be ahighly-accomplished gentleman. Milton, Goethe, and Byron have even felthis grandeur. And is not "dodger" clear as well as expressive? Daviddodged Saul's javelin. That was smart and proper. Afterwards heattempted a dodge on Uriah. That was mean and dirty. So that "dodge" maybe good, bad, or indifferent, like "man" or "woman. " There is nothingobjectionable about it _per se_. And if "devil" and "dodger" arerespectable in their single state, how do they become vulgar when theyare married?

Of course it is quite natural for the clergy and their thorough-paceddupes to cry out against plain language. The clerical trade is foundedon mystery, and "behind every mystery there is a cheat. " Calling thingsby their right names will always be ugly to impostors. 

"Reverend" sounds so much nicer than "mystery-man, " "priest" ismore dignified than "fortuneteller, " "clergyman" is pleasanter than"sky-pilot, " and "minister" is more soothing than "devil-dodger. " Butplain speech is always wholesome if you keep within the bounds of truth. It does us good to see ourselves occasionally as others see us. And ifthis article should fall under the eyes of a Christian man of God, webeg him to keep his temper and read on to the end. 

We tell the men of God, of every denomination, that they are DevilDodgers, and when they cease to be that their occupation is going. OldNick, in some form or other, is the basis of every kind of Christianity. Indeed, the dread of evil, the terror of calamity, is at the bottom ofall religion; while the science which gives us foresight and power, andenables us to protect ourselves and promote our comfort, is religion'sdeadliest enemy. Science wars against evil practically; religion warsagainst it theoretically. Science sees the material causes that are atwork, and counteracts them; religion is too lazy and conceited to studythe causes, it takes the evil in a lump, personifies it, and christensit "the Devil. " Thus it keeps men off the real path of deliverance, and teaches them to fear the Bogie-Man, who is simply a phantom ofsuperstition, and always vanishes at the first forward step of courage. 

What is the Christian scheme in a nutshell? God made man perfect--thoughsome people, after reading the life of Adam, say that God made hima perfect fool. This perfect man was tackled by the Devil, a sort ofspiritual Pasteur, who inoculated him with sin, which was transmittedto his posterity as _original_ sin. God desires man's welfare, but theDevil is too strong tor Omnipotence. Jesus Christ steps in with the HolyGhost and saves a few men and women, but the Devil bags all the rest, and Hell is thronged while Heaven is half empty; the one place havingthree families on every flat, the other having leagues of spaciousmansions "to let. "

Now in every generation the Devil is after us. Without schools, orchurches, or armies of professional helpers, or even so much as anoccasional collection, he carries on single-handed a most successfulbusiness. The clergy tell us, as the Bible tells them, that he ismonstrously able, active and enterprising; never overlooking a singlecustomer, and delivering damnation at the door, and even carrying itupstairs, without charging for carriage or waiting for his bill. Allthat sort of thing he leaves to the opposition firm, whose agents areclamorous for payment, and contrive to accumulate immense sums of thefilthy lucre which they affect to despise. 

This accommodating fiend is the _bête noir_ of the clergy. They arealways on his track, or rather he is on theirs. They help us to dodgehim, to get out of his way, to be from home when he calls, to escape hismeshes, to frustrate his wiles, to save our souls alive--O. "Here youare, " they say, "he's coming down the street. We are just running anescape party. If you want to keep out of Hell, come and join us. Don'task questions. There's no time for that. Hurry up, or you'll be leftbehind. " And when the party turns the corner the clergy say, "Ah, thatwas a narrow escape. Some of you had a very close shave. " And the nextmorning a collector calls for a subscription for the gentleman who savedyou from the Devil. 

Nearly fifty thousand gentlemen are engaged in this line of business, to say nothing of the Salvation Army. Fifty thousand Devil Dodgers! Andthis in England alone. If we include Europe, America, South Africa, andAustralia, there are hundreds of thousands of them, maintained at theexpense of probably a hundred millions a year. Yet the Devil is notoutwitted. Mr. Spurgeon says he is as successful as ever; and, to useMr. Stead's expression, Spurgeon has "tips from God. "

By their own confession, therefore, the Devil Dodgers are perfectlyuseless. They take our money, but they do little else. Honesty wouldmake them disband. But they will never do that. They will have to becashiered, or starved out by cutting off the supplies. The real truthis, they never _were_ useful. They were always parasites. They gainedtheir livings by false pretences. They dodged an imaginary enemy. TheDevil is played out in educated circles. Presently he will be laughed atby everybody. Then the people will dismiss the priests, and there willbe and end of Devil Dodgers. 

FIGHTING SPOOKS. 

"Spooks" means ghosts, sprites, goblins, and other such phantasms. Theword is not yet endenizened in England, but it will probably takeout letters of naturalisation here, settle down, and become a veryrespectable member of the English vocabulary. 

Twelve months ago I met an American in London, who told me that he was aFreethinker, but he did not trouble himself about Freethought. His mindwas made up on the supernatural, and he did not care to spend histime in "fighting spooks. " That is, being emancipated himself fromsuperstition, he was indifferent about the matter, although millions ofhis fellow men were still in bondage. 

This American gentleman's remark shows how people can be misled byphrases. "Fighting spooks" is a pretty locution, and every Freethinkerwould admit that fighting spooks is a most unprofitable business. But, in reality, it is not the aggressive Secularist or Atheist who fightsthese imaginary beings. He fights those who do fight them--which is avery different thing. 

Let the priests and preachers of all religions and denominations ceaseabusing the callow mind of childhood; let them refrain from teachingtheir fanciful conjectures about "the unseen"; let them desist froma peopling the air with the wild creations of their ownlawless imagination; let them tell no more than they know, and confinetheir tongues within the strict limits of honest speech; let them dothis, and Free-thought will be happy to expire in the blaze of itstriumph. There is no joy in fighting superstition, any more than thereis joy in attacking disease. Each labor is beneficent and is attended bya _relative_ satisfaction; but health is better than the best doctoring, and mental sanity than the subtlest cure. 

The clergy are the fighters of spooks. They babble of gods, who getangry with us; of devils, who must be guarded against; of angels, whofly from heaven to earth, and earth to heaven; of saints, who can do usa good turn if they are properly supplicated. But the chief spooks areof course the devils, headed by _the_ Devil, Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Abaddon, the Serpent--in short, Old Nick. "We have an army of redcoats, " said old Fox, "to fight the French; and an army of black coatsto fight the Devil--of whom he standeth not in awe. "

Before the great procession of Humanity go the priests. "Hush!" theycry, "the hedges are full of devils. Softly, gently, beloved! Do notrush into unspeakable danger. We will bear the brunt of it, out of ourfatherly affection for you. See, we stand in front, on the perilous edgeof battle. We dare the demons who lie in wait to catch your immortalsouls. We beat the bushes, and dislodge them from their hiding-places;strong not in our own strength, but in the grace of God. And behold theyfly! Did you not see them? Did you not perceive the flutter of theirblack wings? Did you not smell their sulphurous taint? Beloved, theroad is now clear, the hedges are safe. Forward then! But forget notour loyal services. Remember, beloved, that the laborer is worthy of hishire, and--shell out!"

The services of the black-coats are imaginary, and their payment shouldbe of the same description. Let them live on _their own_ faith, andtrust to him who fed Elijah in the desert with sandwiches brought byravens' beaks. 

Clearly the belief in spooks is profitable to the clergy. Just asclearly it is expensive to the people. Whistling between the hedges isas good as keeping a parson. But that is not the priest's teaching. Hesays the spooks are real, and he is the only person to keep them off. Grant the first point, and the second is sure to follow. But _are_ thespooks real? Can the clergy show a single live specimen? They cannot, and they know they cannot, either for love or money. Why then doesthe business hold out? Because an imaginary spook is as good as a realspook, if the clergy can twist and prejudice the youthful mind in theirdirection. If a showman never lifts the curtain, it does not matterwhether he has anything or nothing on the other side. 

The belief in spooks is more than profitable to the priests. Itenervates and paralyses the human mind. It is the parent of all sorts ofmischief. It is our worst inheritance from our savage progenitors. Theblack spirits that haunted the swamps and forests of primeval ages, andterrified the ape-man who lived in mystery and fear, are not suffered todepart with the ignorance that gave them birth. They are cultivated bypriests, and used to overawe the cradles and schools of civilisation. 

The Freethinker does not fight spooks. He would not waste an ounceof powder upon them. He fights the fighters of spooks. He assails thesuperstition on which they flourish. He seeks to free the human mindfrom gratuitous fears. He dispels the shadows and deepens the sunshineof life. 

Surely this is a good work. Whoever takes part in it is giving the racean unmixed blessing. War with the army of enslavement! Down with theseducers of childhood--the spiritual profligates who debauch the youthfulmind! Banish them, with their spooks, from the school, the college, thecourt of justice, the hall of legislation! Let us train generations ofsound minds in sound bodies, full of rich blood, and nervous energy, andfrank inquiry, and dauntless courage, and starry hope; with faces thatnever pale at truth, hearts that hold no terms with falsehood, kneesthat never bend before power or mystery, heads that always keep a manlypoise, and eyes that boldly challenge all things from height to depth. 

DAMNED SINNERS. 

 "Thou shalt be brought unto the blood of sprinkling, as an undone helpless, damned sinner. " --John Wesley, Sermon on "Justification by Faith. "

Polite ears, which are often the longest, will be shocked at the titleof this article. This is an age in which it is accounted vulgar toexpress plain doctrines in plain language. Spurgeon was the last doctorof a good old school. Their theology was hateful: an insult to man anda blasphemy against God--if such a being exists; but they did not beatabout the bush, and if they thought you were booked for hell, as wasmost likely, they took care to let you know it. They called a spadea spade, not a common implement of agricultural industry. They weresteeped in Bible English, and did not scruple to use its strikingsubstantives and adjectives. When they pronounced "hell" they aspiratedthe "h" and gave the full weight of the two "l's. " "Damn" and"damnation" shot from their mouths full and round, like a cannon ballsped with a full blast of gunpowder. 

But, alas, how are the mighty fallen! No longer do the men of Godindulge in thunderous Saxon. They latinise their sermons and diminishthe effect of terrible teaching. You shall hear them designate"hell" with twenty roundabout euphemisms, and spin "damnation" into"condemnation" and "damned" into "condemned, " until it has not forceenough to frighten a cat off a garden wall. 

Let us not be blamed, however, if we emulate the plain speech of thehonest old theologians, and of the English Bible which is still used inour public schools. We despise the hypocritical cry of "vulgar!" Weare going to write, not on "condemned transgressors, " but on "damnedsinners. " Yes, DAMNED SINNERS. 

Now, beloved reader, it behoves us to define and distinguish, as well asamplify and expatiate. We must therefore separate the "damned" from the"sinners. " Not indeed in fact, for they are inseparable, being in truthone and the same thing; for the adjective is the substantive, andthe substantive is the adjective, and the "damned" are "sinners" and"sinners" are the "damned. " The separation is merely _mental_, forreasons of _convenience_; just as we separate the inseparable, lengthfrom breadth, in our definition of a line. This is necessary toclear and coherent thought; man's mind being finite, and incapable ofoperating in all directions at once. 

What then are _sinners_? A simple question, but not so easy to answer. _All_ men are _sinners_. But what is a _man_? A featherless biped? Sowas the plucked fowl of Diogenes. A man is--well a man; and a sinneris--well a sinner. And this is near enough for most people. But it doesnot satisfy a rational investigator, to say nothing of your born critic, who will go on splitting hairs till his head is as bare as a plate, andthen borrow materials from his neighbor's cranium. 

In ancient Egypt it was a sin to kill a cat; in England cats are slainin myriads without a tremor of compunction. Among the Jews it is a sinto eat pork, but an English humorist writes you a delicious essay onRoast Pig. Bigamy is a sin in the whole of Europe but the south-easterncorner, and there it is a virtue, sanctioned by the laws of religion. Marrying your deceased wife's sister is a sin in England; four thousandyears ago, in another part of the world, it was no sin at all; in fact, a gentleman of remarkable piety, whom God is said to have loved, marriedhis wife's sister without waiting for a funeral. Did not Jacob takeRachel and Leah together, and walk out with them, one on each arm?

Sin as a _fact_ changes with time and place. Sin as an _idea_ isdisobedience to the law of God; that is, to the doctrines of religion;that is, to the teaching of priests. _Crime_ is quite another thing. Itis far less heinous, and far more easily forgiven. Of course crime andsin may overlap; they may often be the same thing practically; but thisis an accident, for there are crimes that are no sins, and sins that areno crimes. It is a crime, but not a sin, to torture a heretic; it is asin, but not a crime, to eat meat on a Friday. 

A sinner is a person on bad terms with his God. But who, it may beasked, is on good terms with him? No one. According to Christianity, atany rate, we have all sinned; nay, we are all full of original sin; wederived it from our parents, who derived it from Adam, who caught itfrom Old Nick, who picked it up God knows where. Now every sinner isa damned sinner. He may not know it, but he is so; and the great JohnWesley advises him to recognise it, and come as a "damned sinner" toGod, to be sprinkled or washed with the blood of Christ. 

What is _damned_ then? We take it that "damned sinners, " that is _all_sinners, are persons to whom God says "Damn you!" To whom does he sayit? To all sinners; that is, to all men. And why does he say it? Becausehe is wroth with them. And why is he wroth with them? Because they aresinners. And why are they sinners? Because they are men. And why arethey men? Because they cannot help it. They were born in sin and shapenin iniquity, and in sin did their mothers conceive them. 

Every Christian admits this--theoretically. He goes to church andconfesses himself a "miserable sinner, " but if you called him so as hecame out of church he would call you something stronger. 

A sinner may be damned here, apparently, without being damned hereafter. He is liable to hell until he dies, but after that event he is sometimesreprieved and sent to heaven. But the vast majority of the human racehave no share in the atoning blood of Christ. They were "damned sinners"_in posse_ before they were born, they are "damned sinners" _in esse_while they live, and they will be "damned sinners" for ever when theyleap from this life into eternity, and join the immortal fry Of almosteverybody born to die. 

This is a very comfortable doctrine for the narrow, conceited, selfishelect. For other people--all the rest of us--it is calculated to provokeunparliamentary language. Why should God "damn" men? And how can men be"sinners"? Certainly they can sin against each other, because they caninjure each other. But how can they sin against God? Can they injurehim? He is unchangeable. Can they rob him? He is infinite. Can theydeceive him? He is omniscient. 

Can they limit his happiness? He is omnipotent. No, they _cannot_ sinagainst him, but he _can_ sin against them. And if he exists he _has_sinned against every one of them. Not one human being has ever been asstrong, healthy, wise, noble, and happy as God might have made him. Noris man indebted to God for his creation. There cannot be a debt wherethere is no contract. It is the creator and not the creature who isresponsible, and the theological doctrine of responsibility is the truthturned upside down. 

Suppose a man had the power of creating another thinking and feelingbeing. Suppose he could endow him with any qualities he chose. Supposehe created him sickly, foolish, and vicious. Would he not be responsiblefor the curse of that being's existence?

Man is what he is because he is. He is practically without choice. Thecards are dealt out to him, and he must take them as they come. Is itjust to damn him for holding a bad hand? Is it honest to give him hellfor not winning the game?

Let us use for a moment the cant language of theology. Let us imaginethe _vilest_ of "damned sinners" in Gehenna. Does not every scientist, and every philosopher, know that the orb of his fate was predetermined?Would not that "lost soul" have the right to curse his maker? Might henot justly exclaim "I am holier than thou"?

Do not imagine, reader, that this new reading of the book of fate has nopractical significance. When we get rid of the idea of "damned sinners, "when we abolish the idea of "sin" altogether and its correlative"punishment, " and learn to regard man as a complicated effect in auniverse of causation, we shall bring wisdom and humanity into ourtreatment of the "criminal classes, " we shall look upon them as morallunatics and deal with them accordingly. And this spirit will extenditself to all human relations. It will make us less impatient and angrywith each other. We shall see that "to know all is to pardon all. "Thus will the overthrow of theology be the preparation for a new moraldevelopment. Another link of the old serpent of superstition willbe uncoiled from the life of humanity, leaving it freer to learn thesplendid truth, taught by that divine man Socrates, that wisdom andvirtue are one and indivisible. 

WHERE IS HELL?

This is a question of great importance, or at least of very greatinterest. According to the Christian scheme of salvation, the vastmajority of us will have to spend eternity in "sulphurous and tormentingflames, " and we are naturally curious as to the situation of a place inwhich we shall experience such delightful sensations. 

But there is hardly any subject on which we can obtain so littleinformation. The clergy are becoming more and more reticent about it. What little they ever knew is being secreted in the depths of theirinner consciousness. When they are pressed for particulars they lookinjured. Sometimes they piteously exclaim "Don't. " At other times theywax wroth, and exclaim to the questioners about the situation of hell, "Wait till you get there. "

Just as heaven used to be spoken of as "up above, " hell was referred toas "down below. " At one time, indeed, it was believed to be underground. Many dark caves were thought to lead to it, and some of them were called"Hell Mouth. " Volcanoes were regarded as entrances to the fiery regions, and when there was an eruption it was thought that hell was boilingover. Classic mythology, before the time of Christ, had its entrances tohell at Acherusia, in Bithynia; at Avernus, in Campania, where Ulyssesbegan his journey to the grisly abodes; the Sibyl's cave at Cumæ, in Argolis; at Tænarus, in the southern Peloponnesus, where Herculesdescended, and dragged Cerberus up to the daylight; and the cave ofTrophonius, in Lebadea, not to mention a dozen less noted places. 

The Bible always speaks of hell as "down, " and the Apostles' Creed tellsus that Christ "descended" into hell. Exercising his imagination on thisbasis, the learned Faber discovered that after the Second Advent thesaints would dwell on the crust of the earth, a thousand miles thick, and the damned in a sea of liquid fire inside. Thus the saints wouldtread over the heads of sinners, and flowers would bloom over the lakeof damnation. 

Sir John Maundeville, a most engaging old liar, says he found a descentinto hell "in a perilous vale" in Abyssinia. According to the Celticlegend of "St. Brandon's Voyage, " hell was not "down below, " but inthe moon, where the saint found Judas Iscariot suffering incredibletortures, but let off every Sunday to enjoy himself and prepare for afresh week's agony. That master of bathos, Martin Tupper, finds thisidea very suitable. He apostrophises the moon as "the wakeful eye ofhell. " Bailey, the author of _Festus_, is somewhat vaguer. Hell, he says, is in a world which rolls thief-like round the universe, imperceptible to human eyes:

 A blind world, yet unlit by God, Boiling around the extremest edge of light, Where all things are disaster and decay. 

Imaginations, of course, will differ. While Martin Tupper and othergentlemen look for hell in the direction of the moon, the Platonists, according to Macrobus, reckoned as the infernal regions the whole spacebetween the moon and the earth. Whiston thought the comet which appearedin his day was hell. An English clergyman, referred to by Alger, maintained that hell was in the sun, whose spots were gatherings of thedamned. 

The reader may take his choice, and it is a liberal one. He may regardhell as under the earth, or in the moon, or in the sun, or in a comet, or in some concealed body careering through infinite space. And if thechoice does not satisfy him, he is perfectly free to set up a theory ofhis own. 

Father Pinamonti is the author of a little book called _Hell Open toChristians_, which is stamped with the authority of the Catholic Church, and issued for the special edification of children. This book declaresthat hell is four thousand miles distant, but it does not indicatethe direction. Anyhow, the distance is so small that the priests mighteasily set up communication with the place. But perhaps it only existsin the geography or astronomy of faith. 

Father Pinamonti seems particularly well informed on this subject. Hesays the walls of hell are "more than four thousand miles thick. " Thatis a great thickness. But is it quite as thick as the heads of the foolswho believe it?

Our belief is that hell is far nearer than the clergy teach. OmarKhayyam, the grand old Persian poet, the "large infidel, " as Tennysoncalls him, wrote as follows--in the splendid rendering of EdwardFitzgerald:--

I sent my soul through the invisible, Some letter of that after-life tospell, And by and bye my soul returned to me, And answered, I myself amheaven and hell. 

Hell, like heaven, is within us, and about us in the hearts of ourfellow-men. Yes, hell is on earth. Man's ignorance, superstition, stupidity, and selfishness, make a hell for him in this life. Let uscease, then, to dread the fabled hell of the priests, and set ourselvesto the task of abolishing the real hell of hunger, vice, and misery. 

The very Churches are getting ashamed of their theological hell. Theyare becoming more and more secularised. They call on the disciples ofChrist to remedy the evils of this life, and respond to the cry of thepoor for a better share of the happiness of this world. Their methodsare generally childish, for they overlook the causes of social evil, butit is gratifying to see them drifting from the old moorings, and littleby little abandoning the old dogmas. Some of the clergy, like ArchdeaconFarrar, go to the length of saying that "hell is not a place. " Preciselyso, and that is the teaching of Secularism. 

SPURGEON AND HELL. 

Charles Lamb was one of the best men that ever lived. He had hisfailings, but he never harmed anyone but himself. He was capable ofastonishing generosity, and those acquainted with the inner tragedyof his life know that it was a long act of self-denial. He was alsoextremely modest but not utterly devoid of indignation; and if he couldnot denounce bitterly, he could speed a shaft of satire into the breastof wickedness or cruelty. On one occasion, in the days of his youth, he was justly annoyed by his friend Coleridge, whose character wasvery inferior to his own, though he always assumed a tone of moralsuperiority. Lamb was so galled by Coleridge's air of virtue and piety, at a moment when the humorist was suffering terribly in consequence ofhis sister's calamity, that he sent the transcendental poet a list ofstinging questions. One of them asked whether one of the seraphim couldfall, and another whether a man might not be damned without knowing it. 

This last question suggests itself in the case of Mr. Spurgeon. Mrs. Spurgeon, Dr. Pierson, and other of the great preacher's friends, areall assuring us that he is in glory. Writing seven days after his death, Mrs. Spurgeon said "he has now been a week in heaven. " It is naturalthat she should think so, and we do not wish to rob her of anyconsolation, nor do we suppose that this article will ever come underher notice. But is it not just possible that Spurgeon has gone to hell?And why should not the question be raised? We mean no personal offence;we speak in the interest of justice and truth. Spurgeon was very glib inpreaching about hell, and we do not know that he had a monopoly of thatspecial line of business. He never blenched at the idea of millionsof human beings writhing in everlasting torment; and why should itbe blasphemy, or even incivility, to wonder if he himself has gone toperdition?

Predestination, as the Church of England article says, is wonderfullycomforting to the elect; that is, to those who imagine themselves to beso. But what if they are mistaken? What if a man, yea a fancied saint, may be damned without knowing it? God Almighty has not published listsof the Sect. Many a Calvinistic Pharisee is perhaps a self-elected saintafter all, and at the finish of his journey may find that he has beenwalking in the wrong direction. 

One of Spurgeon's rooted notions was that unbelievers were _sure_ ofhell. They bore the mark of predestinate damnation broad upon theirfore-heads. Now at the bottom this means that a man may be damnedfor believing wrongly. But how can anyone be sure that Spurgeon wasabsolutely right? The Baptists are only one division of Christians. There are scores of other divisions. All cannot be right, and all may bewrong. Even if one is entirely right, how do we know it is the Baptists?According to the law of probabilities, Spurgeon was very likely in thewrong; and if wrong belief, however sincere, entails damnation, it isquite possible that at 11. 5 p. M. On Sunday, January 31, Spurgeon enteredHell instead of Heaven. *

 * The next article will explain this matter. 

Far be it from us to wish a fellow creature in Hell, but there is alwaysa certain pleasure in seeing the engineer hoist with his own petard. Alltragedy has a touch of comedy. Fancy Spurgeon in Hades groaning "I sentother people here by the million, and here I am myself. "

How would this be worse than the groan of any other lost soul? Fewmen are devils or angels. Most are neither black nor white, but grey. Between the best and vilest how much difference is there in the eye ofinfinite wisdom? And if God, the all-knowing and all-powerful, createdmen as they are, strong and weak, wise and foolish, good, bad, andindifferent; there is no more injustice in Spurgeon's burning in Hellthan in the damnation of the worst wretch that ever cursed the world. 

Spurgeon used to preach hell with a certain gusto. Here is a hot andstrong passage from his sermon on the Resurrection of the Dead:

"When thou diest', thy soul will be tormented alone; that will be a hellfor it; but at the day of judgment thy body will join thy soul, and thenthou wilt have twin-hells, thy soul sweating drops of blood, and thybody suffused with agony. In fire exactly like that which we have onearth thy body will lie, asbestos-like, for ever unconsumed, all thyveins roads for the feet of pain to travel on, every nerve a stringon which the Devil shall for ever play his diabolical tune of Hell'sUnutterable Lament. "

After preaching this awful doctrine a man should be ill for a fortnight. Would it not afflict a kind-hearted man unspeakably to think thatmillions of his fellow beings, or hundreds, or even one, would suffersuch a terrible fate? Would it not impair his sleep, and fill hisdreams with terror? But it did not have this effect on Spurgeon. Afterpreaching hell in that way, and rolling damnation over his tongue as adainty morsel, he went home, dined with a good appetite, drank his wine, and smoked his cigar. 

There was not the slightest doubt in Spurgeon's mind as to the endlessdoom of the damned. Here is an extract from another sermon--

"Thou wilt look up there on the throne of God and it shall be written, 'For ever!' When the damned jingle the burning irons of their tormentthey shall say, 'For ever!' When they howl, echo cries, 'For ever!'

 'For ever' is written on their racks, 'For ever' on their chains; 'For ever' burneth in the fire, 'For ever' ever reigns. "

How bodies are to burn without consuming, how a fire could lastfor ever, or how a good God could roast his own children in it, arequestions that Spurgeon did not stop to answer. He took the damnabledoctrine of damnation as he found it. He knew it was relished by myriadsof callous, foolish people; and it gave such a pungent flavor to along sermon! His listeners were not terrified. Oh dear no! Smith, theNewington greengrocer, was not alarmed; he twirled his thumbs, and saidto himself, "Spurgeon's in fine form this morning!"

Archdeacon Farrar protests against the notion of a fiery, everlastinghell as the result of fear, superstition, ignorance, hate, and slavishletter-worship. He declares that he would resign all hope of immortalityto save a single human soul from the hell of Mr. Spurgeon. But is notthe hell of Mr. Spurgeon the hell of the New Testament? Does not Jesusspeak of everlasting fire? Why seek to limit the duration of hellby some hocus-pocus of interpretation? It is idle to pretend that"everlasting" means something less than everlasting. If it means that inrelation to hell it must also mean it in relation to heaven. Dr. Farrarcannot have two different meanings for the same word in the same verse;and should he ever go to hell (he will pardon us the supposition), howmuch consolation would he derive from knowing that his doom wasnot "everlasting" but only "eternal"? There was more honesty andstraightforwardness in Mr. Spurgeon. He preached what the Bible taughthim. He set forth a hateful creed in its true colors. His presentationof Christianity will continue to satisfy those who belong to the past, but it will drive many others out of the fold of faith into the broadpastures of Freethought. 

IS SPURGEON IN HEAVEN?

When Mrs. Booth died, the wife of the famous "General, " the "Army"reported her as "Promoted to Glory from Clacton-on-Sea. " It wasextremely funny. Clacton-on-Sea is such a prosaic anti-climax afterGlory. One was reminded of Sir Horace Glendower:

Sprat. But the sense of humor is not acute in religious circles. 

Mr. Spurgeon frequently gave expression to his dislike and mistrust ofthe antics or the Salvation Army. He was far from prim himself, but heheld that if people were not "won over to Christ" by preaching, it wasidle to bait the hook with mere sensationalism. Yet by a strange ironyhis closest friends, in announcing his death to his flock, actuallyimproved on the extravagance of the Salvationists. Here is a copy of thetelegram that was affixed to the rails of the Metropolitan Tabernaclethe morning after his decease:

 Mentone, 11. 50. Spurgeon's Tabernacle, London. 

 Our beloved pastor entered heaven 11. 5 Sunday night. Harrald. 

This Harrald was Mr. Spurgeon's private secretary, but he writes likethe private secretary of God Almighty. A leading statesman once said hewished he was as cocksure of anything as Tom Macaulay was cocksure ofeverything; but what was Macaulay's cocksureness to the cocksureness ofHarrald? The gentleman could not have spoken with more assurance ifhe had been Saint Peter himself, and had opened the gate for PastorSpurgeon. 

We take it that Spurgeon expired at 11. 5 on Sunday night. That is the_fact_. All the rest is conjecture. 

How could his soul enter heaven at the very same moment? Is heaven inthe atmosphere? He who asserts it is a very bold speculator. Is it outin the ether? If so, where? And how is it our telescopes cannot detectit? If heaven is a place, as it must be if it exists at all, it cannotvery well be within the astronomical universe. Now the farthest starsare inconceivably remote. Our sun is more than 90, 000, 000 miles distant, and Sirius is more than 200, 000 times farther off than the sun. Thereare stars so distant that their light takes more than a thousandyears to reach us, and light travels at the rate of nearly two hundredthousands miles per second!

It is difficult to imagine Spurgeon's soul travelling faster than that;and if heaven is somewhere out in the vast void, beyond the sweep oftelescopes or the register of the camera, Spurgeon's soul has so far_not_ "entered heaven" that its journey thither is only just begun. Inanother thousand years, perhaps, it will be nearing the pearly gates. _Perhaps_, we say; for heaven may be a million times further off, andSpurgeon's soul may pull the bell and rouse Saint Peter long after theearth is a frozen ball, and not only the human race but all life hasdisappeared from its surface. Nay, by the time he arrives, the earth mayhave gone to pot, and the whole solar system may have vanished from themap of the universe. 

What a terrible journey! Is it worth travelling so far to enter theBible heaven, and sing hymns with the menagerie of the Apocalypse?Besides, a poor soul might lose its way, and dash about thebillion-billion-miled universe like a lunatic meteor. 

It appears to us, also, that Mr. Harrald and the rest of Mr. Spurgeon'sfriends have forgotten his own teaching. He thoroughly believed in thebodily resurrection of the dead, and an ultimate day of judgment, whenbodv and soul would join together, and share a common fate for eternity. How is this reconcileable with the notion that Spurgeon's soul "enteredheaven at 11. 5" on Sunday evening, the thirty-first of January, 1892? Isit credible that the good man went to the New Jerusalem, will stay therein perfect felicity until the day of judgment, and will then have toreturn to this world, rejoin his old bodv, and stand his trial at thegreat assize, with the possibility of having to shift his quartersafterwards? Would not this be extremely unjust, nay dreadfully cruel?And even if Spurgeon, as one of the "elect, " only left heaven forform's sake at the day of judgment, to go through the farce of apredetermined trial, would it not be a gratuitous worry to snatch himaway from unspeakable bliss to witness the trial of the human species, and the damnation of at least nine-tenths of all that ever breathed?

As a matter of fact, the Christian Church has never been able to makeup its mind about the state or position of the soul immediately afterdeath. Only a few weeks ago we saw that Sir G. G. Stokes, unconsciouslyfollowing in the wake of divines like Archbishop Whately, holds the viewthat the soul on leaving the body will lie in absolute unconsciousnessuntil the day when it has to wake up and stand in the dock. Thecontroversies on this subject are infinite, and all sorts of ideashave been maintained, but nothing has been authoritatively decided. Mr. Spurgeon's friends have simply _cut_ the Gordian knot; that is, they areonly dogmatising. 

Laying all such subtle disputes aside, we should like Mr. Harrald totell us how he knows that Spurgeon has gone, is going, or ever willgo to heaven. What certainty can they have in the matter? Saint Paulhimself alluded to the possibility of his being "a castaway. " How can aninferior apostle be _sure_ of the kingdom of heaven?

Saint Paul taught predestination, and so did Spurgeon. According tothis doctrine, God knew beforehand the exact number of human beingsthat would live on this planet, though Omniscience itself must have beentaxed to decide where the anthropoid exactly shaded off into the man. Healso knew the exact number of the elect who would go to heaven, andthe exact number of the reprobate who would go to hell. The tally wasdecided before the spirit of God brooded over the realm of Chaos and oldNight. Every child born into the world bears the stamp of his destiny. But the stamp is secret. No one can detect it. Lists of saved and damnedare not published. If they were, it would save us a lot of anxiety. Somewould say, "I'm all right. " Others would say, "I'm in for it; I'll keepcool while I can. " But we must all die before we ascertain our fate. We may feel confident of being in the right list, with the rest of thesheep; but confidence is not proof, and impressions are not facts. When we take the great leap we shall know. Until then no man has anycertitude; not even the most pious Christian that ever rolled his eyesin prayer to his Maker, or whined out the confession of his contemptiblesins. All are in the same perplexity, and Spurgeon was no exception tothe rule. 

When predestination was really believed, the friends of the greatestsaint only _hoped_ he had gone to heaven. When they are _sure_ of itpredestination is dead. Nay, hell itself is extinguished. Spurgeon'sfriends think he has gone to heaven because they feel he was too good togo to hell. They knew him personally, and it is hard to think that aman whose hand once lay in yours is howling in everlasting fire. Suchexceptions prove a new rule. They show that the human heart has outgrownthe horrible doctrine of future torment, that the human mind hasoutgrown foolish creeds, that man is better than his God. 

GOD IN JAPAN. 

Japan has just been visited by a terrible earthquake. Without a moment'swarning it swept along, wrecking towns, killing people, and altering thevery shape of mountains. A vast tidal wave also rushed against the coastand deluged whole tracts of low-lying country. It is estimated that50, 000 houses have been destroyed, and at least 5, 000 men, women, andchildren. The first reports gave a total of 25, 000 slain, but this issaid to be an exaggeration. Nevertheless, as a hundred miles or so ofrailway is torn to pieces, and it is difficult to convey relief tothe suffering survivors, the butcher's bill of this catastrophe may bedoubled before the finish. 

If earthquakes are the work of blind, unconscious Nature, it is idle tospend our breath in discussion or recrimination. Even regret is foolish. We have to take the world as we find it, with all its disadvantages, and make the best of a not too brilliant bargain. Instead of screamingwe must study; instead of wailing we must reflect; and eventually, as wegain a deeper knowledge of the secrets of Nature, and a greater masteryover her forces, we shall be better able to foresee the approach of eviland to take precautionary measures against it. 

But the standard teaching of England, to say nothing of less civilisednations, is not Naturalism but Theism. We are told that there is a Godover all, and that he doeth all things well. On the practical side thisdeity is called Providence. It is Providence that sends fine weather, and Providence that sends bad weather; Providence that sends floods, and Providence that sends drought; Providence that favors us with a fineharvest, and Providence that blights the crops, reducing millions ofpeople, as in Russia at this moment, to the most desperate shifts ofself-preservation. It is Providence that saves Smith's precious life ina railway accident, and of course it is. Providence that smashes poorJones, Brown and Robinson. 

Now it will be observed that the favorable or adverse policy ofProvidence is quite irrespective of human conduct, There is no moraldiscrimination. If Grace Darling and Jack the Ripper were travelling bythe same train, and it met with an accident, everybody knows that theirchances of death are precisely equal. If there were any difference itwould be in favor of Jack, who seems very careful of his own safety, andwould probably take a seat in the least dangerous part of the train. 

Some people, of course, and especially parsons, will contend thatProvidence does discriminate. They have already been heard to hint thatthe Russian famine is on account of the persecution of the Jews. Butthis act of brutality is the crime of the Government, and the faminefalls upon multitudes of peasants who never saw a Jew in their lives. They have to suffer the pangs of hunger, but the Czar will not gowithout a single meal or a single bottle of champagne. 

No doubt a pious idiot or two will go to the length of asserting orinsinuating that the earthquake in Japan is a divine warning to thepeople, from the Mikado down to his meanest subject, that they are tooslow in accepting Christianity. In fact there is a large collectionof such pious idiots, only they are deterred by a wholesome fear ofridicule. Hundreds of thousands of people have seen Mr. Wilson Barrettin _Claudian_, without being in the least astonished that an earthquake, which ruins a whole city, should be got up for the hero's spiritualedification. 

Let the pious idiots, however numerous, be swept aside, and let theChristian with a fair supply of brains in his skull consider Providencein the light of this earthquake. It is folly to pretend that theJapanese are particularly wicked at this moment. It is greater folly topretend that the earthquake killed the most flagitious sinners. It slewlike Jehovah's bandits in the land of Canaan, without regard to age, sex, or character. The terrible fact must be faced, that in a countrynot specially wicked, and in a portion of it not inhabited by selectsinners, the Lord sent an earthquake to slay man, woman, and child, andif possible to "leave alive nothing that breatheth. "

Lay your hand upon your heart, Christian, and honestly answer thisquestion. Would you have done this deed? Of course not. Your cheekflames at the thought. You would rush to save the victims. You wouldsoothe the dying and reverently bury the dead. Why then do you worship aMoloch who laughs at the writhings of his victims and drinks their tearslike wine? See, they are working and playing; they are at business andpleasure; one is toiling to support the loved ones at home; another issitting with them in peace and joy; another is wooing the maiden whois dearer to him than life itself; another is pondering some benevolentproject; another is planning a law or a poem that shall be a blessingand a delight to posterity. And lo the mandate of Moloch goes forth, and"his word shall not return unto him void. " Swifter than thought calamityfalls upon the gay and busy scene. Hearts that throbbed with joy nowquiver with agony. The husband folds his wife in a last embrace. Themother gathers her children like Niobe. The lover clasps in the midst ofhorror the maiden no longer coy. Homes are shaken to dust, halls fallin ruins, the very temples of the gods are shattered. Brains are dashedout, blood flows in streams, limbs are twisted, bodies are pinned byfalling masonry, cries of anguish pierce the air, groans follow, andlastly silence. Moloch then retires to his inmost sanctuary, filled andsated with death and pain. 

Is it not better, Christian friend, to defy Moloch instead ofworshipping him? Is it not still better to regard this deity as thecreation of fanciful ignorance? Is not existence a terror if Providencemay swoop upon us with inevitable talons and irresistible beak? And doesnot life become sweeter when we see no cruel intelligence behind thecatastrophes of nature?

STANLEY ON PROVIDENCE. 

Buckle, the historian of Civilisation, points out that superstition ismost rampant where men are most oppressed by external nature. Wild andterrible surroundings breed fear and awe in the human mind. Thosewho lead adventurous lives are subject to the same law. Sailors, forinstance, are proverbially superstitious, and military men are scarcelyless so. The fighter is not always moral, but he is nearly alwaysreligious. 

No one acquainted with this truth will be surprised at the piety ofexplorers. There is a striking exception in Sir Richard Burton, but wedo not remember another. From the days of Mungo Park down to our ownage, they have been remarkable for their religious temperaments. Hadthey remained at home, in quiet and safety, they might not have beenconspicuous in this respect; but a life of constant adventure, of dailyperil and hairbreadth escapes, developed their superstitious tendencies. It is so natural to feel our helplessness in solitude and danger, and perhaps in sickness. It is so easy to feel that our escape from acalamity that hemmed us in on every side was due to a providential hand. 

Whether Stanley, who is now the cynosure of all eyes, began withany considerable stock of piety, is a question we have no means ofdetermining; but we can quite understand how a very little would go avery long way in Africa, amid long and painful marches through unknownterritory, the haunting peril of strange enemies, and the oppressivegloom of interminable forests. Indeed, if the great explorer had becomeas superstitious as the natives themselves, we could have forgiven itas a frailty incident to human nature in such trying circumstances. But when he brings his mental weakness home with him, and addressesEnglishmen in the language of ideas calculated for the latitude ofequatorial Africa, it becomes necessary to utter a protest. Stanley hashad a good spell of rest in Egypt, and plenty of time to get rid of the"creeps. " He should, therefore, have returned to Europe clothed and inhis right mind. But instead of this he deliberately sits down and writesthe following rubbish for an American magazine, with one eye on Godabove and the other on a handsome cheque below:

"Constrained at the darkest hour humbly to confess that without God'shelp I was helpless, I vowed a vow in the forest solitudes that I wouldconfess his aid before men. Silence, as of death, was round about me; itwas midnight; I was weakened by illness, prostrated by fatigue, andwan with anxiety for my white and black companions, whose fate was amystery. In this physical and mental distress I besought God to give meback my people. Nine hours later we were exulting with a rapturous joy. In full view of all was the crimson flag with the crescent, and beneathits waving folds was the long-lost rear column. "

Danger and grief are apt to make us selfish, and no one would be hardon Stanley for showing weakness in such circumstances. But he ratherglories in it. The danger is gone, and alas! the egotism remains. Othersperished miserably, but he escaped. Omnipotence took care of him andlet them go to the Devil. No doubt they prayed in their extremity asheartily as he did, but their prayers were unheard or neglected. Stanleywas the lion of the party. Yes, and in parading his egotistic piety inthis way, he is in danger of becoming a _lion comique_. 

There is something absolutely farcical in Stanley's logic. While hewas praying to God, millions of other persons were engaged in the sameoccupation. Agonised mothers were beseeching God to spare their dearchildren; wives were imploring him to restore the bread-winner of thefamily to health; entombed miners were praying in the dark depths ofcoalpits, and slowly perishing of starvation; shipwrecked sailors wereasking for the help that never came. Providence could not, apparently, take on too much business at once, and while Stanley's fate trembled inthe balance the rest of mankind might shift for themselves. 

But the farce does not end here. Stanley's attitude was much likeJacob's. That smooth-skinned and smooth-tongued patriarch said that ifGod would guarantee him a safe journey, feed him, clothe him, find himpocket money, and bring him safe back again--well, then the Lord shouldbe his God. Stanley was not so exacting, but his attitude was similar. He asked God to give him back his people (a few short, killed orstarved, did not matter), and promised in return to "confess his aidbefore men. " Give me the solid pudding, he says, and I will give you theempty praise. And now he is safe back in Europe he fulfils his partof the contract, and goes about trumpeting the praise of Omnipotence;taking care, however, to get as much cash as possible for every note heblows on the instrument. 

Even this does not end the farce. Stanley's piety runs away with hisarithmetic. He reminds us of a Christian lady we heard of the other day. She prayed one night, on going to bed, for news from her daughter, andearly the next morning a letter came bearing the Edinburgh post-mark. This was clearly an answer to her prayer. But a sceptical friend showedher that the letter must have been posted at Edinburgh before she prayedfor it. Now Stanley reasons like that lady. Nine hours is no time incentral Africa. The "long-lost rear column" must have been near, thoughinvisible, when Stanley struck his little bargain with the Almighty. Hadit been two or three hundred miles off, and miraculously transported, the hand of Providence would have been unmistakable; but in thecircumstances its arrival was natural, and the miracle is obviously thecreation of Stanley's heated brain. He was "weakened by illness" and"prostrated by fatigue, " and the absurdity was pardonable. We onlyprotest against his playing the child when he is well and strong. 

GONE TO GOD. 

Stanley, the African traveller, is a man of piety. He seems to be onpretty familiar terms with the "one above. " During his last expeditionto relieve Emin--a sceptical gentleman, who gets along with lessbloodshed than Stanley--he was troubled with "traitors"; that is, blackfellows who thought they had a better right in Africa than the intrusivewhites, and acted upon that opinion. This put Stanley in a toweringrage. He resolved to teach the "traitors" a lesson. One of them wassolemnly tried--by his executioners, and sentenced to be hung. A ropewas noosed round his neck, and he was taken under a tree, which was tobe his gallows. The poor devil screamed for mercy, but Stanley bent hisinexorable brows, and cried, "Send him to God!"

"We were troubled with no more traitors, " says Stanley. Very likely. Butthe great man forgot to say what he meant by the exclamation, "Sendhim to God!" Did he mean "Send him to God for judgment?" If so, it wasrather rough to hang the prisoner before his proper trial. Did he mean, "The fellow isn't fit for earth, so send him to heaven?" If so, it wasa poor compliment to Paradise. Or did he simply use a pious, impressiveform of speech to awe the spectators, and give them the notion that hehad as much traffic with God as any African mystery-man or Mohammedandervish?

The middle one of these three theories fits in best with the generalsentiment, or at any rate the working sentiment, of Christian England. Some brutal, drunken, or passionate wretch commits a murder. He iscarefully tried, solemnly sentenced, and religiously hanged. Heis declared unfit to live on this planet. But he is still a likelycandidate for heaven, which apparently yawns to receive all the refuseof earth. He is sedulously taken in hand by the gaol chaplain, or someother spiritual guide to glory, and is generally brought to a betterframe of mind. Finally, he expresses sorrow for his position, forgiveseverybody he has ever injured, delivers himself of a good deal of highlyedifying advice, and then swings from the gallows clean into the Kingdomof Heaven. 

The grotesque absurdity of all this is enough to wrinkle the face of acab horse. Society and the murderer are both playing the hypocrite, andof course Society is the worse of the two, for it is acting deliberatelyand methodically, while the poor devil about to be hung is like a huntedthing in a corner, up to any shift to ease his last moments and makepeace with the powers of the life to come. Society says he has killedsomebody, and he shall be killed; that he is not fit to live, but fitto die; that it must strangle him, and call him "brother" when the whitecap is over his face, and God must save his soul; that he is too bad todwell on earth, but it hopes to meet him in heaven. 

Religion does not generate sense, logic, or humaneness in the mind ofSociety. Its effect on the doomed assassin is simply horrible. He isreally a more satisfactory figure when committing the murder than whenhe is posing, and shuffling and twisting, and talking piously, andexhibiting the intense, unmitigated selfishness which is at the bottomof all religious sentiment. The essence of piety comes out in thistragi-comedy. Personal fear, personal hope, self, self, sell, is thebe-all and the end-all of this sorry exhibition. 

A case in point has just occurred at Leeds. James Stockwell was hungthere on Tuesday morning. While under sentence of death, the reportsays, he slept well and ate heartily, so that remorse does not appear tohave injured his digestion or any other part of his physical apparatus. On learning that he would not be reprieved, and must die, he became veryattentive to the chaplain's ministrations; in fact, he took to preachinghimself, and wrote several letters to his relatives, giving them soundteetotal advice, and warning them against the evils of drink. 

But the fellow lied all the time. His crime was particularly atrocious. He outraged a poor servant girl, sixteen years of age, and then cuther throat. He was himself thirty-two years of age, with a wife andone child, so that he had not even the miserable excuse of an unmatedanimal. A plea of insanity was put forward on his behalf, but it did notavail. When the wretched creature found he was not to be reprieved, andtook kindly to the chaplain's religion, he started a fresh theory tocover his crime. He said he was drunk when he committed it. Now this wasa lie. The porter's speech in _Macbeth_ will explain our meaning. JamesStockwell may have had a glass, but if he was really drunk, in the senseof not knowing what he was about, we believe it was simply impossiblefor him to make outrage the prelude to murder. If he had merely drunkenough to bring out the beast in him, without deranging the motornerves, he was certainly not _drunk_ in the proper sense of the word. He knew what he was doing, and both in the crime and in his flight heshowed himself a perfect master of his actions. 

Religion, therefore, did not "convict him of sin. " It did not lay barebefore him his awful wickedness. It simply made him hypocritical. It induced or permitted him to save his _amour propre_ by a freshfalsehood. 

James Stockwell's last letter from gaol was written the day before hisexecution. It was a comprehensive epistle, addressed to his father andmother and brothers and sisters. "God" and "Christ" appear in it likean eruption. The writer quotes the soothing text, "Come unto me allyou that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. " He wasevidently familiar with Scripture, and thought this text especiallyapplicable to himself. "Many a prayer, " he says, "have I offered to Godboth on behalf of you and myself, " and he winds up by "hoping to meetyou all hereafter. "

Not a word about his crime. Not a word about his injury to society. Nota word about the poor girl he outraged and murdered. James Stockwell hadno thought for her or her relatives. He did not trouble about what hadbecome of Kate Dennis. He was careless whether she was in heaven orhell. Not once, apparently, did it cross his mind that he had destroyedher young life after nameless horror; that he had killed her in thebloom of maidenhood; that at one fell swoop he had extinguished all thatshe might have been--perhaps a happy wife and mother, living to a whiteold age, with the prattle of grandchildren soothing her last steps tothe grave. Such reflections do not occur to gentlemen who are anxiousabout their salvation, and in a hurry to get to heaven. 

"I and mine"--my fate, my mother, my father, my sisters, mybrothers--this was the sole concern of James Stockwell under thechaplain's ministrations. In this frame of mind, we presume, he hassailed to glory, and his family hope to meet him there snug in Abraham'sbosom. Well, we don't. We hope to give the haunt of James Stockwell awide berth. If he and others like him are in the upper circles, everydecent person would rather be in the pit. 

Let not the reader suppose that James Stockwell's case is uncommon. Wehave made a point of reading the letters of condemned murderers, and thev all bear a family likeness. Religion simply stimulates andsanctifies selfishness. In selfishness it began and in selfishness itends. Extreme cases only show the principle in a glaring light; they donot alter it, and the light is the light of truth. 

James Stockwell has gone to God. No doubt the chaplain of Leeds gaolfeels sure of it. Probably the fellow's relatives are just as sure. Butwhat of Kate Dennis. Is _she_ with God? What an awful farce it wouldbe if she were in hell. Perhaps she is. She had no time to prepare fordeath. She was cut off "in her sins. " But her murderer had three weeksto prepare for his freehold in New Jerusalem. He qualified himself fora place with the sore-legged Lazarus. He dwells in the presence of theLamb. He drinks of the river of life. He twangs his hallelujah harp andblows his hallelujah trumpet. Maybe he looks over the battlements andsees Kate Dennis in Hades. The murderer in heaven, and the victim inhell! Nay more. It has been held that the bliss of the saved will beheightened by witnessing the tortures of the damned. In that case KateDennis may burn to make James Stockwell's holiday. He will watch herwrithings with more than the relish of a sportsman who has hooked alusty trout. "Ha, ha, " the worthy James may exclaim, "I tortured herbefore I killed her, and now I shall enjoy her tortures for ever. "

THANK GOD. 

The peculiarly selfish character of religion is often exemplified, butwe do not remember a better illustration than the one which recentlyoccurred at Folkestone. The twenty-seven seamen who were rescued fromthe _Benvenue_ attended a thanksgiving service at the parish church, where the vicar delivered "a short address suitable to the occasion. "Their captain and four of his crew were drowned, and the lucky survivorsthanked the Lord for saving them, though he let the others perish in theyeasty waves. 

We should like to see a copy of that vicar's suitable discourse. Wesuspect it would be an interesting study to a cynic. No doubt the man ofGod's chief motive was professional. The saving of those shipwrecked menwas a splendid piece of work, but it required to be rounded off. It wasnot complete unless the parson blessed it and approved it with a text. He came in at the finish when the danger was all over, and gave theperfecting touch in the shape of a cheap benediction. Probably the manof God put in a good word for Providence. The poor sailors had beensnatched from the jaws of death; their minds were therefore in a stateof agitation, and at the very best they are not a logical or reflectiverace of men. Very likely, therefore, they assented to the theory thatthey owed their deliverance to the blessing of God, but a little quietthought about the matter would possibly make them see it in a differentlight. 

The persons who visibly _did_ save them from drowning were gallantlifeboat-men, who put their own lives in deadly peril, fighting thestorm inch by inch in the hope of rescuing a number of unknown fellowcreatures. All honor to _them!_ We would sooner doff the hat to themthan to any prince in Christendom. Some of them, perhaps, take a droptoo much occasionally, and their language may often be more vigorousthan polite. But all that is superficial. The real test of a man is whathe will do when he is put to it. When those rough fellows saw a bravetask before them, all the skin-deep blackguardism dropped away; theheroic came out in supreme majesty, and they were consecrated by it moretruly than any smug priest at his profitable altar. As they jumped intothe boat they proved the nobility of human nature, and the damnablefalsehood of the Christian doctrine of original sin. 

What share Providence had in the matter is not very apparent. Strongarms and stout hearts were in the lifeboat, and that accounts for herreaching the wreck. Had the rowers the choice of a stimulus, we dare saythey would have taken a swig of brandy in preference to any quantity ofthe Holy Spirit. What Providence _might_ have done if he, she, or itwas in the humor, was to keep the shipwrecked sailors safe until thelifeboat arrived. But this was _not_ done, Those who were lashed to therigging were saved, while the captain and four others, less fortunatelysituated, were lost. Where the _material_ means were efficacious therewas salvation, and where they failed there was disaster and death. 

So much for the logical side of the matter. Now let us look at the moralside. Religion pretends to minister to the unselfish part of our nature. That is the theory, but how does it work out in practice? Thanking Godfor saving the survivors of a shipwreck implies that he could have savedthose who perished. It also implies that he did not choose to do so. Itfurther implies that the saved are more worthy, or more important, thanthe lost; at least, it implies that they are greater favorites inthe "eye of heaven. " Now this is a frightful piece of egotism, whicheveryone with a spark of manhood would be disgusted at if he saw it inits true colors. 

Nor is this all. It is not even the worst. There is a viler aspect ofthis "thanksgiving" business. One man is saved in a disaster and anotheris killed. When the first realises his good luck he congratulateshimself, This is natural and pardonable, but only for a moment. Theleast disinterestedness, the least sympathy, the least imagination, would make him think of his dead companion. "Did he suffer much, poorfellow? What will his wife do? How will his little ones get on withouta father? After all, mightn't it have been better if he had been sparedinstead of me? Who knows?"

If these reflections did not occur under the stimulated instinct ofself-preservation it would be bad enough. How much worse when thesurvivor keeps up the selfish attitude in cold blood, and deliberatelygoes about thanking God for _his_ preservation! Ordinary reason andhumanity would cry shame on such egotism, but religion steps in andsanctifies it. 

Some of these days an honest man will be provoked into a bit of goodstrong "blasphemy. " When he hears a fellow thanking Providence for _his_safety, while others perished, this honest man will shrug his shoulders. And when the fellow cries "Bless God!" this honest man will exclaim"Damn God!"

No doubt the priests would burn that honest man alive if they had thepower. But his logic and his feelings will be better than theirs. Hewill abhor selfishness even in the disguise of piety, and he will arguethat if God is to be credited with the lives of those who are saved, he should also be debited with the lives of those who are lost. And howwould the account stand then?

JUDGMENT DAY. 

The end of the world has been a fertile and profitable theme with pulpitmountebanks and pious adventurers. Ever since the primitive ages ofChristianity it has served to frighten the credulous and feather thenests of their deceivers. 

In the apostolic days the Second Coming of Christ was generally andconstantly expected. According to the twenty-fourth of Matthew, Jesuspredicted that the end of all things would soon arrive. The sun and moonwere to be darkened; the stars were to fall from heaven; and the Sonof Man was to come through the clouds with great power and glory, andgather the elect together from every quarter of the earth, According tothe twenty-fifth of Matthew, this wondrous scene was to be followed bya Great Assize. All the nations were to be judged before the heavenlythrone, and divided into two lots, one destined for heaven and the otherfor hell. And Jesus significantly added, "Verily I say unto you, thisgeneration shall not pass, till all these things be fulfilled. "

St. Paul also, in the fourth chapter of the first of Thessalonians, saidthat the Lord would "descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice ofthe archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shallrise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught uptogether with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air. "

Nothing of the sort has happened. There is no sign of the Lord'scoming, and he is already eighteen centuries behind date. "Behold I comequickly"--"Surely I come quickly. " Such was the announcement. But, likemany other divine promises, it has been falsified. The only orthodox wayout of the difficulty is to say that the Lord does not reckon time aswe do; with him a day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as aday. 

The general public, however, eighteen hundred years ago, did notknow how long the prophecy was to remain unfulfilled, and it had anextraordinary power over them. Being mostly very ignorant, and thereforevery credulous, they were easily terrified by the notion that the worldwas to be burnt up speedily; and they as readily embraced the doctrinewhich promised to bring them safely through the catastrophe. From theway in which the game answers still with the Christian mob, afternearly two thousand years of exposure, we can understand what a splendidinstrument of proselytising it must have been in the hands of thefanatical preachers of the early Church. Combine with it the Millenniumpromised to the saints after the Second Coming of Christ, in whichthey were to enjoy themselves royally, and you will feel the justice ofGibbon's remark that "it must have contributed in a very considerabledegree to the progress of the Christian faith. " It was inculcated by asuccession of Fathers, from Justin Martyr to Lactantius. But when it hadserved its purpose it was allowed to drop. As Gibbon says, "it was atfirst treated as a profound allegory, was considered by degrees as adoubtful and useless opinion, and was at length rejected as the absurdinvention of heresy and fanaticism. " The Millennium is stigmatised, inwhat once stood as the forty-first Article of the English Church, as "afable of Jewish dotage. " We wonder whether the plain-spoken divines whodrew up that article included Jesus Christ, St. Paul, and St. Johnamong the Jewish dotards. 

At the end of the tenth century the doctrine of the Second Coming wasrevived. The people were led to believe that the old serpent's thousandyears of bondage was nearly up, that he would be let loose about theyear 1, 000, that Antichrist would then appear, and that the end of theworld would follow. Churches and houses were therefore left to decay, as they would cease to be wanted. Whenever an eclipse of the sun or moontook place, the people ran into caverns and caves. Multitudes hurriedoff to Palestine, where they supposed Christ would make his descent. They transferred their property to the priests, who could say withIago, "thus do I ever make my fool my purse. " Others not only gave theirproperty to the priests, but actually became their slaves; hoping, saysMosheim, that "the supreme Judge would be more favorable to them if theymade themselves servants to _his_ servants. "

Jortin justly observes that the priests industriously cherished thedelusion for the sake of filthy lucre. They accepted the gifts of theirpoor dupes, although earthly possessions would be as useless to them asto the laity if the last days were at hand. Donations to the Church weregiven by fools and received by knaves. The reason assigned for the giftis generally thus expressed: _Appropinquante mundi termino--The end ofthe world being now at hand_. *

When the tenth century ended without a sign of the Second Advent, peoplelooked at each other and said "He is not come then. " And the priestschuckled, "No, he has not come, but your property is gone. " There was nochance of bringing an action for obtaining money under false pretences, and Holy Mother Church never gives back a farthing of what sheobtains, for what is once devoted to God can never be alienated withoutsacrilege. 

Although the delusion has been milder since then, it has always lurkedamong the ignorant, and occasionally become acute. Silly Christiansstill shake their heads when a comet is visible, and regard it as ablazing portent. They even hint that one of these wanderers throughspace may collide with our globe and cause the final smash; not knowingthat comets are quite harmless, and that hundreds of cubic miles oftheir tails would not outweigh a jar-ful of air. 

Dr. Cumming foretold the grand collapse several times. His books wereread by thousands of superstitious people. Finally, he was played out, and he went to his grave a discredited prophet. Had he been wiser hewould have fixed the event some time after he was likely to be buried. Then the game would have lasted his lifetime, and what does it matter ifyou are found out when you are dead?

How far Gumming believed his own prophecies is a moot point. It is saidthat he bought the lease of a house, which expired about twenty-fiveyears after his date for the day of judgment. 

Prophet Baxter, of the _Christian Herald_, now runs the business. Hewrote a book to prove that Louis Napoleon was Antichrist. LouisNapoleon is dead and nearly forgotten. Then he proved that Gambettawas Antichrist. Gambetta is dead and not forgotten. Then he proved thatPrince Jerome was Antichrist. Prince Jerome is nowhere, and Baxter islooking out for a fresh Antichrist. Yet his paper is read by hundreds ofthousands. As Heine said, the fool-crop is perennial. 

Over in America the Second Adventists are a numerous body. They watchand pray for the coming of Christ, and keep white robes ready for theirascension. Some time ago they donned their linen in the expectationthat the Lord was coming that very night. But the Lord did not put in anappearance, and the robes were laid up in lavender again. A fat matrontrying to fly in that outfit would be a sight worth seeing. It wouldtake several angels to float some of them. Even the archangel Michaelmight shrink from tackling twenty-stone. 

Like everything else in Christianity, except the accursed doctrineof salvation by faith, the idea of the end of the world and a day ofjudgment is derived from older sources. 

The Hindu _Kalpas_, covering thousands of millions of years, are periodsof creation and destruction, and each is called a day of Brahma. Duringthis enormous interval the universe begins and ends. Brahma wakes fromhis slumbrous solitude, and his thoughts and emotions embody themselvesin worlds and creatures. When he falls to rest again, the whole systemof finite things vanishes like the baseless fabric of a vision. 

The Stoics also believed in a periodical destruction and renovation ofall things. They, as Alger says, "conceived of God as a pure artisticforce or seed of universal energy, which exhibits its history in theevolution of the cosmos, and, on its completion, blossoms into fire andvanishes. The universal periodical conflagration destroys all evil, andleaves the indestructible God alone in his pure essence again. "

The Persians entertained a similar conception, which more closelyresembles the Christian doctrine. Ahura-Mazda creates all thingsgood, and the race of men happy and immortal. But Angra-Mainyas, hisadversary, the old serpent, corrupts them, brings upon them misery anddeath, and leads their souls to his dark abode. Good and evil spiritsfill all creation with their conflict. But at last Ahura-Mazda subduesAngra-Mainyas, nullifies all the mischief he has done by means of agreat deliverer, who is sent to instruct and redeem mankind, raisesthe dead, purifies the world with fire, and restores all nature to itsparadisiacal condition. 

The Scandinavians had their Ragnarok, or Twilight of the Gods, when allthe powers of good and evil join in battle. The horn sounds, the lastday dawns in fire and splendor from the sky, in fog and venom from theabyss. Flames destroy the earth, the combatants mostly slay each other, but Gimli, the heaven of the All-Father, is a refuge for the survivors, and the beginning of a new and fairer world. 

Chiefly influenced by the Persian, and partly by other systems, thelater Jewish theology, as represented by the Pharisees, taught thatJehovah would reappear in the last days; and the Day of the Lord, whichin former ages meant any national calamity, became transformed into theDay of Judgment. What was to happen on that occasion is described in theBook of Enoch. This was written about a century before Christ, yet it isquoted in the Epistle of Jude as the work of old transported Enoch, theseventh from Adam; a fact which throws a singular light on the criticalacumen of the early Christians. Jesus Christ, Paul, and especially theauthor of Revelation, are indebted to the Book of Enoch. It providedthem with nearly all the plot, dialogue and scenery of their judgmentdrama. 

As judges of the dead, the Greeks had Minos, who presided at the trialof souls from Europe; Rhada-mauthus, who examined those from Asia; andÆacus, who tried those from Africa, America and Australia were thenunknown, and souls from those continents were not provided withinspectors. Of course the dead who held communication with the living, never told them more than they knew. The same thing continues to thisday. All the messages from the departed given at all the Spiritist_séances_ have not added a single fragment to the world's stock ofinformation. 

The ancient Egyptians believed in "after death the judgment. " Souls weretried in the Hall of the two-Truths, or the double Justice. They wereweighed in the balance. Thoth noted the result, and Osiris pronouncedsentence. Before burial, also, the Egyptian dead underwent a sanertrial. The friends and relatives, the enemies and accusers of thedeceased, assembled around the sarcophagus before forty-two assessors. He was put on his trial before them; and if justified, awarded anhonorable burial; but, if condemned, disgraced by the withholding offuneral rites. Kings, as well as commoners, were apparently subject tothe same ordeal. Does this account for the beneficent character of theirgovernment, and the prosperous-content of the people, which is reflectedin the placid smile of their sphinxes?

Probably the antique notion of a general Day of Judgment arose from theimposing trials, where the King sat in judgment, throned, jewelled, andguarded; where all were free to approach and claim justice; and wherethe sentences were executed by the soldiers-directly they were passed. Add to this scene a general _auto da fé_, in which Christ plays the partof Grand Inquisitor, the saints that of familiars, and the Devil; thatof executioner, and you have a very fair idea of the Christian Day ofJudgment. 

"Day, " we presume, must not be taken too literally. The Mohammedansbelieve the Great Assize will last thousands of years. In that case thepeople who are fond of hearing trials will have a fine time, until theirown turn comes. After all, even the Mohammedan computation seemstoo slender. To say nothing of the scientific antiquity of man, andreckoning according to the Bible chronology, about two hundred thousandmillion souls have passed into eternity already, and the Lord knows howmany more will join them. Imagination fails in conceiving the time itwould take to try all that multitude, especially if there are a goodnumber of Tichborne cases. Besides, the whole thing seems unfair. Thosewho get a ticket for heaven at the end of the Day will enjoy a fewthousand years less of bliss than the more fortunate ones who cameearly; and those who get a ticket for hell in the first hour will suffera few thousand years of torture more than those who are sentenced at thefinish. 

The criterion at the Day of Judgment will be Faith. That is a difficultvirtue to wise men, and an easy one to fools. The ninnies, therefore, will have the best chance. This must be very consoling to mankind ifCarlyle's estimate of England's population--"thirty millions, mostlyfools"--may be extended to the rest of the world. 

All who have faith enough to secure a seat in heaven are called "sheep, "and they could not be labelled better. All the others are called"goats, " that is, lusty, strong-legged fellows who despise the game offollow-my-leader, who object to walking along the road made for them, and are always leaping the fence to see what is on the other side. Therewas war in heaven once, we are told, but that was before Satan and hiscrew were kicked out. There will never be war in heaven again. JesusChrist will easily be able to manage his sheep. But the Devil will havea tougher job with his goats. There will always be a kingdom in heaven, but ten to one there will be a republic in hell. 

Christianity says we are to be saved by faith. Our view is different. Men are saved by thinking and acting. While Christian monks were tryingto degrade men below the level of brutes, some unknown Secularistsinvented windmills and glass windows. While the Inquisition wasexterminating heresy and purifying the faith, Galileo was inventing thetelescope. While Church of Englandism and Methodism were fighting overthe faith in England, Watt was discovering the use of steam. Faith neversaved men here, and why should it save them hereafter? God, if he exist, must be too humane and sensible to judge men according to their belief;and if he endowed us with reason, he will never damn us for exercisingit. 

Wandering in an immense forest during the night, said Diderot, I haveonly one little light to guide me. A stranger comes to me and says, "Myfriend, blow out your candle to find your way better. " That light isreason, and that stranger is a theologian. 

Science, no less than common sense, dispels Christian superstition. Evolution destroys the idea of a general catastrophe. There was a timewhen life could not exist on the earth, and there will probably comea time when it will cease to exist. Long before then man will havedisappeared. But the aeon of our race may extend to millions of years. Is not this time practically infinite? And do not those who make ita cause for lamentation and despair resemble the man that Spinozaridicules, who refuses to eat his dinner to-day because he is not sureof a dinner for ever and ever? Sit down, you fool, and eat. 

SHELLEY'S ATHEISM. *

 * On August 4, 1892, the centenary of Shelley's birth was celebrated at Horsham, where it is intended to found a Shelley Library, if not a Shelley Museum. The celebrants were a motley collection. They were all concealing the poet's principles and paying honor to a bogus Shelley. A more honest celebration took place in the evening at the Hall of Science, Old-street, London, E. C. Six or seven hundred people were addressed by Dr. Furnivall, Gr. B. Shaw, and G. W. Foote; and every pointed reference to Shelley's religious, social, and political heresy was enthusiastically applauded. 

Charles Darwin, the Newton of biology, was an Agnostic--which is only arespectable synonym for an Atheist. The more he looked for God theless he could find him. Yet the corpse of this great "infidel" lies inWestminster Abbey, We need not wonder, therefore, that Christians andeven parsons are on the Shelley Centenary committee, or that Mr. Edmund Gosse was chosen to officiate as high pontiff at the Horshamcelebration. Mr. Gosse is a young man with a promising past--to borrow awitticism from Heine. In the old _Examiner_ days he hung about the armyof revolt. Since then he has become a bit of a Philistine, though hestill affects a superior air, and retains a pretty way of turning asentence. The selection of such a man to pronounce the eulogy on Shelleywas in keeping with the whole proceedings at Horsham, where everybodywas lauding a "bogus Shelley, " as Mr. Shaw remarked at the Hall ofScience celebration. 

Mr. Gosse was good enough to tell the Horsham celebrants that "itwas not the poet who was attacked" in Shelley's case, but "therevolutionist, the enemy of kings and priests, the extravagantand paradoxical humanitarian. " Mr. Gosse generously called this an"intelligent aversion, " and in another sense than his it undoubtedly wasso. The classes, interests, and abuses that were threatened by Shelley'sprinciples, acted with the intelligence of self-preservation. They gavehim an ill name and would gladly have hung him. Yes, it was, beyond alldoubt, an "intelligent aversion. " Byron only dallied with the false andfoolish beliefs of his age, but Shelley meant mischief. This accountsfor the hatred shown towards him by orthodoxy and privilege. 

Mr. Gosse himself appears to have an "intelligent aversion" to Shelley's_principles_. He professes a great admiration for Shelley's _poetry_;but he regards it as a sort of beautiful landscape, which has no otherpurpose than gratifying the aesthetic taste of the spectator. For thepoet's _teaching_ he feels or affects a lofty contempt. Shelley thesinger was a marvel of delicacy and power; but Shelley the thinker wasat best a callow enthusiast. Had he lived as long as Mr. Gosse, and moved in the same dignified society, he would have acquired an"intelligent aversion" to the indiscretions of his youthful passion forreforming the world; but fate decided otherwise, and he is unfortunateenough to be the subject of Mr. Gosse's admonitions. 

Shelley lived like a Spartan; a hunk of bread and a jug of water, dashedperhaps with milk, served him as a dinner. His income was spent on thepoor, on struggling men of genius, and on necessitous friends. Nowas the world goes, this is simply asinine; and Mr. Gosse plays to thePhilistine gallery by sneering at Shelley's vegetarianism, and playfullydescribing him as an "eater of buns and raisins. " It was also lamentedby Mr. Gosse that Shelley, as a "hater of kings, " had an attraction for"revolutionists, " a set of persons with whom Mr. Gosse would have nosort of dealings except through the policeman. "Social anarchists, "likewise, gathered "around the husband of Godwin's daughter"--a pregnantdenunciation, though it leaves us in doubt whether Shelley, Godwin, orMary was the anarch, or all three of them together; while the "husband"seems to imply that getting married was one of the gravest of Shelley'soffences. 

But the worst of all is to come: "Those to whom the restraints ofreligion were hateful marshalled themselves under the banner of theyouth who had rashly styled himself as an Atheist, forgetful of thefact that All his best writings attest that, whatever name he mightcall himself, he, more than any other poet of the age, saw God ineverything. "

We beg to tell Mr. Gosse that he is libellous and impertinent. He knowslittle or nothing of Atheists if he thinks they are only repelled by the"restraints of religion. " They have restraints of their own, quite asnumerous and imperative as those of any religionist who fears his God. What is more, they have incentives which religion weakens. Mr. Gosse isperhaps in a state of ignorance on this matter. He probably speaks ofthe moral condition of Atheists as a famous American humorist proposedto lecture on science, with an imagination untrammeled by the leastacquaintance with the subject. 

So much (it is quite enough) for the libel; and now for theimpertinence. Mr. Gosse pretends to know Shelley's mind better thanhe knew it himself. Shelley called himself an Atheist; that isindisputable; but he did so "rashly. " He was mistaken about his ownopinions; he knew a great many things, but he was ignorant of himself. But the omniscient Mr. Gosse was born (or _was_ he born?) to rectifythe poet's blunder, and assure the world that he was a Theist withoutknowing it--in fact, a really God-intoxicated person. 

What wonder is it that Mr. Gosse became intoxicated in turn, and soaredin a rapture of panegyric over a Shelley of his own construction? "Theperiod of prejudice is over, " he exclaimed, "and we are gathered hereto-day under the auspices of the greatest poet our language has producedsince Shelley died, encouraged by universal public opinion and bydignitaries of all the professions--yea, even by prelates of ournational Church. " Here the preacher's intoxication became maudlin, andthere should have been an interval for soda-water. 

Curiously enough, the very last page of Trelawny's _Records of Shelleyand Byron_ contains a conversation between that gallant friend of thetwo poets and a "prelate of our national Church. "

"Some years ago, one of the most learned of the English Bishopsquestioned me regarding Shelley; he expressed both admiration andastonishment at his learning and writings. I said to the Bishop, 'Youknow he was an Atheist. ' He said, 'Yes. ' I answered: 'It is the keyand the distinguishing quality of all he wrote. Now that people arebeginning to distinguish men by their works, and not creeds, thecritics, to bring him into vogue, are trying to make out that Shelleywas not an Atheist, that he was rather a religious man. Would it beright in me, or anyone who knew him, to aid or sanction such a fraud?'The Bishop said: 'Certainly not, there is nothing righteous but truth. 'And there our conversation ended. "

Trelawny's bishop was willing (outside church, and in privateconversation) to deprecate prejudice and acknowledge the supremacy oftruth; and perhaps for that reason he allowed that Shelley _was_ anAtheist. Mr. Gosse's bishops will soon be converting him into a pillarof the Church. 

Trelawny knew Shelley a great deal better than Mr. Gosse. He enjoyed anintimate friendship with the poet, not in his callow days, but duringthe last year or two of his life, when his intellect was mature, and hisgenius was pouring forth the great works that secure his immortality. During that time Shelley professed the opinions he enunciated in _QueenMab_. He said that the matter of that poem was good; it was only thetreatment that was immature. Again and again he told Trelawny that hewas content to know nothing of the origin of the universe; that religionwas chiefly a means of deceiving and robbing the people; that itfomented hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness; and that it alsofettered the intellect, deterring men from solving the problems ofindividual and social life, as well as the problems of nature, out ofregard for the supposed oracles of Omniscience, which were after all theteachings of bigoted and designing priests. Shelley called himself anAtheist; he wrote "Atheist" after his name on a famous occasion; andTrelawny says "he never regretted having done this. "

"The principal fault I have to find, " wrote Trelawny, "is that theShelleyan writers, being Christians themselves, seem to think that a manof genius cannot be an Atheist, and so they strain their own facultiesto disprove what Shelley asserted from the earliest stage of his careerto the last day of his life. He ignored all religions as superstitions. "

On another occasion Shelley said to Trelawny--"The knaves are thecleverest; they profess to know everything; the fools believe them, andso they govern the world. " Which is a most sagacious observation. Hesaid that "Atheist!" in the mouth of orthodoxy was "a word of abuse tostop discussion, a painted devil to frighten the foolish, a threat tointimidate the wise and good. "

Mr. Gosse may reply that Shelley's conversations with Trelawny are notabsolute evidence; that they were written down long afterwards, and thatwe cannot be sure of Shelley's using the precise words attributed tohim. Very well then; be it so. Mr. Gosse has appealed to Shelley's"writings, " and to Shelley's writings we will go. True, the epithet"best" is inserted by Mr. Gosse as a saving qualification; but we shalldisregard it, partly because "best" is a disputable adjective, but morebecause _all_ Shelley's writings attest his Atheism. 

Let us first go to Shelley's prose, not because it is his "best" work(though some parts of it are exquisitely beautiful, often very powerful, and always chaste), but because prose is less open than verse to falseconception and interpretation. In the fine fragment "On Life" he acutelyobserves that "Mind, as far as we have any experience of its properties, and beyond that experience how vain is argument! cannot create, it canonly perceive. " And he concludes "It is infinitely improbable thatthe cause of mind, that is, of existence, is similar to mind. " Be itobserved, however, that Shelley does not dogmatise. He simply cannotconceive that mind is the _basis_ of all things. The cause of life isstill obscure. "All recorded generations of mankind, " Shelley says, "have wearily-busied themselves in inventing answers to this question;and the result has been--Religion. "

Shelley's essay "On a Future State" follows the same line of reasoningas his essay "On Life. " He considers it highly probable that _thought_is "no more than the relation between certain parts of that infinitelyvaried mass, of which the rest of the universe is composed, and whichceases to exist as soon as those parts change their positions withregard to each other. " His conclusion is that "the desire to be for everas we are, the reluctance to a violent and unexperienced change, " whichis common to man and other living beings, is the "secret persuasionwhich has given birth to the opinions of a future state. "

If we turn to Shelley's published letters we shall find abundantexpressions of hostility to and contempt for religion. Those letters maydeserve the praise of Matthew Arnold or the censure of Mr. Swinburne;but, in either case, they may be taken as honest documents, writtento all sorts of private friends, and never intended for publication. Byron's letters were passed about freely, and largely written foreffect; Shelley's were written under ordinary conditions, and heunbosomed himself with freedom and sincerity. 

From one of his early letters we find that he contemplated a translationof the _System of Nature_, which is frequently quoted in the notesto _Queen Mob_. He couples Jehovah and Mammon together as fit for theworship of "those who delight in wickedness and slavery. " In a letterto Henry Reveley he pictures God as delighted with his creation of theearth, and seeing it spin round the sun; and imagines him taking out"patents to supply all the suns in space with the same manufacture. "When the poet was informed by Oilier that a certain gentleman (it wasArchdeacon Hare) hoped he would humble his soul and "receive the spiritinto him, " Shelley replied: "if you know him personally, pray ask himfrom me what he means by receiving the _spirit into me_; and (if reallyit is any good) how one is to get at it. " He goes on to say: "I wasimmeasurably amused by the quotation from Schlegel about the way inwhich the popular faith is destroyed--first the Devil, then the HolyGhost, then God the Father. I had written a Lucianic essay to prove thesame thing. " In the very year of his death, writing to John Gisborne, hegirds at the popular faith in God, and with reference to one of its mostabhorrent doctrines he exclaims--"As if, after sixty years' sufferinghere, we were to be roasted alive for sixty million more in hell, orcharitably annihilated by a _coup de grâce_ of the bungler who broughtus into existence at first. "--A dozen other quotations from Shelley'sletters might be given, all to pretty much the same effect, but theforegoing must suffice. 

A thorough analysis of Shelley's poetry, showing the essential Atheismwhich runs through it from beginning to end, would require more spacethan we have at our command. We shall therefore simply point out, bymeans of instances, how indignantly or contemptuously he always refersto religion as the great despot and impostor of mankind. 

The _Revolt of Islam_ stigmatises "Faith" as "an obscene worm. " Thesonnet on the Fall of Bonaparte concludes with a reference to "BloodyFaith, the foulest birth of time. " Shelley frequently conceives Faith asserpentine and disgusting. In _Rosalind and Helen_ he writes--

 Grey Power was seated Safely on her ancestral throne; And Faith, the Python, undefeated, Even to its blood-stained steps dragged on Her foul and wounded train. 

In the great and splendid _Ode to Liberty_ the image undergoes aMiltonic sublimation. 

 Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves Hung tyranny; beneath, sat deified The sister-pest, congregator of slaves. 

Invariably does the poet class religion and oppressiontogether--"Religion veils her eyes: Oppression shrinksaghast. "--"Destruction's sceptred slaves, and Folly's mitredbrood. "--"And laughter fills the Fane, and curses shake the Throne. "

Mr. Herbert Spencer writes with learning and eloquence about the Powerof the Universe and the Unknowable. Shelley pricked this bubble ofspeculation in the following passage:

 What is that Power? Some moonstruck sophist stood Watching the shade from his own soul upthrown Fill Heaven and darken Earth, and in such mood The Form he saw and worshipped was his own, His likeness in the world's vast mirror shown. 

In one verse of the _Ode to Liberty_ the poet exclaims:

 O that the free would stamp the impious name Of ------ into the dust or write it there. 

What is the omitted word? Mr. Swinburne says the only possible wordis--God. We agree with him. Anything else would be a ridiculousanti-climax, and quite inconsistent with the powerful description of--

 This foul gordian word, Which, weak itself as stubble, yet can bind Into a mass, irrefragably firm, The axes and the rods that awe mankind. 

"Pope" and "Christ" are alike impossible. With respect to "mankind" theyare but local designations. The word must be universal. It is _God_. 

The glorious speech of the Spirit of the Hour, which terminates thethird Act of _Prometheus Unbound_--that superb drama of emancipateHumanity--lumps together "Thrones, altars, judgment seats, and prisons, "as parts of one gigantic system of spiritual and temporal misrule. Man, when redeemed from falsehood and evil, rejects his books "of reasonedwrong, glozed on by ignorance"; and the veil is torn aside from all"believed and hoped. " And what is the result? Let the Spirit of the Houranswer. 

 The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise; but man Passionless? no, yet free from guilt or pain, Which were, for his will made or suffered them; Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, From chance, and death, and mutability, The clogs of that which else might oversoar The loftiest star of unascended heaven, Pinnacled dim in the intense inane. 

What a triumphant flight! The poet springs from earth and is speedilyaway beyond sight--almost beyond conception--like an elemental thing. But his starting-point is definite enough. Man is exempt from awe andworship; from spiritual as well as political and social slavery; kingover himself, ruling the anarchy of his own passions. And the same ideais sung by Demogorgon at the close of the fifth Act. The "Earth-born'sspell yawns for heaven's despotism, " and "Conquest is dragged captivethrough the deep. "

 Love, from its awful throne of patient power In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour Of dread endurance, from the slippery steep, And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs And folds over the world its healing wings. 

 Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and endurance, These are the seals of that most firm assurance Which bars the pit over Destruction's strength; And if, with infirm hand, Eternity, Mother of many acts and hours, should free The serpent that would clasp her with his length, These are the spells by which to re-assume An empire o'er the disentangled doom. 

 To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; This, like thy glory, Titan! is to be Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory!

This is the Atheism of Shelley. Man is to conquer, by love and hope andthought and endurance, his birthright of happiness and dignity. Humanityis to take the place of God. 

It has been argued that if Shelley had lived he would have repentedthe "indiscretions of his youth, " and gravitated towards a more"respectable" philosophy. Well, it is easy to prophesy; and justas easy, and no less effectual, to meet the prophet with a flatcontradiction. "Might have been" is no better than "might not havebeen. " Was it not declared that Charles Bradlaugh would have become aChristian if he had lived long enough? Was not the same asserted of JohnStuart Mill? One was nearly sixty, the other nearly seventy; and wehave to wonder what is the real age of intellectual maturity. Only afew weeks before his death, Shelley wrote of Christianity that "no man ofsense could think it true. " That was his deliberate and final judgment. Had he lived long enough to lose his sense; had he fallen a victim tosome nervous malady, or softening of the brain; had he lingered on toa more than ripe (a rotten) old age, in which senility may unsay thevirile words of manhood; it is conceivable that Shelley might havebecome a devotee of the faith he had despised. But none of these thingsdid happen. What Shelley _was_ is the only object of sane discussion. And what he was we know--an Atheist, a lover of Humanity. 

LONG FACES. 

Every one who has turned over old volumes of sermons, adorned withthe authors' portraits, must have been struck with the length of theirfaces. They seem to say--parodying the famous line of Dante--"Abandonjokes all ye who enter here. " Those men preached a solemnly absurdcreed, and they looked absurdly solemn. Their faces seemed as devoid ofmerriment as the faces of jackasses, and the heads above them were oftenas stupid. Justice forbid that I should run down a Hooker, a Barrow, aTaylor, or a South. They were men of _genius_, and all genius is of theblood royal. I read their writings with pleasure and profit, whichis more than nine-tenths of the clergy can say with any approach tohonesty. But a single swallow does not make a summer, and a few men ofgenius do not elevate a profession. I am perfectly convinced thatthe great bulk of the preaching fraternity have cultivated a solemnaspect--not perhaps deliberately, but at least instinctively--in orderto impose on the ignorant and credulous multitude. The very tone ofvoice in which they pray, give out hymns, and preach, is _artificial_;in keeping with their artificial ideas and artificial sentiments; which, if they were expressed in natural tones, would excite universal contemptand derision. 

Now this solemnity is the best trick in the priest's game. Gravity isalways mistaken by the multitude for wisdom. A round-faced merry fellowshall make a bright, sensible speech, and he will be voted frivolous;but a long-faced, saturnine fellow shall utter a string of dullplatitudes, and he will be voted a Solon. This is well known to theclergy, who have developed a perfect art of dullness. They talk aninfinite deal of nothing, use a multitude of solemn words to hide anabsurdity or no meaning at all, and utter the inherited shibboleths oftheir craft like the august oracles of a recent revelation. 

Concede them the advantage of solemnity, or reverence, or whatever elseit is called, and you give them the victory at the beginning of thebattle. If _you_ pull a long face over their nonsense, the spectators, after all your arguments, will say, "There _must_ be something in it, though, for see how _serious_ he is. " Whereas a light jest and a merrysmile will show you are heart-free, and beyond the range of clericalartillery. 

I do not pretend, however, that the efforts of Free-thought criticsshould have no background of seriousness. Wit without reason, saysHeine, is but a sneeze of the intelligence. But has not wit ever beenthe keenest weapon of the great emancipators of the human mind? Notthe mere plaything of an idle mind in an idle hour, but the coruscatingblade to pierce the weak places of folly and imposture. Aristophanes, Lucian, Rabelais, Erasmus, and Voltaire--to take a few greatinstances--were all serious in aim and intention. They valued truth, goodness, and beauty, as much as the dreariest preachers. But they felt, because of their temperament, that while the dry light of the intellectis suited to the study of science, it is inadequate in the realm ofpolitical, social, and religious debate, where everything is steeped infeeling, and hopes and fears strive together, and imagination kindlesthe very senses into keener play. 

After all, perhaps, this word _temperament_ is a solution in itself. When Bishop South was taken to task by a brother bishop for hiswitticisms, he replied, "Do you mean to say that if God had given youany wit you would not have used it?" Thus is wisdom justified of herchildren. 

My friendly though severe critic, Dr. Coit, who recently discoursed atSouth-place Institute (or is it Chapel?) on the National Secular Societyin general and myself in particular, could hardly deny that Voltairewas a master of wit, sarcasm, irony, and ridicule. Well, now, let ussee what some serious writers have said of this nimble spirit. RobertBrowning, in _The Two Poets of Croisic_ thus salutes him:

 Ay, sharpest shrewdest steel that ever stabbed To death Imposture through the armor-joints!

Carlyle says "He gave the death-stab to modern superstition, " and "itwas a most weighty service. " Buckle says he "used ridicule, not as thetest of truth, but as the scourge of folly, " and thus "produced moreeffect than the gravest arguments could have done. " "Nor can any onesince the days of Luther be named, " says Brougham, "to whom the spiritof free inquiry, nay, the emancipation of the human mind from spiritualtyranny, owes a more lasting debt of gratitude. "

There is a story of the manuscript of Harrington's _Oceana_ beingfilched and given to Cromwell, and the sagacious "usurper" returned itsaying, "My government is not to be overturned with paper pellets. " Butthe ironical pamphlet, _Killing no Murder_, produced a different effect. Nor did the royal and imperial despots, and their priestly abettors, in the eighteenth century, dread the solemn lovers of freedom. But thewinged pen of Voltaire was a different matter. "Bigots and tyrants, "says Macaulay, "who had never been moved by the wailing and cursing ofmillions, turned pale at his name. "

If Dr. Coit imagines that Voltaire has lost his influence in France, Iventure to say he is mistaken. The hand of Voltaire is on Renan, and ondozens of living soldiers in the French army of progress. And what manof letters in England--a country abounding in "the oxen of the gods, "strong, slow, and stupid--is free from his influence? Carlyle's earlyessay on Voltaire is a mixture of hatred and admiration. But read theLife of Frederick, and see how the French snake fascinates the ScotchPuritan, until at last he flings every reservation aside, and hails withglowing panegyric the Savior of Calas. 

Let me refer Dr. Coit to the delightful preface of a delightfulbook--Leland's introduction to his fine translation of Heine's_Reisebilder_. "Woe to those who are standing near, " says Leland, "when a humorist of this stamp is turned loose upon the world. Heknows nothing of your old laws, --like an Azrael-Napoleon he advancesconscienceless, feeling nothing but an overpowering impulse, as of somehigher power which bids him strike and spare not. " But, after all, themain cause of progress is _agitation_, and though the agitation may be"eminently disagreeable to many, even friends, who are brought withinits immediate action, it will be eminently beneficial in the end. "

Yes, the hard-bound human mind, like the hardbound soil, has to beploughed up. Let it shriek as it will, the work must be done, or thelight and air will never penetrate, and an ocean of seeds will liebarren on the surface. 

Dr. Coit need not fear that ridicule will excite apprehensions about themultiplication table. Ridicule has a fine scent for its proper prey. It must detect the _ridiculous_ before it couches and springs. Truth, honor, consistency, disinterestedness, are invulnerable. What ridiculecan kill deserves to die. 

Mr. George Meredith writes of "that first-born of common-sense, thevigilant Comic, which is the genius of thoughtful laughter. " Folly isthe natural prey of this hunter, and Folly is found in the churchesas well as in the streets. Some men, however, are non-laughers bybirthright, and as men are apt to make a virtue of their deficiencies, it is not surprising if, as Mr. Meredith observes, the "laughter-hatersoon learns to dignify this dislike as an objection in morality. "

Persons who have read the _Freethinker_ from the first do not need tobe assured of the earnest spirit of its conductors. They fight no lesssternly for the iridescent jewels in their swords. But Dr. Coit appearsto object to fighting altogether. He seems to bid us rest content withwhat we have won. That is, he bids us leave superstition, with allits brood of lies and wrongs, in possession of the schools, theuniversities, the churches, the hospitals, the workhouses, and everyother institution. He bids us leave it with its large grasp onthe private and public life of the community, and go on with ourconstructive work in face of all this overwhelming frustration. No doubthe means well, but we are not foolish enough to take his advice. We tellDr. Coit that he does not understand the obstructive power of theology, and that he is thus unable to appreciate the work of the NationalSecular Society. 

But let us return to the point of ridicule, and the point of"blasphemy. " Dr. Coit found two "lessons for the day" in my _Philosophyof Secularism_, and he spoke of my _Shadow of the Sword_ as "a nobleplea for peace. " But he complained of my exposing the absurdities andimmoralities of the Bible--a book which is thrust into the hands oflittle children in our public schools. He also complained of my draggingto light the Crimes of Christianity. But his anger was most excited byone of my "Bible Romances"--_A Virgin Mother_. Some fastidious personseven object to the title, thus showing their abysmal ignorance ofChristian literature. The phrase is common in Catholic books ofdevotion, like the Mother of God. It occurs in Milton's Ode on theNativity and in _Paradise Lost_. I have marked it a dozen times inProfessor Palgrave's collection of Sacred Songs. But Dr. Coit objectsto my comparison of the Holy Ghost's "overshadowing" of the Virgin Marywith the divine impregnations of earthly women by the gods of the Greekpantheon. He regards the one as a "mystery" and the others as vulgaramours. But this depends on your point of view. Lord Bacon found amine of hidden wisdom in some of these "amours, " and Mr. Morris makesbeautiful poetry of the loves of Zeus and Danae, which is more thanany one has ever succeeded in doing with the relations between the HolyGhost and Mary. I admit, however, that taste is not disputable; andI refer Dr. Coit to the passage of my _Virgin Mother_ in which I citeJustin Martyr as appealing to the Pagan not to mock at the Incarnation, on the express ground that they also taught the same doctrine in theirstories-of the demi-gods who were born of women after the embraces ofdeities. Surely, then, it is idle to complain of _my_ disrespect of thisChristian dogma. Nor is it just to say that my criticism of it cannot beread to a mixed audience. That is the fault of the _doctrine_. So faras my _words_ go, there is not a syllable to shock any but a prurientmodesty. 

With respect to Dr. Coit's plea for bringing the kindness of socialintercourse into the war of ideas, I have this to say--It is impossible. Timid persons have always sighed for this policy, but when the fightbegan they have found themselves "between the fell incensed pointsof mighty opposites. " Religion should be treated as freely as othersubjects. That is all I claim, and I will not be satisfied with less. I cannot consent to relinquish any weapon that is legitimate in otherwarfare. Nor for the sake of temporary _feeling_ will I be false tothe permanent _interests_ of my species. I will laugh at folly, scornhypocrisy, expose falsehood, and bathe my sword in the heart's blood ofimposture. But I will not descend to personalities. I do not war with_persons_, but with _principles_. 

My object is to destroy the Christian superstition and prepare theway for a more rational and humane condition of society. I shall adaptmyself, as well as I can, to the shifting conditions of the struggle. Myaim is to _succeed_. My policy, therefore, will never be determined by apersonal preference. I shall follow the path that promises victory. But I do not, and will not, dictate to others. Within the scope ofour principles there is room for many policies. Let each do his best, according to his light and opportunity. Let Dr. Coit, too, go his way asI go mine. We travel by different routes, but perhaps we shall meet atthe goal. 

OUR FATHER. 

 God's in his heaven, All's right with the world. --R. Browning, Pippa Passes. 

The Apostles' Creed, with which the Apostles never had anything to do, begins with the words "I believe in God the Father Almighty. " The lastword, "Almighty, " is an adjective which we owe to the metaphysical geniusof Christian theologians; and the first words, "I believe, " are thecustomary shibboleth of the priests of every religion. For the rest, this extract from the Creed is taken from the Lord's Prayer, whichitself is a brief selection from common Jewish prayers before the daysof Jesus. According to the evangelists--whoever _they_ were--Jesustaught his disciples to pray to "Our Father which art in Heaven fora number of things which no one ever obtained by that process. Nevertheless the petition is offered up, generation after generation, bymillions of Christians, whose hands are first folded in the gesture ofprayer on their mothers' knees, and whose lips are taught at the sametime a form of words that clings to them for life. 

"Our Father!" The words are pretty and touching. When the child hearsthem he thinks of some one like his own father, but immensely bigger andmore powerful; and as the child is taught that all the necessaries andcomforts of life he enjoys, at the expense of his parents' labor andloving care, are really gifts from the Father behind the scenes, it isno wonder that this mysterious being becomes the object of gratitude andaffection. 

_Which art in Heaven!_ Up there in the region of dreams, beyond thesailing clouds, far away through the deep blue, where imagination buildsits fairy palace of delight, and God sits on his golden throne, andswift, bright angels speed forth to execute his commands. Tell a childanything you please about that land of fancy and you will be believed, especially if the tale comes from beloved lips, or from lips that bearthe glamor of authority. And what the child is to the adult, early orsavage man is to the civilisee. To the African negroes the highest godis the Sky; the great deity _Dyu_ of our Aryan ancestors was the Sky;the Greek _Zeue_ and the Latin _Jupiter_ were both the Heaven-Father;and we still say "Heaven forgive me!" or "Fear the vengeance of Heaven!"

This Heaven, however, is no longer credible to any one with a tinctureof science. Hard as the truth to a child or a savage, the sky is not areality, but an optical illusion. For forty or forty-five miles from theearth's surface there is a belt of atmosphere, growing rarer and rareras it approaches the infinite ocean of æther. Gone for ever is the olddelusion of a solid Heaven overhead, with windows in it, through whichGod and the angels looked down upon the earth and its inhabitants. Andwhat site is there for Heaven out in the cold blackness of space?

That Heaven is gone, and where is Our Father? Science shows us aworld of absolute order, in which what we call the laws of nature--theobserved sequence and recurrence of phenomena--are never broken. Theworld was not fashioned for man's dwelling, nor is it maintained for hisbenefit. Towards the poles he freezes, towards the equator he burns. Therain nourishes his crops or rots them, without asking his pleasure; thesea bears him or drowns him, with equal unconcern; the lightning slayshim or spares him, whether good, bad or indifferent, as he happens to bein or out of the line of its dazzling flight; famine pinches his! cheeksif he cannot procure food; the pestilence seizes upon his nerves andblood unless he learns the antidote to its ravages. He stands amidstthe play of terrific forces, and only preserves himself by vigilance, patience, courage and industry. If he falls the enemy is upon him, andthe doom of the vanquished is death. Nature shows him no mercy. Hismistakes are as fatal as his crimes. 

"God" has been in his "Heaven" for eternity, but all is _not_ right withthe world. Man is always endeavoring to improve it, but what assistancecomes from above? A Father in Heaven would be a glorious fact. But whocan believe it? "Our Father" is utterly careless of his children. Thecelestial Rousseau sends all his offspring to the Foundling. 

The late hard weather has thrown thousands of honest men out ofemployment, and increased the death-rate alarmingly. Where is the wisdomof this? Where is the goodness? The worst of men would alter it if theycould. But God, they say, can do it, and he does not. Yet they stilllook up and say "Our Father. " And the Father looks down with a face asblenchless as the Sphinx's, gazing forthright across the desert sands. 

What father would permit in his family the gross disparities we see inhuman life? One gorges and another starves; one is bloated and anotheris death's counterfeit; one is dressed in three-piled velvet and anothergoes in looped and windowed rags; one is idle and another slaves; oneis sated with pleasure and another is numbed with pain; one lolls in apalace and another shivers in a hovel. What human father would not beashamed to treat his children with such infamous partiality?

Look at the physical and moral filth, and the mental abasement, in ourgreat Christian cities, where new churches are constantly built for theworship of God, where Bibles are circulated by the million, and wherehundreds of sleek gentlemen flourish on the spoils of philanthropy. ReadMr. Rudyard Kipling's story of East-end life; read the lucubrationsof General Booth; listen to the ever-swelling wail over the poverty, misery, and degradation of hosts of our people; and then say if itis not high time to cease all this cant about Our Father which art inHeaven. 

Man has always been his own Savior. His instrument is science, hiswisdom is self-help. His redemption begins when he turns his eyes fromthe delusive Heaven and plucks up his heart from the fear of Hell. Despair vanishes before the steady gaze of instructed courage. Hopesprings as a flower in the path of endeavor. 

WAIT TILL YOU DIE. 

Pascal remarked that, whether Christianity were true or false, theChristian was on the safe side; and Diderot replied that the priests andapologists of Mohammedanism, or any other creed, could say the very samething with equal force. The argument, if it be an argument, implies thepossibility of error, and what applies to one religion applies to all. The votaries of every creed may be mistaken if there is no absolutecertitude; or, if there should be one true religion among the multitude, and but one, only the devotees of that single faith can be on the safeside. But as no one knows _which_ is the only true religion, it follows, according to the law of probabilities, that the odds are greatly againstany particular religion being the right one. The Christian thereforewould have one chance of being right, and nine hundred and ninety-ninechances of being wrong. He has thus one chance in a thousand above theAtheist. 

But, on the other hand, if all religions but one are certainly wrong, what is the chance of a single one being certainly right? Does notthe Christian's slight percentage of safety fade into something quiteinappreciable in the light of this question? And is what is left--if_anything_ is left--an adequate price for the abnegation of manhood?Would it tempt an honest man, with a sense of human dignity, to playfast and loose with his intellect, and accept a creed because it appealsto his selfish hopes and fears? Could such a slender chance of profit inthe next life compensate for slavery in this life?

If belief is the safe side, the proper course is to believe_everything_. And it is useless to cry that this is impossible. Faithenables men to believe against reason, and one act of credulity islittle easier than a thousand. He whose creed is determined by his fearsshould give free scope to such emotions. If they are his guides let himfollow them. Why should he argue when argument may mislead? Why shouldhe stumble at trifles when he has surmounted the first great obstacleto credulity? Let him believe all the religions of the world at once. He can do this as easily as he can believe in the Trinity. And havingembraced all, he may rest satisfied that if there be a true religion heundoubtedly possesses it. 

We do not suppose, however, that this reasoning will have any effecton Christians, Buddhists, Brahmins, Mohammedans, or Jews. But that veryfact shows the hollow character of the argument from which we started. When the Christian talks about the safe side he is only displaying theweakness of his faith, and appealing to timidity when he has no furtherappeal to reason. 

The argument of "the safe side" would have no pertinency, even with theimbecile, if man were immortal. It seeks advantage from the fact thatevery man must die. It tries to paralyse reason with the clutch of fear. 

How frequent is the superstitionist's remark, "Wait till you come todie!" He does not always use these very words, but this is the meaningof all his verbiage. He forgets, or does not know, that philosophydestroys the terror of death. A rational man is aware of the truthexpressed by Mill, that death is but one incident in life, and often theleast important. He recognises with Bacon that we die daily. He knowsthat every hour is a step towards death. He does not play, like anostrich, with the universal law of mortality; nor, on the other hand, does he allow the tomb to cast its chill obscurity over the business andpleasure of life. He lives without hypocrisy, and when the time comes hewill die without fear. As Hamlet says, "the readiness is all. " Anotherword also comes from the wisest of men--"Cowards do often taste ofdeath; the valiant die but once. "

A belief that will do for life will do for death. The religionistsprove this themselves. Whatever a man is confident of is sustaining. TheChristian dies a Christian, and the Mohammedan a Mohammedan. The onehas dying visions of angels--or may be of devils; the other sees heavenburst open, and the black-eyed houris of paradise beckon him with rosyfingers. What they leaned on in life supports them in death. Its truthor falsity makes no difference at that moment. 

Freethinkers are sustained by _convictions_. Intellect and emotionconcur in their case. They have no visions of angels or devils, but dearloved faces are better than phantoms, and he who has done a little goodin the world, however humbly and obscurely, may dream of the happier andnobler days to come, when true words and good deeds will have broughtforth the glorious fruit of happiness for the children of men. 

We do not mean to assert that no Freethinker, at any time, ever relapsedon his death-bed. Such cases have apparently occurred during life, andwhile one particular religion is in the ascendant it is not difficult tounderstand them. The relapses are always to the creed a man finds abouthim, or to the creed of his childhood. They simply prove the power ofenvironment and early training, and that a man needs all his strengthto stand against big majorities. At best they are cases of mentalpathology. 

Great historic Freethinkers have always died true to their convictions. They were used to standing alone. For ample proof of this the reader isreferred to my _Infidel Death Beds_. And when smaller Freethinkers arenumerous enough they avoid the greatest danger of physical weakness. It is easy for Christian relatives or friends to pester a dyingFreethinker; it is easy even, in the worst moments of weakness, toput words in his mouth. But if Freethought friends visit him, he feelsstrengthened and relieved. Allies may well be needed, sometimes, in sucha battle with bigotry. 

After all, "Wait till you die!" is an argument of folly and cowardice. What can we conjecture of any other life except from our experience ofthis? On this earth reason is the safe side, honesty is the safe side, humanity is the safe side; and what is the safe side here is likely tobe the safe side elsewhere. 

DEAD THEOLOGY. 

This is an age of "series. " Every publisher issues one, and the numberof them is legion. As far as possible they are written by "eminenthands, " as old Jacob Tonson used to call his wretched scribblers inGrub-street garrets. But not every publisher can secure such an eminenthand as a live Archbishop, This has been achieved, however, by Messrs. Sampson, Low, Marston, and Company. Having projected a series of"Preachers of the Age, " they were fortunate enough to enlist theArchbishop of Canterbury under their banner. His Grace, as it isetiquette to call him, though his natural name is Edward White Benson, leads off the publishers' attack on the British public with a volume ofsermons entitled _Living Theology_. It is well printed on good paper, the binding is appropriate, and the price of three-and-sixpence puts itwithin the reach of the great middle-class public which cares for suchthings. We are far from sharing the opinion of a carper who remarkedthat, as sermons go, this volume is rather dear. Thirteen sermons by anArchbishop! Could any man in his senses expect them for less money?The real wonder is that a man with £15, 000 a-year should condescend topublish at all. We ought to feel thankful that he does not charge us aguinea a volume. 

Prefixed to the thirteen sermons, at fourpence apiece, including thebinding, is an excellent photogravure portrait of the Archbishop. Theface is keen and scholarly, and not unpleasant. A noticeable nose, alarge fluent mouth, shrewd eyes, and a high well-shaped head, make onthe whole an agreeable picture. Something about the features shows thepreacher, and something more the ecclesiastic. It is the type, and thebest type, of the learned priest. Nobody could look at this portrait andcall Edward White Benson a fool. But is any one in danger of doing so?Would not every one admit some ability in the unhereditary recipientof fifteen thousand a year? Parsons are not a brilliant body, but towriggle, or climb, or rise to the top of the Black Army involves thepossession of uncommon faculties. 

The Archbishop is seldom eloquent, in the popular sense of the word;but his style has a certain force and color, always within the limits ofexquisite breeding. If he consigned you to Gehenna, he would do it withbland graciousness; and if he swore at all, he would swear in Latin. Hislanguage in these sermons, as in another volume we noticed a yearago, is pure and nervous, with an etymological reason for every word. Sometimes he is quite felicitous. Now and then he uses metaphor withskill and illumination. The habitual concreteness of his style shows theclearness of his perceptions. Occasionally he is epigrammatic "Strongenemies, " he says in one place, "are better to us than weak friends. They show us our weak points. " Finer and higher is another passage inthe same sermon--"The yearning of multitudes is not in vain. Afteryearning comes impulse, volition, movement. " It would be difficult, ifnot impossible, to better this, unless a great poet cast it in the mouldof a metaphor. 

We confess that, on the whole, we have read the Archbishop's sermonswith some pleasure, as well as with much attention. It is to his creditthat he defies a superficial reading. We do not expect to find anothervolume in the series at all comparable with his. Dr. Maclaren, who comessecond, is on a lower level, and the next descent to Mr. Price Hughes isa fall into a slough of incapable and reckless sentimentalism. 

_Living Theology_ is the title of the Archbishop's volume, but this isa misnomer, for the title belongs only to the first sermon. It misled usin this general application, as it will probably mislead others. We tookit to be a setting forth of so much theology as the Archbishop thought_living_, in contradistinction to what he allowed to be _dead_. But wefind a very miscellaneous lot of sermons, sometimes rather on Churchwork than on Church teaching. The title, therefore, is what Walt Whitmanwould call "a suck and a sell. " Yet it is hardly worth while to laborthe complaint, for titles are often better than the pages that followthem. Sometimes, indeed, a writer puts all his head into the title, andthe rest of the book displays his imbecility. But this cannot be said ofthe Archbishop. 

Another difficulty is this. The Archbishop's sermons are hard for aFreethinker to criticise. He seldom expounds and rarely argues. Headdresses an audience who take the fundamentals of Christianity forgranted. Yet he lays himself open here and there, and where he does sowe propose to meet him. 

In the first sermon Dr. Benson is surely going beyond his actual beliefin referring to "the earliest race of man, with whom the whole race sonearly passed away. " He can scarcely take the early chapters of Genesisliterally at this time of day. In the very next sermon he speakscheerfully of the age of Evolution. That sermon was preached at St. Mary's, Southampton, to the British Association in 1882. It is on "TheSpirit of Inquiry. " "The Spirit of Inquiry, " he says, "is God's spiritworking in capable men, to enlarge the measure and the fulness ofman's capacity. " But if _capable_ men are necessary, to say nothingof favorable conditions, the working of God's spirit seems lost inthe natural explanation. Still, it is pleasant to find the Archbishopwelcoming the Spirit of Inquiry, under any interpretation of itsessence; and it may be hoped that he will vote accordingly when theLiberty of Bequest Bill reaches the Upper Chamber. It is also pleasantto read his admission that the Spirit of Inquiry (we keep his capitals)"has made short work not only of the baser religions, but of the baserforms of ours"--to wit, the Christian. Some of those "baser forms" areindicated in the following passage:

"I know not whether any stern or any sensuous religion of heathendomhas held up before men's astonished eyes features more appalling ormore repulsive than those of the vindictive father, or of the arbitrarydistributor of two eternities, or again of the easy compromiser ofoffences in return for houses and lands. Dreadful shadows under which, thousands have been reared. "

Dreadful shadows indeed! And not thousands, but countless millions, havebeen reared under them. Those dreadful shadows were for centuries theuniversal objects of Christian worship. They still hover over Spurgeon'stabernacle and a host of other houses of God. But they are hateful toDr. Benson. To him the God of orthodoxy, the God of the Thirty-nineArticles, is dead. He dismisses Predestination, a vindictive God, andEverlasting Torment. He speaks of the very "prison" where Christ issaid to have preached after his death, as a place "where spirits surelyunlearn many a bias, many a self-wrought blindness, many a heedlesserror. " Hell is therefore a place of purgation, which is certainly aninfinite improvement on the orthodox idea of eternal and irremediablewoe, however it fall(s) below the conception that the Creator has noright to punish his own failures. 

Let the reader note who makes these admissions of the intellectualand moral death of the "baser forms" of Christianity. It is not anirresponsible _franc-tireur_ of the Black Army, nor an expelled soldierlike Mr. Voysey, nor a resigned soldier like Dr. Momerie. It is theArchbishop of Canterbury, the highest dignitary of the Church ofEngland. 

His Grace does not reflect--he cannot afford to reflect--that as thedead theology of to-day was the living theology of the past, so theliving theology of to-day may be the dead theology of to-morrow. 

The Archbishop still dogmatises, even in this sermon on the Spirit ofInquiry. In opposition to the man of science who knows of no limitsto nature, he declares that "There is a _sum_ of created things, andtherefore a real end (however far off) to what can be known of them. "In a certain sense, truly, there _is_ an end to what can be known ofnature, for human knowledge must ever be relative and not absolute. Butthe Archbishop's limit is not qualitative in man; it is quantitativein the universe. Herein he goes beyond the bounds of knowledge, andindulges in the very dogmatism for which he reprehends the materialist. 

It is dogmatism also to assert that "the soul has every reason tobelieve itself absolutely eternal. " Absolutely is a word of vastsignificance. How can it apply to "the soul"? Were "the soul" to subsisteternally in the future, it could not be _absolutely_ eternal if it oncebegan to be. "Every reason" is also too comprehensive. Dr. Benson maythink he has good reasons for "the soul's" immortality, but he must beaware that divines of his own church have held the contrary doctrine. 

Before the Spirit of Inquiry, says Dr. Benson, every other religionthan Christianity fades away; though he has admitted that some parts ofChristianity, the "baser forms, " have shared the same fate. Every freshconquest of the Spirit of Inquiry has "brought out some trait in thecharacter, or some divine conception in the mind of Jesus of Nazareth. "This sweeping statement is supported by "three very clearly marked"instances. 

The first is that science shows us the unity of life. "The latestdiscovered laws involve at least this, that the Life of man is oneLife. " And this is "no more than the scientific verification of what waslong ago stated, and by Christians (at least for a while) acted on. "

In support of the Christian idea of the Unity of Life the Archbishopcites St. Paul, who once asked in a callous way if God cared for oxen. Had the Archbishop appealed to Jesus he would have found the oracledumb, or something worse; for the Nazarene distinctly told his apostlesto preach only to the Jews, and leave the Samaritans and Gentiles indarkness. St. Paul took a flight beyond this narrow patriotism. It washe, and not the personal disciples of Jesus, who broke down the barriersbetween Jew and Gentile. It was he who scorned the idea that Jesus, touse his own language, was only sent to the lost sheep of the house otIsrael. It was he, and not Peter, or James, or John, who said that Godhad made all nations of one blood; he who declared "ye are all one inChrist. " Yet it is easy to make too much of this; for St. Paul did notinclude the heathen and unbelievers within the fold of brotherhood;and when he asserted the fatherhood of God, he appealed to the previousutterance of a Greek poet, thus conceding his own want of originality. 

One might imagine, too, that the old Jewish story of Creation--which inturn was not original--involved the common descent of the human race;and as this idea was almost, if not quite, universal, being based on theobvious generic resemblance of the various races of mankind, it seemsa stretch of fancy to put it forward as "a Christian statement" in someway connected with "Jesus of Nazareth. "

The Archbishop's second instance of the concurrence of modern progresswith the teaching of Jesus, is, to say the least of it, peculiar. "Fromthe liberty to inquire, " he says, "comes the liberty to express theresults of inquiry. And this is the preamble of the Charter of JesusChrist. "

We defy Dr. Benson to find a single plain passage about freedom ofthought in the teachings of Jesus. The Nazarene was fond of saying, "Hethat hath ears to hear let him hear. " But it was reserved for Ingersollto say, "He that hath a brain to think let him think. "

The Archbishop goes on to claim Darwin as "our aged Master"--Darwin, whorejected Christianity for forty years of his life! He quotes from Bealethe sentence, "Intellectual work of every kind must be free. " "And theNew Testament, " he adds, "is still the one volume of books on religionwhich accepts thia whole statement. "

This is a bold--some would say a brazen--assertion. If the New Testamentteaches anything clearly, it teaches that belief is necessary tosalvation. That doctrine stifles free speech and extinguishes inquiry. Why investigate if you may be damned for your conclusions? And why allowinvestigation if another man's errors may involve your perdition? Thesequestions have been answered logically enough by the Christian Church, and the "Charter of Jesus Christ" has been the worst of spiritualoppressions. No religion has been so intolerant as the Christian. Mohammedanism has been far less bigoted. Buddhism has the prouddistinction of never having persecuted one human being in twenty-fourcenturies. The Archbishop's third instance is fantastic to the point ofgrotesqueness. Both Christianity and the spirit of Inquiry, he says, are at one in "the demand for fruit. " Does he mean to imply that otherreligions set their faces against "fruit"? Buddhism is quite imperativeabout moral duties. Mohammedanism gets itself obeyed in matters ofconduct, while Christianity is quite ineffectual. Drink, gambling, andprostitution abound in Christian countries; in the Mohammedan worldthey have been sternly repressed. This is admitted by Dr. Benson in hisvolume on _Christ and his Times_; admitted, and even emphasised; so thathe may, as it were, be confuted out of his own mouth. 

If we take a leap to the penultimate sermon in the present volume, wefind Archbishop Benson indulging in the same kind of loose statement andinconsequential reasoning. Its title is "Christ's Crucifixion, an Allin All. " The preacher scorns the Greek notion of the Crucifixion as "theshocking martyrdom of a grand young moralist. " Such a notion, he says, is "quite inconsistent with the facts. " Either we know not what Christtaught, or else he was more than man. And the Archbishop sets aboutproving this by means of a series of leaps over logical chasms. 

After dilating on the innocence of Christ, who was certainly guiltyaccording to the Mosaic law, and deserving of death according to theexpress command of Jehovah, the Archbishop writes as follows:

"Then we look back through our eighteen centuries, and we see thatbefore the age of three-and-thirty he had fashioned sayings, hadcompacted thoughts, had expressed principles about duty, about therelative worth of things, about life, about love, about intercoursewith God, about the formation of character, the relation of classes, thespirit of law, the essence of government, the unity of man, which hadnot existed, or which were not formulated when he opened his lips, butwhich have been and are the basis of society from the time they wereknown till now. "

This is a tissue of false assumptions. The sayings, thoughts, andprinciples of Jesus _did_ exist before, and they _were_ formulated whenhe opened his lips. Not one original utterance is ascribed to him inthe whole of the Gospels. It is idle to bandy generalisations; letthe Archbishop select specimens of Christ's teaching, and we will findparallels to them, sometimes better and more wisely expressed, in theutterances of his predecessors. Nor is it true that Christ's teachingshave been, or are, the basis of society. Society exists in defiance ofthem. It is never based, and it never will be based, on any abstractteaching. Its basis is _self-interest_, ever increasing in complexity, and ever more and more illuminated by the growth of knowledge. 

Take the case of oaths. Jesus said plainly, "Swear not at all. " Butwhen earthly potentates wanted their subjects to swear fidelity, theChristian priests discovered that Jesus meant, "Swear only on specialoccasions. " And it was reserved for an Atheist, in the nineteenthcentury, to pass an Act allowing Christians to obey Jesus Christ. 

Take the injunction, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth. "Society could never exist upon such a basis, so the clergy find thatJesus, like Polonius, spoke tropically. Every Christian is busy layingup treasures on earth, and Archbishop Benson is well to the front in thecompetition. 

Having made ridiculous claims for Jesus Christ, the Archbishop proceedsin this wise: "Next ask yourself whether a stainless, loving, sincere, penetrating person like that makes or enlarges on unfounded declarationsas to matters of fact. Is it consistent with such a character?" NowJesus speaks of "the immense importance of his own person, " he speaksof "My flesh, My blood" as of vital power, he says "I and my Fatherare one. " Could he have been deceived? Well, why not? Honesty does notguarantee us against error. The best of men have been mistaken, Andsincere natures are most liable to be deceived by taking subjectiveimpressions for external realities. 

There is another explanation which the Archbishop is too shrewd to passover in silence. Perhaps others said those things for Jesus, perhapsthey "attributed to him sayings which he did not utter. " But this, theArchbishop says, only multiplies the difficulty and the astonishment;for, to put it briefly, his biographers in that case were as good atpredicting and inventing as himself. And why not? Do we not know thatthe story of the woman taken in adultery, which is finely told, and hasall along been thought to contain some of Christ's most characteristicteaching, does not exist in the earlier manuscripts? It was invented byan unknown writer. And if one unknown writer could (and did) invent thisstory, other unknown writers may have invented every part of the Gospelnarratives. 

The attempt to make Jesus sponsor for himself is the last refuge ofhard-driven Christians. The frame of mind it evinces is seen in Dr. Benson's interpretation of the exclamation "I thirst, " ascribed toJesus on the cross. Crucifixion produced an intolerable thirst, and theexclamation is very natural; but Dr. Benson says that Jesus meant "Ithirst for souls, " and and adds that "no man can doubt" it. Such arethe shifts to which Christians are reduced when they cling to faith indefiance of reason. 

Dr. Benson's "living theology" is dead theology. It is sentimentalismand make-believe. Perfectly scriptural doctrines are cast asidewhile others are arbitrary retained. Vague talk about "Christ and himcrucified" takes the place of time-honored dogmas, logically deducedfrom the "Word of God, " and stamped with the deliberate approval ofcouncils and synods. Christianity, in short, is becoming a matterof personal taste and preference. The time is approaching when everyChristian will have a Christianity of his own. 

This is the moral of the Archbishop's volume. Had space permitted weshould have liked to notice other features of his sermons. In one placehe says that "the so-called Secularist is the man who deprives thingssecular of all power and meaning and beauty. " We think that he deprivesChristianity of all meaning, and that being gone its "power" and"beauty" are idle themes of wasted eloquence. 

MR. GLADSTONE ON DEVILS. 

When the Grand Old Man crossed swords with Professor Huxley on themiracle of Gadara, he spent all his time in discussing whether the pigsbelonged to Jews or Gentiles. The more serious point, whether a legionof devils were actually cast out of one or two men and sent into aherd of swine, he sedulously avoided. Professor Huxley, however, is toowide-awake to be drawn off the scent; and while he disputed the pointsof geography and ethnology, he insisted upon the fact that their onlyimportance was their relation to a miraculous story, which marked theparting of the ways between Science and Christianity. 

The demonic theory of disease, including insanity, is universal amongsavages. For proof and illustration the reader has only to consult Dr. Tylor's splendid work on _Primitive Culture_. There are special demonsfor every malady, and the way to cure the disease is to cast out theevil spirit. Of course insanity is a striking disorder, and in defaultof the pathological explanation the savage regards the wild, wanderingwords and inexplicable actions of the sufferer as the words and actionsof a demon, who has taken possession of the man's body, and drivenhis soul abroad or put it in abeyance. This theory of madness survivedthrough all the centuries of Christian history until the advent ofmodern science. Mad people were chained up, exhibited as objects ofderision, and often beaten unmercifully. It was the _devil_ in them, as in the poor witches, that was treated in this fashion. And it was arecognised part of a clergyman's business to cast out devils. The Churchof England canon is still unrepealed which provides that the clergy, before engaging in this useful if not agreeable occupation, must obtainthe written authority of their bishops. 

Laugh or smile as we will at this superstition, it is an integral partof the New Testament. The demonic theory of disease is confessed in thestory of Jesus rebuking the fever of Peter's mother-in-law, so that itleft her instantaneously, flying out of the door or window, or upthe chimney. Jesus repeatedly cast out devils. He expelled seven, in succession or at one fell swoop, from Mary Magdalene. He turned alegion--that is, several thousands--out of the possessed Gadarenes;there being at least one apiece for the bedevilled swine who weredriven to destruction. Paul likewise cast out devils. Indeed, if demonicpossession in the New Testament is explained away, there is no reasonwhy every other miraculous element should not be dealt with in the samemanner. 

Mr. Gladstone perceives this, although he does not commit himself inhis _Impregnable Rock of Holy Scripture_. "I am afraid, " he says, ina letter to the Rev. J. W. Belcher, "that the objections to demoniacalpossession involve in germ the rejection of all belief in thesupernatural. " This is wonderfully clear and straightforward for theGrand Old Man. Give up the belief that mad people may be tenanted bydevils, and you should immediately join the National Secular Society. You have taken the first decisive step on the broad road of"infidelity, " and nothing but a want of logic or courage prevents youfrom hastening to the inevitable conclusion. 

Archbishop Trench, in his _Notes on the Miracles of Our Lord_, rejectsthe theory that the "demoniacs" were simply insane. No doubt, he says, there was "a substratum of disease, which in many cases helped tolay open the sufferer to the deeper evil. " But "our Lord Himself useslanguage which is not reconcileable" with the naturalist theory. "Itmay well be a question moreover, " says Trench, "if an Apostle, or onewith apostolic discernment of spirits, were to enter now into one ofour madhouses, how many of the sufferers there he might not recognise asthus having more immediately fallen under the tyranny of the powers ofdarkness. "

Dean Milman, the discreet, plausible, and polished historian of theChristian superstition, did not shrink from regarding the New Testamentdemoniacs as merely insane; and "nothing was more probable, " heremarked, "than that lunacy should take the turn and speak the languageof the prevailing superstition of the times. " Precisely so. But why didJesus imitate the lunatics? He addresses the evil spirit and not themadman. "Hold thy peace, " he says, "and come out of him. " No doubtthe demoniacs were simply insane; but in that case Jesus himself wasmistaken, or the evangelists put into his mouth words that he neverused. The first alternative destroys the divinity of Jesus; the seconddestroys the authority of the evangelists. 

Mr. Gladstone's position is the only honest and logical one for aprofessed Christian. Demonic possession cannot be cut out of the NewTestament without leaving a gap through which all the "infidelity" inthe world might pass freely. Devils are not confined to hell. Theyare commercial travellers in brimstone and mischief. They go homeoccasionally; the rest of the time they are abroad on business. Whenthey see a promising madman they get inside him, and find warmerquarters than the universal air. Very likely they have startedTheosophy, in order to provide themselves with fresh residences. 

Little devils of course involve the big Devil--Apollyon, Beelzebub, Abaddon, Satan, Lucifer, Old Nick. He commands the infernal armies, andis one of the deities in Mr. Gladstone's pantheon. He is even embeddedin the revised version of the Lord's Prayer--like a fly in amber. "Deliver us from evil" now reads "Deliver us from the Evil One. " Thusthe Devil triumphs, and the first of living English statesmen is reducedby Christian superstition to the level of modern savages and ancientbarbarians. Mr. Gladstone is perhaps the highest type of the Christianstatesman. But how small and effeminate he appears, after all, incomparison with a great Pagan statesman like Julius Cæsar, whose brainwas free from all superstition! Were the "mighty Julius" to re-appearon earth, and see a great statesman believing the story of devils beingturned out of men into pigs, he would wonder what blight had fallen uponthe human intellect in two thousand years. 

HUXLEY'S MISTAKE. 

No one will suspect us of any prejudice against Professor Huxley. Wehave often praised his vigorous writings, and his admirable service toFreethought. We recognise him as a powerful fighter in the great battlebetween Reason and Faith. He is a born controversialist, he revels inthe vivisection of a theological opponent, and it is easy to understandhow the more placid Darwin could cry to him admiringly, "What a man youare!"

But for some reason or other it seems the fate of Professor Huxley, asit is the fate of Herbert Spencer, to be made use of by the enemiesof Freethought; and it must be admitted that, to a certain extent, hegratuitously plays into their hands. 

Mr. Herbert Spencer has been a perfect god-send to the Christians withhis "Unknowable"--the creation of which was the worst day's work he everaccomplished. It is only a big word, printed with a capital letter, toexpress the objective side of the relativity of human, knowledge. Itconnotes all that we do not know. It is a mere confession of ignorance;it is hollowness, emptiness, a vacuum, a nothing. And this nothing, which Mr. Spencer adorns with endless quasi-scientific rhetoric, is usedas a buttress to prop up tottering Churches. 

Professor Huxley has been nearly as serviceable to the Churches withhis "Agnosticism, " which belongs to the same category of substantiallymeaningless terms as the "Unknowable. " No doubt it serves the turn of agood many feeble sceptics. It sounds less offensive than "Atheism. " AnAgnostic may safely be invited to dinner, while an Atheist would pocketthe spoons. But this pandering to "respectability" is neither in theinterest of truth nor in the interest of character. An Atheist iswithout God; an Agnostic does not know anything about God, so he iswithout God too. They come to the same thing in the end. An Agnostic issimply an Atheist with a tall hat on. Atheism carries its own name atthe Hall of Science; when it occupies a fine house at Eastbourne, and moves in good society, it calls itself Agnosticism. And then theChurches say, "Ah, the true man of science shrinks from Atheism; he isonly an Agnostic; he stands reverently in the darkness, waiting for thelight. "

Nor is this the only way in which Professor Huxley has helped "theenemy. " He is, for instance, far too fond of pressing the "possibility"of miracles. We have no right, he says, to declare that miracles areimpossible; it is asserting more than we know, besides begging thequestion at issue. Perfectly true. But Professor Huxley should rememberthat he uses "possibility" in one sense and the theologians in another. He uses it theoretically, and they use it practically. They use it whereit has a meaning, and he uses it where it has no meaning at all, exceptin an _à priori_ way, like a pair of brackets with nothing between them. When the Agnostic speaks of the "possibility" of miracles, he only meansthat we cannot prove a universal negative. 

Let us take an instance. Suppose some one asserts that a man can jumpover the moon. No one can demonstrate that the feat is impossible. Itis _possible_, in the sense that _anything_ is possible. But this istheoretical logic. According to practical logic it is impossible, in thesense that no rational man would take a ticket for the performance. 

Why then does Professor Huxley press the "possibility" of miraclesagainst his Freethinking friends? He is not advancing a step beyondDavid Hume. He is merely straining logical formulæ in the interest ofthe Black Army. 

Now let us take another instance. In a recent letter to the _Times_, with respect to the famous letter of the thirty-eight clergymen whohave given the Bible a fresh certificate, Professor Huxley is once morecareful to point out that science knows nothing of "the primal origin"of the universe. But who ever said that it did? Atheists, at anyrate, are not aware that the universe ever _had_ an origin. As tothe "ultimate cause of the evolutionary process, " it seems to usmere metaphysical jargon, as intolerable as anything in the moundingphraseology of the theologians. 

But this is not all. Professor Huxley delivers himself of the followingutterance: "In fact it requires some depth of philosophical incapacityto suppose that there is any logical antagonism between Theism andthe doctrine of Evolution. " This is food and drink to a paper likethe _Christian World_. But what does it mean? Certainly there is noantagonism between the terms "Theism" and "Evolution. " They do notfight each other in the dictionary. But is there not antagonism betweenEvolution and any kind of Theism yet formulated? The word "God" meansanything or nothing. Give your God attributes, and see if they areconsistent with Evolution. That is the only way to decide whether thereis any "logical antagonism" between Evolution and Theism. The troublebegins when you are "logical" enough to deal in definitions; and theonly definition of God that will stand the test of Evolution is "a sortof a something. "

We leave Professor Huxley to present that highly edifying Theisticconclusion to his old theological opponents, and, if he likes, to flauntit in the faces of his Freethinking friends. But is it really worthwhile for Samson to grind chaff for the Philistines? We put the questionto Professor Huxley with all seriousness. Let him teach truth and smitefalsehood, without spending so much time in showing that they harmonisewhen emptied of practical meaning. A sovereign and a feather fall withequal rapidity in a vacuum; and if you take away fact and experience, one proposition is as "possible" as another. But why should a great manwaste his energies in propagating such a barren truism?

THE GOSPEL OF FREETHOUGHT. 

Christians are perpetually crying that we destroy and never build up. Nothing could be more false, for all negation has a positive side, andwe cannot deny error without affirming truth. But even if it were true, it would not lessen the value of our work. You must clear the groundbefore you can build, and plough before you sow. Splendor gives nostrength to an edifice whose foundations are treacherous, nor can aharvest be reaped from fields unprepared for the seed. 

Freethought is, in this respect, like a skilful physician, whosefunction it is to expel disease and leave the patient sound and well. Nosick man claims that the doctor shall supply him with something in placeof his malady. It is enough that the enemy of his health is driven out. He is then in a position to act for himself. He has legs to walk with, a brain to devise, and hands to execute his will What more does he need?What more can he ask without declaring himself a weakling or a fool? Soit is with superstition, the deadliest disease of the mind. Freethoughtcasts it out, with its blindness and its terrors, and leaves the mindclear and free. All nature is then before us to study and enjoy. Truth shines on us with celestial light, Goodness smiles on our bestendeavors, and Beauty thrills our senses and kindles our imaginationwith the subtle magic of her charms. 

What a boon it is to think freely, to let the intellect dart out inquest of truth at every point of the compass, to feel the delight ofthe chase and the gladness of capture! What a noble privilege to pourtreasures of knowledge into the alembic of the brain, and separate thegold from the dross!

The Freethinker takes nothing on trust, if he can help it; he dissects, analyses, and proves everything, Does this make him a barren sceptic?Not so. What he discards he knows to be worthless, and he also knowsthe value of what he prizes. If one sweet vision turns out a mirage, howdoes it lessen our enjoyment at the true oasis, or shake our certitudeof water and shade under the palm-trees by the well?

The masses of men do not think freely. They scarcely think at all out oftheir round of business; They are trained not to think. From the cradleto the grave orthodoxy has them in its clutches. Their religion issettled by priests, and their political and social institutions bycustom. They look askance at the man who dares to question what isestablished, not reflecting that all orthodoxies were once heterodox, that without innovation there could never have been any progress, andthat if inquisitive fellows had not gone prying about in forbiddenquarters ages ago, the world would still be peopled by savages dressedin nakedness, war-paint, and feathers. The mental stultification whichbegins in youth reaches ossification as men grow older. Lack of thoughtends in incapacity to think. 

Real Freethought is impossible without education. The mind cannotoperate without means or construct without materials. Theology opposeseducation: Freethought supports it. The poor as well as the rich shouldshare in its blessings. Education is a social capital which should besupplied to all. It enriches and expands. It not only furnishes themind, but strengthens its faculties. Knowledge is power. A race ofgiants could not level the Alps; but ordinary men, equipped withscience, bore through their base, and make easy channels for theintercourse of divided nations. 

Growth comes with use, and power with exercise, Education makes bothpossible. It puts the means of salvation at the service of all, andprevents the faculties from moving about _in vacuo_, and finallystanding still from sheer hopelessness. The educated man has a wholemagazine of appliances at his command, and his intellect is trained inusing them, while the uneducated man has nothing but his strength, andhis training is limited to its use. 

Freethought demands education for all. It claims a mental inheritancefor every child born into the world. Superstition demands ignorance, stupidity, and degradation. Wherever the schoolmaster is busy, Freethought prospers; where he is not found, superstition reigns supremeand levels the people in the dust. 

Free speech and Freethought go together. If one is hampered the otherlanguishes. What is the use of thinking if I may not express my thought?We claim equal liberty for all. The priest shall say what he believesand so shall the sceptic. No law shall protect the one and disfranchisethe other. If any man disapproves what I say, he need not hear me asecond time. What more does he require? Let him listen to what he likes, and leave others to do the same. Let us have justice and fair play allround. 

Freethought is not only useful but laudable. It involves labor andtrouble. Ours is not a gospel for those who love the soft pillow offaith. The Freethinker does not let his ship rot away in harbor; hespreads his canvas and sails the seas of thought. What though tempestsbeat and billows roar? He is undaunted, and leaves the avoidance ofdanger to the sluggard and the slave. He will not pay their price forease and safety. Away he sails with Vigilance at the prow and Wisdom atthe helm. He not only traverses the ocean highways, but skirts unmappedcoasts and ventures on uncharted seas. He gathers spoils in every zone, and returns with a rich freight that compensates for all hazards. Someday or other, you say, he will be shipwrecked and lost. Perhaps. Allthings end somehow. But if he goes down he will die like a man and notlike a coward, and have for his requiem the psalm of the tempest and theanthem of the waves. 

Doubt is the beginning of wisdom. It means caution, independence, honesty and veracity. Faith means negligence, serfdom, insincerity anddeception. The man who never doubts never thinks. He is like a strawin the wind or a waif on the sea. He is one of the helpless, docile, unquestioning millions, who keep the world in a state of stagnation, and serve as a fulcrum for the lever of despotism. The stupidity of thepeople, says Whitman, is always inviting the insolence of power. 

Buckle has well said that scepticism is "the necessary antecedent ofall progress. " Without it we should still be groping in the night of theDark Ages. The very foundations of modern science and philosophy werelaid on ground which was wrested from the Church, and every stonewas cemented with the blood of martyrs. As the edifice arose thesharpshooters of faith attacked the builders at every point, and theystill continue their old practice, although their missiles can hardlyreach the towering heights where their enemies are now at work. 

Astronomy was opposed by the Church because it unsettled old notions ofthe earth being the centre of the universe, and the sun, moon, and starsmere lights stuck in the solid firmament, and worked to and fro likesliding panels. Did not the Bible say that General Joshua commanded thesun to stand still, and how could this have happened unless it movedround the earth? And was not the earth certainly flat, as millions offlats believed it to be? The Catholic Inquisition forced Galileo torecant, and Protestant Luther called Copernicus "an old fool. "

Chemistry was opposed as an impious prying into the secrets of God. Itwas put in the same class with sorcery and witchcraft, and punished inthe same way. The early chemists were regarded as agents of the Devil, and their successors are still regarded as "uncanny" in the moreignorant parts of Christendom. Roger Bacon was persecuted by his brothermonks; his testing fire was thought to have come from the pit, and theexplosion of his gunpowder was the Devil vanishing in smoke and smell. Even at the end of last century, the clergy-led mob of Birmingham whowrecked Priestley s house and destroyed his apparatus, no doubt feltthat there was a close connection between chemistry and infidelity. 

Physiology and Medicine were opposed on similar grounds. We were allfearfully and wonderfully made, and the less the mystery was looked intothe better. Disease was sent by God for his own wise ends, and to resistit was as bad as blasphemy. Every discovery and every reform was decriedas impious. Men now living can remember how the champions of faithdenounced the use of anæsthetics in painful labor as an interferencewith God's curse on the daughters of Eve. 

Geology was opposed because it discredited Moses, as though that famousold Jew had watched the deposit of every stratum of the earth's crust. It was even said that fossils had been put underground by God to puzzlethe wiseacres, and that the Devil had carried shells to the hill-topsfor the purpose of deluding men to infidelity and perdition. Geologistswere anathematised from the pulpits and railed at by tub-thumpers. Theywere obliged to feel their way and go slowly. Sir Charles Lyell had tokeep back his strongest conclusions for at least a quarter of a century, and could not say all he thought until his head was whitened by old ageand he looked into the face of Death. 

Biology was opposed tooth and nail as the worst of all infidelity. Itexposed Genesis and put Moses out of court. It destroyed all specialcreation, showed man's' kinship with other forms of life, reduced Adamand Eve to myths, and exploded the doctrine of the Fall. Darwin was foryears treated as Antichrist, and Huxley as the great beast. All that isbeing changed, thanks to the sceptical spirit. Darwin's corpse is buriedin Westminster Abbey, but his ideas are undermining all the churches andcrumbling them into dust. 

The gospel of Freethought brands persecution as the worst crime againsthumanity. It stifles the spirit of progress and strangles its pioneers. It eliminates the brave, the adventurous and the aspiring, and leavesonly the timid, the sluggish and the grovelling. It removes the loftyand spares the low. It levels all the hills of thought and makes anintellectual flatness. It drenches all the paths of freedom with bloodand tears, and makes earth the vestibule of hell. 

Persecution is the right arm of priestcraft. The black militia oftheology are the sworn foes of Free-thought. They represent it as thesin against the Holy Ghost, for which there is no forgiveness inthis world or the next. When they speak of the Holy Ghost they meanthemselves. Freethought is a crime against _them_. It strips off themystery that invests their craft, and shows them as they really are, ahorde of bandits who levy black mail on honest industry, and preach adespot in heaven in order to maintain their own tyranny on earth. 

The gospel of Freethought would destroy all priesthoods. Every manshould be his own priest. If a professional soul-doctor gives you wrongadvice and leads you to ruin, he will not be damned for you. He will seeyou so first. We must take all responsibility, and we should also takethe power. Instead of putting our thinking out, as we put our washing, let us do it at home. No man can do another's thinking for him. What isthought in the originator is only acquiescence in the man who takes itat secondhand. 

If we do our own thinking in religion we shall do it in everything else. We reject authority and act for ourselves. Spiritual and temporal powerare brought under the same rule. They must justify themselves or go. TheFreethinker is thus a politician and a social reformer. What a Christian_may_ be he _must_ be. Freethinkers are naturally Radicals. They arealmost to a man on the side of justice, freedom and progress. The Toriesknow this, and hence they seek to suppress us by the violence of unjustlaw. They see that we are a growing danger to every kind of privilege, amenace to all the idle classes who live in luxury on the sweat and laborof others--the devouring drones who live on the working bees. 

The gospel of Freethought teaches us to distinguish between the knowableand the unknowable. We cannot fathom the infinite "mystery of theuniverse" with our finite plummet, nor see aught behind the veil ofdeath. Here is our appointed province:

 This world which is the world Of all of us, and where in the end We find our happiness or not at all. 

Let us make the best of this world and take our chance of any other. Ifthere is a heaven, we dare say it will hold all honest men. If it willnot, those who go elsewhere will at least be in good company. 

Our salvation is here and now. It is certain and not contingent. We neednot die before we realise it Ours is a gospel, and the only gospel, forthis side of the grave. The promises of theology cannot be made goodtill after death; ours are all redeemable in this life. 

We ask men to acknowledge realities and dismiss fictions. When you havesifted all the learned sermons ever preached, you will find very littlegood grain. Theology deals with dreams and phantasies, and gives noguidance to practical men. The whole truth or life may be summed up ina few words. Happiness is the only good, suffering the only evil, andselfishness the only sin. And the whole duty of man may be expressedin one sentence, slightly altered from Voltaire--Learn what is true inorder to do what is right. If a man can tell you anything about thesematters, listen to him; if not, turn a deaf ear, and let him preach tothe wind. 

The only noble things in this world are great hearts and great brains. There is no virtue in a starveling piety which turns all beauty intougliness and shrivels up every natural affection. Let the heart beathigh with courage and enterprise, and throb with warm passion. Let thebrain be an active engine of thought, imagination and will. The gospelof sorrow has had its day; the time has come for the gospel of gladness. Let us live out our lives to the full, radiating joy on all in our owncircle, and diffusing happiness through the grander circle of humanity, until at last we retire from the banquet of life, as others have donebefore us, and sink in eternal repose. 

ON RIDICULE. 

Goldsmith said there are two classes of people who dreadridicule--priests and fools. They cry out that it is no argument, butthey know it is. It has been found the most potent form of argument. Euclid used it in his immortal Geometry; for what else is the _reductioad absurdum_ which he sometimes employs? Elijah used it against thepriests of Baal. The Christian fathers found it effective against thePagan superstitions, and in turn it was adopted as the best weapon ofattack on _them_ by Lucian and Celsus. Ridicule has been used by Bruno, Erasmus, Luther, Rabelais, Swift, and Voltaire, by nearly all the greatemancipators of the human mind. 

All these men used it for a serious purpose. They were not comedianswho amused the public for pence. They wielded ridicule as a keen rapier, more swift and fatal than the heaviest battle-axe. Terrible as was thelevin-brand of their denunciation, it was less dreaded than the Greekfire of their sarcasm. I repeat that they were men of serious aims, andindeed how could they have been otherwise? All true and lasting wit isfounded on a basis of seriousness; or else, as Heine said, it is nothingbut a sneeze of the reason. Hood felt the same thing when he proposedfor his epitaph: "Here lies one who made more puns, and spat more blood, than any other man of his time. "

Buckle well says, in his fine vindication of Voltaire, that he "usedridicule, not as the test of truth, but as the scourge of folly. " And headds--

"His irony, his wit, his pungent and telling sarcasms, produced moreeffect than the gravest arguments could have done; and there can be nodoubt that he was fully justified in using those great resourceswith which nature had endowed him, since by their aid he advanced theinterests of truth, and relieved men from some of their most inveterateprejudices. "

Victor Hugo puts it much better in his grandiose way, when he says ofVoltaire that "he was irony incarnate for the salvation of mankind. "

Voltaire's opponents, as Buckle points out, had a foolish reverence forantiquity, and they were impervious to reason. To compare great thingswith small, our opponents are of the same character. Grave argumentis lost upon them; it runs off them like water from a duck. When weapproach the mysteries of their faith in a spirit of reverence, weyield them half the battle. We must concede them nothing. What they callreverence is only conventional prejudice. It must be stripped away fromthe subject, and if argument will not remove the veil, ridicule will. Away with the insane notion that absurdity is reverend because it isancient! If it is thousands of years old, treat it exactly as if it weretold the first time to-day. Science recognises nothing in space and timeto invalidate the laws of nature. They prevailed in the past as well asin the present, in Jerusalem as well as in London. That is how Scienceregards everything; and at bottom Science and common-sense are one andthe same. 

Professor Huxley, in his admirable little book on Hume, after pointingout the improbability of centaurs, says that judged by the canons ofscience all "miracles" are centaurs. He also considers what would happenif he were told by the greatest anatomist of the age that he had seen acentaur. He admits that the weight of such authority would stagger him, but it would scarcely make him believe. "I could get no further, " saysHuxley, "than a suspension of judgment. "

Now I venture to say that if Johannes Müller had told Huxley any suchthing, he would have at once concluded that the great anatomist wasjoking or suffering from hallucination. As a matter of fact trainedinvestigators do not see these incredible monstrosities, and Huxley'shypothetical case goes far beyond every attested miracle. But I do saythat if Johannes Muller, or anyone else, alleged that he had seen acentaur, Huxley would never think of investigating the absurdity. 

Yet the allegation of, a great anatomist on such a matter is infinitelymore plausible than any miraculous story of the Christian religion. The"centaurs" of faith were seen centuries ago by superstitious people; andwhat is more, the relation of them was never made by the witnesses, butalways by other people, who generally lived a few generations at leastafter the time. 

What on earth are we to do with people who believe in "centaurs" onsuch evidence, who make laws to protect their superstition, and appointpriests at the public cost to teach the "centaur" science? The way toanswer this question is to ask another. How should we treat people whobelieved that centaurs could be seen now? Why, of course, we shouldlaugh at them. 

And that is how we should treat people who believe that men-horses everexisted at all. 

Does anybody ask that I shall seriously discuss whether an old womanwith a divining-rod can detect hidden treasures; whether Mr. Homefloated in the air or Mrs. Guppy sailed from house to house; whethercripples are cured at Lourdes or all manner of diseases at Winifred'sWell? Must I patiently reason with a man who tells me that he saw waterturned into wine, or a few loaves and fishes turned into a feast formultitudes, or dead men rise up from their graves? Surely not. I do whatevery sensible man does. I recognise no obligation to reason with suchhallucinate mortals; I simply treat them with ridicule. 

So with the past. Its delusions are no more entitled to respect thanthose of to-day. Jesus Christ as a miracle-worker is just as absurdas any modern pretender. Whether in the Bible, the Koran, the ArabianNights, Monte Christo, or Baron Munchausen, a tremendous "walker" is thefit subject of a good laugh. And Freethinkers mean to enjoy their laugh, as some consolation for the wickedness of superstition. The Christianfaith is such that it makes us laugh or cry. Are we wrong in preferringto laugh?

There is an old story of a man who was plagued by the Devil. The fiendwas always dropping in at inconvenient times, and making the poorfellow's life a hell on earth. He sprinkled holy water on the floor, butby-and-bye the "old 'un" hopped about successfully on the dry spots. Heflung things at him, but all in vain. At last he resolved on desperatemeasures. He plucked up his courage, looked the Devil straight in theface, and laughed at him. That ended the battle. The Devil could notstand laughter. He fled that moment and never returned. 

Superstition is the Devil. Treat him to a hearty wholesome laugh. It isthe surest exorcism, and you will find laughter medicinal for mind andbody too. Ridicule, and again ridicule, and ever ridicule!

WHO ARE THE BLASPHEMERS?

Atheists are often charged with blasphemy, but it is a crime they cannotcommit. God is to them merely a word, expressing all sorts of ideas, andnot a person. It is, properly speaking, a general term, which includesall that there is in common among the various deities of the world. Theidea of the supernatural embodies itself in a thousand ways. Truth isalways simple and the same, but error is infinitely diverse. Jupiter, Jehovah, and Mumbo-Jumbo are alike creations of human fancy, theproducts of ignorance and wonder. Which is _the_ God is not yet settled. When the sects have decided this point, the question may take a freshturn; but until then _god_ must be considered as a generic term, like_tree_ or _horse or man_; with just this difference, however, that whilethe words tree, horse, and man express the general qualities of visibleobjects, the word god expresses only the imagined qualities of somethingthat nobody has ever seen. 

When the Atheist examines, denounces, or satirises the gods, he is notdealing with persons but with ideas. He is incapable of insulting God, for he does not admit the existence of any such being. 

Ideas of god may be good or bad, beautiful or ugly; and according ashe finds them the Atheist treats them. If we lived in Turkey, we shoulddeal with the god of the Koran; but as we live in England, we dealwith the god of the Bible. We speak of that god as a being, just forconvenience sake, and not from conviction. At bottom, we admit nothingbut the mass of contradictory notions between Genesis and Revelation. We attack not a person but a belief, not a being but an idea, not a factbut a fancy. 

Lord Brougham long ago pointed out, in his _Life of Voltaire_, thatthe great French heretic was not guilty of blasphemy, as his enemiesalleged; since he had no belief in the actual existence of tne god hedissected, analysed, and laughed at. Mr. Ruskin very eloquently defendsByron from the same charge. In _Cain_ and elsewhere, the great poet doesnot impeach God; he merely impeaches the orthodox creed. We may sum upthe whole matter briefly. No man satirises the god he believes in, andno man believes in the god he satirises. 

We shall not, therefore, be deterred by the cry of "blasphemy!" which isexactly what the Jewish priests shouted against Jesus Christ. If thereis a God, he cannot be half such a fool and blackguard as the Bibledeclares. In destroying the counterfeit we do not harm the reality. Andas it is better, in the words of Plutarch, to have no notion of the godsthan to have notions which dishonor them, we are satisfied that the Lord(if he exist) will never burn us in hell for denying a few lies told inhis name. 

The real blasphemers are those who believe in God and blacken hischaracter; who credit him with less knowledge than a child, and lessintelligence than an idiot; who make him quibble, deceive, and lie; whorepresent him as indecent, cruel, and revengeful; who give him the heartof a savage and the brain of a fool. These are the blasphemers. 

When the priest steps between husband and wife, with the name of God onhis lips, he blasphemes. When, in the name of God, he resists educationand science, he blasphemes. When, in the name of God, he opposes freedomof thought and liberty of conscience, he blasphemes. When, in the nameof God, he robs, tortures, and kills those who differ from him, heblasphemes. When, in the name of God, he opposes the equal rights ofall, he blasphemes. When, in the name of God, he preaches content to thepoor and oppressed, flatters the rich and powerful, and makes religioustyranny the handmaiden of political privilege, he blasphemes. Andwhen he takes the Bible in his hand, and says it was written by theinspiration of God, he blasphemes almost beyond forgiveness. 

Who are the blasphemers? Not we who preach freedom and progress for allmen; but those who try to bind the world with chains of dogma, to burdenit, in God's name, with all the foul superstitions of its ignorant past. 

CHRISTIANITY AND COMMON SENSE. 

There are two things in the world that can never get ontogether--religion and common sense. Religion deals with the next life, common sense with this; religion points to the sky, common sense to theearth; religion is all imagination, common sense all reason; religiondeals with what nobody can understand, common sense with what everybodycan understand; religion gives us no return for our investments butflash notes on the bank of expectation, common sense gives us goodinterest and full security for our capital. They are as opposite astwo things can possibly be, and they are always at strife. Religionis always trying to fill the world with delusions, and common sense isalways trying to drive them away. Religion says Live for the next world, and common sense says Live for this. 

It is in the very nature of things that religion and common senseshould hate and oppose each other. They are rivals for the sameprize--aspirants to the same throne. In every age a conflict has beengoing on between them; and although common sense is fast getting theupper hand to-day, the war is far from ended, and we may see some fiercestruggles before the combat closes. There can, however, be no doubt asto the issue; for science has appeared on the scene with the most deadlyweapons of destruction, and science is the sworn ally of common sense. Nay, is not Science the mighty child of common sense--the fruit ofReason from the lusty embrace of Nature?

Common sense is primitive logic. It does not depend on books, and it issuperior to culture. It is the perception of analogy--the instinctof causation. It guides the savage through trackless forests, and theastronomer through infinite space. It makes the burnt child dread thefire, and a Darwin see in a few obvious facts the solution of a mystery. It built the first hut and the last palace; the first canoe and the lastocean steamer. It constructed docks, and laid down railways, appliedsteam to machinery and locomotion, prompted every mechanical discovery, instigated all material progress, and transformed an ape-like beast intoa civilised man. 

Even the highest art is full of common sense. Sanity and simplicity arethe distinguishing marks of the loftiest genius, which may be describedas inspired common sense. The great artist never loses touch of fact; hemay let his imagination soar as high as the stars, but he keeps his feetfirm-planted on the ground. All the world recognises the sublimity ofGreek sculpture and Shakespeare's plays, because they are both true tonature and fact and coincident with everlasting laws. The true sublimeis not fantastic; it is solid and satisfying, like a mighty Alp, deep-rooted first of all in the steadfast earth, and then towering upwith its vineyards, its pastures, its pine-forests, its glaciers, itsprecipices, and last of all the silence of infinitude brooding over itseternal snows. 

Common sense, the civiliser, has had an especially hard fight with thatparticular form of religion known as Christianity. When Tertullian saidthat Christianity was to be believed because it was incredible, he spokein the true spirit of faith; just as old Sir Thomas Browne did when hefound the marvels of religion too weak for his credulity, David Humeexpressed the same truth ironically at the conclusion of his _Essayon Miracles_, when he said that it was not reason that persuaded anyChristian of the truth of his creed, which was established on the higherground of faith, and could not be accepted without a miracle. 

Common sense is blasphemy. It is the thing which religion dreads most, and which the priests most mortally hate. Common sense dispenses withlearned disquisitions, and tries everything with simple mother wit. If, for instance, it hears that a whale swallowed a man, and vomited himup safe and sound three days after, it does not want to know all thephysiology of men and whales before deciding if the story is true;it just indulges in a hearty laugh and blows the story to Hades. Miracle-mongers are quite helpless when a man turns round and says, "Mydear sir, that story's just a trifle too thin. " They see his case is ahopeless one, and leave him to the tender mercies of the Lord of Hosts. 

Learning is all very well in its way, but common sense is a great dealbetter. It is infinitely the best weapon to use against Christianity. Without a knowledge of history, without being acquainted with anyscience but that of daily life, without a command of Hebrew, Latin andGreek, or any other language than his own, a plain man can take theBible in his hand and easily satisfy himself it is not the word ofGod. Common sense tells him not to believe in contradictory statements;common sense tells him that a man could not have found a wife in a landwhere there were no women; common sense tells him that three millions ofpeople never marched out of any country in one night; common sense tellshim that Jesus Christ could not have "gone up" from two places at once;common sense tells him that turning devils out of men into pigs is afable not half as good as the poorest of Æsop's; common sense tells himthat nobody but a skunk would consent to be saved from the penalty ofhis own misdeeds by the sufferings of an innocent man; common sensetells him that while men object to having their pockets picked andtheir throats cut, they want no divine command against theft and murder;common sense tells him that God never ordered the committal of suchatrocities as those ascribed to him in the Bible; and common sense tellshim that a God of mercy never made a hell. 

Yes, all this is perfectly clear, and the priests know it. That iswhy they cry out Blasphemy! every time they meet it. But that is alsoprecisely the reason why we should employ it against them. The bestantidote to superstition, the worst enemy of priestcraft, and the bestfriend of man, is (to parody Danton's famous formula) Common Sense, andagain Common Sense, and for ever Common Sense. 

THE LORD OF LORDS. *

 * Written in August, 1884. 

We are in the midst of a political crisis. The House of Lords opposes areform unanimously voted by the House of Commons. Great demonstrationsare being held all over the country, to insist on the popular willbeing carried into effect, and there is a growing cry of "Down with theLords. " A spectator from another planet might wonder at all the fuss. He might marvel how forty millions of people needed to stamp andgesticulate against a handful of obstructives. He might imagine thatthey had only to decree a thing and it would immediately be; that allopposition to their sovereign will would melt away the moment theydeclared it. This traveller, however, would soon be undeceived. A littlestudy would show him that the people are kept in check by faith andcustom. He would learn that the nation is tied down like Gulliver was, by ligatures springing from its own head. Behind the King there is aKing of Kings; behind the Lords there is a Lord of Lords. Behind everyearthly despotism there is a heavenly one. The rulers of mankind overawethe people by religious terrors. They keep a body of men in their pay, the black army of theology, whose business it is to frighten people fromtheir rights by means of a ghost behind the curtain. Nobody has everseen the bogie, but we are taught to believe in it from our infancy, andfaith supplies the deficiencies of sight. Thus we are enslaved by ourown consent. Our will is suborned against our interests. We wear nochains to remind us of our servitude, but our liberty is restrained bythe subtle web of superstition, which is so fine as to be imperceptibleexcept to keen and well-practised eyes, and elastic enough to cheat uswith a false sense of freedom. 

Yes, we must seek in religion the secret of all political tyranny andsocial injustice. Not only does history show us the bearing of religionon politics--we see it to-day wherever we cast our gaze. Party feelingis so embittered in France because the sharp line of division inpolitics corresponds with the sharp line of division in religion. Onthe one side there is Freethought and Republicanism, and on the otherCatholicism and Monarchy. Even in England, which at present knows lessof the naked despotism of the Catholic Church than any other Europeancountry, we are gradually approximating to a similar state of things. Freethougnt is appearing upon the public stage, and will play itspeculiar part as naturally as religion does. Those who fancy thattheology and politics have no necessary relations, that you may operatein the one without affecting the other, and that they can and should bekept distinct, are grossly mistaken. Cardinal Newman has well shown howit is the nature of ideas to assimilate to themselves whatever agreeswith them, and to destroy whatever disagrees. When once an idea entersthe human mind it acts according to the necessary laws of thought. Itchanges to its own complexion all its mental surroundings, and throughevery mental and moral channel influences the world of practice outside. The real sovereigns of mankind, who sway its destinies with irresistiblepower, are not the czars, emperors, kings and lords, nor even thestatesmen who enact laws when public sentiment is ripe; they are thegreat thinkers who mould opinion, the discoverers and enunciatorsof Truth, the men of genius who pour the leaven of their ideas andenthusiasm into the sluggish brain of humanity. 

Even in this crisis it is easy to see how Religion and Freethought areat variance. The Liberal party is not pledged to the abolition ofthe House of Lords, but the Radical party is. Orthodox Liberalismis Christian, only a little less so than orthodox Conservatism; butRadicalism is very largely sceptical. It would surprise the dullardsof both parties to learn how great a portion of the working energy ofRadicalism is supplied by Freethinkers. True, many of them are unavowedFreethinkers, yet they are of our party although they do not wear ourcolors. But setting all these aside, I assert that Radicalism would beimmensely weakened by the withdrawal of declared Freethinkers from itsranks. No one in the least acquainted with political organisation wouldthink of disputing this. 

Belief in God is the source and principle of all tyranny. This lies inthe very nature of things. For what is God? All definitions of religionfrom Johnson's down to that of the latest dictionary agree on this onepoint, that it is concerned with man's relations to _the unknown_. Yes, God is the Unknown, and theology is the science of ignorance. EarlBeaconsfield, in his impish way, once said that where our knowledge endsour religion begins. A truer word was never spoken. 

Now the unknown is the terrible. We become fearful the moment weconfront the incalculable. Go through the history of religions, consultthe various accounts of savage and barbarous faiths at present extant, and you will find that the principle of terror, springing from theunknown, is the essential feature in which they all agree. This terrorinevitably begets slavishness. We cannot be cowardly in this respectwithout its affecting our courage in others. The mental serf is a bodilyserf too, and spiritual fetters are the agencies of political thraldom. The man who worships a tyrant in heaven naturally submits his neck tothe yoke of tyrants on earth. He who bows his intellect to a priestwill yield his manhood to a king. Everywhere on earth we find the sameceremonies attending every form of dependence. The worshipper who nowkneels in prayer to God, like the courtier who backs from the presenceof the monarch, is performing an apology for the act of prostrationwhich took place alike before the altar and the throne. In both cases itwas the adoration of fear, the debasement of the weak before the seat ofirresponsible power. 

Authority is still the principle of our most refined creeds. Themajority of Christians believe in salvation by faith; and what is theGod of that dogma but a capricious tyrant, who saves or damns accordingto his personal whim? The ministers of Protestantism, like the priestsof Catholicism, recognise this practically in their efforts to regulatepublic education. They dare not trust to the effect of persuasion onthe unprejudiced mind; they must bias the minds of children by means ofdogmatic teaching. They bend the twig in order to warp the tree. 

Now God is the supreme principle of authority as he is the essenceof the unknown. He is thus the head, front and symbol of terror andslavery, and as such must be assailed by every true soldier of Progress. We shall never enfranchise the world without touching people'ssuperstitions; and even if we abolish the House of Lords we shall stilldwell in the house of bondage unless we abolish the Lord of Lords; forthe evil principle will remain as a germ to develop into new forms ofoppression. 

Freethought is the real Savior. When we make a man a Freethinker, weneed not trouble greatly about his politics. He is sure to go right inthe main. He may mistake here or falter there, but his tendency willalways be sound. Thus it is that Freethinkers always vote, work andfight for the popular cause. They have discarded the principle ofauthority in the heavens above and on the earth beneath, and left it tothe Conservative party, to which all religionists belong precisely inproportion to the orthodoxy of their faith. Freethought goes to theroot. It reaches the intellect and the conscience, and does not merelywork at haphazard on the surface of our material interests and partystruggles. It aims at the destruction of all tyranny and injustice bythe sure methods of investigation and discussion, and the free play ofmind on every subject. It loves Truth and Freedom. It turns away fromthe false and sterile ideas of the Kingdom of God and faces the true andfruitful idea of the Republic of Man. 

CONSECRATING THE COLORS

The Queen has recently presented new colors to the first battalion ofthe Seaforth Highlanders. There was a great parade at Osborne, half theroyal family being present to witness her Majesty perform the one pieceof business to which she takes kindly in her old age. She has long been, as Lord Beaconsfield said, physically and morally unfit for her manyduties; but she is always ready to inspect her troops, to pin a medalor a cross on the breast of that cheap form of valor which excitessuch admiration in feminine minds, or to thank her brave warriors forexhibiting their heroism on foreign fields against naked savages andhalf-naked barbarians. The ruling passion holds out strong to the last, and the respectable old lady who is allowed to occupy the English thronebecause of her harmlessness can still sing, like the Grand Duchess inOffenbach's opera, "Oh, I dote on the military. "

But the Queen is not my game. I am "going for" the priests behind her, the mystery-men who give the sanction of religion to all the humbug andhypocrisy, as well as to all the plunder and oppression, that obtainamongst us. Those new colors were consecrated (that is the word) by theDean of Windsor. The old colors were consecrated forty-two years ago bythe Venerable Dr. Vernon Harcourt, Archbishop of York, who was probablya near relative of our pious Home Secretary, the fat member for Derby. If I were a courtier, a sycophant, or an ordinary journalist, I mightspend some time in hunting up the actual relationship between thesetwo Harcourts; but being neither, and not caring a straw one way or theother, I content myself, as I shall probably content my readers, withhazarding a conjecture. 

Consecrating the colors! What does that mean? First of all it impliesthe alliance between the soldier and the priest, who are the two armsof tyranny. One holds and the other strikes; one guards and the otherattacks; one overawes with terror and delusion, and the other smiteswith material weapons when the spiritual restraints fail. The black andthe red armies are both retainers in the service of Privilege, and theypreach or fight exactly as they are bidden. It makes no real differencethat the soldier's orders are clear and explicit, while the priest'sare mysteriously conveyed through secret channels. They alike obey themandate of their employers, and take their wages for the work. 

In the next place it shows the intimate relation between religion andwar. Both belong to the age of faith. When the age of reason has fairlydawned both will be despised and finally forgotten. They are alwaysand everywhere founded on ignorance and stupidity, although they aredecorated with all sorts of fine names. The man of sense sees throughall these fine disguises. He knows that the most ignorant people arethe most credulous, and that the most stupid are the most pugnacious. Educated and thoughtful men shrink alike from the dogmas of religion andthe brutalities of war. 

Further, this consecration of the colors reminds us that the Christiandeity is still the lord of hosts, the god of battles. His eyes delightto look over a purple sea of blood, and his devotees never invokehis name so-much as when they are about to emulate his sanguinarycharacteristics. The Dean of Windsor does not shock, he only gratifies, the feelings of the orthodox world, when he blesses the flag which is tofloat over scenes of carnage, and flame like a fiend's tongue over thehell of battle, where brothers of the same human family, without aquarrel in the world, but set at variance bv thieves and tricksters, maim and mangle and kill each other with fractricidal hands, which oughtto have been clasped in friendship and brotherhood. Yet these hirelingpriests, who consecrate the banners of war, dare to prate that God isa loving father and that we are all his children. What monstrousabsurdity! What disgusting hypocrisy I Surely the parent of mankind, instead of allowing his ministers to mouth his name over the symbols ofslaughter, would command them to preach "peace, peace!"

 Until the war-drums beat no longer and the battle-flags are furled In the parliament of man, the federation of the world. 

Of course there is a comic side to this, as to almost everything else. The priests of the various nations consecrate rival banners, pray forvictory for their own side, and swear that God Almighty is sure to giveit them if they trust in him. Now what is the Lord to do when they go onin this way on opposite sides? He is sure to disappoint one party, andhe is likely to get devilish little thanks from the other. A wise Godwould remain neutral, and say, "My comical little fellows, if you willgo knocking out each other's brains because they are not strong enoughto settle your differences by peaceful means, by all means get throughthe beastly business as soon as possible; but pray don't trouble me withyour petitions for assistance; both sides are fools, and I wash my handsof the whole affair. "

I have heard of an old Dutch commander who actually prayed the Lord toremain neutral, although from a different motive. On the eve of battlehe addressed the deity in this fashion: "O Lord, we are ten thousand, and they are ten thousand, but we are a darned sight better soldiersthan they, and, O Lord, do thou but keep out of it, and well give themthe soundest thrashing they ever had. "

Our Prayer Book pays a very poor compliment to the god of battles. "Givepeace in our time, O Lord, " says the preacher. "Because there isnone other that fighteth for us but only thou O God, " responds thecongregation. The compilers of the Prayer Book evidently blundered, unless they secretly felt that the Lord of hosts was used up, and notworth a keg of gunpowder or an old musket. 

Consecrating colors, like consecrating graveyards, is after all onlya trick of trade. The Dean of Windsor only practises the arts ofhis profession, and probably laughs in his sleeve at his own publicperformance. Perhaps he knows that God, as Napoleon said, is on the sideof the big battalions; just as, probably, every bishop knows thatChurch corpses rot exactly like Dissenting corpses, although they lie inconsecrated ground. Priestly mummeries will last as long as there isa demand for them. It is of little use to quarrel with this supply. The Freethinker's duty is to lessen the demand. 

CHRISTMAS IN HOLLOWAY GAOL. *

 * I was imprisoned there for "blasphemy" from February 1883 to February 1884, by sentence of a Roman Catholic judge, Mr. Justice North. 

The dullest Christmas I ever spent was in her Majesty's hotel in NorthLondon. The place was spacious, but not commodious; it was magnificentin the mass, but very petty in detail; it was designed with extremecare for the safety of its many guests, but with a complete disregardof their comfort; and it soon palled upon the taste, despite theunremitting attentions of a host of liveried servants. How I longed fora change of scene, if what I constantly gazed upon may be so described;but I was like a knight in some enchanted castle, surrounded withattendants, yet not at liberty to walk out. The hospitality of myresidence, however, was by no means sumptuous. The table did not groanbeneath a weight of viands, or gleam with glowing wines. Its poverty wassuch that a red-herring would have been a glorious treat, and a dose ofphysic an agreeable variety. Why then, you may ask, did I not quit thisinhospitable hotel, and put up at another establishment? Because I wasinvited by her Majesty, and her Majesty's invitations are commands. 

Speaking by the card, Christmas-day in Holloway was treated as a Sunday. There was no work and no play then, the dinner was the poorest andworst cooked in the whole week, and the only diversion was a morningor afternoon visit to chapel, where we had the satisfaction of learningthat heaven was an eternal Sunday. 

The fibre put into my cell to be picked by my industrious fingers hadall been removed the previous evening, lest I should desecrate thesacred day by pursuing my ordinary avocation. My apartment was thereforeclean and tidy, and by the aid of a bit of dubbin I managed to givean air of newness to my well-worn shoes. The attendants had, however, omitted to provide me with a Sunday suit, so I was obliged to donmy working clothes, in which graceless costume I had to perform myreligious devotions in the house of God, where an ill-dressed person isalways regarded as an exceptionally bad sinner, and expected to showan extraordinary amount of humility and contrition. Linen was never aburning question in Holloway Hotel, and cuffs and collars were unknown, except when a short guest wore a long shirt. My toilet was thereforeeasily completed; and with a good wash, and the energetic use of athree-inch comb, I was soon ready for the festivities of the season. 

At eight o'clock I received the first instalment of my Christmas fare, in the shape of three-quarters of a pint of tea and eight ounces ofdry bread. Whether the price of groceries was affected by the Christmasdemand, or whether the kitchen was demoralised by the holiday, I amunable to decide; but I noticed that the decoction was more innocuousthan usual, although I had thought its customary strength could not beweakened without a miracle. My breakfast being devised on the plainestvegetarian principles, there was no occasion for grace before meat, so Isipped the tea and munched the bread (eight ounces straight off requiresa great deal of mastication) without breathing a word of thanks to thegiver of all good things. 

After a remarkably short hour's tramp round the exercise ring in athieves' procession, doing the rogue's march without the music, Ireturned to my cell, and sitting down on my little three-legged stool, Iwas soon lost in thought. I wondered what my wife was doing, how she wasspending the auspicious day. What a "merry Christmas" for a woman withher husband eating his heart out in gaol! But "that way madness lies, "and I had fought down the demon too long to give way then. Springing tomy feet, I sped up and down my cell like a caged animal, and after manymaledictions on "the accursed creed, " I succeeded in stilling the tumultof my emotions. A great calm followed this storm, and resuming my seatand leaning my back against the plank-bed, I took a scornful retrospectof my prosecution and trial. How insignificant looked the Tylers, Giffards, Norths and Harcourts! How noble the friends and the partywho had stood by me in the dark hour of defeat! A few short weeks, and Ishould be free again to join their ranks and strike hard in the thickestof the battle, under the grand old flag of Freethought. 

The chapel-bell roused me from phantasy. The other half of the prisondisgorged its inmates, and I could hear the sound of their tramping tothe sanctuary. While they were engaged there I read a chapter of Gibbon;after which I heard the "miserable sinners" return from the chapel totheir cells. 

At twelve o'clock came mv second instalment of Christmas fare: sixounces of potatoes, eight ounces of bread and a mutton chop. Beingon hospital diet, I had this trinity for my dinner every day for ninemonths, and words cannot describe the nauseous monotony of the _menu_. The other prisoners had the regular Sunday's diet: bread, potatoes andsuet-pudding. After dinner I went for another short hour's tramp in theyard. The officers seemed to relax their usual rigor, and many of theprisoners exchanged greetings. "How did yer like the figgy duff?" "Didthe beef stick in yer stomach?" Such were the flowers of conversationthat afternoon. From the talk around me, I gathered that under the oldmanagement, before the Government took over the prison, all the inmateshad a "blow out" on Christmas-day, consisting of beef, vegetables, plum-pudding and a pint of beer. Some of the "old hands" bitterlybewailed the decadence in prison hospitality. Their lamentations wereworthy of a Conservative orator at a rural meeting. The present was apoor thing compared with the past, and they sighed for "the tender graceof a day that is dead. "

After exercise I went to chapel. The schoolmaster, who was a verypleasant gentleman, had drilled the singing class into a fair stateof efficiency, and they sang one or two Christmas hymns in pretty goodstyle; but the effect of their efforts was considerably marred by therest of the congregation, whose unmusical voices, bad sense of time, andignorance of the tune, more than once nearly brought the performanceto an untimely end. Parson Playford followed with a seasonable sermon, which would have been more heartily relished on a fuller stomach. Hetold us what a blessed time Christmas was, and how people did well to bejoyous on the anniversary of their Savior's birth; after which I presumehe returned to the bosom of his family, and celebrated the birth ofChrist with liberal doses of turkey, goose, beef, pudding, and communionwine. Before dismissing us with his blessing to our "little rooms, "which was his habitual euphemism for our cells, he said that he couldnot wish us a happy Christmas in our unhappy condition, but would wishus a peaceful Christmas; and he ventured to promise us that boon, ifafter leaving chapel, we fell on our knees, and besought pardon for oursins. Most of the prisoners received this advice with a grin, for theircell-floors were black-leaded, and practising genuflexions in their"little-rooms" gave too much kneecap to their trousers. 

At six o'clock I had my third instalment of Christmas fare, consistingof another eight ounces of bread and three quarters of a pint of tea. The last mouthfuls were consumed to the accompaniment of church bells. The neighboring gospel-shops were announcing their evening performance, and the sound penetrated into my cell through the open ventilator. Thetrue believers were wending their way to God's house, and the heretic, who had dared to deride their creed and denounce their hypocrisy, was regaling himself on dry bread and warm water in one of theirprison-cells. And the bells rang out against each other from the manysteeples with a wild glee as I paced up and down my narrow dungeon. Theyseemed mad with the intoxication of victory; they mocked me with theirbacchanalian frenzy of triumph. But I smiled grimly, for their clamorwas no more than the ancient fool's-shout, "Great is Diana of theEphesians. " Great Christ has had his day since, but he in turn is dead;dead in man's intellect, dead in man's heart, dead in man's life; a merephantom, flitting about the aisles of churches where priestly mummers gothrough the rites of a phantom creed. 

I took my Bible and read the story of Christ's birth in Matthew andLuke. What an incongruous jumble of absurdities! A poor fairy taleof the world's childhood, utterly insignificant beside the stupendouswonders which science has revealed to its manhood. From the fancifullittle story of the Magi following a star, to Shelley's "Worlds onworlds are rolling ever, " what an advance! As I retired to sleep uponmy plank-bed my mind was full of these reflections. And when the gas wasturned out, and I was left alone in darkness and silence, I felt sereneand almost happy. 

WHO KILLED CHRIST?

Without committing ourselves to a full acceptance of the Gospel story ofChrist's death, with all its monstrous miracles and absurd defiance ofRoman and Jewish legal procedure, we propose to take the story as itstands for the purpose of discussing the question at the top of thisarticle. 

The ordinary Christian will exclaim that Jesus was murdered by thoseinfernal Jews. Ever since they had the power of persecuting theJews--that is, ever since the days of Constantino--the Christians haveacted on the assumption that the countrymen of Jesus did actually cryout before Pilate, "His blood be on our heads!" and that they andtheir posterity deserved any amount of robbery and outrage until theyunanimously confessed their sin and worshipped him whom they crucified. It made no difference that the contemporaries of Jesus Christ couldnot transmit their guilt to their offspring. The Christians continued, century after century, to act in the spirit of the sailor in the story. Coming ashore after a long voyage, Jack attended church and heard apathetic sermon on the Crucifixion. On the following day he looked intothe window of a print-shop, and saw a picture of Jesus on the cross. Just then a Jew came and looked into the window; whereupon thesailor, pointing to the picture, asked the Hebrew gentleman whether herecognised it. "That's Jesus, " said the Jew, and the sailor immediatelyknocked him down. Surprised at this treatment, the Hebrew gentlemaninquired the reason. "Why, " said the sailor, "didn't you infernal Jewscrucify him?" The poor son of Abraham admitted the fact, but explainedthat it happened nearly two thousand years ago. "No matter, " said thesailor, "I only heard of it yesterday. "

Now it is perfectly clear, according to the Gospels, that the Jews did_not_ kill Jesus. Unless they lynched him they had no power to put himto death. Judæa was then a Roman province, and in every part of theEmpire the extreme penalty of the law was only inflicted by the Romangovernor. Nevertheless it maybe argued that the Jews _really_ killedhim, although they did not actually shed his blood, as they clamored forhis death and terrorised Pontius Pilate into ordering a judicial murder. But suppose we take this view of the case: does it therefore followthat they acted without justification? Was not Jesus, in their judgment, guilty of blasphemy, and was not that a deadly crime under the Mosaiclaw? "He that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, " says Leviticus xxiv. 16, "shall surely be put to death. " Were not the Jews, then, carryingout the plain commandment of Jehovah?

Nor was this their only justification. In another part of the Mosaiclaw (Deut. Xiii. 6-10), the Jews were ordered to kill anyone, whethermother, son, daughter, husband, or wife, who should entice them toworship other gods. Now it is expressly maintained by the overwhelmingmajority of divines that Jesus asserted his own godhead, he is reportedas saying, "I and my father are one, " and, as St, Paul says, "He thoughtit no robbery to be equal to God. " Were not the Jews, then, bound tokill him if they could?

Let it not be supposed that _we_ would have killed him. We are notexcusing the Jews as men, but as observers of the Mosaic law andworshippers of Jehovah. Their God is responsible for the death of Jesus, and if Jesus was a portion of that very deity, he was responsible forhis own death. His worshippers had learnt the lesson so well that theykilled their own God when he came in disguise. 

It is contended by some Christians that Pontius Pilate killed Jesus. According to these arguers, Pilate knew that Jesus was innocent, and theexecution was therefore a murder. But is it not perfectly obvious fromthe Gospel story that Pilate tried to save Jesus? Did not the obstinateprisoner plead guilty to what was really a charge of sedition? Did heattempt any defence? Did he call any witnesses? Was he not contumacious?And had Pilate any alternative to sentencing him to the legal punishmentof his crime?

Other friends of Jesus lay the blame of his death on Judas Iscariot, Butthe whole story of his "betrayal" of Jesus is a downright absurdity. Howcould he _sell_ his master when the commodity was common? What senseis there in his being paid to indicate the best-known man in Jerusalem?Even if the story were true, it appears that Jesus knew what Judas wasdoing, and as he could easily have returned to Galilee, he was accessoryto his own fate. It may also be pointed out that Judas only killed Jesusif the tragedy would not have occurred without him; in which case he wasthe proximate cause of the Crucifixion, and consequently a benefactorto all who are saved by the blood of Christ. Instead of execration, therefore, he deserves praise, and even the statue which Disraelisuggested as his proper reward. 

Who killed Christ? Why himself. His brain gave way. He was demented. Hisconduct at Jerusalem was that of a maniac. His very language showed aloss of balance. Whipping the dove-sellers and moneychangers, not outof the Temple, but out of its unsanctified precincts, was lunaticviolence. Those merchants were fulfilling a necessary, reputablefunction; selling doves to women who required them as burnt offerings, and exchanging the current Roman money for the sacred Jewish coinswhich alone were accepted by the Temple priests. It is easy to call themthieves, but they were not tried, and their evidence is unheard. If theycheated, they must have been remarkably clever, for all their customerswere Jews. Besides, there were proper tribunals for the correction ofsuch offences, and no one who was not beside himself would think ofgoing into a market and indiscriminately whipping the traders anddashing down their stalls. Certainly any man who did it now wouldbe arrested, if he were not lynched on the spot, and would either beimprisoned or detained at Her Majesty's pleasure. 

Quite in keeping with these displays of temper was the conduct of Jesusbefore Pilate. A modicum of common sense would have saved him. Hewas not required to tell a lie or renounce a conviction. All that wasnecessary to his release was to plead not guilty and defend himselfagainst the charge of sedition. His death, therefore, was rather asuicide than a martyrdom. Unfortunately the jurisprudence of thatage was less scientific than the one which now prevails; the finerdifferences between sanity and insanity were not discriminated;otherwise Jesus would have been remanded for inquiries into his mentalcondition. 

As a man Jesus died because he had not the sense to live. As a God hemust have died voluntarily. In either case it is an idle, gratuitous, enervating indulgence in "the luxury of woe" to be always afflictingourselves with the story of his doom. Great and good men have sufferedand died since, and other lessons are needed than any that may be learntat the foot of the Cross. 

DID JESUS ASCEND?

The story of the Ascension of Jesus Christ is as absurd as the storyof his Resurrection. Both, in fact, are the products of an age proneto believe in the wonderful. So prevalent was the popular belief in thesupernatural character of great men, that the comparatively cultivatedRomans accepted a monstrous fable about Julius Caesar. "The enthusiasmof the multitude, " says Mr. Froude, "refused to believe that he wasdead. He was supposed to have ascended into heaven, not in adulatorymetaphor, but in literal and prosaic fact. "

Similarly the enthusiasm of the first followers of Jesus, and especiallyof hysterical ladies like Mary Magdalene, refused to believe that _he_was dead. The fable of his resurrection was gradually developed, andhis ascension was devised to round off the story. Whoever will read St. Paul's epistles first, and the Gospels and the Acts afterwards, will seehow the Christ myth grew from vagueness to precision under the shapingimagination of the Church of the first century after the age of theApostles. 

It is a significant fact that the appearances of Jesus after hisResurrection were all made to the faithful, and his ascension took placebefore them, without a single impartial person being allowed to witnessan event of which it was of the utmost importance for the world to havepositive assurance. 

When we turn to the Gospels and the Acts, five documents whoseauthorship is absolutely unknown, we find the most contradictoryaccounts of what happened after the Resurrection. It may safely beaffirmed that five such witnesses would damn any case in a legal courtwhere the laws of evidence are respected. 

These witnesses cannot even agree as to whether the risen Jesus was aman or a ghost. Now he comes through a closed door, and anon he eatsbroiled fish and honeycomb; now he vanishes, after walking and talkingwith his disciples, and anon he allows the sceptical Thomas to examinethe wounds of his crucifixion as a proof that he was not a spirit, butsolid flesh and blood. 

According to Matthew's account, Jesus first appeared to the women--asis very probable! Mark says his first appearance was to Mary Magdalenealone; Luke says it was two of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. 

His subsequent appearances are recorded with the same harmony. WhileMatthew makes him appear but once, Mark makes him appear three times--tothe women, to the two disciples going to Emmaus, and to the elevenapostles. Luke makes him appear but twice, and John four times--to MaryMagdalene alone, to the disciples in a room without Thomas, to the sameagain with Thomas, and to the same once more at Tiberias. John is theonly one who tells the pretty story about Thomas, and John of courseis the only one who mentions the spear-thrust in Christ's side at thecrucifixion, because he wanted a hole for Thomas to put his hand into, and the other evangelists had no need of such a provision. Matthew andMark relate that the disciples were told by an angel to go to Galilee, while Luke keeps them in the Holy City, and Acts declares that Jesusexpressly "commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem. "

The ascension itself, which involved the last appearance of Jesus, aswell as his disappearance, is not related by Matthew, nor is it relatedby John. Now Matthew and John are _supposed_ to have been apostles. Ifthe ascension happened they must have witnessed it; but both of them aresilent, and the story of the ascension comes from three writers who were_not present_. 

Nor do these three writers agree with each other. Luke informs us thatJesus ascended from Bethany, a short distance from Jerusalem, on thevery day of the Resurrection, or at the latest the next morning; whileMark, without any precision as to time, distinctly affirms that Jesusascended from Galilee, which was at least sixty miles from Jerusalem. Now the ascension could not have occurred at two different places, and, in the absence of corroborative testimony, Mark and Luke destroy eachother as witnesses. The author of Acts agrees with Mark as to the place, but differs both from Mark and Luke as to the time. He declares thatJesus spent forty days (off and on) with his disciples beforelevitating. This constitutes another difficulty. Mark, Luke, and theauthor of Acts must all leave the court in disgrace, for it is too latefor them to patch up a more harmonious story. 

According to the detailed account in Acts, Jesus ascended in thepresence of his apostles, including Matthew and John, who appear to havemistrusted their eyesight. After making a speech he was "taken up, and acloud received him out of their sight. " He was in a cloud, and they werein a cloud, and the millions who believe them are in a cloud. 

The time of the year is seasonable for an examination of the story ofthe Ascension. Would that the opportunity were taken by Christians, who believe what they have been taught with scarcely a moment'sinvestigation, and read the Bible as lazily as they smoke their pipes. We do not ask them to take our word for anything. Let them examine forthemselves. If they will do this, we have no fear as to the result. A belief in the New Testament story of the supernatural Christ isimpossible to any man who candidly sifts and honestly weighs theevidence. 

If Christians would pursue their investigations still further theywould soon satisfy themselves that the life, death, resurrection, andascension of Jesus Christ are largely, if not entirely, mythical. Now, for instance, when they are preparing to celebrate the ascension ofChrist, they are welcoming the ascension of the Sun. The great luminaryis (apparently) rising higher and higher in the heaven, shedding hiswarmer beams on the earth, and gladdening the hearts of man. And thereis more connection between the Son and the Sun than ordinary Christiansimagine. 

THE RISING SON. 

You are requested to read the above title carefully. Notice the spellingof the last word. It is _son_, not _sun_. The difference to the eye isonly in one letter. The substantial difference is very great. Yet in theend the distinction between the Son and the Sun vanishes. Originallythey were one and the same thing, and they will be so again whenChristianity is properly understood. 

Supposing that Jesus of Nazareth ever lived, it is impossible to know, with any approach to accuracy, what he really was. With the exception offour epistles by Saint Paul--in which we find a highly mystical Christ, and not a portrait or even a sketch of an actual man--we have nomaterials for a biography of Jesus written within a hundred years ofhis death. Undoubtedly _some_ documents existed before the Canonical andApocryphal Gospels, but they were lost through neglect or suppression, and what we have is simply the concoction of older materials by anunscrupulous Church. 

During the interval between the real or supposed death of Jesus and thedate of the gospels, there was plenty of time for the accumulation ofany quantity of mythology. The east was full of such material, onlywaiting, after the destruction of the old national religions under thesway of Rome, to be woven into the texture of a non-national system aswide as the limits of the Empire. 

Protestants are able to recognise a vast deal of Paganism in theteaching and ritual of the Roman Catholic Church. On that side they keepan open eye. On the other side their eye is shut. If they opened it theywould see plenty of Paganism in the gospels. 

The only fixed date in the career of Jesus is his birthday. This isknown by every scholar to be fictitious. The primitive Church wasignorant of the day on which Jesus was born. But what was unknown tothe apostles, one of whom is said to have been his very brother, wasopportunely discovered by the Church three hundred years afterwards. For some time the nativity of Jesus had been celebrated on all sortsof days, but the Church brought about uniformity by establishing thetwenty-fifth of December. This was the Pagan festival of the nativity ofthe Sun. The Church simply appropriated it, in order to bring over thePagan population by a change of doctrine without a change or rites andcustoms. 

It may be objected that the primitive Church did not inquire as tothe birthday of Jesus until it was too late to ascertain it. But thisobjection cannot possibly apply to the resurrection, the date of whichis involved in equal uncertainty, although one would expect it tobe precisely known and regularly commemorated. For many ages thecelebration was irregular. Different Sundays were kept, and sometimesother days, in various weeks of March and April. Finally, after fiercedisputes and excommunications, the present system was imposed upon thewhole Catholic world. 

Easter is, in fact, decided astronomically, by a process in whichsun-worship and moon-worship are both conciliated. The starting point isthe vernal equinox, which was the time of a common Pagan festival. Thevery name of Easter is of heathen origin. All its customs are bequeathedto us from far-off Pagan ancestors. Easter eggs, symbolising the life ofthe universe, have been traced back to the Romans, Greeks, Persians, andEgyptians. 

When the Christians celebrate the resurrection of Christ they areimitating the ancient "heathen, " who at the same time of the yearcommemorated the resurrection of the Sun, and his manifest triumph overthe powers of darkness. And when the moderns prepare to celebrate theascension of Christ, they are really welcoming the ascension of theSun. The great luminary--father of light and lord of life--is then(apparently) rising higher and higher in heaven, shedding his warmerbeams on the earth, and gladdening the hearts of men. 

Churches and altars are decked with vegetation, which is another relicof nature-worship. Life is once more bursting forth under the kindlingrays of the sun. Hope springs afresh in the heart of man. His fancysees the pastures covered with flocks and herds, the corn waving in thebreeze, and the grapes plumping in the golden sunshine, big with theblood of earth and the fire of heaven. 

According to the Apostles' Creed, Jesus descended into hell between hisdeath and resurrection. That is also a relic of sun-worship. During thedark, cold winter the sun descended into the underworld, which isthe real meaning of Hades. Misunderstanding this circumstance, ordeliberately perverting it, the early Church fabricated the monstrousfable that Jesus "preached unto the spirits in prison, " as we read inthe first epistle of Peter. One of the apocryphal gospels gives a livelyaccount of how he harried the realm of Old Harry, emptying the placewholesale, and robbing the poor Devil of all his illustrious subjects, from Adam to John the Baptist. 

A volume might be filled with illustrations of the mythology of theResurrection. Our present space is limited, and we must let the abovesuffice. Anyone who reads the gospel story of the resurrection andascension of Jesus Christ, with a careful eye and a critical mind, willsee that it is not historical. Such witnesses, so loose in statement andso contradictory of each other, would collapse in a few minutes inany court of law. They do not write as spectators, and they were notspectators. What they give us is the legendary and mythical storythat had taken possession of the Christian mind long after all thecontemporaries of Jesus were dead. 

Our belief, in conclusion, is that the Rising Sun will outlast theRising Son. The latter is gradually, but very surely, perishing. Evenprofessed Christians are giving up the miraculous elements of thegospels. But who would give up the Sun, which has warmed, lighted, andfertilised the earth for millions of years, and will do so for millionsof years after the death of Christianity?

ST. PAUL'S VERACITY. 

A very pretty storm has been raised (and settled) by the _Independentand Nonconformist_. It raged around the Apostle Paul and Mr. HerbertSpencer, who both come out of it apparently not a penny the worse. Mr. Spencer has a chapter on Veracity in his recently published _Principlesof Ethics_, wherein he cites Paul as a violator of this virtue, andremarks that "apparently piquing himself on his craft and guile, " he"elsewhere defends his acts by contending that 'the truth of God hathmore abounded through my lie unto his glory. '" This roused the ire ofthe _Independent_, and Mr. Spencer was informed that his extraordinaryaspersion on the Apostle's character was wholly without justification. Whereupon the great Evolutionist replied that two days before receivingthe _Independent_ he had "sent to the printer the copy of a cancel to besubstituted for the page in which there occurs the error you point out. "Mr. Spencer goes on to say that he had trusted to assistants, and beenmisled on this particular point as on a few others. 

"The inductions contained in the _Principles of Sociology_ and in PartII. Of the _Principles of Ethics_ are based mainly, though not wholly, upon the classified materials contained in _The Descriptive Sociology_, compiled between 1867 and 1881 by three University men I engaged forthe purpose. When using this compilation of facts concerning sixty-eightdifferent societies I have habitually trusted to the compilers. Foreven had I been in good health, it would have been impossible for me toverify all their extracts from multitudinous books. In some cases, wherethe work was at hand, I have referred for verification; and have usuallydone so in the case of extracts from the Bible; now and then, as Iremember, rejecting the extracts given to me as being not justifiedby the context. But in the case in point it seems that I had not beensufficiently careful. It is only after reading the preceding chapterthat it becomes clear that the passage I quoted must be taken as part ofan argument with an imaginary interlocutor, rather than as expressiveof St. Paul's own sentiment. It must, I think, be admitted that thepresentation of the thought is a good deal complicated, and, in theabsence of the light thrown upon it by the preceding chapter, is liableto be misunderstood. I regret that I misunderstood it. "

This explanation and apology are, of course, most satisfactory. SaintPaul is cleared by Mr. Spencer's certificate, and the _Independent_remarks that this is "a noble codicil to Mr. Spencer's chapter onVeracity. " Nay, it professes high "admiration" for him as the "greatestliving philosopher of the English-speaking race. " Thus the "Comedy ofErrors" is followed by "All's Well that Ends Well, " and the curtainfalls on compliments and embraces. 

It really seems a shame to disturb this pleasant harmony, but we feelcompelled to say something to the _Independent_ and to Mr. HerbertSpencer about the Apostle Paul. 

In the first place we must observe that Mr. Spencer's "erroneous"statement about the great apostle, while it may be an _aspersion_, is certainly not _extraordinary_. It has repeatedly been made by theapostle's adverse critics, and even by some of his admirers. Withoutciting a long list of them, we will give two--both English, and bothjudicial. Jeremy Bentham, the great reformer of our jurisprudence, wrotea work entitled _Not Paul, but Jesus_, in which he contends through fourhundred pages that Paul was mercenary, ambitious, and an unscrupulousliar. To cull a single passage from Bentham's book is like picking oneraisin from a rich plum-pudding. Every sentence is an indictment. Andsurely after Bentham's trenchant performance it is idle for an Englishjournal to pretend that there is anything "extraordinary" in Mr. Spencer's "erroneous" accusation. The other judicial writer, alsobelonging to the English race, is Sir Richard David Hanson, who was forsome time Chief Justice of South Australia. In his able work on _TheApostle Paul_ there is an admirable summing-up of the hero's character. After admitting Paul's ability, persistence, courage, and other virtues, he remarks--"But these are accompanied by what in an uninspiredman would be called pride, jealousy, disdain, invective, sophistry, time-serving and intolerance. " This is pretty strong; and "sophistry"and "time-serving" are only euphemisms for lying in preaching andpractice. 

So much for the Independent, and now for Mr. Spencer. It must beobserved that one part of his "erroneous" statement _cannot_ berepudiated. The apostle distinctly says, "being crafty, I caught youwith guile" (2 Uor. Xii. 16), so that "piquing himself on his craft andguile" must stand while this text remains in the Epistle. Mr. Spencerallows that, in the third of Romans, the "presentation of the thought isa good deal complicated, " and "liable to be misunderstood"; but, if readin the light of the preceding chapter, the passage about lying to theglory of God "must be taken as part of an argument with an imaginaryinterlocutor. " Perhaps so; but _which_ is speaking in the seventh verse?Paul or his opponent? Mr. Spencer does not say. Yet this is the realpoint. To us it seems that _Paul_ is speaking. Of course it may beurged that he is speaking ironically. But this is not Mr. Spencer'scontention. It is not clear what he _does_ mean; in fact, he seems tohave caught a little of Paul's confusion. 

We have no objection to reading the seventh verse of the third of Romansin the light of the preceding chapter. But should it not also be read inthe light of Christian history? Have honest openness and strict veracitybeen _ever_ regarded as essential virtues in the propagation ofthe gospel? And why is it likely that Paul, of all men, escaped thecontagion of fraud, which has always disgraced the Christian Church? Theordinary Protestant imagines, or pretends, that the Catholic Church hasbeen the great impostor; but this is nonsense to the student of earlyChristianity. Mosheim remarks that the "pernicious maxim" that "thosewho make it their business to deceive with a view of promoting the causeof truth were deserving rather of commendation than of censure, " was"_very early_ recognised by the Christians. " Bishop Ellicott similarlyobserves that "history forces upon us the recognition of pious fraud asa principle which was by no means inoperative in the _earliest ages_of Christianity. " Middleton likewise reflects that the bold defiance ofhonesty and truth displayed by the Fathers of the fourth century "couldnot have been acquired, or become general at once, but must have beencarried gradually to that height, by custom and the example of formertimes, and a long experience of what the credulity and superstition orthe multitude would bear. " So far, indeed, were the "earlier ages" frombeing remarkable for integrity, that Middleton says there never was "anyperiod of time" in which fraud and forgery more abounded. The learnedCasaubon also complains that it was in "the _earliest times_ of theChurch" that it was "considered a capital exploit to lend to heavenlytruth the help of invention, in order that the new doctrine might bemore readily allowed by the wise among the Gentiles. " Mosheim even findsthat the period of fraud began "not long after Christ's ascension. " Andit continued, without a blush of shame on Christian cheeks; not growingworse, for that was impossible; until Eusebius, in the fourth century, remarked as a matter of course that he had written what redounded to theglory, and suppressed whatever tended to the disgrace of religion. 

Now if fraud was practised as a pious principle in the very earliestages of Christianity; if it continued for as many centuries as it couldpass with impunity; if it was so systematic and prolonged, and carriedto such a height, that Herder declared "Christian veracity" fit to rankwith "Punic Faith"; what right has anyone--even a Christian editor--toplace Paul above suspicion, or to find a "monstrous" blunder in hisbeing accused of lying, especially when the historic practice of hisco-religionists seems to many persons to be more than half countenancedby his own language?

We are not concerned to _press_ the charge of lying against St. Paul. There have been so many liars in the Christian Church that one more orless makes very little difference. On the other hand, we cannot acceptMr. Spencer's certificate without reservation. He admits that Paul'slanguage is obscure; and perhaps a little obscurity is to be expectedwhen a man is replying to an accusation which he is not wholly able torebut. 

NO FAITH WITH HERETICS. 

During the Crusades, when the Christians were wantonly fightingagainst their superiors in civilisation and humanity, the doctrine, waspromulgated and obeyed that no faith should be kept with infidels, and this was subsequently put in force against heretics. Thousands ofMohammedan prisoners were butchered in cold blood, although their safetyhad been confirmed by an oath; and this infamous practice was afterwardspursued with respect to the "heretical" sects when the Papal troopsdesolated some of the fairest parts of Europe. Not only was thereno salvation outside the Church, but even the ordinary laws of humansociety were held to be abrogated. This wickedness, perhaps, reachedits culmination in the Spanish conquest of America. Few Christians werecivilised enough to condemn these purjured banditti, but Montaigne inFrance, and Raleigh in England, were glorious exceptions, and both ofthem were under a just suspicion of heterodoxy. 

Protestants as well as Catholics were infected with this infamousbigotry. Luther himself was not free from taint, and Calvin's treacheryagainst Servetus is an eternal blot on his character. 

"No faith with heretics" took a new form when the downright violation ofan oath became too dissonant to the spirit of an improved civilisation. It found expression in robbing the heretic of political and socialrights, and above all in treating him as outside the pale of honor. Slandering him was no libel. Every bigot claimed the right to sayanything against his character, for the purpose of bringing his opinionsinto hatred and contempt. All the dictates of charity were cast aside;his good actions were misrepresented, and his failings maliciouslyexaggerated. If Voltaire spent thousands in charity, he did it fornotoriety; if he wrote odes to beautiful or accomplished ladies, he wasa wretched debauchee. If Thomas Paine made sacrifices for liberty, he did it because he had a private grudge against authority; if hebefriended the wife and family of a distressed Republican, he onlysought to gratify his lust; if he spent a convivial hour with a friend, he was an inveterate drunkard; and if he contracted a malignant abscessby lying for months in a damp, unwholesome dungeon, his sufferings werethe nemesis of a wicked, profligate life. 

An English precursor of Voltaire and Paine wrote _A Discourse onFreethinking_. His name was Anthony Collins, and in a certain sense hewas the father of English Freethought. He was a man of exemplary lifeand manners, yet the saintly Bishop Berkeley said he "deserved tobe denied the common benefit of air and water. " One of Collins'santagonists was the famous Dr. Bentley; and although Collins was aman of fortune, the ridiculous calumny was started that he sought andobtained Bentley's assistance in adversity. The author of this calumnywas Richard Cumberland, a grandson of Bentley, and in other respects anestimable man. His mistake was pointed out by Isaac D'Israeli, who toldhim the person he meant was _Arthur_ Collins, the historical compiler. But Cumberland perpetuated the calumny, remarking that "it should stand, because it could do no harm to any but to Anthony Collins, whom heconsidered little short of an Atheist. "

Another story about Collins, which has frequently done duty in Christianpublications, is that a visitor found him reading the New Testament, and that he remarked, "I have but one book, but that is the best. "Fortunately I am able to give the origin of this story. It is told of_William_ Collins, the poet, by Dr. Johnson, and may be found in thesecond volume (p. 239) of that writer's "Miscellaneous and FugitivePieces, " published by Davies in Johnson's lifetime. It was not AnthonyCollins, therefore; but what does that matter? It was a gentleman named_Collins_; his other name is indifferent. Besides, the story is so muchmore affecting when told of _Anthony_. 

Look at the lying stories of infidel death-beds; glance at thescurrilities of an outcast minister which are gratuitously circulatedby the enemies of Colonel Ingersoll; observe on how many platforms Mr. Brad-laugh has pulled out his watch and given the Almighty five minutesto strike him dead; listen to the grotesque libels on every leadingFreethinker which are solemnly circulated by Christian malice; andyou will behold the last fruit of a very old tree, which is slowly butsurely perishing. It once bore scaffolds, stakes, prisons and torturerooms; it now bears but libels and insinuations. 

THE LOGIC OF PERSECUTION. 

Neither the cruelty of tyrants, nor the ambition of conquerors, haswrought so much mischief and suffering, as the principle of persecution. The crimes of a Nero, the ravages of an Attila, afflict the world for aseason, and then cease and are forgotten, or only linger in the memoryof history. But persecution operates incessantly like a natural force. With the universality of light, it radiates in every direction. Thepalace is not too proud for its entrance, nor is the cottage too humble. It affects every relationship of life. Its action is exhibited in publicthrough imprisonment, torture, and bloodshed, and in private through thetears of misery and the groans of despair. 

But worse remains. Bodies starve and hearts break, but at last therecomes "the poppied sleep, the end of all. " Grief is buried in the grave, Nature covers it with a mantle of grass and flowers, and the feet of joytrip merrily over the paths once trodden by heavy-footed care. Yet themore subtle effects of persecution remain with the living. _They_ arenot screwed down in the coffin and buried with the dead. They becomepart of the pestilential atmosphere of cowardice and hypocrisy whichsaps the intellectual manhood of society, so that bright-eyed inquirysinks into blear-eyed faith, and the rich vitality of active honestthought falls into the decrepitude of timid and slothful acquiescence. 

What is this principle of persecution, and how is it generated anddeveloped in the human mind? Now that it is falling into discredit, there is a tendency on the part of Christian apologists to ascribe itto our natural hatred of contradiction. Men argue and quarrel, and ifintellectual differences excite hostility in an age like this, how easyit was for them to excite the bitterest animosity in more ignorant andbarbarous ages! Such is the plea now frequently advanced. No doubt itwears a certain plausibility, but a little investigation will showits fallacy. Men and women are so various in their minds, characters, circumstances, and interests, that if left to themselves they inevitablyform a multiplicity of ever-shifting parties, sects, fashions andopinions; and while each might resent the impertinence of disagreementfrom its own standard, the very multiformity of the whole mass mustpreserve a general balance of fair play, since every single sect with anitch for persecuting would be confronted by an overwhelming majorityof dissidents. It is obvious, therefore, that persecution can only beindulged in when some particular form of opinion is in the ascendant:and if this form is artificially developed; if it is the result, not ofknowledge and reflection, but of custom and training; if, in short, itis rather a superstition than a belief; you have a condition of thingshighly favorable to the forcible suppression of heresy. Now, throughout history, there is one great form of opinion which _has been_artificially developed, which has been accepted through faith and notthrough study, which has always been concerned with alleged occurrencesin the remote past or the inaccessible future, and which has alsobeen systematically maintained in its "pristine purity" by an army ofteachers who have pledged themselves to inculcate the ancient faithwithout any admixture of their own intelligence. 

That form of opinion is Religion. Accordingly we should expect to findits career always attended with persecution, and the expectation isamply justified by a cursory glance at the history of every faith. Thereis, indeed, one great exception; but, to use a popular though inaccuratephrase, it is an exception which proves the rule. Buddhism has neverpersecuted But Buddhism is rather a philosophy than a religion; or, ifa religion, it is not a theology, and that is the sense attached to_religion_ in this article. 

All such religions have persecuted, do persecute, and will persecutewhile they exist. Let it not be supposed, however, that they punishheretics on the open ground that the majority must be right and theminority must be wrong, or that some people have a right to think whileothers have only the right to acquiesce. No, that is too shameless anavowal; nor would it, indeed, be the real truth. There is a principle inreligions which has always been the sanction of persecution, and if itbe true, persecution is more than right, it is a duty. That principle isSalvation by Faith. 

If a certain belief is necessary to salvation, if to reject it is tomerit damnation, and to undermine it is to imperil the eternal welfareof others, there is only one course open to its adherents; they musttreat the heretic as they would treat a viper. He is a poisonouscreature to be swiftly extinguished. 

But not _too_ swiftly, for he has a soul that may still be saved. Accordingly he is sequestered to prevent further harm, an effort is madeto convert him, then he is punished, and the rest is left with God. Thathis conversion is attempted by torture, either physical or mental, isnot an absurdity; it is consonant to the doctrine of salvation by faith. For if God punishes or rewards us according to our possession or lackof faith, it follows that faith is within the power of will. Accordinglythe heretic, to use Dr. Martineau's expression, is reminded not ofarguments but of motives, not of evidence but of fear, not of proofsbut of perils, not of reasons but of ruin. When we recognise that theunderstanding acts independently of volition, and that the threat ofpunishment, while it may produce silence or hypocrisy, _cannot_ alterbelief, this method of procedure strikes us as a monstrous imbecility;but, given a belief in the doctrine of salvation by faith, it mustnecessarily appear both logical and just. If the heretic _will_ notbelieve, he is clearly wicked, for he rejects the truth and insults God. He has deliberately chosen the path to hell, and does it matter whetherhe travel slowly or swiftly to his destination? But does it _not_ matterwhether he go alone or drag down others with him to perdition? Suchwas the logic of the Inquisitors, and although their cruelties must bedetested their consistency must be allowed. 

Catholics have an infallible Church, and the Protestants an infallibleBible. Yet as the teaching of the Bible becomes a question ofinterpretation, the infallibility of each Church resolves itself intothe infallibility of its priesthood. Each asserts that _some_ belief isnecessary to salvation. Religious liberty, therefore, has never enteredinto the imagination of either. The Protestants who revolted against thePapacy openly avowed the principle of persecution. Luther, Beza, Calvin, and Melancthon, were probably more intolerant than any Pope of theirage; and if the Protestant persecutions were not, on the whole, sosanguinary as those of the Roman Catholic Church, it was simply due tothe fact that Catholicism passed through a dark and ferocious periodof history, while Protestantism emerged in an age of greater light andhumanity. Persecution cannot always be bloody, but it always inflictson heretics as much suffering as the sentiment of the community willtolerate. 

The doctrine of salvation by faith has been more mischievous than allother delusions of theology combined. How true are the words of Pascal:"_Jamais on ne fait le mal si pleinement et si gaiement que quand oh lefait par un faux principe de conscience_. " Fortunately a nobler dayis breaking. The light of truth succeeds the darkness of error. Rightbelief is infinitely important, but it cannot be forced. Belief isindependent of will. But character is not, and therefore the philosopherapproves or condemns actions instead of censuring beliefs. Theology, however, consistently clings to its old habits. "Infidels" must not beargued with but threatened, not convinced but libelled; and when theseweapons are futile there ensues the persecution of silence. That servesfor a time, but only for a time; it may obstruct, but it cannot prevent, the spread of unbelief. It is like a veil against the light. It mayobscure the dawn to the dull-eyed and the uninquisitive, but presentlythe blindest sluggards in the penfolds of faith will see that the sunhas risen. 

LUTHER AND THE DEVIL. 

"Luther, " says Heine, "was not only the greatest, but also the mostthoroughly German, hero of our history. " Carlyle says that "no morevaliant man, no mortal heart to be called _braver_, ever lived in thatTeutonic kindred, whose character is valor. " Michelet calls him "theArminius of modern Germany. " Twenty tributes to Luther's greatness mightbe added, all more or less memorable; but these, from three very diversemen, will suffice for our present purpose. Martin Luther _was_ a greatman. Whoever questions it must appeal to new definitions. 

A great difference lay between the cold, saturnine Pope of Geneva andthe frank, exuberant hero of the German Reformation. Their doctrineswere similar; there was a likeness between their mistakes; but whata diversity in their natures! Calvin was the perfect type of thetheological pedant--vain, meagre, and arid; while Luther had in him, as Heine remarks, "something aboriginal"; and the world has, after all, profited by "the God-like brutality of Brother Martin. "

The nature of this great man was suited to his task. It required nogreat intellectual power to see through the tricks of Papal priestcraft, which had, indeed, been the jest of the educated and thoughtful forgenerations. But it required gigantic courage to become the spokesmanof discontent, to attack an imposture which was supported by universalpopular credulity, by a well-nigh omnipotent Church, and by thekeen-edged, merciless swords of kings and emperors. Still more, itrequired an indisputable elevation of nature to attack the imposturewhere, as in the sale of indulgences, it threatened the very essence ofpersonal and social morality. Hundreds of persons may be hatching anew truth in unknown concert, but when a battle for humanity has to befought, someone must begin, and begin decisively. Luther stepped out asprotagonist in the great struggle of his time; and Freethought is notso barren in great names that it need envy Brother Martin his righteousapplause. Indeed, it seems to me that Freethinkers are in a position toesteem Luther more justly than Christians. Seeing what was his task, and how it demanded a stormy, impetuous nature, we can thank Luther foraccomplishing it, while recognising his great defects, his faults oftemper and the narrowness of his views; defects, I would add, which itwere unnecessary to dwell on if Protestants did not magnify theminto virtues, or if they did not illustrate the inherent vices ofChristianity itself. 

Strong for his life-task, Luther was weak in other respects. Like Dr. Johnson, there were strange depths in his character, but none in hisintellect. He emitted many flashes of genius in writing and talking, butthey all came from the heart, and chiefly from the domestic affections. He broke away from the Papacy, but he only abandoned Catholicism so faras it conflicted with the most obvious morality. He retained all itscapital superstitions. Mr. Froude puts the case very mildly when he saysthat "Erasmus knew many things which it would have been well for Lutherto have known. " Erasmus would not have called Copernicus "an old fool, "or have answered him by appealing to Joshua. Erasmus would not have seena special providence in the most trifling accidents. Erasmus would nothave allowed devils to worry him. Above all, Erasmus would not havepursued those who were heretics to _his_ doctrine with all the animosityof a Papal bigot. Such differences induced Mr. Matthew Arnold to callLuther a Philistine of genius; just as they led Goethe to say thatLuther threw back the intellectual progress of mankind for centuries. Another poet, Shelley, seems to me to have hit the precise truth in his"Ode to Liberty":

 Luther caught thy wakening glance: Like lightning from his leaden lance Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the trance In which, as in a tomb, the nations lay. 

Shelley's epithet is perfect. Luther's lance was big and potent. It wrought terrible havoc among the enemy. But it was _leaden_. Itoverthrew, but it did not transfix. 

This is not the place to relate how Luther played the Pope in his ownway; how he persecuted the Zwinglians because they went farther thanhimself on the subject of the real presence; how he barked at the Swissreformers, how he pursued Andreas Bodenstein for a difference on infantbaptism; how he treated Münzer and the Anabaptists; how he hounded onthe nobles to suppress the peasant revolt and "stab, kill, and stranglethem without mercy"; or how he was for handing over to the executionerall who denied a single article which rested on the Scripture or theauthority of the universal teaching of the Church. My purpose is to showLuther's attitude towards the Devil, witches, apparitions, and all therest of that ghostly tribe; and in doing so I have no wish to indulge in"the most small sneer" which Carlyle reprobates; although I do thinkit a great pity that such a man as Luther should have been a slave tosuperstitions which Erasmus would have met with a wholesome jest. 

Neither Jews nor witches fared any the better for the Reformation, untilit had far outgrown the intention of its founders. Brother Martin hatedthe Jews, thought many of them sorcerers, and praised the Duke of Saxonyfor killing a Jew in testing a talisman. As for witches, he said, "I would have no compassion on them--I would burn them all. " Poorcreatures! Yet Luther was naturally compassionate. It was the fatalsuperstition which steeled his heart. Still there are dainty scepticswho tell us not to attack superstition. I point them to Martin Lutherburning witches. 

Brother Martin lived in God's presence, but they were generally three, for the Devil was seldom absent. His Satanic Majesty plagued the poorReformer's life till he wished himself safe in heaven. Sometimesthe fiend suggested impious doubts, and at ether times suicide. Heattributed his chronic vertigo to the Devil, because the physic he tookdid him no good. So familiar did the Devil become that Luther, hearinghim walk overhead at night, would say "Oh, is it you?" and go to sleepagain. Once, when he was marrying-an aristocratic couple, the weddingring slipped out of his fingers at a critical moment. He was frightened, but, recovering himself, he exclaimed, "Listen, Devil, it is not yourbusiness, you are wasting your time. " The famous scene in which Lutherthrew an inkstand at the Devil is legendary, though Coleridge, Carlyleand others have made it the theme of their eloquence; and the ink-stainstill shown on the wall at Wartburg is like the stain of Rizzio's bloodin Holyrood Palace. 

Luther's own visions were largely due to dyspepsia and an activeimagination. He said that the Devil troubled him less at night when hetook a good "nightcap, " which made him sleep soundly. He found that theDevil could not stand music, being a sad and sombre personage; just as, long before, music was found a sovereign recipe for the melancholia ofKing Saul. But the surest specific was railing and derision. When Luthercalled him names, or laughed at him, the Devil vanished in a huff. Brother Martin was plain-spoken at the best of times, but on theseoccasions he was too-downright for quotation. Michelet gives a choicesample; but though the French language allows more licence than ours, he is obliged to give but the first letter of one of Luther's vigoroussubstantives. Brother Martin displayed a sly humor in one of his storiesabout Satan. A possessed person was taken into a monastery, andthe devil in him said to the monks, "O my people, what have Idone?"--"_Popule meus, quid feci tibi?_"

According to Luther, fair and foul winds were caused by good and evilspirits. He spoke of a terrible lake in Switzerland, haunted by theDevil, and said there was a similar one in his own country. If a stonewas thrown into it, a frightful storm shook the whole locality. TheDevil made people idiots, cripples, blind, deaf and dumb; and Lutherdeclared that the doctors who treated such infirmities as natural hada great deal to learn in demonology. One or two of his stories ofpossession are extremely gruesome. With his own lusty love of life, Luther could not understand suicide, so he attributed that also to theDevil. Satan made the suicides think they were doing something else;even praying, and thus he killed them. Brother Martin, indeed, sometimesfeared the Devil would twist his neck or press his skull into hisbrains. Nor did he shrink from the darkest developments of thissuperstition. He held that the Devil could assume the form of a man ora woman, cohabit with human beings of the opposite sex, and become afather or a mother. "Eight years ago, " said Luther, "I saw and touchedmyself at Dessau a child who had no parents, and was born of the Devil. He was twelve years old, and shaped like an ordinary child. He didnothing but eat, and ate as much as three peasants or threshers. When hewas touched he cried out like one possessed; if any unfortunate accidenthappened in the house, he rejoiced and laughed; if, on the contrary, allwent well, he wept continually. I said to the princes of Anhalt, withwhom I then was: If I commanded here I would have that child thrown intothe Moldau, at the risk of being its murderer. But the Elector of Saxonyand the princes were not of my opinion. "

Here is a case in which the Doctor of Divinity, though naturally akind man, is quite ready to take human life at the behest of adevilish superstition, while the less fanatical laymen shrink fromsuch inhumanity. The only devil in this story is the devil of fearfulignorance and misbelief in Brother Martin. He it was who needed theexorcist, although the truth would have greatly surprised him. Carlylemay use his snarling muscles at the "apothecary's apprentice" who isable to give a scientific explanation of Luther's visions; but, afterall, the unfortunate persons whom Luther would have murdered by mistakemight be pardoned for preferring the apothecary's apprentice to theProtestant Pope. The fact is, the doctrine of devils, of demoniacalpossession, of incubi and succubi, and of sorcery and witchcraft, wasnot fostered by laymen so much as by the clergy. Lecky remarks that"almost all the great works written in favor of the executions werewritten by ecclesiastics, " and Tylor asserts that "the guilt of thusbringing down Europe intellectually and morally to the level ofnegro Africa" lies mainly upon the Church, Protestant being as bad asCatholic, for they vied in outraging and killing those who were doomed, by the ghastliest of superstitions, to be "for life and death of allcreatures the most wretched. " Eternal honor to Luther for the heroismwhich sent him to Worms, and made him exclaim to his dissuaders: "I willgo if there are as many devils in Worms as there are tiles upon theroofs of the houses. " But eternal hatred and contempt for the Creedwhich degraded heroes into Jack the Rippers. I say _the Creed_; forChristianity cannot be exculpated. Witchcraft, possession, and sexualintercourse between human and superhuman beings, are distinctly taughtin the Bible; and if there were no other indictment of Christianity, theawful massacre and torture of millions of helpless women and childrenwould suffice to damn it everlastingly. 

BIBLE ENGLISH. 

Turning over the pages of Coleridge's "Table Talk" recently, myattention was arrested oy several passages I had marked, many years ago, in that suggestive book. Two or three of these, referring to the _style_of the Bible, resuscitated some reflections I made on the first reading, and which I now venture to express: with all deference, let me add, toColeridge's ethereal genius and magical mastery of words. 

"Intense study of the Bible, " he says, "will keep any writer from being_vulgar_, in point of style. " Granted; and the sacred scriptures of anypeople and any creed would have the some influence. Vulgarity, unlessit is bestial, is monkeyish. Obviously this is a characteristic alien toreligion, which is based on the sense of wonder, and deals chiefly withthe sublime. While the mind is absorbed by the unseen, imagination iscalled into play; and imagination is the antithesis of vulgarity. Theunknown is also the terrible, and when the mind is alarmed there is noroom for the _puerilities_ of egotism. Any exaltation of feeling servesthe same purpose. The most vulgar woman, in terror at a danger to herchild, is lifted into the sphere of tragedy, and becomes a subject forart; nor could the lowest wretch exhibit vulgarity when committinga murder under the influence of passion. Vulgarity, in short, isself-consciousness, or at least only compatible with it; and displaysitself in self-assertion at the expense of others, or in disregard orin defiance of their feelings. Now Monotheism, such as the Bible in itssublimest parts is pregnant with, naturally banishes this disposition, just in proportion as it is real. It may tolerate, and even cherish, many other evils, but not that; for vulgarity, as I understand it, is absolutely inconsistent with awe. How then do I account for thevulgarities of the Salvation Army? Simply by the fact that thesepeople have _no_ awe; they show the absurdities of religion without itssentiments. They are _townspeople_, used to music-halls, public-houses, street-fights, and frivolous crowds. Their antics would be impish toreligionists whose awe was nurtured by hills and forests, the rising andsetting sun, and the majesty of night. 

Not only do we find the same austere simplicity in the Vedas, theKurân, and other sacred scriptures; we find it in most of the oldworld literature. The characteristic of modern writings is subtlety anddexterity; that of the ancient, massiveness and directness; and thesame difference holds good in a comparison of the various stages of ourliterature. The simplicity of the Elizabethan lyrics, to say nothingof Chaucer, is only to be emulated in later ages, whose life is somuch more complex, by a recluse visionary like Blake. Even when Shelleyapproaches it, in such songs as that of Beatrice in the last act ofthe "The Cenci, " we feel that stream of music is crossed and shaken bysubtle under-currents. 

What Coleridge claims for the Bible may be claimed for all imaginativeand passionate literature. Æschylus, Lucretius, Dante, Milton; how doesthe Bible excel these in that respect? When we come to Shakespeare wefind a sublimity which transcends that of Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Job, witha pathos, a humor, and a wit, such as no Hebrew writer ever imagined. And Shakepeare's superb style triumphs easily in all these fields. Coleridge recommends the Bible as an antidote to vulgarity. I wouldrecommend Milton as much, Dante more, and Shakespeare beyond all. 

"Our version of the Bible, " Coleridge elsewhere says, "has preserveda purity of meaning to many terms of natural objects. Without thisholdfast, our vitiated imaginations would refine away language to mereabstractions. " This is merely saying that our Bible, designed for commonpeople centuries ago, is a monument of Saxon English. Clearly that is anaccident of our translation, and not an essence of the Bible itself. Asmuch may be said for all our ancient standards. 

Coleridge admits that our New Testament is less elegant and correct thanthe Old, and contains "slovenly phrases which would never have comefrom Ben Jonson, or any other good prose writer of the day. " Yet our NewTestament, according to Mr. Swinburne (and there is no better judge), is translated from canine Greek into divine English. The truth is, the_style_ of our Bible is owing to the translators. They lived beforethe hurry of our cheap periodical press, when men wrote leisurelyfor leisured readers. There was also no great accumulation of nativeliterature, and scholars studied almost exclusively the masterpieces ofGreece and Rome. Their sense of style was therefore superior. Readthe Dedication to King James in our authorised version, then theintroduction to our revised version, and see what an immense differencethere is between the styles. Or read Paul's noble praise of charity inthe two versions. By substituting _love_ for _charity_, the revisershave vitiated the sense, and destroyed the balance of the style. Theirmincing monosyllable is too weak to bear the structural weight of theclauses. A closer analysis shows that they have spoiled the passagethroughout. They had no ear: in other words, no style. The oldtranslators _had_ ears, and knew other people had. Their work was meantto be read aloud, and it bears the test. That test is the supreme one, and goes deeper than hearing. Flaubert, a great master of style, alwaysread his manuscript aloud; holding that phrases are right when theycorrespond to all the necessities of respiration, while ill-writtenphrases oppress the chest, disturb the beatings of the heart, and contravene the conditions of life. Shakespeare bears thistest triumphantly. In his great passages, respiration is easy andpronunciation simple; the language is a splendid and mellifluous stream. 

I venture to say in conclusion: Consult the revised version of the Biblefor meaning, but read the old one for style. It is a treasury of musicaland vigorous Saxon, a well of strong English undefiled; although Hebrewis a poor language, and the Greek of the New Testament is perhaps theworst ever written. But do not think, as Macaulay pretended, that thelanguage of the Bible is sufficient for every purpose. It sustained thegenius of Bunyan, but the mightier genius of Shakespeare had to drawfrom other sources to support its flight. Our English Bible contains sixthousand words; Shakespeare's vocabulary contains nine thousand more. 

LIVING BY FAITH. 

What is Faith? Faith, said Paul, "is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. " This is a faith that sensiblemen avoid. The man of reason may have faith, but it will be a faithaccording to knowledge, and not a faith that dispenses with knowledge. He believes that the sun will rise to-morrow, that the ground willremain firm under his feet, that the seasons will succeed each other indue course, and that if he tills the ground he will reap the harvest. But his belief in these things is based upon experience; his imaginationextends the past into the future, and his expectations are determined byhis knowledge. The future cannot indeed be demonstrated; it can only bepredicted, and prediction can never amount to an absolute certitude; yetit may amount to a height of probability which is practically the samething. Religious faith, however, is something very different. It is notbelief based on evidence, but the evidence and the belief in one. Theresult is that persons who are full of faith always regard a demand forevidence as at once a heresy and an insult. Their faith seems to them, in the language of Paul, the very _substance_ of their hopes; and theyoften talk of the existence of God and the divinity of Christ as beingno less certain than their own existence. 

Properly speaking, faith is trust. This involves a wide latitude beyondour knowledge. If we trust a friend, we have faith in him, and we actupon that sentiment. But we are sometimes deceived, and this shows thatour faith was in excess of our knowledge. Sometimes, indeed, it isquite independent of knowledge. We trust people because we like them, or because they like us. This infirmity is well known to sharpers andadventurers, who invariably cultivate a pleasing manner, and generallypractise the arts of flattery. The same principle holds good inreligion. It was sagaciously remarked by Hume that we ought to suspectevery agreeable belief. The mass of mankind, however, are not sofastidious or discriminating. On the contrary, they frequently believe athing because it _is_ pleasant, and for no other reason. How often havewe heard Christian advocates prove the immortality of the soul to thecomplete satisfaction of their auditors by simply harping on man'sdesire to live for ever! Nay, there have been many great "philosophers"who have demonstrated the same doctrine by exactly the same means. 

Religious faith, to borrow a definition from _Chambers's Dictionary_, is usually "belief in the statement of another. " There are a few mysticswho profess to hold personal intercourse with God, but the majority, ofmankind take their religion on trust. They believe it because theywere taught it, and those who taught them believed it for the very samereason. When you trace back the revelation to its beginning, you alwaysfind that it is derived from men who lived a long time ago, or whoperhaps never lived at all. Mohammed vouches for the Koran. Yes, but whowill vouch for Mohammed?

Thomas Paine well said that what is revelation to the man who receivesit, is only hearsay to the man who gets it at secondhand. If anyonecomes to you with a message from God, first button your pockets, andthen ask him for his credentials. You will find that he has none. Hecan only tell you what someone else told him. If you meet the originalmessenger, he can only cry "thus saith the Lord, " and bid you believe orbe damned. To such a haughty prophet one might well reply, "My dear sir, what you say may be true, but it is very strange. Return to the beingwho sent you and ask him to give you better credentials. His word maybe proof to you, but yours is no proof to me; and it seems reasonableto suppose that, if God had anything to tell to me, he could communicatepersonally to me as well as to you. "

In ancient times the prophets who were thus accosted worked miraclesin attestation of their mission; but our modern prophets have no suchpower, and therefore they can scarcely claim our belief. If they ask uswhy we reject what they tell us on the authority of the ancient prophetswho possessed greater powers, we reply that what is a miracle to thosewho see it is only a story to those who hear it, and that we prefer tosee the miracle ourselves. Telling us that a man rose from the dead isno reason why we should believe that three times one are one; it is onlyproving one wonder by another, and making a fresh draft on our credulityat every step in the demonstration. 

There are men who tell us that we should live by faith. But that isimpossible for all of us. The clergy live by faith, yet how could theydo so if there were not others to support them? Knaves cannot existwithout dupes, nor the Church without subscribers. 

Living _by_ faith is an easy profession. Living _on_ faith, however, ismore arduous and precarious. Elijah is said to have subsisted on foodwhich was brought him by inspired ravens, but there are few of God'sministers willing to follow his example. They ask God to give them theirdaily bread, yet they would all shrink with horror from depending onwhat he sends them. 

VICTOR HUGO. *

 * May 31, 1885. 

Two years and a half ago France was mourning the death of Gambetta. Every hostile voice was hushed, and the whole nation bent tearfully overthe bier, where a once mighty heart and fervent brain lay cold and stillin death. Never, perhaps, since Mirabeau burned out the last of hisgreat life had Paris been so profoundly moved. Gambetta was carried tohis grave by a million of men, and in all that tremendous procession nopriest figured, nor in all the funeral ceremony was there a word of God. For the first time in history a nation buried her hero without a shredof religious rites or a whisper of any other immortality than theimmortality of fame. 

France now mourns the death of Victor Hugo, the great poet of theRepublic, as Gambetta was its great orator and statesman. These two, in their several ways, did the most to demolish the empire. Gambettaorganised and led the Republican opposition, and when the _déchéance_came, he played deep for the Republic in the game of life and death, making the restoration of the empire an impossibility. But long beforethe young orator challenged the empire, it was arraigned before the barof liberty and humanity by the great poet. From his lonely channel rock, in the bitter grandeur of exile, Victor Hugo hurled the lightnings andthunders of his denunciation at the political burglar of France and hisparasitical minions. Practical people laughed at him, not knowing thathe was more practical than they. They saw nothing but the petty present, and judged everything by its immediate success. He was nourished bysovereign principles, rooted in the depths of the human heart andblossoming in its loftiest aspirations. He was a prophet who chanted hisown inspiration to the world, knowing that few would listen at first, but assured that the message would kindle some hearts, and that theliving flame would leap from breast to breast till all were wrapt inits divine blaze. He scorned the base successful lie and reverenced thenoble outcast truth, and he had unfaltering faith in the response whichmankind would ultimately make to the voice of their rightful lord. Greathe was as a poet, a romancer and a dramatist, but he was greatest asa prophet. He lived to see his message justified and his principlestriumphant, and died at the ripe old age of eighty-three, amid the loveand reverence of the civilised world. We are not blind to his failings;he had, as the French say, the defects of his qualities. But they do notobscure his glory. His failings were those of other men; his greatnesswas his own. 

Victor Hugo, like Gambetta, was a Freethinker. We know he professed abelief in God, but he had no theology. His God was Nature, suffused withpassion and ideality; and his conviction of "Some far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves, " was only his faith in progress, extended into the remotest future. He was a true Freethinker in hisgrand assertion of the majesty of reason and conscience. He appealedto the native dignity of the individual, and hated priestcraft with aperfect hatred. Lacking humor himself, and brilliant without wit, hecould recognise these qualities in others, and he thought them as validas his own weapons against the dogmas of superstition. How fine washis great word about Voltaire--"Irony incarnate for the salvation ofmankind. " Like Gambetta, Victor Hugo is to be buried without religiousrites, according to his will. No priest is to profane the sanctity ofdeath by mumbling idle words over his grave concerning what he isas ignorant of as the corpse at his feet. In death, as in life, theFreethinker would confront the universe alone from the impregnable rockof his manhood, convinced that

 There is no danger to a man that knows What life and death is: there's not any law Exceeds his knowledge: neither is it lawful That he should stoop to any other law. 

Not only did Victor Hugo will that no priest should officiate at hisburial, he ordered that none should approach his bed. But the carrioncrows of the death-chamber were not to be deterred by his well-knownwishes. The Archbishop of Paris offered to visit the dying hereticand administer to him the supreme unction on behalf of the Church. M. Lockroy, the poet's son-in-law, politely declined the offer. Ournewspapers, especially the orthodox ones, regard the Archbishop'smessage as a compliment. In our opinion it was a brazen insult. SupposeMr. Bradlaugh wrote to say that he would gladly attend the sickbedof Canon Wilberforce for the purpose of receiving his confession ofAtheism; would the orthodox regard it as a compliment or an insult?We fail to see any difference in the two cases, and we know not whyimpertinence in an Atheist becomes civility in a Christian. Fortunately, Victor Hugo's death-chamber was not intruded upon by impudentpriests. His relatives respected his convictions the more as they wereFreethinkers themselves. No priest will consecrate his grave, but itwill be hallowed by his greatness; and what pilgrim, as he bends overthe master's tomb, will hear in the breeze, or see in the grass andflowers, any sign that a priest's benison is wanting to his repose?

DESECRATING A CHURCH. 

There was a Pantheon at Rome, which was a monument of the religioustolerance of the Empire. It was dedicated, as appears from theinscription on the portico, by Agrippa, son-in-law to the greatAugustus, to Jupiter and all the other gods, with the same generositythat prompted the Athenians to erect an altar to the gods that mightbe unknown. A niche was afforded within its walls to every deity of theprovinces whose devotees were willing to accept the hospitality; andChrist himself might have figured with the rest, if his worshippers didnot scorn all other gods but their own. 

The old Pantheon still exists, and bears the name of the Rotunda. Butit is no longer a Pagan temple. It was re-dedicated by Pope Bonifacethe Fourth, in A. D. 608, to the Virgin Mary and all the saints. AnotherPope, a thousand years later, despoiled it of its ornaments, which hadbeen spared by so many barbarian conquerors. He cast some into cannon, and with the rest formed a high altar for the Church of St. Peter. 

These alterations were of course justifiable. They were all made inthe interest of Christianity. What could be more proper than thetransformation of Pagan temples into Christian churches? What moreadmirable than devoting to the worship of Christ the edifice which hadechoed to the tread of the priests of Jupiter? What more pious thansinging the praises of Mary and all the saints in a temple whereidolaters had celebrated the glories of all the gods and goddesses ofOlympus?

Such is Christian logic. But if the temples of one faith may be sotransformed, why may not those of another? If Christianity had the rightto devote the temples of Paganism to its own uses, why has not moderncivilisation the right to devote the temples of Christianity to Secularpurposes?

The Church thinks otherwise. It is at present denouncing thesecularisation of the Church of St. Geneviève, in order that VictorHugo, who died a Freethinker and was buried without religious rites, might repose in an unconsecrated place. This building is the FrenchPantheon. It was secularised during the Revolution, and dedicated bythe Republic, not to the gods of religion, but to the heroes of liberty. When the monarchy was restored it was re-consecrated, and purged of theluciferous taint of Voltaire's dust. But now the Republic is oncemore established on the ruins of monarchy and imperialism, it againsecularises the Church of St. Geneviève as a tomb for its mighty dead. The Church is naturally indignant, but its anathemas are powerless. Goddoes not interpose, and the Republic is too strong. Nay, there is even arumor that the Roman Pantheon may be secularised also, and changedinto a national mausoleum, where the youth of Italy may bend reverentlybefore the tombs of such glorious soldiers of progress as Mazzini andGaribaldi, instead of honoring the very counterfeit presentment offabulous old saints, chiefly renowned for their laziness and dirt. 

The Church of St. Geneviève is desecrated, cries the Archbishop ofParis, and special prayers are offered up to that ancient lady in heavento avert her wrath from the infidel city which has so insulted her. In one sense the Archbishop is right. The Church is desecrated in thestrict etymological meaning of the word. It has been converted fromsacred to secular uses. But in the secondary meaning of the word thebuilding is not desecrated, but honored, by being made a fit receptaclefor the mortal remains of Victor Hugo. 

A government decree and the removal of the cross on top of the churchwere the only steps necessary to its desecration. The consecratedcharacter of the temple is gone. To the carnal eye the structure remainsunchanged, within and without, except for the loss of a crucifix; butit is quite possible that a priestly nose would be able to scent theabsence of the Spirit. The Holy Ghost has fled, angels no more hauntthe nave and aisles, and St. Geneviève hides her poor head in grief andhumiliation. No doubt; yet we dare say the building will stand none theless firmly, and if it should ever be pulled down, its materials wouldfetch as much in the market as if they were saturated with divinity. 

Consecration is, after all, nothing but a priestly trick. What sensibleman believes that the Holy Ghost, if such a being exist, is at the beckand call of every Catholic or Protestant bishop? Can the "universalspirit" dwell exclusively in certain places? Can the third person of theTrinity have sunk into such an abject state as to dodge in and out ofbuildings, according as he is wanted or not? Is there any differencethat the nose, or any other sensitive organ, can detect between aconsecrated church and an unconsecrated chapel? Can the geologist orthe chemist discern any difference between the consecrated and theunconsecrated division in a cemetery? Is the earth affected by priestlymutterings? Do the corpses lie any more peacefully, or decompose anymore slowly, for the words pronounced over the mould that covers them?Or is there any appreciable virtue in the consecrated water, with whichthe Protestant and Catholic are alike baptised, and with which thelatter sprinkles himself periodically as a preservative against evil?Season finds no difference; it is perceived only by Faith, which may bedefined as the faculty which enables a man to see what does not exist. 

WALT WHITMAN. *

 * April, 1892. 

Walt Whitman's death can have taken no one by surprise. For years he hadbeen at the brink of the grave, and the end comes as a relief. A greatsoul may be cheerful, or at least serene, in all circumstances; butthere is neither pleasure nor dignity in living on as the ghost of one'sself. 

Few superber specimens of physical manhood than Walt Whitman's haveappeared on this planet. "He looks like a man, " said Abraham Lincoln, as his gaze followed the poet past a window of the White House. Whitmanstood six feet two, his limbs and torso were splendid, and his head wasmagnificently proportioned. His vitality must have been wonderful, andhis health was absolutely perfect until after the War, during which hetoo assiduously nursed the sick and wounded, to the lasting detriment ofhis phenomenal constitution. The flame of his life burnt on for anotherthirty years, but his strength was seriously undermined, and he is farbetter entitled to be called a martyr than many who have more cheaplyearned the distinction. 

Walt Whitman's great personality can hardly be disputed. He impressedhimself as something colossal on all who came into close contact withhim. The magnetism of his presence in the military hospitals was moresanative than the doctors' physic. Men, women, and children felt gladand satisfied in his company. His large, frank, healthy nature radiateda perpetual benediction. One who knew him intimately has said that henever saw upon Whitman's features any trace of mean or evil passions. The man was thoroughly wholesome. Even his occasionally free utteranceson sexuality are only sins against decorum. They do not violate nature. He never spoke on this subject with the slobbery grin of the voluptuary, or the leer of prurience. He was at such moments simply unreticent. Meaning no harm, he suspected none. In this respect he belonged to aless self-conscious antiquity, when nothing pertaining to man was commonor unclean, and even the worship of the powers of generation was notwithout dignity and solemnity. 

Some of the foremost Englishmen of our time have acknowledged Whitman'sgreatness and sanity--notably Carlyle, Ruskin, and Tennyson. Mr. Swinburne is the only one who has unsaid his praise. 

Tennyson's intimacy with Whitman--always through correspondence--wassimply beautiful. A superficial reader of human nature might haveinquired what they had in common--the rough, amorphous American poet, and the exquisite English poet, a flower of millenniums of culture. Butthere is something deeper than form. It is substance. There is somethingdeeper than language. It is manhood. And on the common ground of thedeeper things of life, the American and English poets--otherwise sodiverse--clasped hands, as it were, across the sundering ocean. 

Whitman's claim to be considered a great poet, or even a poet at all, has been the subject of hot dispute. But such questions are notso settled. Only give time enough, and every writer falls by meregravitation into his proper place, from which all the controversies inthe world can never shift him. Where the evidence is largely subjective, as it must be in appraising genius, there is sure to be much in ourjudgment that is incommunicable. The logic of events, as we say inpolitics; or the proof of the pudding, as we say in the vernacular; isnot so brilliant as logical sword-play, but it has the merit of beingdecisive. 

Whitman's poetry looks strange to a reader accustomed to conventionalmodels. It positively offends his eyesight. The ear may detect a certainrhythm, but where are the set lengths of orthodox versification? Here, however, there lurks a fallacy. Poetry is not the antithesis of prose. The antithesis of prose is verse. Some of the finest and noblest poetryin the world's literature is not cast in rhyme, though rhythm--oftensubtler than all possible rules--is indispensable. Yet there issomething precious in poetical form; ay, and something durable. Many anexquisite lyric, with no great depth of feeling or reach of thought, hascome down the stream of time, and will float upon it for ever. Nodoubt Dr. Johnson was right in calling it a waste of time to carvecherrystones, but precious stones are the more valued and admired forthe art of the lapidary. Whitman did not cultivate versification. Healmost despised it. He sneered at "dulcet rhymes. " Yet this may hinderhis access to posterity. Mr. Meredith hints as much in his sonnetentitled "An Orson of the Muse, " which surely refers to Whitman. Heallows him to be the Muse's son, though he will not wear her livery. 

 Him, whom he blows of Earth, and Man, and Fate, The Muse will hearken to with graver ear Than many of her train can waken: him Would fain have taught what fruitful things and dear Must sink beneath the tidewaves, of their weight, If in no vessel built for sea they swim. 

That Whitman, however, could do great things with rhythm, and withoutrhyme, is proved by his "Funeral Hymn of President Lincoln, " which JamesThomson ranked with Shelley's "Adonais, " and Mr. Swinburne called "themost sublime nocturne ever chanted in the cathedral of the world. " Thatthis is a great poem, and will live, we have not the slightest doubt. Some other of Whitman's poems will doubtless live with it, but wholemasses of his poetry will probably sink to the bottom--not, however, before doing their work and delivering their message. 

Because of his want of form, Whitman suffers more than other poets inextracts. We shall make none, but refer the reader to the whole body ofhis poetry, Some of it is almost wearisome; the rest will repay study. It contains the utterance of a great soul, full of love and friendship, patriotism and humanity, brooding over the everlasting problems oflife and death. Untrammelled by schools and systems, Whitman was atrue Freethinker. Cosmopolitan as he was, he preached the gospel ofindividuality. 

"This is what you shall do: love the earth and the sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupidand the crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence towards thepeople, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man ornumber of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with theyoung and mothers of families, re-examine all you have been told atschool or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul;and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, andbetween the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of yourbody. "

Whitman appealed to the brotherhood of all and the dignity of each. Hedeclared he would have nothing which every other man might not have onequal terms. The business of the great poet was "to cheer up slaves andhorrify despots. " Men, too, should keep in close communion withNature, yet always feel that they could "be good or grand only of theconsciousness of the supremacy within them. "

"What do you think is the grandeur of storms and dismemberments, and thedeadliest battles and wrecks, and the wildest fury of the elements, andthe power of the sea, and the motion of nature, and of the throes ofhuman desires, and dignity and hate and love? It is that somethingin the soul which says-Rage on, whirl on, I tread master here andeverywhere; master of the spasms of the sky and of the shatter of thesea, of all terror and all pain. "

America, perhaps even more than England, has need of Whitman's teachingas the poet of Democracy. He derided "the mania of owning things, "he scorned distinctions of caste and class, he sang the divinenessof comradeship--and, what is more, he practised it. Full-blooded, strong-limbed, rich-brained, large-hearted men and women are a nation'sbest products, and if a nation does not yield them, its wealth will onlyhasten its doom and pollute its grave. 

TENNYSON AND THE BIBLE. *

 * October, 1892. 

We owe no apology for speaking of the dead poet as "Tennyson. " This ishow he will be known by posterity. The rank is but the guinea's stamp, and in this case it was not requisite. A true poet's gold can neither bemade more precious nor more current by empty titles. In our opinion, itis a degradation, instead of an honor, for one of nature's aristocratsto herd with the artificial nobility of an hereditary peerage. Wealso take the opportunity of regretting that Tennyson ever became PoetLaureate. The court poet should not survive the court dwarf andthe court jester. It is painful to see a great writer grinding outprofessional odes, and bestowing the excrements of his genius on royalnonentities. The preposterous office of Poet Laureate should now beabolished. No poet should write for a clique or a coterie; he shouldappeal directly to the heart of the nation. 

Tennyson's funeral took place at Westminster Abbey. The heads of thatestablishment, following the example set by Dean Stanley, now act asbody-snatchers. They appropriate the corpses of distinguished men, whether they believed or disbelieved the doctrines of the service readover their coffins. Charles Darwin's body is buried there--the greatAgnostic, who repudiated Christianity; Robert Browning's too--the poetwho said "I am no Christian" to Robert Buchanan. Carlyle took care thathis corpse should not join the museum. Tennyson's, however, is now inthe catalogue; and, it must be admitted, with more plausibility than inthe case of Browning--with far more than in the case of Darwin. 

Christian pulpiteers, all over the country, have been shouting theirpraises of Tennyson as a Christian poet. They are justified in makingthe most of a man of genius when they possess one. We do not quarrelwith them. We only beg to remark that they have overdone it. TheChristianity of Tennyson is a very different thing from the Christianitythey vend to the credulous multitude. 

There is no real evidence that Tennyson accepted the legendary part ofChristianity. Even in "In Memoriam, " which was published forty-threeyears ago, the thought is often extremely Pantheistic. It is nearlyalways so in the later poems. God, not Christ, became more and more theobject of the poet's adoration, "Strong Son of God, immortal Love"--thefirst line of tne earlier poem--does not necessarily mean Christ; whilethe exclamation, "Ring in the Christ that is to be, " is more symbolicthan personal. There is also a strong hope, rather than the certitude, of a future life. No thoroughly convinced Christian could have writtenof

 The Shadow cloaked from head to foot, Who keeps the keys of all the creeds. 

Nay, the very deity of Christ is held loosely, if at all, in thethirty-third section, where he

 Whose faith has centre everywhere, Nor cares to fix itself to form. 

is bidden to leave his sister undisturbed when she prays; the poetexclaiming

 Oh, sacred be the flesh and blood To which she links a truth divine!

In the last line of the next stanza this "sacred flesh and blood"of Christ (it is to be presumed) is called "a type"--which is a widedeparture from orthodox Christianity. And what shall we say of the finallines of the whole poem?

 One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves. 

Like other passages of "In Memoriam, " it is a distinct anticipation ofthe thought of "The Higher Pantheism, " "Flower in the Crannied Wall, ""De Profundus, " and "The Ancient Sage. "

Much has been made of the "Pilot" in one of Tennyson's last poems, "Crossing the Bar. "

 I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. 

This has been treated as a reference to Christ; but a friend ofTennyson's, writing in the _Athenæum_, says that the reference wasreally to the poet's son, Lionel Tennyson, who "crossed the bar" ofdeath some years previously. How much more natural and human is thereference in the light of this explanation! Yet it appears, after all, from a later letter to the press by Tennyson's surviving son, that he_did_ mean Christ. This is not, however, a confession of orthodoxy. Thesentiment might be shared by men like the venerable Dr. Martineau, whodeny the deity of Christ and strongly dissent from many time-honoredChristian teachings. 

Tennyson most assuredly revolted against the brutalities ofChristianity; which, by the way, are countenanced by very explicit textsin the New Testament. He did not approve the text, "Great is your rewardin heaven. " He was above such huckstering. He sang of Virtue--

 She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just, To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky. Give her the wages of going on, and not to die. 

A noble petition! though in the teeth of a too patent destiny. 

The doctrine of eternal Hell he first turned from, then denounced, andfinally despised. It was for wavering as to this hideous dogma that theRev. F. D. Maurice got into trouble with his College. He was godfatherto Tennyson's little boy, and the poet invited him, in exquisitelycharming verse, to share his hospitality. 

 For, being of that honest few, Who give the Fiend himself his due, Should eighty-thousand college-councils Thunder "Anathema, " friend, at you;

 Should all our churchmen foam in spite At you, so careful of the right, Yet one lay-hearth would give you welcome (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight. 

Tennyson had already, in "In Memoriam, " proclaimed himself aUniversalist, as Browning did afterwards in his powerful lines on theold Morgue at Paris. He had expressed the hope

 That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life should be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete; That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain. 

Such, a poet could never see the divinity of the wicked, awful words, "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire. " He denounced it in"Despair, " a poem of his old age. Well does he make the Agnostic cry outto the minister--

 What! I should call on that Infinite Love that has served us so well? Infinite cruelty rather that made everlasting Hell, Made us, foreknew us, foredoomed us, and does what he will with his own; Better our dead brute mother who never has heard us groan!

This is fierce denunciation, but it pales before the attack on Hell in"Rizpah"; that splendid poem, which is perhaps the very noblest effortof Tennyson's genius; outweighing hundreds of Balaclava charges andsea-fights; outshining the flawless perfection of "Maud":--a poemwritten in heart's blood and immortal tears, with a wondrously potentand subtle imagination, and a fire of humanity to burn up wholemountains of brutal superstitions. 

The passionate words of the poor old dying mother, full of a deathlesslove for her boy who was hung, go straight as an arrow to its mark, through all the conventions of society and all the teachings of theChurch. 

 Election, Election and Reprobation--it's all very well, But I go to-night to my boy, and I shall not find him in Hell. 

 And if he be lost--but to save my soul, that is all your desire; Do you think that I care for my soul if my boy be gone to the fire?

Tennyson gives the very essence of the moral revolt against Hell. Humannature has so developed in sympathy that the sufferings of others, though out of sight, afflict our imaginations. We loathe the spectacleof Abraham and Lazarus gazing complacently on the torture of Dives. Once it was not so. Those who were "saved" had little or no care for the"damned. " But the best men and women of to-day do not want to be savedalone. They want a common salvation or none. And the mother's heart, which the creeds have trampled upon, hates the thought of any happinessin Heaven while son or daughter is agonising in Hell. 

It is perfectly clear that Tennyson was far from an orthodox Christian. Quite as certainly he was not a Bibliolator. He read the Bible, ofcourse; and so did Shelley. There are fine things in it, amidst itsfalsehoods and barbarities; and the English version is a monument of ourliterature. We regard as apocryphal, however, the story of Tennyson'stelling a boy, "Read the Bible and Shakespeare; the one will teach youhow to speak to God, and the other how to speak to your fellow-men. "Anyhow, when the poet came to die, he did not ask for the Bible and hedid ask for Shakespeare. The copy he habitually used was handed to him;he opened it at "Cymbeline, " one of the most pagan of Shakespeare'splays; he read a little, and then held the book until Death came withthe fall of "tired eyelids upon tired eyes. "

It was a poetic death, and a pagan death. There lay the aged, world-weary poet; artificial light was withdrawn, and the moonlightstreamed through the window upon his noble figure. Wife and son, doctorsand nurses, were silent around him. And as Death put the last cold touchon the once passionate heart, it found him still clasping the book ofthe mighty magician. * Let it be also noted that no Christian priest wasat his bedside. He needed not the mum-lings of a smaller soul to aid himin his last extremity. Hope he may have had, but no fear. His life endedlike a long summer day, slowly dying into night. 

 * The present Lord Tennyson wrote as follows to Sir Arthur Hodgson, Chairman of the Shakespeare's Birthplace Trustees: "I beg to convey from my mother and myself our grateful acknowledgment to the Executive Committee of Shakespeare's Birthplace for their most kind expression of sympathy and for their beautiful wreath. My father was reading 'King Lear, ' 'Troilus and Cressida, ' and 'Cymbeline' through the last days of his life. On Wednesday he asked for Shakespeare. I gave him the book, but said, 'You must not try to read. ' He answered, 'I have opened the book. ' I looked at the book at midnight when I was sitting by him, lying dead on the Thursday, and found he had opened on one of the passages which he had called the tenderest in Shakespeare. We could not part with this volume, but buried a Shakespeare with him. We had the book enclosed in a metal box and laid by his side. --Yours faithfully, Hallam Tennyson. "

CHRIST'S OLD COAT. 

The little town of Trier (Treves) will soon wear a festive appearance. Pilgrims will be flocking to it from all parts of Germany, and God knowsfrom where besides. Its handful of inhabitants have obtained licenses toopen hotels and restaurants; every inch of available space has been let, so that whirligigs, panoramas, and menageries have to be refused thesites they apply for; every room in the town is to be let, more or lessfurnished; and not only is the tram company doubling its line, but therailway company is constructing special stations for special trains. 

All this excitement springs from a superstitious source. After aninterval of several years the Church will once more exhibit an old rag, which it calls the Holy Coat, and which it pretends is the very garmentwe read of in the Gospels. Such a precious relic is, of course, endowedwith supernatural qualities. It will heal the sick, cure cripples, and, let us hope, put brains into idiotic heads. Hence the contemplated rushto Trier, where more people will congregate to see Christ's coat thanever assembled to hear him preach or see him crucified. 

The pilgrims will not be allowed to examine the Holy Coat. Few of them, perhaps, would be inclined to do so. Thev have the faith which removesmountains, and swallowing a coat is but a trifle. Nor would the Churchallow a close inspection of this curious relic, any more than itwould allow a chemist to examine the bottle in which the blood of St. Januarius annually liquefies. The Holy Coat will be held up by priestsat a discreet and convenient distance; the multitude of fools will fallbefore it in ecstatic adoration; and the result will be the usual one insuch cases, a lightening of the devotees' pockets to the profit of HolyMother Church. 

According to the Gospels, the Prophet of Nazareth had a seamlessovercoat. Perhaps it was presented to him by one of the rich women whoministered unto him of their substance. Perhaps it was a birthday giftfrom Joseph of Arimathaea. Anyhow he had it, unless the Gospels lie;and, with the rest of his clothes, it became the property of hisexecutioners. Those gentlemen raffled for it. Which of them won it weare not informed. Nor are we told what he did with it. It would be auseless garment to a Roman soldier, and perhaps the warrior who won theraffle sold it to a second-hand clothes-dealer. This, however, is merelya conjecture. Nothing is known with certainty. The seamless overcoatdisappeared from view as decisively as the person who wore it. 

For many hundreds of years it was supposed to have gone the way of othercoats. No one thought it would ever be preserved in a Church museum. Butsomehow it turned up again, and the Church got possession of it, thoughthe Church could not tell now and when it was found, or where ithad been while it was lost. One coat disappeared; hundreds of yearsafterwards another coat was found; and it suited the Church to declarethem the same. 

At that time the Church was "discovering" relics with extraordinarysuccess and rapidity. Almost everything Christ ever used (or didn't use)came to light. His baby linen, samples of his hair and teeth, and themilk he drew from Mary's breast, the shoes he wore into Jerusalem, fragments of the twelve baskets' full of food after the miracle ofthe loaves and fishes, the dish from which he ate the last supper, thethorns that crowned his brow, the sponge put to his lips on the cross, pieces of the cross itself--these and a host of other relics weretreasured at varions churches in Europe, and exhibited with unblushingeffrontery. Even the prepuce of Jesus, amputated at his circumcision, was kept at Rome. 

Several churches boasted the same articles. John the Baptist's body wasin dozens of different places, and the finger with which he pointed toJesus as his successor was shown, in a fine state of preservation, atBesancon, Toulouse, Lyons, Bourges, Macon, and many other towns. 

John Calvin pointed out, in his grim _Treatise on Relics_, that the HolyCoat of Christ was kept in several churches. In our own time, a book onthis subject has been written by H. Von Sybel, who proves that the Triercoat is only one of twenty that were exhibited. All were authentic, andall were guaranteed by the same authority. Holy Mother Church lied andcheated without a twinge of compunction. 

Nineteen Holy Coats have gone. The twentieth is the last of the tribe. While it _pays_ it will be exhibited. When it ceases to pay, the Churchwill quietly drop it. By and bye the Church will swear it never keptsuch an article in stock. 

Superstition dies hard, and it always dies viciously. The ruling passionis strong in death. A journalist has just been sent to prison forcasting a doubt on the authenticity of this Holy Coat. Give the CatholicChurch its old power again, and all who laughed at its wretched humbugwould be choked with blood. 

Protestants, as well as Freethinkers, laugh at Catholic relics. Werewe to quote from some of the old English "Reformers, " who carried on avigorous polemic against Catholic "idolatry, " we should be reproachedfor soiling our pages unnecessarily. John Calvin himself, the Genevanpope, declared that so many samples of the Virgin Mary's milk wereexhibited in Europe that "one might suppose she was a wet nurse or acow. "

Freethinkers, however, laugh at the miracles of Protestantism, aswell as those of the Catholic Church. They are all of a piece, in theultimate analysis. It is just as credible that Christ's Coat would workmiracles, as that Elisha's bones restored a corpse to life, or thatPaul's handkerchiefs cured the sick and diseased. All such things belongto the same realm of pious imagination. Thus, while the Protestantlaughs at the Catholic, the Freethinker laughs at both. 

CHRIST'S COAT, NUMBER TWO. 

Jesus Christ is urgently required on earth again, to settle the piousdispute between Treves and Argenteuil as to which possesses the realseamless coat that was taken from him at the Crucifixion and raffledfor by the Roman soldiers. No one but the second person of the Trinity, unless it be the first or third person of that three-headed monstrosity, is adequate to the settlement of this distracting quarrel. Even thePapacy, which represents the Holy Trinity on earth, is at variance withitself. Pope Leo favors Treves, and the wicked pilgrims who visit thatlittle old town are to obtain absolution, if they do not forget to "prayfor the extirpation of erroneous doctrines. " Pope Pius, his predecessor, however, favored Argenteuil. A portion of the Holy Coat treasured inthe church there was sent to him, and in return for the precious gift heforwarded a well-blessed and marvellously-decorated wax taper, which isstill on show in a fine state of preservation. 

When Popes differ, ordinary people, like pious Christians, and eventhe editors of Freethought journals, may be excused if they hesitate tocommit themselves. One of these coats _may_ be the true one, though theevidence is all against it, being in fact of such a shaky nature that itwould hardly suffice to substantiate a claim to a bunch of radishes. But_both_ of them _cannot_ be authentic, and the problem is, which is thevery coat that Jesus wore? Now it is obvious that no one--barring histwo colleagues aforesaid--can possibly determine this question buthimself. His re-appearance on earth is therefore most desirable; nay, it is absolutely necessary, unless a lot of people who would fain bowbefore the cast-off clothes of their Redeemer are either to stay at homein a state of dubiety or to incur the risk of kneeling before amouldy old rag that perchance belonged to a Moorish slave or a Syrianwater-carrier--in any case, to a dog of an infidel who spat at the veryname of Christ, for such raiment was never worn by the worshippers ofthe Nazarene. 

If Christ is coming to decide this great and grave problem, he will haveto make haste, for Argenteuil is already on the war-path. Its Holy Coatis being exhibited before that of Treves, and thousands of pilgrimsare giving Number Two the preference. Presently the Treves relic willattract its thousands, and the spectacle will be positively scandalous. Two Richmonds in the field were nothing to two Christ's Coats, eachpretending to be the real article, and each blessed by a Pope. For thesake of decency as well as truth, Christ should peremptorily interfere. It is difficult to see how he can refrain. The Second Advent maytherefore be expected before the date assigned by Prophet Baxter, andwe shall probably soon hear the faithful singing "Lo he comes in cloudsdescending. "

Why should he not come? we may ask the Catholics. His mother hasoften appeared, if we may believe the solemn affidavits of priests andbishops, backed up by the Holy See. Why should he not come? we may alsoask the Protestants. His second coming is an article of their faith; itis plainly taught in the New Testament, and was recently propounded byMr. Spurgeon as part of the irreducible minimum of the Christian faith. That he will come, then, may be taken for granted; and what betteropportunity could be desired than the present? Surely the faithful, allover Europe--ay, and in America, to say nothing of Asia, Africa, andAustralia--will cry like one man, "Come Lord Jesus, quickly come! Tellus, oh tell us, which of these mouldy old rags did once grace thy holyshoulders? Save us, oh save us, from the pain, the ignominy of adoringa dirty relic of some unknown sinner, who perhaps blasphemed thy holyname. Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord!" Meanwhile we maypoint out that, if Christ does not come and adjudicate between Trevesand Argenteuil, a multitude of Christians will certainly go on a fool'serrand. Our private opinion is that all will do so who visit either orthese places. Nevertheless they will no doubt congratulate themselves, if they go to Treves, on winning absolution. The Holy Father at Rome, who has a supernatural dispensing power, promises to wipe out the recordof their sins. Liars, cheats, seducers, adulterers, and undetectedassassins, may take a trip, perform genuflexions before something ina glass case, and return home with a clean record. Who can conceive aneasier method of avoiding the consequences of wickedness? As for theprayer which the pilgrims are to offer up for "the extirpation oferroneous doctrines, " it will cost them very little effort, for sinnerswho are washed clean with such delightful celerity are not likely to bein love with "erroneous doctrines" that declare the Pope's dispensingpower a sham, and sternly tell men that the consequences of action, whether good or bad, are inevitable. We very much doubt, however, if"erroneous doctrines" will disappear through the prayers of thepilgrims or the curses of the Pope. Scepticism will probably gain by thespectacle of two rival Coats of Christ, both exhibited at the sametime, both attracting crowds of devotees, and both enjoying the Papalblessing. It will bring superstition into still further contempt, andpromote the rejection of a creed which has ever traded on ignorance andcredulity. 

SCOTCHED, NOT SLAIN. 

Those who have read the foregoing articles on the Holy Coat exhibitionsat Treves and Argenteuil may think that enough space has been devotedto such a ridiculous subject. It is possible, however, that the presentarticle will induce them to alter that opinion. 

Hitherto we have treated this outburst of Christian superstitionwith jocosity, but there is a serious aspect of it which must not beneglected. Christianity has often made Freethinkers laugh, but notunfrequently it has made them weep tears of blood. Absurdity is notalways a laughing matter. There was a comic side to the orthodoxpersecution of Charles Bradlaugh--but it killed him. Bigotry andsuperstition are fit subjects for jest and ridicule; when they gainpower, however, they are apt to substitute agony for laughter. Celsusridiculed Christianity in the second century; in the fourth his writingswere absolutely destroyed, and those who shared his opinions, and daredto express them, were on the high road to the prison and the stake. 

More recent events teach the same lesson. Thomas Paine treatedChristianity not only with trenchant argument, but also with brilliantderision. For this he suffered ostracism and calumny, and for publishingthe _Age of Reason_ Richard Carlile, his wife, his sister, and hisshopmen rotted in English gaols. The _Freethinker_ derided Christianabsurdities, and its conductors were sent to herd with criminals in aChristian prison. Nearly everyone thought, as Sir James Stephen declaredin a legal text-book, that the Blasphemy Laws were obsolete; but it wasproved by the inexorable logic of fact that laws are never obsoleteuntil they are repealed. While the Blasphemy Laws exist they are alwaysliable to enforcement. They are the standing menace of an absurd creedto those who smile at it too ostentatiously. 

Let us extend the same line of reflection to this Holy Coat business. Contemptible as it is to the eye of reason, it excites the piety ofmillions of persons who never reasoned on religion in the whole courseof their lives. Hundreds of thousands of men and women will visitthese sham relics of a Savior whose own existence is open to dispute. Superstition will be stirred to its depths. The bestial instinct ofspiritual slavery inherited from ancient semi-human progenitors will beintensely stimulated. The sacred function of priests will be heightenedand intensified. Nor must it be forgotten that the pecuniary offeringsof the pilgrims will fill the coffers of Holy Mother Church, whopromises heaven to her dupes and seizes wealth and power for herself onearth. 

Superstition is scotched, but not slain. It has life enough to be aperil to civilisation. The faith which wrecked "the grandeur that wasGreece and the glory that was Rome"--the faith which buried the science, art, philosophy and literature of antiquity under a monstrous heap ofbrutal rubbish, out of which they were slowly and painfully excavatedafter the lapse of a thousand years--this same faith is still a dangerto the highest welfare of mankind; to its reason, its conscience, itssense of dignity, and its spirit of brotherhood; above all, to freedomof thought, which is the sole guarantee of real and durable progress. 

If we turn to Russia, we see at a single glance the fruits ofsuperstition and its twin-sister tyranny. The Czar is the head of theChurch and the head of the State; not like Queen Victoria, whose sacredfunction is only indicated in Latin on our coinage, but in literal, prosaic fact. By means of a swarm of ignorant, and often drunkenand immoral priests, the masses of the people are kept in wretchedsubjection--hewers of wood and drawers of water, toilers for the hugearmy of officials, aristocrats, and princes--and conscripts for thearmy; while the best and noblest, in whom there still throbs the pulseof freedom, blacken the highways to the mines of Siberia, where hell ismore than realised on earth, and the dreams of sour-blooded theologiansare outdone in misery and horror. *

Over the rest of Europe, even in France, the secular State is often asinsecure as the footsteps of travellers over thin crusts of volcanicsoil. Bismarck, the Titan, whose great work, with all its defectsand failings, may appeal from the clamorous passing hour to the quietverdict of history, only kept the Catholic Church and its Jesuits incheck for a generation. He could not impair its vitality nor diminishits latent power. It is in Germany that the Coat of Christ is beingexhibited, with priests and professors joining hands at the brazenceremony of imposture; in Germany that myriads of pilgrims are wendingtheir way to the shrine of an idolatry as ignominious as anything thatChristianity ever supplanted. 

Even in France the one great danger to the Republic is Christiansuperstition. It is the Church, her priests and her devotees, thatfurnish the real strength of every reactionary movement. That consummatecharlatan, General Boulanger, took to going to church and cultivatingorthodoxy when at the height of his aspiration for power. Happily he wasdefeated by the men of light and leading. Happily, too, the ablestand most trusted leaders of public life in France are on the side ofFreethought. It is this, more than anything else, that makes thecountry of Voltaire the beacon of civilisation as well as the "martyr ofdemocracy. "

Charles Bradlaugh, on a very solemn occasion, warned the Freethoughtparty that even in England their great fight would ultimately be withthe Catholic Church. He knew that superstition was scotched, but healso knew it was far from slain. While Freethinkers are laughing at thisexhibition of old rags, called the Coat of Christ, they should pause fora moment to consider the serious meaning of such a grotesque display ofsuperstition in the land of Goethe and Heine, and in the age of Darwin. Let us jest round our camp-fires, but let us grip our sword-hilts as wehear the cries, the jingle of weapons, and the tramp of men in the campof our enemy. 

GOD-MAKING. 

"Man is certainly stark mad; he cannot make a flea, and yet he willbe making gods by dozens. " So wrote honest Montaigne, the first greatsceptic in modern history, who was so far in advance of his age thathe surprised the world by venturing to doubt whether it was after alla just and sensible thing to burn a man alive for differing from hisneighbors. 

The history of that mental aberration which is called religion, and asurvey of the present state of the world, from the fetish worshipper ofcentral Africa to the super-subtle Theist of educated Europe, furnishus with countless illustrations of the truth of Montaigne's exclamation. God-making has always been a prevalent pastime, although it has lessattraction for the modern than for the ancient mind. It was a recreationin which everyone could indulge, whether learned or illiterate, youngor old, rich or poor. All the material needed to fashion gods of wasignorance, and there was always an unlimited stock of that article. The artificer was imagination, a glorious faculty, which is the highestdower of the creative artist and the scientific discoverer, and in theirservice is fruitful in usefulness and beauty, but which in the serviceof theology is a frightful curse, filling the mental world withfantastic monsters who waylay and devour. 

Common people, however, who did the work of the world, were not ableto do much god-making. Their leisure and ability were both limited. Butthey had a large capacity for admiring the productions of others, andtheir deficiencies were supplied by a special class of men, calledpriests, who were set apart for the manufacture of deities, and whodevoted their time and their powers to the holy trade. This piousdivision of labor, this specialisation of function, still continues. Carpenters and tailors, grocers and butchers, who are immersed all theweek in labor or business, have no opportunity for long excursions inthe field of divinity; and therefore they take their religion at secondhand from the priest on Sunday. It was not the multitude, but thesacred specialists, who built up the gigantic and elaborate edifice oftheology, which is a purely arbitrary construction, deriving all itsdesign and coherence from the instinctive logic of the human mind, thatoperates alike in a fairy tale and in a syllogism. 

Primitive man used conveniently-shaped flints before he fashioned flintinstruments; discovery always preceding invention. In like manner hefound gods before he made them. A charm resides in some natural object, such as a fish's tooth, a queer-shaped pebble, or a jewel, and it isworn as an amulet to favor and protect. This is fetishism. By-and-bvecounterfeits are made of animals and men, or amalgams of both, and thefetishistic sentiment is transferred to these. This is the beginning ofpolytheism. And how far it extends even into civilised periods, let thesuperstitions of Europe attest. The nun who tells her beads, and thelady who wears an ornamental crucifix, are to some extent fetishists;while the Catholic worship of saints is only polytheism in disguise. 

Reading the Bible with clear eyes, we see that the ancient Jewsworshipped gods of their own making, which were handed down as familyrelics. When Jacob made tracks after sucking his uncle dry, Rachelcarried off the poor old fellow's teraphim, and left him without evena god to worship. Jahveh himself, who has since developed into God theFather, was originally nothing but an image in an ark. Micah, in thebook of Judges, makes himself a houseful of gods, and hires a Levite ashis domestic chaplain. How long the practice persisted we may judge fromthe royal scorn which Isaiah pours on the image-mongers, who hewed downcedars and cypresses, oaks and ashes, some for fuel and some for idols. Let us hear the great prophet: "He burneth part thereof in the fire;with part thereof he eateth flesh; he roasteth roast, and is satisfied:yea, he warmeth himself, and saith, Aha, I am warm, I have seen thefire: And the residue thereof he maketh a god, even his graven image:he falleth down unto it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, andsaith, Deliver me, for thou art my god. "

Twenty-six centuries have elapsed since Isaiah wrote that biting satire, yet image-worship still prevails over three-fourths of the world; andeven in Christian countries, to use Browning's phrase, we "see God madeand eaten every day. " A wave of the hand and a muttered spell, changebread or wafer and port-wine into the body and blood of Christ, whichare joyously consumed by his cannibal worshippers. 

Not even the higher divinities of the greater faiths are exempt fromthe universal law. They are not creatures of man's hand, yet they arecreatures of his brain. What are they but his own fancies, broodedon till they become facts of memory, and seem to possess an objectiveexistence? The process is natural and easy. A figment of the imaginationmay become intensely real. Have we not a clearer idea of Hamlet andOthello than of half our closest acquaintances? Feuerbach went straightto the mark when he aimed to prove "that the powers before which mancrouches are the creatures of his own limited, ignorant, uncultured andtimorous mind, and that in especial the being whom man sets over againsthimself as a separate supernatural existence in his own being. "

Yes, all theology is anthropomorphism--the making of gods in man'simage. What is the God of our own theology, as Matthew Arnold putsit, but a magnified man? We cannot transcend our own natures, even inimagination; we can only interpret the universe in the terms of our ownconsciousness, nor can we endow our gods with any other attributes thanwe possess ourselves. When we seek to penetrate the "mystery of theinfinite, " we see nothing but our own shadow and hear nothing but theecho of our own voice. 

As we are so are our gods, and what man worships is what he himselfwould be. The placid Egyptian nature smiles on the face of the sphinx. The gods of India reflect the terror of its heat and its beasts andserpents, the fertility of its soil, and the exuberance of its people'simagination. The glorious Pantheon of Greece--

 Praxitelean shapes, whose marble smiles Fill the hashed air with everlasting love--

embodies the wise and graceful fancies of the noblest race that everadorned the earth, compared with whose mythology the Christian system isa hideous nightmare. The Roman gods wear a sterner look, befitting theirpractical and imperial worshippers, and Jove himself is the ideal geniusof the eternal city. The deities of the old Scandinavians, whose bloodtinges our English veins, were fierce and warlike as themselves, withstrong hands, supple wrists, mighty thews, lofty stature, grey-blue eyesand tawny hair. Thus has it ever been. So Man created god in his ownimage, in the image of Man created he him; male and female created hethem. 

GOD AND THE WEATHER. 

With characteristic inconsistency the Christian will exclaim "Hereis another blasphemous title. What has God to do with the weather?"Everything, sir. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without hisknowledge, and do you think he fails to regulate the clouds? Thehairs of your head are numbered, and do you think he cannot count therain-drops? Besides, your clergy pray for a change in the weather whenthey find it necessary; and to whom do they pray but God? True, they aregetting chary of such requests, but the theory is not disavowed, nor canit be unless the Bible is 'discarded as waste-paper; and the forms ofsupplication for rain and fine weather still remain in the Prayer Book, although many parsons must feel like the parish clerk who asked "What'sthe use of praying for rain with the wind in that quarter?"

We might also observe that as God is omnipotent he does everything, orat least everything which is not left (as parsons would say) to man'sfreewill, and clearly the weather is not included in that list. God isalso omniscient, and what he foresees and does not alter is virtuallyhis own work. Even if a tile drops on a man's head in a gale of wind, itfalls, like the sparrow, by a divine rule; and it is really the Lord whobatters the poor fellow's skull. An action for assault would undoubtedlylie, if there were any court in which the case could be pleaded. Whata frightful total of damages would be run up against the defendant ifevery plaintiff got a proper verdict! For, besides all the injuriesinflicted on mankind by "accident, " which only means the Lord's maliceor neglect, it is a solemn fact (on the Theist's hypothesis) that Godhas killed every man, woman, and child that ever died since the humanrace began. We are born here without being consulted, and hurried awaywithout the least regard to our convenience. 

But let us keep to the weather. A gentleman who was feeding the fish atsea heard a sailor singing "Britannia rules the waves. " "Does she?" hegroaned, "Then I wish she'd rule them straighter. " Most of us might asfervently wish that the Lord ruled the weather better. Some parts ofthe world are parched and others flooded. In some places the crops arespoiled with too much sun, and in others with too little. Some peoplesigh for the sight of a cloud, and others people see nothing else. Occasionally a famine occurs in India which might have been averted byhalf our superfluity of water. Even at home the weather is always moreor less of a plague. Its variation is so great that it is always a safetopic of conversation. You may go out in the morning with a light heart, tempted by the sunshine to leave your overcoat and umbrella at home; andin the evening you may return wet through, with a sensation in the nosethat prognosticates a doctor's bill. You may enter a theatre, or a hall, with dry feet, and walk home through a deluge. In the morning a southwind breathes like zephyr on your cheeks, and in the evening your faceis pinched with a vile and freezing northeaster. 

"Oh, " say the pious, "it would be hard to please everybody, and foolishto try it. Remember the old man and his ass. " Perhaps so, but the Lordshould have thought of that before he made us; and if he cannot give usall we want, he might show us a little consideration now and then. Butinstead of occasionally accommodating the weather to us, he invariablymakes us accommodate ourselves to the weather. That is, if we can. Butwe cannot, at any rate in a climate like this. Men cannot be walkingalmanacks, nor carry about a wardrobe to suit all contingencies. In thelong run the weather gets the better of the wisest and toughest, andwhen the doctors have done with us we head our own funeral procession. The doctor's certificate says asthma, bronchitis, pulmonary consumption, or something of that sort. But the document ought to read "Died of theweather. "

Poets have sung the glory of snowy landscapes, and there is no prettiersight than the earth covered with a virgin mantle, on which the treesgleam like silver jewels. But what an abomination snow is in cities. Theslush seems all the blacker for its whiteness, and the pure flakes turninto the vilest mud. Men and horses are in a purgatory. Gloom sitson every face. Pedestrians trudge along, glaring at each other withmurderous eyes; and the amount of swearing done is enough to prove thewhole thing a beastly mistake. 

It seems perfectly clear that when the Lord designed the weather, two orthree hundred million years ago, he forgot that men would build cities. He continues to treat us as agriculturalists, even in a manufacturingand commercial country like this. "Why should people get drenchedin Fleet-street while the Buckinghamshire farmers want rain? Thearrangement is obviously stupid. God Almighty ought to drop the rainand snow in the country, and only turn on enough water in the citiesto flush the sewers. He ought also to let the rain fall in the night. During the daytime we want the world for our business and pleasure, andthe Rain Department should operate when we are snug in bed. This isa reforming age. Gods, as well as men, must move on. It is reallyridiculous for the Clerk of the Weather to be acting on the old lineswhen everybody down below can see they are behind the time. If he doesnot improve we shall have to agitate on the subject Home Rule is theorder of the day. We need Home for the globe, and we cannot afford tolet the weather be included in the imperial functions. It is a domesticaffair. And as the Lord has considerably mismanaged it, he had betterhand it over to us, with full power to arrange it as we please. "

MIRACLES. 

What is a miracle? Some people would reply, an act of God. But thisdefinition is far too wide. In the theistic sense, it would includeeverything that happens; and in the sense of our archaic bills oflading, it would include fire and shipwreck. 

Others would reply, a miracle is a wonder. But this definition wouldinclude every new, or at least every surprising new fact. A black swanwould have been a wonder before Australia was discovered, but it wouldhave been no miracle. Railways, telegraphs, telephones, electric light, and even gas light, would be wonders to savages, yet neither are theymiracles. One of the Mahdi's followers was astonished by an Englishofficer, who pulled out his false eye, tossed it in the air, caught it, and replaced it; after which he asked the flabbergasted Arab whether hismiraculous Mahdi could do that. It was a greater wonder than the Mahdicould perform; still it was not a miracle. Ice was so great a wonder tothe King of Siam that he refused to credit its existence. Yet it wasnot miraculous, but a natural product, existing in practically unlimitedquantities in the polar regions. We might multiply these illustrations_ad infinitum_, but what we have given will suffice. If not, let thereader spend an evening at Maskelyne and Cooke's, where he will seeplenty of startling wonders and not a miracle amongst them. 

Hume's definition of a miracle as a violation of a law of nature, is thebest ever given, and it really is as perfect as such a definition canbe. It has been carped at by Christian scribblers, and criticised bysuperior theologians like Mozley. But, to use Mr. Gladstone's phrase, itkeeps the field. Even the criticisms of Mill and Huxley leave its meritunimpaired. The ground taken by these is, that to say a miracle is aviolation of a law of nature is to prejudge the question, and to ruleout all future facts in the interest of a prepossession. Mill, however, allows that a miracle is a violation of a valid induction, and as a lawof nature means nothing more it is difficult to understand why he takesany exception to Hume's statement of the case. It is perfectly obviousthat Hume's argument is not metaphysical, but practical. He does notdiscuss the _possibility_ but the _probability_ of miracles. He reducesthe dispute to a single point, namely, whether the person who relatesa miracle (for to the world at large the question is necessarily one oftestimony) is deceived or deceiving, or whether the otherwise universalexperience of mankind is to be disbelieved; in other words, whether heor the rest of the world is mistaken. One man may, of course, be right, and all the human race opposed to him wrong, but time will settle thedifference between them. That _time_, however, simply means generalexperience through long ages; and that is precisely the tribunal whichHume s argument appeals to. 

Quarrelling with Hume's definition is really giving up miraclesaltogether, for, except as supernatural evidence, they are no moreimportant than shooting stars. The very nature of a miracle, in whateverformula it may be expressed, is superhuman, and having a purpose, itis also supernatural; in other words, it is a special manifestationof divine power for a particular object. Whether, being so, it is aviolation, a contravention, or a suspension of the laws of nature, is amere question about words. 

We may say that a miracle has three elements. It is first a fact, unaccountable by science; secondly, it requires a conscious agent; andthirdly, it results from the exercise of a power which that agent doesnot naturally possess. 

Let us descend to illustration. Huxley takes the following case. Supposethe greatest physiologist in Europe alleged that he had seen a centaur, a fabulous animal, half man and half horse. The presumption would bethat he was laboring under hallucination; but if he persisted in thestatement he would have to submit to the most rigorous criticism by hisscientific colleagues before it could be believed; and everybodywould feel sure beforehand that he would never pass through the ordealsuccessfully. The common experience, and therefore the common sense, ofsociety would be dead against him, and probably he would be refusedthe honor of examination even by the most fervid believers in ancientmiracles. 

But after all the centaur, even if it existed, would not be a miracle, but a monstrosity. It does not contain the three elements we haveindicated. Real miracles would be of a different character. Plenty maybe found in the Bible, and we may make a selection to illustrate ourargument. Jesus Christ was once at a marriage feast, when the wine ranshort, which was perhaps no uncommon occurrence. Being of a benevolentturn of mind, and anxious that the guests should remember the occasion, he turned a large quantity of cold water into fermented juice of thegrape. Now water contains oxygen and hydrogen in definite proportions, and nothing else, while wine contains in addition to these, carbon andother elements, being in fact a very complex liquid. Jesus Christ must, therefore, in turning water into wine, have created something, andthat transcends human power. Here, then, we have a complete miracle, according to Hume's definition and our own theory. 

We do not say the miracle never occurred, although we no more believe init than we believe the moon is made of green cheese. We are willing toregard it as susceptible of proof. But does the proof exist? To answerthis we must inquire what kind of proof is necessary. An extraordinarystory should be supported by extraordinary evidence. It requires theconcurrent and overwhelming testimony of eye-witnesses. We must bepersuaded that there is no collusion between them, that none of themhas anything to gain by deception, that they had no previous tendencyto expect such a thing, and that it was practically impossible that theycould be deluded. Now let any man or any Christian seriously ask himselfwhether the evidence for Jesus Christ's miracle is of this character. Four evangelists write his life, and only one mentions the occurrence. Even he was certainly not an eye-witness, nor does he pretend to be, andthe weight of evidence is against his gospel having been written tilllong after the first disciples of Jesus were dead. But even if thewriter distinctly declared himself an eye-witness, and if it wereundeniable that he lived on the spot at the time, his single unsupportedtestimony would be absurdly inadequate to establish the truth of themiracle. Every reader will at once see that the established rules ofevidence are not conformed to, and whoever accepts the miracle must ekeout reason with faith. 

So much for the evidence of miracles. Their intellectual or moral valueis simply nil. The greatest miracle could not really convince a man ofwhat his reason condemned; and if a prophet could turn water into wine, it would not necessarily follow that all he said was true. In fact, truth does not require the support of miracles; it flourishes betterwithout their assistance. Universal history shows that miracleshave always been employed to support falsehood and fraud, to promotesuperstition, and to enhance the profit and power of priests. 

A REAL MIRACLE. *

 * May, 1891. 

It is a common belief among Protestants, though not among Catholics, that the age of miracles is past. For a long time it has been verydifficult to find a real case of special providence. There are storiesafloat of wonderful faith-cures, and the followers of John Wesley, as well as the followers of William Booth, often shake their headsmysteriously, and affect to trace the hand of God in certain episodes oftheir experience. But such cases are too personal, and too subjective, to challenge criticism or inquiry. Investigating them is like exploringa cloud. There is nothing tangible for the mind to seize, nothing tostand by as the basis of discussion. What is wanted is a real objectivemiracle, a positive _fact_. Happily such a miracle has come to the aidof a distressed Christianity; it is worth tons of learned apologetics, and will give "the dying creed" a fresh lease of life. 

Unfortunately the world at large is in gross ignorance of thisastonishing event. Like the earthquake, the eclipse, and the wholesaleresurrection of saints at the crucifixion of Christ, it has excited verylittle public attention. But this dense apathy, or Satanic conspiracy ofsilence, must not be allowed to hide a precious truth. We therefore doour best to give it publicity, although in doing so we are blasting ourown foundations; for we belong to a party which boasts that it seeksfor truth, and we are ready to exclaim, "Let truth prevail though theheavens fall. "

Most of our readers will remember the late accident on the Brighton lineat Norwood. A bridge collapsed, and only the driver's presence of mindaverted a great loss of life. Of course the driver did his obvious duty, and presence of mind is not uncommon enough to be miraculous. But thatdoes not exhaust the matter. The driver (Hargraves) is perfectly sure hereceived divine assistance. He is a man of pious habits. He neverleaves his house without kneeling down with his wife and imploringGod's protection. He never steps on the engine without breathing anotherprayer. On the morning of the accident his piety was in a state ofunusual excitation. He begged his wife to "pray all that day"--whichwe presume she did, with intervals for refreshment; and he knelt downhimself in the passage before opening his front door. When the accidenthappened he put the brake on and cried "Lord, save us, " and according tothe _Christian World_ "it has since been stated by expert engineers thatno train was ever before pulled up in such a short distance. "

A carping critic might presume to ask the names and addresses of these"expert engineers. " He might also have the temerity to inquire theprecise distance in which the train was pulled up, the shortest distancein which other trains have been pulled up, and the weight and velocityof the train in each case. He might also meanly suggest that puttingon the brake left as little as possible to Providence. For our part, however, we will not pursue such hyper-criticism. It is applying to amiracle a test which it is not fitted to stand. Something must beleft to faith, something must be reserved from reason, or the stoutestmiracle would soon fall into a galloping consumption. The man in whoma pious disposition counteracts the restless play of thought, will notdemand absolute proof; he will only require an encouraging amount ofevidence; and he will dutifully lift his face and hands to heaven, exclaiming, "Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief. "

The line we shall follow is a different one. Without questioning themiracle, we venture to ask why it was not more complete. Lives weresaved, but several persons were injured. Was this due to the fact thatHargraves' prayer was not sufficiently above proof? Did the Lord answerthe prayer according to its insensity? Was there a sceptic in the trainwho partially neutralised its effect? Or did the Lord proceed onthe method favored by priests, preventing the miracle from being tooobvious, but giving the incident a slightly supernatural appearance, inorder to confirm the faith of believers without convincing the calloussceptics, whose deep sin of incredulity places them beyond "the means ofgrace and the hope of glory?"

Nor are these questions exhaustive. Very much remains to be said. Itappears that the Norwood bridge collapsed through a secret flaw inthe ironwork. Could not the Lord, therefore, in answer to Hargraves'prayers--which surely extended to the interests of his employers--haveinspired one of the Company's engineers with the notion of someunsoundness in the structure? This would have saved a good deal ofproperty, and many passengers from suffering a shock whose effects mayhaunt them for years, and perhaps send them to untimely graves? Mightnot the Lord have cleared the roadway below, knocked down the bridgein the night, and brought some one to see the collapse who could havecarried the tidings to the signalmen? Certainly there seems a remarkablewant of subtlety in the ways of Providence. It looks as though the Deityheard a prayer now and then, and jerked out a bit of miracle in a moreor less promiscuous manner. 

What has happened to Providence since the Bible days? Miracles thenwere clear, convincing, and artistically rounded. You could not possiblymistake them for anything else. Baalam's ass, for instance, was not aperforming "moke"; it does not appear to have known a single trick; andwhen it opened its mouth and talked in good Moabitish, the miracle wascertain and triumphant. In the same way, the Norwood miracle might havebeen unadultterated with the usual operations of nature. The bridgemight have collapsed as the train approached, driver Hargraves mighthave said his prayer, the train might have leapt across the chasm, picked up the connection on the other side, and pursued its way toBrighton as if nothing had happened. But as the case stands, Providenceand the safety-brake act together, and it is difficult to decide theirshares in the enterprise. Further, the miracle is sadly mixed. Any humanbeing would have planned it better, and made it stand out clearly andfirmly. 

This Norwood miracle, however, seems the best obtainable in these days. It is a minute return for all the prayers of the clergy, to say nothingof pious engine-drivers; a miserable dividend on the gigantic investmentin supernaturalism. We pity the poor shareholders, though we mustcongratulate the directors on the large salaries they draw from thebusiness. We also pity poor old Providence, who seems almost playedout. Once upon a time he was in fine form; miracles were as common asblackberries; Nature seldom got an innings, and Jehovah was all overthe field. But nowadays Nature seems to have got the better of him. Shescarcely leaves him a corner for his operations, and what little he does(if he does anything) has to be done in obscurity. Poor old Providence, we fancy, has had his day. His vigor is gone, his lively fancyhas degenerated into moping ineptitude, the shouts of millions ofworshippers cannot stimulate his sluggishness into any more effectivedisplay than this Norwood miracle. Most sincerely we offer him ourcondolence as the sleeping partner in the business of religion. By andbye we may offer our condolence to the active partners, the priests ofall denominations, who still flourish on a prospectus which, if oncetrue, is now clearly fraudulent. When their business dwindles, inconsequence of a failing supply of good supernatural articles, they willonly live on the price of actual deliveries, and a Norwood miracle willhardly afford six of them a mouthful apiece. 

JESUS ON WOMEN. 

"For religions, " says Michelet, "woman is mother, tender guardian, andfaithful nurse. The gods are like men; they are reared, and they die, upon her bosom. " Truer words were never uttered. Michelet showed in _LaSorcière_, from which this extract is taken, as well as in many otherwritings, that he fully understood the fulcrum of priestcraft and thesecret of superstition. Women are everywhere the chief, and insome places the only, supporters of religion. Even in Paris, whereFreethinkers abound, the women go to church and favor the priest. Naturally, they impress their own views on the children, for while thefather's influence is fitful through his absence from home, the mother'sis constant and therefore permanent. Again and again the clergy haverestored their broken power by the hold upon that sex which men pretendto think the weaker, although they are obviously the sovereigns of everygeneration. Men may resolve to go where they please, but if they cannottake the women with them they will never make the journey. Women donot resist progress, they simply stand still, and by their real, though disguised, rule over the family, they keep the world with them. Freethinkers should look this fact in the face. Blinking it is futile. Whoever does that imitates the hunted ostrich, who does not escape hisdoom by hiding his head. The whole question lies in a nutshell. Whereone sex is, the other will be; and there is a terrible, yet withal abeautiful, truth in the upshot of Mill's argument, that if men do notlift women up, women will drag men down. In the education and elevationof women, then, lies the great hope of the future. Leading Freethinkershave always seen this. Shelley's great cry, "Can man be free if woman bea slave?" is one witness, and Mill's great essay on _The Subjection ofWomen_ is another. 

Go where you will, you find the priests courting the women. They actthus, not because they despise men, or fear them, but because they(often unconsciously) feel that when they have captured the "weaker"sex, the other becomes a speedy prey. Perhaps a dim perception of thistruth hovered in the minds of those who composed the story of the Fall. The serpent does not bother about Adam. He just makes sure of Eve, andshe settles her "stronger" half. Milton makes Adam reluct and wrangle, but it is easy to see he will succumb to his wife's persuasions. Heswears he won't eat, but Eve draws him all the time with a silkenstring, mightier than the biggest cable. 

When the Christian monks were proselytising at Rome, they were hated, says Jortin, "as beggarly impostors and hungry Greeks who seduced ladiesof fortune and quality. " Hated, yes; but what did the hatred avail?The women were won, and the game was over. Men growled, but they had toyield. The same holds good to-day. Watch the congregations streamingout of church, count ten bonnets to one hat, and you might fancyChristianity played out because the men stay at home and neglect itsministrations. Nothing of the sort. Men may desert the churches as theylike, but while the women go the clergy are safe. Examine the churchand chapel organisations closely, and you will see how nine-tenths ofeverything is designed for women and children. Yes, the bonnet is thepriest's talisman. Like Constantine's legendary cross, it bears the sign_By this Conquer_. 

On the other hand, the clergy never fail to remind women that religionis their best friend. Without our doctrines and our holy Church, theysay, there would be social chaos; the wild passions of men would spurncontrol, marriage would be despised, wives would become mistresses, homes would disappear, and children would be treated as encumbrances. There is not a grain of truth in this, for religion has fomented, countenanced, or cloaked, more sensuality and selfishness than it hasever repressed. But it is a powerful appeal to woman's healthy domesticsentiment. She feels, if she does not know, that marriage is hersheet-anchor, and the home an ark on a weltering flood. When the priesttells her that religion is the surety of both, he plucks at her heart, which vibrates to its depths, and she regards him as her savior. 

Historically, the Christian religion, at least, has never been woman'sreal friend. It claims credit for everything; but what has it achieved?Monogamy was practised by the rude Teutons before Christianity"converted" them by fraud and force, and it was the law in pagan Greeceand Rome before the Christian era. Yet in the Bible there is not aword against polygamy. God's favorites had as many wives as they couldmanage, and Solomon had enough to manage _him_. In the New Testamentthere is only one man who is told to be "the husband of one wife, " andthat is a bishop. Even in _his_ case, a facetious sceptic hints, and theMormons argue, that the command only means that he must have _one wifeat least_. 

There are two supreme figures in the New Testament, Paul and Jesus. What Paul says about women I will deal with presently. For the momentI confine myself to Jesus. Let the reader remember that Christianitycannot transcend the Bible, any more than a stream can rise above itssource. 

Like most revivalists and popular preachers, Jesus had a number ofwomen dangling at his heels, but his teaching on the subject in hand isbarren, or worse. As a child, he gave his mother the slip at Jerusalem, and caused her much anxiety. During his ministry, when his mother and hisbrethren wished to speak with him, he forgot the natural ties of blood, and coolly remarked that his family were those who believed his gospel. On another occasion he roughly said to Mary, "Woman, what have I to dowith thee?" These examples are not very edifying. If Christ is our greatexemplar, the fashion he set of treating his nearest relatives is "morehonored in the breach than in the observance. "

Jesus appears to have despised the union of the sexes, thereforemarriage, and therefore the home. He taught that in heaven, where allare perfect, there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage; thesaints being like angels, probably of the neuter gender. In Matthewxix. 12 he appears to recommend emasculation, praising those who makethemselves "eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake. " This doctrineis too high for flesh and blood, but Origen and other early Christianspractised it literally. We may be sure that those who trample on manhoodhave no real respect for womanhood. Hence the Romish Church has alwayspraised up virginity, which is simply an abnegation of sex. Crudenshrinks from the literal sense of Christ's words, and says that the"eunuchs" he refers to are those who "upon some religious motive doabstain from marriage and the use of all carnal pleasures; that theymay be less encumbered with the cares of the world, and may devotethemselves more closely to the service of God. " Moonshine! Origen was abetter judge than Cruden. If Jesus did not mean what he said, why did hetake the trouble to speak? His doctrine is that of the anchorite. It lednaturally to the filthy wretches, called monks, who dreaded the sight ofa woman, and hoped to please God by stultifying nature. It also led tothe Church law forbidding women to touch the sacrament with their nakedhands, lest they should pollute it. Only women who relish that infamouslaw can feel any respect for the teaching of Jesus. 

PAUL ON WOMEN. 

Christianity, as the centuries have revealed its practical character, owes more to Paul than to Jesus. Its dogmas are mostly derived from theepistles of the great apostle. Many a true believer thinks he isobeying the carpenter's son, when all the time he is obeying the Tarsustent-maker. The Christian road to heaven was laid out and paved, notby Jesus himself, but by the gentleman he (or a sunstroke) convertedoutside Damascus. 

Paul was in some respects a better teacher than Jesus. He was morepractical, and with all his misty metaphysics he had a firmer hold onthe realities of life. But with respect to women, he follows dutifullyin his Savior's wake, and elaborates, rather than supplements, thesexual injunctions we have already dealt with. Like his Master, he looksdown upon marriage, and is evidently of opinion that if men should notmake themselves eunuchs they should live as such, The American Shakersare only carrying out his policy in this respect. If all the worldimitated them the human race would soon expire. It would then beimpossible to adopt the children of outsiders, families would begradually extinguished, and the second coming of Christ would beprematurely hastened. 

Paul was a bachelor, and a crusty one. According to tradition orcalumny, he was jilted by a Jewish woman, and this may account for hispeevish attitude towards the sex. In the seventh chapter of the firstof Corinthians he gives vent to a great deal of nasty nonsense. "It isgood, " he says, "for a man not to touch a woman, " If he had meant bythis that men were not to thrash their wives we should have thoroughlyagreed with him. But what he means is that there should be no sexualintercourse. He was especially severe on young widows who contemplateda second marriage. No doubt if he had seen a young widow whose weeds, as is generally the case, were arranged coquettishly, he would havemuttered "Anathema Maranatha. " As his own constitution was liable tooccasional weaknesses, he might have added, "Get thee behind me, Satan. "

A few verses later he expresses himself with greater clearness thanJesus Christ ever attained to: "I say therefore to the unmarried andwidows, It is good for them if they abide even as I. But if they cannotcontain, let them marry; for it is better to marry than to burn. " Paulwished the same end as Jesus. He desired to see every person celibate, but having a little more common sense than Jesus, he saw that suchpreaching would never be extensively practised (especially by youngwidows) and he was obliged to make a concession to human frailty. Thevery fact, however, shows that his view of the question was radicallywrong. Marriage is not an excusable weakness, but the normal conditionof mankind. Physiologically, mentally, and morally this truth holdsgood. Even the highest virtues have never sprung from monasteries andconvents, but from the rude rough world of toiling and suffering men andwomen outside. 

According to Paul, although marriage was lawful, virginity was a higherstate; that is, to be perfect, a woman must stultify her nature andtrample upon her maternal instincts. It also implies that she isessentially impure, and that she can only please God by abnegating hersex. This is the deepest disrespect of womanhood, as every healthy wifeand mother would admit if such stuff were taught by another than Paul. 

The great apostle troubled his poor head about the heads of women. If helived now when the ladies affect short hair he would go raving mad. Itwas a subject on which he felt profoundly. To his mind a woman losingher long hair, was like an angel falling from glory. He warns the wholesex against meddling with their tresses. Men, however, are recommendedto crop close, long hair being "shameful. " We have a shrewd suspicionthat Paul was bald. Perhaps if hair restorer had been then invented asuccessful trial might have considerably changed his views upon thissubject. 

Man was not created for woman, says Paul, but woman for man. He is ofcourse alluding to the old Rib Story. But a similar observation wouldhave been as sensible about the two halves of a pair of scissors. Whenthey meet what does it matter which was made for the other? Consistentlywith this view he says, "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbandsas unto the Lord. . . As the Church is subject unto Christ so let thewives be to their husbands in everything. " Some men have tried this withno great success, and many a man thinks he is having his own way"in everything" when he is sweetly and beautifully led by the nose. Obedience is a hateful word in marriage. Its introduction makes the wifea legalised concubine. Besides, if there _must_ be obedience, Paul'srule is ridiculously sweeping, for some women have more sense andjudgment than their husbands. Every afflicted woman who applies to themagistrate for relief from the sot who curses her home is flying inthe face of Paul. "My dear woman, " the magistrate _should_ say, "yourrequest is very reasonable, but it is very unorthodox. Go home and readthe fifth chapter of Ephesians, where you will see that wives must obeytheir husbands in _everything_. "

Paul (1 Cor. Xiv. 34, 35; Tim. Ii. 11, 12) warns women to keep silencein church, for "it is not permitted unto them to speak. " Having writtenthis line, Paul must have got up and strutted round the room like aruffled cock. "Let the woman, " he says, "learn in silence with allsubjection. I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority overthe man, but to be in silence. " Hear, hear! from the males in the bodyof the synagogue. Evidently Paul could bray on occasion as lustilyas Balaam's ass. If the women "will learn anything, " which he clearlythought problematical, "let them ask their husbands at home. " Fancy somewomen with no other sources of information!

The reason Paul gives for woman's inferiority is that Mrs. Eve was firsttempted by the serpent. And a capital thing too! If Mrs. Eve had noteaten that apple the human race would still number two, or else, if noneof them died, they would be thicker than barrelled herrings. 

Our Church of England marriage service follows the teaching of Paul. While the husband promises to-love the wife, the wife promises to love, honor and obey the husband. Many ladies say these words at the altarwith a mental reservation. When they are obliged to do this they tacitlyadmit that Paul and the Church are wrong. But if so the Bible is wrong. The fact is that the "blessed book, " instead of being woman's bestfriend, is her worst enemy. The Tenth Commandment makes her domesticproperty, and Paul winds up by telling her that her sole duty is to playsecond fiddle in a minor key. 

MOTHER'S RELIGION. 

Religion is the feminine element in human nature. Science is themasculine. One accepts, the other inquires; one believes, the otherproves; one loves the old, the other the new; one submits, the otherdares; one is conservative, and the other progressive. 

I say this with no disrespect to women. Evolution has made them whatthey are, and evolution will remake them. Nor do I slight the noble bandof advanced women, the vanguard of their sex, who have shed a lustre onour century. I merely take a convenient metaphor, which crystallisesa profound truth, though fully conscious of its shortcomings andexclusions. 

Woman is still the citadel of religion. Thither the priest flies fromthe attacks of scepticism. There he finds an inviolable refuge. Themother, the wife, the sister, shield him and his creed; and their whitearms and soft eyes are a better guard than all the weapons in the armoryof his faith. His are the coward's tactics, but all creatures--evenpriests--plead the necessity of living, and have the artful instinct ofself-preservation. 

Religious by inheritance and training, woman rears her children for theChurch. Spiritual as well as bodily perils shake her prophetic soul asshe peers into the future through the eyes of the child upon her knee. She whispers of God with accents of awe, that fall solemnly on thelittle one's mind. She trains the knee to bend, the hands to meet inprayer, and the eyes to look upward. She wields the mighty spell oflove, and peoples the air of life with phantoms. Infantile logic knowsthose dear lips cannot lie, and all is truth for all is love. Alas!the lesson has to come that the logic is faulty, that goodness may beleagued with lies, that a twisted brain may top the sweetest heart. 

But long ere the lesson is learnt--if it _is_ learnt--the mischief hasbeen wrought. The child has been moulded for the priest, and is dulyburnished with catechisms and stamped with dogmas. And how often, whenthe strong mind grows and bursts its bonds, when the mental eyes waxstrong and see the falsehood, the mother's hand, through the child'straining, plucks the life back from the fulfilment of its promise. Howoften, also, when the vigorous manhood has swept aside all illusions, there comes at length the hour of lassitude, and as the mother's voicesteals through the caverns of memory the spectres of faith are startledfrom their repose. 

Priests are always warning men against deserting the creed of theirmothers. And even a _savant_, like Professor Gazzia, who writes onGiordano Bruno, knows the trick of touching this facile cord of thehuman heart. Speaking of Bruno's philosophy, he says: "I call it plainlythe Negation of God, of that God, I mean, of whom I first heard _at mymother's knee_. "

But Freethinking mothers--and happily there are such--will use theirpower more wisely; and, above all, will not shrink from their duty. Theyhave the fashioning of the young life--a transcendent privilege, withan awful responsibility. They will see that love nurtures the affectionswithout suborning the intellect; that the young mind is encouraged tothink, instead of being stuffed with conclusions; and they will some dayfind their exceeding rich reward. Their children, trained in the schoolof self-respect and toleration, will be wiser than the pupils of faith;and the bonds of love will be all the tenderer and stronger for theperception that the free individuality of the child's life was neversacrificed to the parent's authority.